Regional Dispatches

Planting 12, 593 -- Pitchfield, The Palace

by Pieter Sleijpen

It is early in the afternoon and the sun is shining relentless down on Pitchfield. Even the thick stone walls of the Palace cannot keep out the suppressing heat of a summer day at its hottest. Within the walls it is quiet. Most people are resting during the hottest part of the day. But in one of the offices the scratching sounds of a pen can be heard.
A small nondescript man with short graying dark brown hair and expensive but practical clothing is working hard. His back is to the wall, and an observant person would notice that the man is constantly looking at the window at the other end of the room even though the thin curtains are closed to keep some of the heat out. Suddenly the man states in a soft but firm voice "Enter Hazendel, the door is open." even though there was no sound to be heard.

The door opens and a tall regal elf with pale skin and long silver hair bound into a tail steps into the room. On his hip is a sword in a beautifully adorned scabbard.

"Your sharp senses keep surprising me, Daergon. Especially for a human."

The man replies in a rather matter of fact voice.
"In my line of business those senses have kept me alive on several occasions."
He continues on in a warmer voice.
"What can I help you with, my old friend? Any questions on the last report I send you, concerning the Jade Mask and your fears that they would become racial supremacists?"

"No, your report for now has removed some of my fears. I just hope that the voices that want to preserve all that is Oeridian before all the other ideals of the Iron League stay a minority. The Iron League is an alliance of all races - and not one just of Oeridians. The main enemy has changed, but it still is tyranny and freedom we are fighting for. Lets hope, that we will not become our own enemies. It pains me when I see former comrades fall into the traps of fanatism and becoming that what they most despised. The reason of my visit has nothing to do with that though...
No, I was getting tired of the rather obvious ploys of Lady Ishtania to get me to marry her sister, and a visit to you seemed like a good excuse."
With that a rather strange expression crosses Hazendel's face and Daergon starts to laugh softly.

"If you would just marry her, you would save yourself a lot of trouble. It certainly would please your sister very much and who knows it might do you some good."

Hazendel sighs deeply.
"I know Daergon, but I cannot forget Fanara. Perhaps if we had found her body somewhere on the battlefield it might have been different. Her disappearance during the Battle of Rieuwood makes it so hard. I have no clue what happened to her. Who knows, perhaps those rumors about prisoners of war still being kept in Ahlissa are true? Perhaps she is among them?"

"I am sorry my friend. But while I am sure Ahlissa still keeps some prisoners as slaves, I have not found anything concerning Fanara's fate. But her skill as a weaver and wizard were well known, so there is still a chance that she is still alive and kept prisoner somewhere within Ahlissa."

"It is that small hope that keeps me from marrying. Anyway, lets turn to more present day problems, or else I will have lied to Lady Ishtania. Any news on the troubles within Pelsand and why Donner is acting the way he is? What about the burned down shrine of Pelor in Axebjerg? Any new information on the bullywugs in the Vast Swamp who have been remarkably quiet the last few months?"

"That are a lot of questions. Please take a seat, it will take some time to give you an update. But first let me close that window. Even within the palace the walls have ears."
Just before the window is closed, Hazendel can be heard to mumble some arcane words and once again the palace is covered in silence.