We weren’t on our way home within the hour.
We cleaned ourselves up at the Inn and then walked the short distance to the Manor house. You could tell that this was once an imposing landmark within the town of Barovia, but now it looked ramshackle and crumbling in places. The metal gates were in such disrepair, one of them was almost off its hinges and swinging in the languid breeze. As we approached the house itself Bastion seemed to slump.
“I am looking for signs of evil,” he said quietly to no-one in particular, “but I am exhausted.”
Karak’s eyes looked into the middle distance and shortly he said to us all that he could detect no magic emanating from anywhere nearby. We all noticed that the front door bore the same scratch marks we had found at the entrance to the Temple. There were signs of fire around and the windows, now without the glass panes that are so common in these houses were barricaded with roughhewn planks of wood. This was a house of stories no doubt, but we all felt a chill as the party presented itself to the once magnificent doors.
From within we could hear sounds of an argument in full swing. A woman’s voice was yelling that they had no right to make these demands, their father not even in the ground yet and a man replied that what he was suggesting was done out of love. We knocked on the huge, battered door and shortly enough it was opened by Ismark, looking very much the worse for wear. He stepped back into the hallway and invited us in, “Come, come,” he said wearily, “let us sit and thank you for coming.”
As he led us to what would have at one time been a fabulous drawing room, we passed a coffin, surrounded by wilted flowers. Whilst he obviously saw us looking with some fascination, he did not react, but led us straight to some comfortable chairs and offered us wine. “Please sit down.” He said in a strangled voice.
“How can we help?” Bastion asked kindly.
“My sister is in such peril, the Devil Strahd leaves his mark over the entire valley, but as I said last night, he has some particular interest in my sister, Ireena.” Ismark took a long draught from his goblet. “I would ask two things of you, if I may.” He looked at us all in turn. “Please help me bury my father, who lies in the next room, and please consider accompanying Ireena to Valaki, the walled city to the West where she may be better protected.”
We all looked at him in amazement. He hardly knew us, but to entrust us with the safety of his sister at a time like this? Gorek was unconvinced.
“And what does your sister think of this request?” He demanded.
“I like it not.” Came a voice from the doorway. A tall, handsome women strode into the room, she was dressed for riding into battle, wearing a gleaming chest plate over vibrant silks and polished leather boots.
“These folk may be the answer to our prayers.” Ismark pleaded, turning to his sister. “I could barricade you in here, or the Temple, but I cannot lead the people of this town in their fight against Strahd and take care of you at the same time. Please reconsider?”
Gorek sniffed. “And what of your father’s body?” He challenged. “Why have you not bidden him farewell in accordance with the Morning Lords teachings?”
“We are unable to inter him in the family crypt the way that our traditions demand of us.” Ireena shot back.
“I find this all very suspicious.” Gorek said, his anger plain in his voice. “I am not sure I care for you to travel with us!”
“I am sure I do not care for your company Paladin.” Ireena spat back. “You are free to leave this house at any time.”
We asked for some time to talk amongst ourselves. I’ll be honest with you, since I overheard the Vistani talk about the windmill, and the fact that it had cropped up in a number of places, I was very excited to go to Valaki and this was the perfect excuse. I told my friends as much.
Bastion reminded us that we still had unfinished business in the Red Brick House and we agreed on a plan.
- Help the siblings to bury their father.
- Return to the Red Brick House to help the children.
- Travel with Ireena to Valaki. (I was very excited about this last one.)
We presented our ideas to Ismark, who readily agreed. So, we prepared to bear the coffin to the Temple from which we had just returned. Being of no help in carrying such an important burden I skipped behind the procession, taking in the sights and sounds of this dismal place. I wondered how I would feel if I didn’t have such a sunny disposition.
The ceremony was brief, the priest, who seemed much livelier since we had removed the curse from his church started to deliver what I am sure would have been a beautiful eulogy for the Father, but Ismark rounded on him and said, “We don’t have time for this!” Which I though was a little rude and I was going to say something when we were interrupted by a strange, quiet voice from directly behind Gorek.
“Good sir,” a sibilant whisper sounded, “would you tend to my horse as I pay my respects to Tatyana?”
We all jumped a little. No-one had heard the stranger approach, not even the horse had made a sound. Gorek stood dumbfounded as the tall pale man walked straight to Ireena and bowed slightly.
“How dare you?” She demanded.
“I was hoping that now, given the circumstances,” he nodded to the crypt, “you have had some time to reconsider my offer?” His voice was like a chill breeze over dry leaves.
Ismark stepped between the stranger and his sister. “Lord Strahd.” His voice cracked with fear. ”You are not welcome here.”
I think my eyes must have popped out of my head I was so shocked. This was Strahd! The one responsible for all of the terror within the walls of this valley. The reason that we were here. I looked quickly to the rest of the group to see if they had heard Ismark. The look of surprise on their faces told me that they had.
“Far be it for me to intrude upon your grief.” Strahd said, and then turned to address Ireena. “Think on my offer, dearest Tatyana.” And with that he turned back to Gorek and held out his hand without a word. Gorek passed the reins of the horse back wordlessly to Strahd, who mounted the beast and walked out of the cemetery. I am sure that I wasn’t the only one who noticed that the hooves of the horse left little circles of fire on the limp grass, vibrant in the gloom of the afternoon.
The priest Dorovich was the first to recover. “Come with me.” He urged and shepherded us into the ancient building. The transformation inside was incredible. There were two or three acolytes busying themselves in cleaning up the mess that we had seen only that morning. The debris had been mostly cleared away, there was no sign of the rope that had mysteriously snapped of its own accord and the pews, which had been righted were in various stages of repair.
The old priest turned to face the siblings, “I have no easy way to say this.” He said, addressing Ireena directly. “Your father swore me to secrecy, wanting to be the one who told you, but he can no longer keep that promise, so it falls to me.”
“What are you babbling about old man?” Snapped Ireena. Her patience worn thin from the events of the morning so far. “What secret?”
“This is difficult, but you should know that you are not your father’s natural daughter.” The holy man looked at his feet, unable to meet her gaze. “He found you as a small baby in the forest on the north west of the town.”
“Lies!” Spat Ismark.
“If only they were.” Said the priest quietly. “I wish that it was not… that I did not have to… tell you, but I think the time for you to know is now.” He looked at them both. “Your clothes were fine, expensive, there was no note and your father brought you here to me. Given what has just occurred outside, perhaps your true parentage might give us some clue as to why the Devil Strahd is paying you so much attention.” He looked as if was in pain. “I wish I could tell you more. We vowed that we would keep this to ourselves until he could tell you, but…” His voice trailed away, and he looked helplessly at all of us.
“Let us return to the house.” Ismark said simply. “I have a small library and there may be some answers there.”
We returned, dejected and all thinking about what had just taken place. Each lost in their thoughts as Ismark led us into the house. Karak, Bastion and Gorek followed Ismark into the library and they started poring over the collection of books. I took the opportunity to search the house for any sign of where people might want to gain access. I found the house to be quite robust, if not a little run down. In the kitchen I found food that would keep us all fed for a week. Not recognising some glass phials and herbs I uncovered I called Lunae over to help. She looked at them and then smiled gently. “You have found the makings of a healers kit. Perhaps enough for two. It is quite a find little one.” And then returned to Dog.
I wondered into the library to find Gorek and Ismark debating whether we should travel to Valeki or Krezk, his hometown. They had discovered quite a bit about Strahd’s history. How his father (ancestor?) Barov had liberated the land hundreds of years before. As the conquest drew to a close Castle Ravenloft had been built to honour the victors, so named after Strahd’s mother, the Countess Ravonia. A wedding was to be held between Sergei von Zarovich and Tatyana a local noblewoman. There was mention of the wedding invites and it all seemed to be a very happy affair, a final celebration to mark the end of the war.
There was also a record of Strahd driving out his enemy someone called ‘Argynvost’. My eyes grew to the size of saucers. ‘Who was a Silver Dragon.’ Apparently, they had lived in a fort in the middle of the valley. That was going on my list of things to see.
But this was all very strange. Strahd had called Ireena ‘Tatyana’. Was this Strahd related in some way to Sergei? Could he be Sergei? But that would make him hundreds of years old. Goreka and Ismark were debating religion in the corner. I turned to Ireena. “I think your answers lay in the west my lady.” I said. She smiled. “I think you might be right Holly.”
Bastion was snoring in the corner and everyone looked just about done for the day, so we turned in and all wondered what the following morning would bring.
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