NA-07: The Road to Asbury – Day 3
A Day of Recovery, Reckoning, and Return to the Homeland of House Asbury
Scene One: Morning Departure and Wounded Evacuation
The dawn of Readying the 6th paints the eastern sky in hues of crimson and gold. Dew clings like crystal to every blade of grass, and the world is momentarily calm in the wake of chaos. A stillness pervades the campsite as survivors stir, groaning from wounds or fatigue. The burnt smell of extinguished flames lingers, faint but bitter.
Lady Elinor is already awake, kneeling beside the wagon, wiping soot from the singed frame with a damp cloth. Her hands are calloused, her face serene but firm. The aftermath of the night raid hangs heavy. The bandits’ bodies have been cleared from the grove. Their weapons, pouches, and tattered armor are neatly stacked. The bound and sullen survivors huddle beneath a blanket, under guard.
Lady Elinor’s Address (to the adventurers): "This road carries more than wagons and warriors — it bears the judgment of our people and the promise of return. Intern the prisoners. They will be brought before the Mayor of Penwick and tried in full view of the people. Mercy is not the absence of justice. It is the heart's demand for order."
She turns to gaze southeast — toward home.
Lady Elinor is already awake, kneeling beside the wagon, wiping soot from the singed frame with a damp cloth. Her hands are calloused, her face serene but firm. The aftermath of the night raid hangs heavy. The bandits’ bodies have been cleared from the grove. Their weapons, pouches, and tattered armor are neatly stacked. The bound and sullen survivors huddle beneath a blanket, under guard.
Lady Elinor’s Address (to the adventurers): "This road carries more than wagons and warriors — it bears the judgment of our people and the promise of return. Intern the prisoners. They will be brought before the Mayor of Penwick and tried in full view of the people. Mercy is not the absence of justice. It is the heart's demand for order."
She turns to gaze southeast — toward home.
DM Notes:
- PCs may interact with the wounded or question the prisoners.
- Wagon is charred but intact.
- Lady Elinor prioritizes prisoners’ lawful processing over vengeance.
- PCs who aid wounded gain her private commendation.
Scene Two: Crossing the Border into Penwick
The morning’s march carries the caravan past the last of the cultivated farmlands under House Milinous. The western hills rise behind them like silent witnesses. A single weatherworn post bears two painted crests — a rampant griffon of House Milinous and the blazing sword and gemstone crown of House Asbury — side by side. Lady Elinor's eyes shimmer as she sees it. She slows her mount.
Lady Elinor (quietly, to herself): "Home… at last. My forebears would weep with joy to know I returned not as a refugee, but a rightful heir."
The land here is thick with spring growth. Green wheat sways in the breeze, while peas and barley ripen in clustered fields. Here and there, orchard trees blossom white and pink. Children’s laughter rings from distant farmhouses.
Lady Elinor (quietly, to herself): "Home… at last. My forebears would weep with joy to know I returned not as a refugee, but a rightful heir."
The land here is thick with spring growth. Green wheat sways in the breeze, while peas and barley ripen in clustered fields. Here and there, orchard trees blossom white and pink. Children’s laughter rings from distant farmhouses.
Travel Notes:
- PCs may talk with farmers or observe the region’s condition.
- The land seems more prosperous than the villages near Verbobonc City — a sign of better stewardship or fewer raids.
- A successful DC 14 Insight reveals Elinor’s tension rising as they near Penwick.
Scene Three: Arrival at Penwick
The village of Penwick lies nestled amid low-rolling meadows. As the caravan approaches, shouts rise — joy, surprise, and reverent acclaim.
"Bless thee, Lady Elinor!"
"St. Cuthbert guide your steps!"
"May Rao watch over your house!"
Villagers — young and old — pour into the rutted street, trailing the slow wagon. Children laugh and wave from underfoot, while a few elderly women cast petals from faded aprons.
The manor of Mayor Grantham rises at the center. The old stone walls bear mismatched patches from recent repairs, and bright streamers from last summer’s festival still flutter atop the green commons. Off in the field, colorful streamers drop from the top of a ten‐foot‐tall maypole and nearly touch ground.
As you approach the manor Lady Elinor comments, "This is the residence of Mayor Bridgeforth, the hereditary leader of the Township of Penwick, his wife Beatrix and his oldest son and heir Gaelsich. Conner is a retired knight of House Asbury who fought bravely in The Battle of Emridy Meadows. However he is now old and tired. You can see that the strain of rebuilding the township has worn heavily upon him. But we are too far off the Forest Road to attract much in the way of trade. What needs doing, I fear we must do ourselves."
As the caravan stops, the gate creaks open, and an old man in fine but worn garb approaches with a cane. Mayor Connor Grantham (bowing low): "Baroness Elinor… your return gladdens these weary eyes. Come, let us see to your comfort… and these prisoners."
At this, Lady Elinor dismounts with practiced grace. Mayor Conner immediately drops to one knee, bowing his head. Lady Elinor steps forward and extends her hand. He takes it, kisses the back of her glove reverently, then rises as she taps his shoulder gently.
Lady Elinor (with calm nobility): "Thank you, Lord Mayor. We have had a journey of some difficulty. But we are safe now." She glances toward the bound prisoners and the tired expressions on the guards’ faces.
Lady Elinor (with quiet steel): "Our expedition returning from the City of Verbobonc was accosted by a band of paid mercenaries. Their indiscretion was quite a vargle. Please take them into custody and determine if thou can find more. This one is ought a little limpsey. Our esteemed Master..." (she names the interrogating PC) "...had a few words with him. Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken."
"Bless thee, Lady Elinor!"
"St. Cuthbert guide your steps!"
"May Rao watch over your house!"
Villagers — young and old — pour into the rutted street, trailing the slow wagon. Children laugh and wave from underfoot, while a few elderly women cast petals from faded aprons.
The manor of Mayor Grantham rises at the center. The old stone walls bear mismatched patches from recent repairs, and bright streamers from last summer’s festival still flutter atop the green commons. Off in the field, colorful streamers drop from the top of a ten‐foot‐tall maypole and nearly touch ground.
As you approach the manor Lady Elinor comments, "This is the residence of Mayor Bridgeforth, the hereditary leader of the Township of Penwick, his wife Beatrix and his oldest son and heir Gaelsich. Conner is a retired knight of House Asbury who fought bravely in The Battle of Emridy Meadows. However he is now old and tired. You can see that the strain of rebuilding the township has worn heavily upon him. But we are too far off the Forest Road to attract much in the way of trade. What needs doing, I fear we must do ourselves."
As the caravan stops, the gate creaks open, and an old man in fine but worn garb approaches with a cane. Mayor Connor Grantham (bowing low): "Baroness Elinor… your return gladdens these weary eyes. Come, let us see to your comfort… and these prisoners."
At this, Lady Elinor dismounts with practiced grace. Mayor Conner immediately drops to one knee, bowing his head. Lady Elinor steps forward and extends her hand. He takes it, kisses the back of her glove reverently, then rises as she taps his shoulder gently.
Lady Elinor (with calm nobility): "Thank you, Lord Mayor. We have had a journey of some difficulty. But we are safe now." She glances toward the bound prisoners and the tired expressions on the guards’ faces.
Lady Elinor (with quiet steel): "Our expedition returning from the City of Verbobonc was accosted by a band of paid mercenaries. Their indiscretion was quite a vargle. Please take them into custody and determine if thou can find more. This one is ought a little limpsey. Our esteemed Master..." (she names the interrogating PC) "...had a few words with him. Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken."
DM Notes:
- Mayor Grantham welcomes the PCs and will house the wounded at his hall.
- A feast is not possible due to local hardship, but a humble meal is offered.
- PCs who fought bravely may be recognized by name in a public thank-you.
- The words vargle (a disordered or foolish act) and limpsey (weak, unimpressive) are in-character flourishes meant to reflect Lady Elinor’s noble upbringing and command of courtly speech.
Lady Elinor then turns to the PCs, a rare glimmer of warmth in her otherwise measured expression. (formally) "These good men are in service of House Asbury. They have made good accounting of themselves during the encounter. I believe we have chosen wisely."
She names each adventurer aloud, praising their role in protecting the caravan, aiding the wounded, and preserving the House’s dignity. The mayor listens intently and offers each PC a handshake and personal thanks.
Mayor Conner (beaming): "I thank you all for returning Elinor. Constable Ebbe, take charge of any wounded and prisoners."
A broad-shouldered man in a brown cloak nods and steps forward to begin giving orders. The mayor then gestures to a young man standing just behind him — tall, sharp-featured, and with the same steel-gray eyes.
Mayor Conner: "Lady Elinor, you remember my eldest son, Gaelsich? He runs affairs here in Penwick with my direction. He is turning out to be a quite capable governor."
Lady Elinor (with delight): "Little Gaelsich! You have grown much in the last months. I have heard much about you of late. You do make your father proud. Our holding is much stronger with your efforts."
Gaelsich Grantham (bowing deeply): "Lady Elinor, I am not blessed with false modesty and have only devoted my strongest efforts in the affairs of Penwick. I can only hope to perform my duties well for your prominence."
Mayor Conner (with heartfelt pride): "My home is yours, as always." (He bows again) "Please, come inside. Dinner is being prepared and I have your rooms."
Lady Elinor places a gloved hand on her chest and bows slightly. "Loyal Sir Conner, I must graciously decline the dinner invitation. It is incumbent to precipitate the delivery of our supplies to Asbury Manor with great haste and see these good men on their way on vital house business. I do promise to enjoy your house against my next journey."
Mayor Conner (bowing): "Yes, your prominence. A sensible imperative I do understand. Safe travels, Lady Elinor. Until next you visit."
Lady Elinor (with a fond smile): "I would say we should let the opinions of our friends be our guide. Farethee well, Sir Conner."
She names each adventurer aloud, praising their role in protecting the caravan, aiding the wounded, and preserving the House’s dignity. The mayor listens intently and offers each PC a handshake and personal thanks.
Mayor Conner (beaming): "I thank you all for returning Elinor. Constable Ebbe, take charge of any wounded and prisoners."
A broad-shouldered man in a brown cloak nods and steps forward to begin giving orders. The mayor then gestures to a young man standing just behind him — tall, sharp-featured, and with the same steel-gray eyes.
Mayor Conner: "Lady Elinor, you remember my eldest son, Gaelsich? He runs affairs here in Penwick with my direction. He is turning out to be a quite capable governor."
Lady Elinor (with delight): "Little Gaelsich! You have grown much in the last months. I have heard much about you of late. You do make your father proud. Our holding is much stronger with your efforts."
Gaelsich Grantham (bowing deeply): "Lady Elinor, I am not blessed with false modesty and have only devoted my strongest efforts in the affairs of Penwick. I can only hope to perform my duties well for your prominence."
Mayor Conner (with heartfelt pride): "My home is yours, as always." (He bows again) "Please, come inside. Dinner is being prepared and I have your rooms."
Lady Elinor places a gloved hand on her chest and bows slightly. "Loyal Sir Conner, I must graciously decline the dinner invitation. It is incumbent to precipitate the delivery of our supplies to Asbury Manor with great haste and see these good men on their way on vital house business. I do promise to enjoy your house against my next journey."
Mayor Conner (bowing): "Yes, your prominence. A sensible imperative I do understand. Safe travels, Lady Elinor. Until next you visit."
Lady Elinor (with a fond smile): "I would say we should let the opinions of our friends be our guide. Farethee well, Sir Conner."
The caravan rolls onward, turning away from the cheers of Penwick’s folk, toward the winding road south and the long shadows of the approaching dusk.
Scene Four: Encounter – On to Asbury
High sunlit clouds drift lazily across a sky so blue it seems almost painted. As your company rides out of Penwick, villagers pause in their daily tasks—some at doorsteps or peeking from shuttered windows, others in fields or along the fences of lean pastures. A gaggle of children trail behind for a time, wide-eyed and whispering, watching the famed Lady Elinor and her caravan of battle-worn heroes with awe.
A pasture. A herd of brown cows graze quietly, separated from a pacing, solitary bull. A dilapidated barn behind a modest farmhouse slouches with age. A white sheet—half-dried—snaps loose in the breeze from a laundry line, spiraling like a ghost.
Another field, farther out, tells a sadder tale: furrowed earth overgrown with weeds. A rusted plough lies forgotten under a tree. A rabbit stares at you, its cheeks stuffed with radish, before darting off. From behind a rock, a calf stumbles after the wagon, its cowbell jingling, confused—then veers off again.
You travel quietly for a while. The trail climbs a low rise of gentle hills. What should be prime farmland now lies fallow. Crumbling stone fences, broken carts in tall grass, and the sagging remnants of watch-posts haunt the landscape.
Then, the sound of rushing water reaches your ears. A sturdy timber-and-stone bridge spans a quick-running stream, clear and cold. As the wagon crosses the bridge, the hooves of your horses ring hollow on the planks.
Suddenly, Lady Elinor raises a hand. The wagon halts. Without a word, she and her original escort dismount and walk into a small copse of oak and ash trees off the road.
A pasture. A herd of brown cows graze quietly, separated from a pacing, solitary bull. A dilapidated barn behind a modest farmhouse slouches with age. A white sheet—half-dried—snaps loose in the breeze from a laundry line, spiraling like a ghost.
Another field, farther out, tells a sadder tale: furrowed earth overgrown with weeds. A rusted plough lies forgotten under a tree. A rabbit stares at you, its cheeks stuffed with radish, before darting off. From behind a rock, a calf stumbles after the wagon, its cowbell jingling, confused—then veers off again.
You travel quietly for a while. The trail climbs a low rise of gentle hills. What should be prime farmland now lies fallow. Crumbling stone fences, broken carts in tall grass, and the sagging remnants of watch-posts haunt the landscape.
Then, the sound of rushing water reaches your ears. A sturdy timber-and-stone bridge spans a quick-running stream, clear and cold. As the wagon crosses the bridge, the hooves of your horses ring hollow on the planks.
Suddenly, Lady Elinor raises a hand. The wagon halts. Without a word, she and her original escort dismount and walk into a small copse of oak and ash trees off the road.
DM Notes: The Grove of Memory
Any PC who chooses to follow sees a soft grassy glade, dappled in morning light. In its heart are twelve weather-worn stones arranged in a semi-circle. One in the center is larger, rising three feet high, inscribed with noble elvish script and the House Asbury crest—the crowned flaming sword above a rising sun-gem.
- Lady Elinor stands before the largest stone. Her guards remove their helms. A deep silence hangs in the air like incense. None speak.
- This is the resting place of Lord Kyllan Tresguard and Lady Aluna Greensward, Elinor’s parents—along with the ten retainers who stood beside them at Whistler’s Bridge. No bones lie beneath these stones; only memory and oath.
- If a PC offers words of sympathy or reverence, Lady Elinor will accept them with a calm nod but say nothing. If they intrude, Sir Armount may block their path with a glare.
- After a moment, the Baroness places her hand on the stone, exhales, and turns back toward the trail. No words. No tears. Only resolve.
Scene Five: Arrival at Asbury Manor
The journey’s end – and a new beginning.
The road rounds a final bend along the stream. The slope climbs gently before you, and there—nestled in the folds of the Asbury lands—the manor appears. Though smaller than the mayoral estate in Penwick, Asbury Manor bears the marks of loving repair and quiet determination. Unlike the faded pride of other border holds, this one still breathes with life.
In the fields surrounding the manor, peasants are at work: digging trenches, patching fences, and stacking hay. On a low hill to the east, masons in dust-covered tunics labor over a new stone building, smoke curling from a newly raised forge chimney.
Lady Elinor, upon spotting the manor, stands high in her stirrups and raises a hand toward the gate. Her cheeks flush with joy, the stiffness of command falls from her face.
“We are here! Though it is not much to look at yet, it is home. And there is great potential in this land.”
She snaps the reins, and her palfrey moves to a steady trot, Sir Armount following close behind.
In the fields surrounding the manor, peasants are at work: digging trenches, patching fences, and stacking hay. On a low hill to the east, masons in dust-covered tunics labor over a new stone building, smoke curling from a newly raised forge chimney.
Lady Elinor, upon spotting the manor, stands high in her stirrups and raises a hand toward the gate. Her cheeks flush with joy, the stiffness of command falls from her face.
“We are here! Though it is not much to look at yet, it is home. And there is great potential in this land.”
She snaps the reins, and her palfrey moves to a steady trot, Sir Armount following close behind.
DM Notes: Lady Elinor's Return to Asbury Manor
Elinor’s Gallop into the Gatehouse:
- Tone & Symbolism: Lady Elinor’s impromptu gallop through the open gates should be played as a moment of emotional homecoming, triumph, and relief. This is her first return after years of political exile, court maneuvering, and personal sacrifice. Her impetuous gesture should contrast with her normally composed demeanor.
- Pacing Tip: Describe the clatter of her horse’s hooves on the stone, the rise of dust, and the startled cheers of her retainers as she passes through the gates. Guards shout her name, and the dogs erupt in howls as the gates swing wide.
- Player Reactions: PCs may try to follow or shout after her. Let them react naturally, but ensure they understand this is not a moment of danger—it’s a personal, emotional flourish from Elinor.
- Insight/Perception Check (DC 13): Players who succeed may notice:
- A flash of emotion on her face—relief, pride, maybe a shadow of sadness.
- The guards on the parapet appear surprised but also deeply moved by her return.
- Sir Armount’s expression softens with visible pride, spurring his horse after her with a tight-lipped smile.
Optional Scene Hook (High CHA PC):
If a PC rode beside her during the journey and established rapport, you may allow them a moment to spur their horse and ride with her. This can build deeper relationship ties. Elinor may offer a one-line nod of approval afterward.
“Do not dawdle, sir knight/Master (pc). We have a house to rebuild!”
Atop the parapet of the gatehouse, two guards in the blue-and-black tabards of House Asbury raise crossbows and shout with excitement. Barking dogs chorus from the inner courtyard. The entire keep seems to rise in energy. The wagon train rolls beneath the stone arch of the gatehouse into the courtyard. The space is modest but tidy—cobbled, dry, and clean.
Firewood sheds hug the manor’s exterior walls. A stone well with a waist-high wall stands beside the central hall. Near it, a squire tends the horses with careful hands, while several stablehands rush to relieve the exhausted draft team. The kennel howls in wild delight. The manor’s facade, though scarred by war and weather, is sound. Old-growth oak, slate-shingled roofs, and thick shutters speak of wealth once spent wisely. Now, slowly, with care, it is being reclaimed.
From the far right of the courtyard, a short, wiry man with a long golden braid strides across the stones. His gait is uneven—one leg badly burned and stiff—but he moves with urgency and command. A bandolier hangs across his tunic, and his eyes shine with welcome.
“Welcome home, Lady Elinor,” he calls. “Word reached us that you would be arriving today. I have the house prepared, and the cook is already preparing dinner.”
Lady Elinor beams, dismounting with ease. “Olaf, I have missed you so. Your meals have occupied my mind this entire day. Please see to my new pledges. They have earned comfort and welcome.”
Sir Armount offers the man a brief nod, and both follow Elinor up the stairs into the manor’s central hall. The heavy oak doors close behind them. The squire and stablehands work quickly. The wagon is drawn around to a small warehouse beside the stables. The guards disperse. Dogs are herded. The gates are drawn closed.
Firewood sheds hug the manor’s exterior walls. A stone well with a waist-high wall stands beside the central hall. Near it, a squire tends the horses with careful hands, while several stablehands rush to relieve the exhausted draft team. The kennel howls in wild delight. The manor’s facade, though scarred by war and weather, is sound. Old-growth oak, slate-shingled roofs, and thick shutters speak of wealth once spent wisely. Now, slowly, with care, it is being reclaimed.
From the far right of the courtyard, a short, wiry man with a long golden braid strides across the stones. His gait is uneven—one leg badly burned and stiff—but he moves with urgency and command. A bandolier hangs across his tunic, and his eyes shine with welcome.
“Welcome home, Lady Elinor,” he calls. “Word reached us that you would be arriving today. I have the house prepared, and the cook is already preparing dinner.”
Lady Elinor beams, dismounting with ease. “Olaf, I have missed you so. Your meals have occupied my mind this entire day. Please see to my new pledges. They have earned comfort and welcome.”
Sir Armount offers the man a brief nod, and both follow Elinor up the stairs into the manor’s central hall. The heavy oak doors close behind them. The squire and stablehands work quickly. The wagon is drawn around to a small warehouse beside the stables. The guards disperse. Dogs are herded. The gates are drawn closed.
Escorted to the Guard Quarters
Olaf commands, "Pages, take these men to the loft so they may repair themselves before dinner."
Without waiting for an answer, Olaf turns and follows Lady Elinor into the manor.
Two young pages bow with nervous energy and lead you toward the gatehouse structure. Past the kennels, they ascend a narrow stair onto the parapet that overlooks the fertile countryside. Here, a stout wooden door opens into the stone building.
Inside is a short hallway lined with doors, and at the center a sturdy ladder leads to an attic hatch above. The page opens the middle door and gestures inside.
The chamber beyond is Room 2 – Sleeping Loft | Adventurers’ Quarters Location: 3rd Floor, Attic Space - (see side bar)
One page bows. “We will return when the bell chimes once, and then you are expected in the hall. Please make yourselves ready.” The door closes behind them with a soft click.
Inside is a short hallway lined with doors, and at the center a sturdy ladder leads to an attic hatch above. The page opens the middle door and gestures inside.
The chamber beyond is Room 2 – Sleeping Loft | Adventurers’ Quarters Location: 3rd Floor, Attic Space - (see side bar)
One page bows. “We will return when the bell chimes once, and then you are expected in the hall. Please make yourselves ready.” The door closes behind them with a soft click.
DM Notes
Comfort & Safety: Characters should feel a momentary sense of respite. This is a good time to allow players to recover HP if needed, change attire, or reflect on the quest so far.
Asbury Wagon Leaving the City Behind by 3orcs
Type: Roleplaying and Travel Encounter
Campaign Arc: Noble Ambitions 579 CY
Location: Southern Merchant Road, Penwick, Asbury Barony
Involved Factions: House Asbury, House Milinous, Mayor Connor Grantham, Local Farmers
Key NPCs: Lady Elinor Asbury, Sir Armount, Billet Joris of St. Cuthbert, Mayor Grantham, various villagers
Parent Plot
Related Characters
Related Organizations
Related Locations
Asbury coat of arms by 3orcs
Asbury Grove of Memory by 3orcs
Olaf Berg Steward of House Asbury by 3orcs
Olaf Berg
Title: Steward of House Asbury
Race: Human
Age: Late 50s
Appearance: Short, lean, scarred leg, long braided golden hair, weathered face
Personality: Loyal, blunt, disciplined, warm to Elinor and Armount, cool to strangers
Role: Manages day-to-day operations at the manor; commands the household staff
"Pages, take these men to the loft so they may repair themselves before dinner."
Asbury Manor by Harn Writer's Guild Production: Written by Kerry Mould, Maps by Kerry Mould & Thomas Shook, Art by Richard Luschek, Editing by Brent Bailey.
Room 2 – Sleeping Loft | Adventurers’ Quarters
Location: 3rd Floor, Attic Space – Asbury Manor
As you ascend the narrow wooden ladder from the stone hallway below, the hatch door creaks open into a long, low-ceilinged attic chamber. The air is warmer here—thick with the scent of timber and wool, a blend of summer heat and old rafters. This is the sleeping loft, humble and honest, serving as quarters for the manor’s working staff and low-ranking guests.
The floor is made of wide, honey-toned planks worn smooth and shiny by countless footfalls. The slanted roof hangs low on either side, with exposed beams that disappear into the eaves. A few tiny casement windows are set along the walls, some open to allow the heat to escape. A cool breeze filters through, shifting the light burlap curtains.
Laid out across the floor are several straw ticks—rough pallets with folded woolen blankets, arranged neatly in rows. Near the far end of the room, two corners are curtained off with hanging blankets to afford privacy for the manor’s married servants: Pedr Gittins (the cook) and his wife Britia (the alewife), and Sion Probert (the ostler) and his wife Petti. Their quarters are modest but respectfully arranged, with small foot chests and woven mats.
At the center of the loft, extra bedrolls are stacked against a support beam, clearly intended for travelers—like yourselves. The loft lacks a hearth, but warm air rises through the floorboards from the noble quarters and kitchens below, providing just enough comfort on most nights. In summer, the space becomes stifling unless the shutters are cracked. In winter, the chill can be biting and sleep comes only by burrowing deep into the blankets.
This is not a noble's chamber—but it is safe, clean, and honest. In the still of the evening, you may hear the creak of beams, the rustle of mice in the walls, and the gentle sounds of the manor below continuing on without you.
The floor is made of wide, honey-toned planks worn smooth and shiny by countless footfalls. The slanted roof hangs low on either side, with exposed beams that disappear into the eaves. A few tiny casement windows are set along the walls, some open to allow the heat to escape. A cool breeze filters through, shifting the light burlap curtains.
Laid out across the floor are several straw ticks—rough pallets with folded woolen blankets, arranged neatly in rows. Near the far end of the room, two corners are curtained off with hanging blankets to afford privacy for the manor’s married servants: Pedr Gittins (the cook) and his wife Britia (the alewife), and Sion Probert (the ostler) and his wife Petti. Their quarters are modest but respectfully arranged, with small foot chests and woven mats.
At the center of the loft, extra bedrolls are stacked against a support beam, clearly intended for travelers—like yourselves. The loft lacks a hearth, but warm air rises through the floorboards from the noble quarters and kitchens below, providing just enough comfort on most nights. In summer, the space becomes stifling unless the shutters are cracked. In winter, the chill can be biting and sleep comes only by burrowing deep into the blankets.
This is not a noble's chamber—but it is safe, clean, and honest. In the still of the evening, you may hear the creak of beams, the rustle of mice in the walls, and the gentle sounds of the manor below continuing on without you.
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