Abberthorn

The City of Secrets

The kingdom of Silverglen was a picturesque little town. It was quaint and small yet as busy as any of the larger cities. It was a small hamlet nestled in the bosom of the land, with two large mountains on either side offering protection and only one access point, and a third larger mountain behind. The buildings were of Nordic design and yet being made entirely from stone and with dome roofs they seemed somehow foreign. The carved stones held together with mortar blended into the aged rock of the hills while still standing prominently and proudly for all to see. A single waterfall fell down in the centre of the large palace from a natural spring above, providing the settlement with clean water to drink. And farmlands at the base of the mountains to the east provided them with enough grain to sustain themselves.

The roaming yaks gave the people of the city their trade. They sheered the yaks for fur, which they would then dye and weave into tapestries and clothing to be exported to the other colonies of the realm of man. High in the mountains above the city stood the ruins of the shrine to Serildurth which could still be seen from a distance. The base and archway in which the statue once stood, still stand vacant, pleading to be rebuilt. The people of Silverglen were clean well-dressed people, who went about their business, undisturbed by the arrival of six strangers making their way up to the Stjorna's palace.

The large wooden doors of the palace stood two storeys high and bore the image of a male and female soldier engraved on the left and right side respectively. Before the doors stood two guards clad in plate mail armour with swords at their sides and large axes in their hands. 'What business do you have here travellers?' said the soldier to the right of the door.

'We wish to speak with the Stjorna' said Aramore leading the way up the stairs.

'Denied, go away' replied the other guard.

'It is a matter of extreme urgency. We must see the Stjorna.'

'That is not possible. The Stjorna is in a meeting with her council and will be unavailable until tomorrow' said the first guard.

'Then we shall return in the morning' said Aramore.

'If you must' answered the second guard.

Aramore stood and stared down the guards for a moment, before smirking and heading down the stairs to find a place to spend the night. Halfway down the stairs Aramore noticed out of the corner of his eye, a hidden door closing. The door was made in the side of a rock cliff-face, and once it had closed, it was utterly undiscernible from the rest of the wall. Making a mental note Aramore was puzzled by what he had seen. He knew that a hidden door like that one would only be used by people who wished to remain unknown, and to not have their entering and leaving the castle known to others. If such a door was in use, it begged the question of whether the Stjorna knew of its existence or was the one ordering its use.

Having seen the use of this door Aramore began to study his surroundings more closely as they made their way back through the city. He quickly noticed yet more and more hidden doors and secret entrances to other buildings. By the time they had arrived at the inn, Aramore's trained eyes had seen that every building in this town had some kind of secret entrance or exit. Something about this city was wrong and he would need to speak to his companions about it, but he did not know where he would be able to find a safe place to do so.

'Welcome to the Dead Man's Retreat! How can I help you?' said a beautiful young girl behind the counter of the bar on the ground level of the inn. Aramore stood in the entryway studying the room and its inhabitants, while Zodirah stood forward and said. 'We would like some rooms if you please'

'We have six rooms available on the first floor if that will suit you?' said the woman.

'That will do just fine thank you very much' answered Zodirah.