A Quest of Dragons The Heart of Winter

We Don't Go to Ravenshire

Three and a half years previous.

Gavin sat across the long, sprawling halls of the Pail Ale Tavern, just at the outskirts of the crown city of Vatatica.  He had just turned his twentieth year and was sitting on the hottest tip he'd ever heard.  Gavin reached into his vest and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment.  He unfolded it and revealed a map detailing lands just southwest of Vatatica.  It was a modest countryside village known as Ravenshire.  It was roughly a two days journey for Gavin and all he could think about was the information he had been fed.  According to local legend, there's a mad spirit running rampant in the graveyard just outside of town.  The local priests of Vatatica are too preoccupied with their work in the crown city to go and purge the monster but if anyone could cleanse it and set it's spirit free, they would be free to help themselves to its treasure trove in the crypt.  Gavin's hands shook in excitement.  "I wonder what haunts the yard," he whispered to himself.  "It could be a Frigid Banshee or maybe a Howling Mademon."

"Could be both, you know," a girl said as she peered over his shoulder.  "What would you do then?"  She walked away and took a seat further down the bar.  She was young, her facial features were as gentle of that of a princess from far away lands.  Her shoulder length brown hair sparkled in the candle light of the Tavern.

"How about you try minding your own business?" Gavin said roughly.  "How would you like it if I were hanging over your shoulder?"  He waved the bartender over.  "Can I get an ale?"  Moments later, the bartender, a man in his late 20s with long black hair and a bland smile placed a frothy mug of brew on the counter In front of Gavin.  Gavin smiled as he sipped his beer.

"Aren't you going to buy a lady an ale?" The girl asked, shooting Gavin a look.  "No wonder you're here all alone."

Gavin smirked.  "If you're trying to pick me up, that's not the way to do it," he corrected, lifting his mug and toasting to the girl.  "I prefer my women a little less moody."

"Moody?!" The girl scoffed.  She waved the bartender over.  "I'll have an ale, he's buying."  She pointed at Gavin.

"The hell I am!" Gavin argued, slamming his mug on the table and spitting on the floor.  "She can buy her own damn ale."

The girl faked a smile.  "But I'm just a helpless little girl, won't you please buy me a beer?"

Gavin laughed.  "I know your games," he argued.  "I won't be falling for them, not tonight.  Too much on my plate."

"Maybe I'll tell everyone about your lead in Ravenshire," the girl teased.  Her words had caught the boy's attention and he stood up and walked over to a stool next to her.  "You'll have to entertain me."

Gavin sat down frustrated and glared at the bartender.  "Get her an ale, it's on me."

The girl smirked.  "Good boy."  She reached out a hand to introduce herself.  "Sariel, and you are?"

Gavin raised an eyebrow.  "Gavin, a pleasure, Miss Sariel."  He spit on the floor.  "An absolute pleasure."

Sariel patted him on the back.  "Don't be such a sore loser," she joked,
Sipping the beer that the bartender had just placed in front of her.  "So, tell me about Ravenshire."

"Why does it matter?" Gavin asked.  "It doesn't concern you."  He took a drink.

Sariel raised an eyebrow.  "It's called making conversation.  I'm just trying to be friendly."

"Well don't," Gavin said gruffly.  "It's nothing to concern yourself with.  That place is practically a ghost town anyway."

"Why's that?"