*Heroes of his youth

" Of course ... Of course Master Graystone." The Old Fletcher spoke bowing politely setting the cleaver aside. " Only our finest for you and your companions my Lord."

There was a hint of surprise in his voice as his eyes drifted from one familiar face to the next noting the lack of recognition in their eyes.

No, not all that surprising given it had been decades since either had stepped foot through those doors.

The Inquisitor Graystone was once well known in the region. A celebrated hero in his youth tales told of how he had gone south to attend to matters of the faith and many thought he had died their.

And yet here he stood now older by a good number of years his dark hair gone gray with age. The heroic recklessness of youth gone from his manner and expression replaced by sterner stuff but clearly no less the hero then he had ever been.

Old Fletcher gaze drifted briefly from the Inquisitor to his most unlikely of travelling companions. The Mistress of the Tower of Darkmyr Cyndel Blackfar of whom Old Fletcher recognized from his boyhood.

Age clearly had not touched the elven beauty though unlike the majority of her kind he had chanced to meet over the years. Hers had never been as cold or heartless a beauty as the others had proven to be. Here and now there was still warmth hinted in her ready smile and a sparkle of misdeed and in her eye.

Her exploits where almost as legendary as the stories told of Graystone youth but hers were best told after a night of drinking when the children were long asleep in their beds.

The Dark Executioner however was unknown to Old Fletcher as too was the Metalman and the others that followed after, but from their look they were no doubt able companions if they rode with Graystone and Blackfar.

" Lord and Lady let my boy see to your mounts and my daughters see you to your rooms."


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