"Thank you, Lady Bennington, for allowing me in your home. Your estate is lovely." The hooded man said with a genteel enough bow. "Curious markings you've in the doorframe, but I suppose that's a local custom?" He inquired lightly. "But not why I'm here. Word has it you're keen on seeing one of the nearby monelite mines reopened? Something of a labor issue? Proprietary rights?"
The estate was a monolithic structure, a Gothic behemoth carved from the heart of Drustvar's ancient stone. Its weathered grey facade bore the scars of countless winters, each crack and fissure a testament to its enduring presence. The manor stood on a slight elevation, Mistveil Hill, a name as evocative as the fog that often cloaked it.
The main entrance was a formidable oak door, its heavy iron hinges groaning in protest as it swung inward. The wood was dark, almost black in places, and bore the intricate carvings of what seemed to be childlike scribbles. Upon closer inspection, however, the patterns took on a sinister quality, hinting at a darker origin. The woman who answered, a striking figure of imposing height -- at least for a human woman, dismissed them with a casual wave of her hand.
"Just children's drawings," she said, her voice carrying a hint of dismissive arrogance. "Before the Fourth War, you know. The Heartsbane Coven was still around, and children are... imaginative." Her voice trailed off, as if she was reluctant to delve deeper into the subject.
The grand hall was a testament to Kul Tiran opulence. A soaring ceiling, supported by massive, intricately carved wooden beams, created an atmosphere of grandeur. A colossal stone fireplace dominated one wall, its hearth currently empty, though the remnants of ash suggested frequent use. Tapestries depicting Kul Tiran naval victories adorned the walls, their rich colors a stark contrast to the somber stone. The floor was a mosaic of intricate patterns, crafted from various types of stone and inlaid with gold leaf.
Beyond the hall, a grand staircase swept upwards, its wrought iron railings adorned with intricate floral designs. To the left, a heavy, ornately carved wooden door hinted at a library. To the right, double doors with stained glass panels depicting stormy seas opened into a formal dining room.
The woman led Nixalegos through a series of interconnected rooms. A sunroom, filled with an array of exotic plants, offered a breathtaking view of the Drustvar countryside. Beyond that, a music room, its walls lined with instruments from various cultures, invited a moment of tranquility. The final room, a sitting room, was bathed in the warm glow of a crackling fire. Plush velvet couches and armchairs were arranged in an inviting circle.
"Would you like anything to drink? To eat?" Her movements were graceful, but there was a subtle tension in her posture, as if she were constantly on guard. The room, despite its comfort, seemed to hold a secret, a whisper of something ancient and unsettling. Finally, as she settled into a chair across from him and crossed her legs, she sighed. "You'll have to forgive any tension. Drustvar is certainly different than Upton Borough. I've found it difficult to be settled here."
She pointed at him with perfectly manicured digits. "Which is exactly why I've called. There is, indeed, a labor issue. I've looked through countless dossiers and, well, I see no one better suited to deal with this particular issue than you. There seems to be a presence in one of the mines. Howling in the dead of night, the rattling of chains. things going 'bump' without explanation. I can't seem to keep enough miners to work before they leave the site. I was wondering if you could investigate and, eliminate the problem. Or, if it's nothing at all, perhaps you could publish a report on your findings?"
@nixalegos
