Fort Temros
From Xin-Shalast, we pan to the south, zooming out past the mountains and the winding rivers. We settle on a familiar Fort, bustling and full of life. There are sentries sharpening weapons and testing bow strings. Patrols practicing in the parade grounds as the aroma of cooking meat wafts through the air.
We head to the Commander’s Quarters, on the upper floor of the Fort. Gone are the giant and ogre memorabilia, along with their grotesque trophies. Instead, they’ve been replaced by hunting trophies, and a plaque holding two crossed battle-axes.
Jak is doing paperwork, but piles of it keep coming in. His brow is furrowed and he rubs his temples in frustration. He looks a bit older now, like the years have finally caught up with him. Shalelu comes in and closes the door.
“What’s the good word?”
Jak sighs, glancing out the window. “These piles of requisitions and forms, who would’ve thought running a fort would be so much work?”
Shalelu laughs.
“You knew the job going in, Jak. And somebody has to do it.”
Jak nods. “I suppose so.”
There’s silence for a bit before Shalelu breaks it. She closes the door and turns back to her father.
“Hold still.”
From the other side of the door, we see it open, and Shalelu walks out. She heads along the passages, across the ramparts, and down the stairs, giving a nod to the guards as she exits the fort. As she makes her way through the forest, we see the illusory visage fade, and instead we see Jak begin to jog. He grabs the bow off his shoulder and smiles, the sunlight glistening off the morning dew.
“I owe you one Shalelu.” Jak grabs his necklace, a pewter pendant emblazed with the fort’s sigil. He kisses it. “Let’s go hunting, Vale.”
The Threshold Light
Caw-caw caw-caw caw-caw! The seagulls swoop overhead, as they scoop up the catch of the morning coast of the Varisian Bay.
The squawking is replaced by the telltale sounds of hammers striking iron. We see that scaffolding has gone up around the Old Light, and a bevvy of workers are scaling the planks as they hoist pallets and set bricks.
As we pan down from the now-less-than-crumbling ruins, there’s a small group of people gathered around a makeshift stage. Among them, we can see Mayor Deverin, Sheriff Belor Hemlock, and of course, Brodert Quink.
Next to the stage, a simple red cloth covers a rectangular shape. The Mayor addresses the crowd.
“Thank you all for coming. As you are well aware, Sandpoint is recognizing the hard work of one of our own, a proverbial diamond in the rough. Someone who has researched tirelessly, and in the face of great scrutiny and doubt.”
“But he never wavered. They say that even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes, but Brodert Quink has squirreled away several. He truly is one of the profound scholars of our age.”
Behind the Mayor, Brodert Quink begins shuffling forward, his smile beaming underneath his round golden glasses.
“And so today, we commemorate Sandpoint’s resident historian with the dedication and renaming of the Old Light. From henceforth,” She pulls the cloth off a simple wooden sign. “may it be known as the Threshold Light, a beacon of opportunity and learning, and a convergence of minds being opened to new ideas.”
“Brodert Quink will retain his role as caretaker and Thassilonian Researcher, using the Threshold Light as a personal research station. We hope that he -“
The creaking of wagon wheels interrupts the mayor as it rounds the corner. It’s laden with stacks and stacks of dusty tomes and long scroll tubes. In the back, we see a familiar bronze automaton, sputtering puffs of quiet smoke. The crowd gasps as Brodert Quink suddenly jumps off the stage and runs towards the wagon.
“Quink, please!”
“It’s here! It’s here! The delivery from the Therassic Library! Oh books, sweet sweet books. Overflowing with knowledge!” He starts tugging at the ropes keeping the books situated as the wagon continues to roll slowly.
“Come help me get these books down! No time to lose. Belor! Come grab – this – stack.” Brodert falls over as a hefty stack of tomes topples on top of him.
The Sheriff hops down to casually walk to help Brodert, parting the crowd with his muscular frame. “Academics…”
Disbarred
We find ourselves in a dark tunnel of stone. Perhaps it’s a castle corridor, or a dwarven mine. We can hear the faint dripping of water echoing. The floor is damp.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The dripping is accompanied by the very faint sound of footsteps padding slowly through the darkness. The figure is wrapped in a heavy cloak, tattered, dirty, and frayed at the edges. For a brief moment, we catch the face of Justice Ironbriar.
He moves with a quiet agility and thoughtfulness before coming to a stop. From underneath the cloak, Ironbriar draws a long, twisted knife. He advances forward as the dark corridor opens up into a wider chamber, knife extended out in front of them revealing his thin, pale arm.
His raspy, grating voice whispers softly. “This one is mine.”
He raises the knife high over his head and plunges it down. In the darkness, we hear the knife scrape flesh and bone, and the blood sprays to the ground violently.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The scene goes black and then we’re in a small stone room, lit by a crackling fire.
Justice Ironbriar is turning a spit over the flames, scowling at the emaciated rat that will serve as his meal. His eyes are hollow as he stares intently as the product of his kill. Off in the distance, the sound of footsteps and shouting begins to grow.
“Fuck.”
The former Justice scoops up a small canvas bag and quickly attempts to scatter the coals of his fire. The flesh of the rat chars and burns, abandoned, as Ironbriar dashes down a nearby opening, back into the darkness.
Boot Locker
We’re back in a bright city, following an old woman whom we recognize as Cloratus. She walks out of a fine Magnimarian townhome, wearing a lovely floral-print fedora.
“I want this place spotless by the time I return, Reny!”
Heads to the market with her basket, at a surprisingly springy pace for an old woman. She peruses the stalls, being quite selective about her purchases. She picks up some produce, testing it for ripeness, she tries on some nice earrings studded with tiny gemstones.
As she shops and continues down the thoroughfare, she eventually stops at the corner. There is a massive storefront, dwarfing the other buildings next to it.
Cloratus holds out her hand to someone signalling them down. “I don’t think I’ve seen this place before, although I usually have my housekeeper Reny do most of the shopping these days. What is this place?
The man replies. “Oh, that’s Boot Locker. I guess the owner used to be penniless, living on the street. Some guy believed in his dream or something and now look at him. Opening a second location down in Underbridge soon. Really revitalizing the area.”
“What a lovely tale. I love hearing about people who earn their way to the top. Good for him.”
She reaches into her basket, and pulls out a feather, and sticks it in her cap before walking into the store.