Sun and Moon Inn
Colin is sitting in his corner.
Lanisen looks rather glum and distant, as seems to be growing to be the norm for him, and avoids looking at Colin.
Loc sits huddled by the fire. Suddenly he stands and goes to the window.
Loc announces grimly, “Horses. Small company going in town… purple and gold livery….” He swallows hard. “They’re here.”
Colin says, “About time.”
Loc hehs and nods. He clasps his hands behind his back tightly, watching.
Lanisen glances up and is on his feet in another instant. He crosses quickly to the window to look out for himself. He has no comment to add, but his face goes alarmingly pale.
Loc also seems notably paler than usual.
Colin watches them quietly, not moving from his corner.
Loc glances at Lanisen and places a hand on his shoulder. His voice shakes slightly, “It’ll… it’ll turn out… all right.”
Lanisen shudders visibly, squirming out from under Loc’s hand, and turns away from the window. He starts to gather the scant belongings he has with him and stashes them away in his pockets. The unconfiscated stick is among them.
Loc retrieves his satchel, slinging it loosely over his shoulder. He slides down the wall by the fireplace.
Lanisen takes a seat near Colin to wait.
Colin tightens the strap on his satchel.
Loc draws up his knees and circles them with his arms. He looks ill at ease.
Colin’s agitation is well hidden, if nonexistent.
A son of adam clad in knightly garb walks in from the hallway.
Colin is sitting unobtrusively on the floor in the corner behind the door.
Loc looks up from his position. He is huddled on the floor near the fireplace, knees drawn up and his arms encircling them. A satchel hangs loosely from his shoulder. His complexion is unusually pale and he looks uneasy.
Lanisen, looking equally uneasy, is sitting on the floor near Colin.
Cole, once the door is unlocked, strides into the room quite as if he owns the place. Behind him, a small contingent of knights await his orders silently. He surveys the room with his eyes, a slight tilting of his head the only indication of acknowledgment of his brother at the moment. Having made his assessment, he orders curtly, “On your feet.”
Loc stands obediently. He gives a stiff bow and looks to the man for further orders.
Colin rises to his feet and stands silently, waiting.
Lanisen stands immediately as well. Following Loc’s lead, he also bows.
Cole nods, clearly pleased that everything seems to be proceeding smoothly. “I am here to escort you back to Anvard. Your continued cooperation will only serve to improve your standing in the eyes of our King when it comes time to determine your fate.” That being said, he steps back out into the hallway. “Come along.”
Lanisen glances at Colin uneasily, then follows behind Loc and Cole.
The Upper Hallway
Sun and Moon Inn
The upper hallway is a bright place, with a window at each end, a large one over the stairwell, and sconces lining the whitewashed walls between every door. There is a table at the southern end of the hall with a few chairs around it, an easy place to relax with the other guests, or to read a book when a retreat from the room is appealing. Guest rooms line the walls, each adorned with a small brass plaque reading a different number.
Loc follows Cole silently.
Cole leads the assembled bandits and his brother down the stairs and out of the inn, the knights forming up around them.
You stand in the Inner Ward of Anvard. The ground is hard-packed earth, and it is open to the sky above. Wonderful aromas come wafting out from the Kitchen to the north, near the well. Huge, impressive, intricately carved doors lead to the Great Hall. Staff hurry about, in and out of their Quarters, serving the Great Hall and the Council Chamber. A quieter corridor to the southwest leads to the Library and Schoolroom. Noble lords and ladies also pass through, walking towards their Quarters seeing to other business. A guarded Gatehouse to the west stands between the Inner and Outer Wards. Two stairways line the curtain wall, climbing to the upper reaches of the castle.
Cole is escorting three bandits and his brother through the castle, flanked by several knights.
Loc follows the lead knight solemnly, eyes peering about as they finally enter the castle. His mannerisms are stiff and he looks ill at ease. His eyes return to the head knight, watching for instruction.
Lanisen follows silently where he is led, pale and frightened. He keeps his head down, but glances from side to side, keeping tabs on their surroundings.
Colin stays quiet when the group enters the Inner Ward.
Dar is passing through the Ward, stack of parchments in hand. For those familiar with the castle, his direction would suggest that he is heading to the library. He bows when he notes Cole’s presence, his glance finally coming to rest on Colin.
Cole addresses Dar a courteous nod and a taut smile as he passes by, on the way to the dungeons.
The lowest level of the royal tower is a large, semi-circular room, dimly lit with a slight smell of must. The ceiling is fairly low, giving it a slightly claustrophobic feeling. Iron sconces are fixed to the walls to hold lanterns, and a small barred window near the ceiling on the south side of the chamber offers a warped view of the inner ward at boot-level. There is a wooden table and two chairs for the guards on duty.
There are three heavy wooden doors on the northwest side of the room, each iron-bound with a barred window cut at the top. A fourth door, identical save that it has no window, is located on the opposite side of the room. A final door, just as heavily reinforced, leads out into the corridor.
Colin glances at Lanisen when they get to the dungeons.
Loc swallows hard, losing all color as they enter the dungeon. His movements become more stiff and he straightens a bit. He keeps his gaze on Cole.
Cole gestures to the cells. “Due to your cooperation, and depending on your continued cooperation, these cells may be less permanent than you fear. But that is for His Majesty to decide. In the meantime, I will see that someone is assigned to assure that you are well fed.”
Lanisen’s eyes dart around the area, resting on the barred doors and low ceiling. He looks like he is going to be sick.
Loc manages a small nod and a very quiet, “Thank you Sir.” He fiddles with the strap of his satchel.
Colin only nods once, his face expressionless.
Cole says, “If you are still in possession of any hidden weapons, now would be the best time for you to surrender them.”
Colin removes his satchel and lets it drop to the ground
Lanisen takes a moment to process the question, but shakes his head once to indicate he has no weapons.
Loc offers the knight his satchel, hands trembling faintly. “Bow and full quiver. A dagger.” He reaches inside a sleeve and pulls an item from it. The item looks like a woman’s hair pin. “Lock pick.” He hands all over to Cole.
Colin makes note of the hair pin, his eyes flicking to Lanisen’s face.
Cole nods. “Thank you. I will be certain to inform His Majesty that you willingly surrendered these to me.” He gestures and one of the knights opens the door to one of the cells.
Loc swallows hard. He gives a small nod. His struggle to keep his resolve is shown in his expression, but he straigthens and moves into the cell.
Lanisen hunches up his shoulders, turning his face so he doesn’t have to look at the dark cell doorway. He side-steps nervously, pulling back and away as much as the guard’s iron grip on his upper arm will let him. When a second guard steps up to take his other arm and march him inside, his breath goes shuddery with panic. There is a brief silent struggle, then he’s inside and the door is shut.
This cell is small, but not unreasonably so, wedge-shaped with a curving outer wall. It is livable but spare, a bed and a small table the only furnishings. These are both sturdily built of thick oak, too heavy to easily move, and fixed to the stone walls and floor with iron bolts.
The door is iron-bound oak with a small barred opening at the top to let in noise and air from the outside. Across the cell from the door is a very small window, fitted with glass so thick and warped and wavy that it is impossible to see anything clearly out-of-doors except for a general impression of ‘green’. On either side of the pane are iron bars the width of a child’s wrist, spaced regularly a few inches apart.
Loc sits on the cot, hands over his face.
Lanisen has to be pushed in, and the weighty ‘snick’ of the door closing behind him is loud. He stumbles and turns, scrabbling frantically at the lock and pleading in a barely audible whimper. He finally sinks down onto the ground near the door.
Loc’s shoulders shake and an audible sob escapes his throat. He makes no effort to hide the tears or his state.
Lanisen, trembling visibly, draws his knees up to his chest and curls his arms around his head, effectively hiding his face.
Loc continues to sob for some time, shaking from the emotion.