Whoop, forgot a detail - The large lock locks the door; the small lock locks the large lock to whatever the large lock, locks too.

...Is that too many 'lock's' to be comprehensible?

The doors themselves have locks built in.  Unusual in most inns, but this was the Duke's hunting lodge.

(OOC: Great!

...If there's any windows, he can probably lock them too! )

With the exception of a few early festival celebrators being escorted home by the town guards, the night passes uneventfully into the next day.  Deciding to avoid the previous day's breakfast problems, you arrive in the common room shortly after the break of dawn to take breakfast.  You are served by a cheerful Tavin and his wife, who inform you that after the mid-day meal, the common room will be closed for preparations, but you can still take meals and such in your rooms.

The town at large is unaware or unconcerned with the arrival of the Lord Steward, but the guards are in dress uniforms, and they have taken up what are clearly standard posts around the village.  Notably, there are two stationed outside the front door of the inn, and several more patrol the area.  Two make their rounds through the village on horseback, while two more on horse keep to the inn.  They may have appeared to be lax the previous day, but you now see they are well trained soldiers, prepared for keeping the peace and safety of the village.

Harvest is still a couple of months away in this part of the world; the dog-days are well behind you, but it is a clear, warm day.  The mountains in the far distance are tipped in white, signaling the oncoming winter, but that is a concern for another time.  As evening approaches, the warmth and buzz of cicadas lulls you into a pleasant stupor for a time, as well as the rest of the village.  Peaceful times among peaceful people,

Which makes the arrival of the honour guard all the more jarring.  They ride into town around mid afternoon, a good deal earlier than expected.  They are dusty, worn out, and their horses are quite tired.  The Lord Steward was obviously pushing his men to get here with all haste, lending an air of foreboding to the oncoming night.

"Tarvin, my good man," the Lord Steward calls as he walks towards the bar, "my men will need some refreshment before proceeding to the barracks, if you have a mind.  Also, I will need to make myself presentable."

Tarvin nods, smiling, and begins serving the men mulled wine.  They nod to him as they take their cups, never quite relaxing.  The Lord Steward turns to you briefly, making a mental note of your number.  "I will return shortly, and then we must begin our deliberations, for time is of the essence".  Turning sharply, he strides to a door on the far side of the room and closes it quickly behind him.

The Honour Guard stretches sore muscles, quickly drinks the small cups of wine almost ritually, then three of them turn to leave.  Two walk directly out the door, where you hear them mount their steeds outside and ride off at a trot, while one moves to a point halfway to the door where the Lord Steward removed himself, and the other takes a position by the front door.

Half an hour later, the Steward emerges from the back area.  His armour is less dusty, but certainly not clean, to which he seems accustomed.  The armour itself is finely decorated, but also clearly made for use, as is the sword at his side.  Both are well suited for battle, and by the looks, have seen their fair share.  His demeanour and bearing describe a man who is as comfortable in parades as he is on the front lines leading soldiers.  He stops briefly and turns to what appears to be the Honour Guard Captain, his back to the room.  They exchange some words, and the Lord Steward takes an official tone, "Very good, Captain, see to your men, we leave at first light."  The Captain strides across the room, relays some orders to his subordinate at the door, and you soon hear the familiar sounds of horse barding rattling as the Captain rides off to join his men.

"First, then, I would welcome you all to Ardendale," the Steward begins in a friendly tone.  "I trust your journeys here were not fraught with danger, although I have familiarity enough of adventuring to know this is unlikely true," he smiles broadly.  "Tarvin is an excellent host; one night under his care is enough to ease even a month of trail riding.  By the gods' blessings, we can only afford you one more of those, for things have become even more dire."

"I am sure you are all aware of the general request that was made.  Duke Tsovas claimed the area, and by hard work and his own sweat in many cases, cleared and settled the wilderness.  Peoples from across the lands came and found prosperity and relief from bandits and other worries.  The Duke welcomed them all, and the Duchy of Cynosure has prospered greatly."  His voice is filled with pride, and it is not hard to guess the Steward had an active hand in the annotated history relayed to you.  "However," his voice becomes more grave as he continues, "we are not a land of war and conquest.  The other noble houses have treaties with us, but they are not always at ease with the plain language employed by the Duke.  This has caused some tensions, but even moreso, the Duke is unwilling to have a standing army from a neighbor in his land on the off-chance these recent incursions are more serious than expected."

"Therefore, the Duke is willing to pay for your services.  We do not need a strike force; from what little we have been able to gather ourselves, a group ten times your size would not significantly hamper their operations.  What the Duke is in need of is further information.  He negotiates with the other nobles as we speak, but as unwilling as he is to have their armies on our soil to no purpose, the other nobles are even less willing to commit an unknown number of troops to snipe hunting.

"What we do know is that bands of humanoids that were perfectly content to war among themselves are now joining forces.  In all honesty, we were prepared to let them decimate themselves, then rout the others further south on that border, so our defences there are not what they could have been.  It has been shored up, but perhaps a mite late," he explains in a voice tinged with weariness.  "Few of our own scouts have returned, so we have precious little information with which to discuss matters.  The Duke needs stout adventurers like yourselves to discover what has forged these humanoids into a coherent army.

"It would be best if you can avoid engagements with the humanoids.  At this point, they don't seem to have a very effective means of communication, so they would be hard pressed to discover some small losses.  What we do need is estimates of their numbers and locations, and troop compositions.  This information is critical to our preparations if the raids continue to escalate."  The Lord Steward pauses for a moment to drink his wine, and returns his gaze to you.

"But more importantly, the Duke needs to uncover the driving force behind this humanoid army.  Our suspicions are many, and we have next to nothing by way of pursuing one or another with any certainty.  That is your primary goal, which in the course of, you should be able to get rough estimates for troop strengths and such."  he opens a small iron-banded oaken chest and pulls out several rolled sheets of vellum.  "This is your permission to operate in the Duke's name, your writ of organization, and a map of the area just beyond the border.  You will need not severally carry the documents; however, there are three of each in case of loss, or if your needs force your group to split up.  Pursuant to the writ of organization is the right of vouchsafe, but you will be wholly responsible for those under your voucher."

"Of course, you will be handsomely rewarded.  For each of you returning, there will be 2,000 gold talons.  Additionally, the Duke has many areas along the borders that are in need of a strong hand and just spirit to settle and protect.  He would be well disposed to grant some of this land to those who have performed a great boon to the Duchy."  He looks at each of you in turn before continuing, "That is what the Duke requests of you, and what he is willing to reward you with.  Your deeds are not unheard of in these parts, so our confidence is well placed in your abilities.  For those that decline the offer, a small stipend will be paid for your expenses in getting here.  If you have any further questions for me, I will be glad to answer them while Tarvin serves dinner.

"What say you, then?"

The Lord Steward's comments begin to dance around in Semina's head.  'Bands of humanoids joining together, driving force behind them, and seek out information' she contemplates to herself.  Never mind the gold, or land offered for finishing the job, she has no need for it.  'Something heavy is brewing for humanoids to make a coherent army 'she processes once more.    

Eyeing her potential companions, Semina takes the first bite. "I'm in, and I offer to carry one set of the documents." she says.  Satisfied she has made the right decision; Semina sits back and awaits further inquires from other party members.

"I am provisionally in, Lord Steward. I wish to read the documents first. I do not expect problems, but I find that clarity is important." Naren states in a matter-of-fact way.

(OOC: Rather tired at the moment; so nothing elaborate.)

"Well", Heathcliffe beams at the thought of all that gold, "I am happy to oblige!"

Lurking at the edges of the gathering, Kagan-Zur, quietly watched the proceedings. Reconnaissance missions were one his fields of expertise, briefly he wondered how others would fair or even if they would accept, regardless he knew he was in.

Thraim stands up and smooths his beard before saying in a firm voice, "I, Thraim Glorerg, accept Duke Tsovas' generous offer Lord Steward."

Sander considered the Steward's speech gravely. He was worried not off his own safety, but of the path taking up arms again may force him down. The memories of his days in worship of darks beings were still fresh in his mind, the malevolent prayers he had used so often still familiar to him. Would he, in the heat of combat, fall back on such evils?

Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Sander, though likely only a few moments in reality, he looked at the Steward.
"Count me in."

Snorri watches and listens quietly - making note of his prospective companions reactions. He belches loudly, then stands.

"Scouting mission or not, this expedition will need expert fighters. I am such a one. Therefore i accept the commision. I will take my reward as the award of land mentioned. However, i request that this award be made to the Steelskin clan of Smoulder Mountain. Consider me their representative in this matter. It is our hope that much trade can be undertaken between us. Having an enclave would greatly benifit that endevour. If this is agreeable, i too, as a represntative of clan Steelskin will carry one of the letters of marque."

The document reads as follows:

QuoteTo those who read this proclamation, this letter of marque permits those who are good and strong fighters, mighty and knowledgeable wizards, proverbially wise sages and clerics, and masterly thieves to use their abilities in the service of Cynosure to defend goodness and justice, as set forth by these words of the his highness, High Lord Tsovas Kerthain, Duke of Cynosure, Lord of the Silver March, Plar of Dmitri, and Protector of the South, and transferred by his humble spokesman, Lord Caernist, Steward of Cynosure, Defender of the Honour.

The land of Cynosure has been placed in dire danger that exceeds the abilities of ordinary levies and mercenary troops to contain.  Foul witcheries and great malign forces have conspired to destroy this noble state. It is therefore my wish and thus my will that all such goodly men and women of all races stand with Cynosure and aid in repelling this great danger.  Those who choose to come to the aid of this land in its time of need shall be rewarded with ownership of land, such that they can tame and settle, a reward from the coffers of Cynosure, and the treasure of the creatures they defeat, without tax or surcharge by the Duke.  If the need arise, the bearers of this marque have the right of vouchsafe, with all the responsibilites that entails.   Those who choose to abandon this land in its time of need, or to flee or aid the forces of darkness, will be cursed in the eyes of the kingdom, and held as traitors.  

By my hand, my wish and will, and with the stamp of the signet ring that is the seal of my power.  High Lord Tsovas Kerthain, Duke of Cynosure, Lord of the Silver March, Plar of Dmitri, and Protector of the South.

Slinger thought about the additional gold.  When you are in hiding, you need to have coin.  It greases palms, affords a modicum of comfort while on the lam, and spell components aren't getting any cheaper these days.

"I'd be happy to provide some knowledge and arcane power for the trip," he stated (hoping that a trek in service to this Duke wouldn't get him caught up in old troubles with the other Duke).

Naren hands the documents back with an "Acceptable."

"Very good!', exclaims the Lord Steward.  "With such staunch defenders as these, Cynosure has nothing to worry of!"

He rolls out a map that is more detailed than the travel maps provided to you and describes the best route to your destination.

"From Ardendale, here, you can take the Trade Route overland.  About two days west, it turns north, but there is a lesser trail that continues westward, and heads south," hes says, pointing at various locations.  "As you can see, the Trollspire mountains to the south have a front that stretches close to the area, which is where we think they are recruiting some other humanoids besides the eponymous trolls.  While this range exists outside of our borders, it has always been in our interest to keep an eye on activities there, but we have never been able to get a very accurate accounting of the trolls.  Of course, it doesn't take too many to cause great havoc."

He pauses for a minute, apparently considering the implications, then continues:  "The fens begin here," he says, pointing again, "and quickly turn into the stinking bogs that circle the Haarken swamp, named for the adventurer who tried to build his keep there as claim to the land.  This acts as a natural barrier in our efforts to monitor the foothills and Trollspires." he traces a route marked on the map.  "The road runs along the northern edge, and about three quarters through, there is a small rise with a hollow that our patrols sometimes use.  You should be able to make that camp by nightfall of the third day, from whence you can follow the swamp trails directly in, or continue southwest and circumnavigate the bogs."  The Lord Steward stands up and begins rolling the map.

"Well, now, you all may want to be careful around Haarken swamp.  Rumours call the place haunted."  interjects Tarvin.

"Begging your leave, my good Tarvin," the Lord Steward replies, almost deferentially, "but those are stories the goodwives tell children to keep them from wandering off."

"May as be, Lord Steward, may as be.  I know merchants have planned their travels so as to avoid being in that area before Selune makes her journey into the sky," Tarvin states.  "But they tend to be a superstitious lot as well.  I don't think our heroic band will have any problems." he finishes with a wink.

"As Tarvin says, it would be wise to employ caution around that area.  Haunted or not, there are creatures in there that operate better by the pale light of the moon than we do in bright sunshine." Lord Steward concludes.  "At any rate, that is where the Duke's counsel ends.  Your travel maps have some details across the border; known trails,  easily recognized landmarks and the like.  There may be other paths to take, but I would caution against such.  The swamps are treacherous, and to not take lightly to the inexperienced."

The map rolled and replaced in his personal belongings, Lord Steward motions to the Sergeant by the door, who quickly moves to gather the belongings and take them outside.

"Very well, then, adventurers.  Allow me to extend the appreciation of the Duchy of Cynosure once again, and our hopes that we can welcome you back as heroes, or if not, that we can bear the honour of your final resting place.  I would advise you all to sup early, and get your rest tonight." he tells you, pulling on gloves and cloak, "I will be awaiting you at the edge of town at first light.  My men and I can see you as far as the northern road to Kilvarn, where we must part company, as we have other business to attend."

Dressed for riding, the Steward turns to leave.  "We ride swiftly, but not enough to exhaust your horses.  Time is of the essence, but it will do no one any good if your horses cannot carry you back from your reconnaissance.  Your maps are marked with patrol camps along the way, but if you use them, keep the letters of marque at hand.  We do still have active patrols, and they regularly have to roust travellers."  You hear the sounds of his horse snorting outside the door, and stamping its feet.

"My charger grows restless, so I bid you good afternoon.  I will see you at the West Gate tomorrow at first light, and may the gods watch over you!".  The door closes behind the Lord Steward, and you hear him climb into the saddle and ride off towards the barracks.

"Gods watch, Lord Steward!" calls Tarvin after him, then turns to your group.  "I would imagine you will be wanting supper, then?  The Lord Steward has imposed a curfew, so none of the locals will be interrupting your last night here."