Singer Sailor Merchant Mage

“The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet.”

James Oppenheim

“Lord Njord?” I asked, concerned. Bypassing, waiting for Namir, and quickly questioning our first lead. Who in the depths of the Lodestone Labyrinth was Lord Njord? It was a stupid name anyway. The stallkeeper, recognising my frustration, chose to rephrase and elaborate.

“Jarl Njord . . .” He paused as if I should know who that was. Confused, he continued, “He is in charge of the Drangavik, Drangasfjord and Drangaskol.” As if that would enlighten us when we were passing through and had not seen the point of learning the political landscape when we would be beyond it in a day or two.

“Where does he live?” I asked, worried about what we might find ourselves wrapped up in and focused on retrieving my companion. How the heck Nyx had escaped my own personal spatial vault was beyond me.

“He is staying in the GryFalcon’s Ledge. Drangavik, Drangasfjord and Drangaskol are just his towns. Usually, he resides in Castle Dranga, but he is collecting taxes this time of the year and touring his towns in the process.” He correctly interpreted what I was genuinely asking: Where was Lord Njord right now?

“Where’s the Lodge?” Namir demanded, driving quickly to the definitive answer we needed. Wherever the Lord was, Nyx was most likely to be there as well.

“Up there,” he pointed to the cliff that sheltered the town on the river's other side from the Endless Ice's bitter winds. There, on the cliff face with a wonderful view of the town, rested a sprawling building wedged halfway up the cliff; it seemed to stretch along the cliff partly carved into the cave or ledge it had been constructed upon.

“Wonderful.” Namir sarcastically stated. “Come on, Kai, let’s retrieve your wayward pet.” He said as he strode for one of the bridges crossing the river, muttering, “Preferably without any bloodshed.” under his breath as he walked away.

Startled and surprised, “It’s yours?” The stallkeeper called after us as we headed over. “You really should keep better care of your pets . . . or at least give them a collar!” He shouted as an addendum as if it could somehow relieve some of the guilt he might have felt if the merchant had such a soul.

“So . . .” I started catching up with Namir. “How do we go about getting Nyx back?” Were we going to steal Nyx back in broad daylight? Or plan a midnight robbery? Would we assault the lodge? It might be a little difficult to escape, with it in full view of the entire town and isolated as it was, with a single winding cliff road making its way up to it.

“We ask.” He said, cuffing the back of my head and curbing my increasingly wild thoughts. “At least at first.” He added, rubbing his head as he too considered our options.

. . .

The walk across Drangasfjord and up the road carved into the cliff’s side gave us plenty of time to talk and discuss options. But without knowing what we would find, we didn’t know what to expect and couldn’t exactly plan for it. The first step though would be either finding Nyx or gaining an audience with the Lord Njord. Something that might be considerably harder than usual, seeing as we were two unknown pilgrims travelling across his land. We had little leverage and knew it.

Later than we would have liked, but sooner than it felt like we were arriving at the Gyrfalcons’ Ledge, the lodge open the more affluent of the town. It would take some silver and maybe even a little gold to open these doors for us.

The intricately carved ice oak doors were the first signs of the different quality of class or quantity of money its guests held. The doorman was the second, I felt underdressed for the occasion.

“How may we help you at the Gyrfalcon’s Ledge today?” The man who had been loitering in the lee of the building’s porch. He had not been there long as I had sensed him stepping out from the warm interior as we approached.

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“A room for two tired travellers,” Namir stated simply.

“I’m afraid we have no room available for two pilgrims.” The doorman answered, “You will have to look elsewhere, even if you could pay, which I . . . ” He started to add before he was interrupted.

“I repeat, a room for my Lord, price will not be a problem.” Namir countered, flashing his own silver to sell the story and passing a piece to the unctuous blaggard. Personally, I would have given him a kick.

“If you will wait just a moment,” He swiftly switched his tune, “I will see if arrangements can be made.” He darted indoors in an attempt to gain favour he had already lost.

“Lord?” I hissed as I raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were but two humble pilgrims passing through,” I commented on the previous story he had concocted for the Drangavik and Dranagsjford priests in the churches we had visited.

“Whatever works, he would not let us through the door otherwise.” He shrugged, unconcerned. “We will be moving on soon enough, it shouldn’t matter. Besides, it's not a lie, Little Lord of the Wester Isles. I could have added that you were a potential Acolyte of the Lodestar Church being petitioned by the new Cardinal of the Church on your circumnavigation, but I thought that might be going a little too far.” He finished the conversation, and our senses picked up the man’s quick approach, which meant I bit my tongue rather than continue the argument.

The door was opened by the doorman’s hand, but a new and unexpected face stepped outside to greet us. “My young lord, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to our humble establishment on Gyrfalcon’s bluff, the Gyrfalcon’s Ledge. If you should need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to call on me, Xenodochus Tavernier. It’s a delight to see a new civilised face so far north out here on the frontier.” He gave a gentle nod in deference to me even if he also took in Namir looming over the pair of us.

Our innkeeper or lodge owner was not a northerner.

Firstly, he was shorter than most of the Nordic warriors living in Tramontana. Secondly, no wiry tangle reached his chest adorning his face but a carefully trimmed beard. Finally, despite the chill he had stepped out into, he wore no fur but a blue robe reminiscent of those you would find back home in the Principality of Ponente.

Startled but pleasantly surprised, we were swiftly invited in with a significantly warmer welcome than we had first received. We soon found ourselves ensconced within a cosy little private side room attached to the main room that made up the Gyrfalcon’s Ledge’s taproom, eating a carefully prepared meal that would cost more than our previous lodging had for a single meal. Xenodochus had failed to mention the price before it was served, simply assuming that we could pay, despite our clothing, based solely on my nobility and my heritage, which he assumed correctly was from Ponente.

“It’s simply a delight to entertain a citizen of a more civilised clime.” Xenodochus was back, regaling us with tales of his own travels before becoming the proud owner of the Gyrfalcon’s Ledge. “But that is enough about me, what of yourselves?” He asked excitedly. Bussola, the Compass Kingdoms’ universal language, meant we could be understood wherever we went, but it reminded me of home to hear the familiar accent I associated it with.

“My Lord is on his circumnavigation.” Namir interposed. “There is nothing much to add beyond the cost in coin, time taken and distance covered.”

“A circumnavigation is costly indeed in both time and coin. But where did you say you hailed from?” He questioned.

“We sailed from the Azimuth Archipelago; my family has a small estate there. Truly, I was inspired by former Bishop, now Cardinal Grigori’s own circumnavigation and visit.” I attempted to explain what we were doing so far north. “Tired now, at least we are homeward bound now and on the last quadrant.” Truthful enough to be sure.

“Tired? Let me show you to your rooms so you can retire.” Taking the hint, he led us out of our room, across the main room to the stairs that led up to the rooms. The way the inn was splayed along the cliff’s ledge meant it was difficult to sense precisely what was happening in it as parts were out of reach and carved into the cliff behind us.

The metal runes and stone glyphs carved or embedded in the walls and corridors did not help either, as distracting as they were to my senses. Xenodochus took great pleasure in proudly pointing out the stone glyphs that gently lit the large corridor carved from the cliff we were traversing within the lodge. Explaining that we would have runed lights within our own rooms as well as runed heaters. He seemed to be expecting praise for the inclusions of civilisation so far north. Our abilities and resistances made such amenities irrelevant and we were used to roughing it. But I was happy to express our pleasure at the decadence. Indeed I should see about including some of the runes and glyphs I saw embellishing the walls within my own spatial vault that was continuing to grow into something more than a simple temporary shelter.

As Xenodochus unlocked our room at the end of a long corridor, he mentioned, “If you should have a second wind, we have another noble guest you might enjoy interacting with later over dinner in the main room. The local lord of the region, Jarl Njord. He controls the three towns: Drangavik, Drangasfjord and Drangaskol. I dare say he would invite you to stay at Trelleborg Drangar if you have time to diverge from your circumnavigation. It would be an honour to introduce you if you would like a personal introduction.” He offered, keen to ingratiate himself for either favour, coin or simply the conversation. It was difficult to tell as he seemed to enjoy talking as much as listening.

As I mulled over his words as if in contemplation, he showed us the rooms of our suite. I had my own room as well as a sitting room, water closet and an armsman’s boxroom. “It would be my pleasure,” I answered, happy to see that we might finally be making progress on regaining Nyx. The food was fantastic, but that was not why we had arrived at Gyrfalcon’s Ledge.

“I’ll send word when he returns should he be interested in making your acquaintance.” Were his final words as he handed over our key and closed the door behind himself.

Before collapsing on the fine quilt covering my lordly bed, I waited until he was out of earshot. “Well, this is an upgrade.” I grinned at the improvements in our accommodation; even if I was still anxious about Nyx's fate, it was difficult not to appreciate the luxury.

“Did you sense Nyx?” questioned Namir still focused on our main problem.

“No.” My mood soured as I was reminded of my failure. “The way the Lodge stretches out along the cliff makes it hard to sense it all I explained.

“Then we will have to wait for a dinner invitation,” Namir answered.