The Mews (27 Nov 2001) Tom leads an expedition to Mirari to find answers.

At the appointed time, dusk, in the forest, Tom waited with his friends Simon and Elinor in the lee of the trees that had made up a wolf-den, and not in vain -- for as soon as the sun had set below the horizon, and the moon shone unchallenged in the sky, they heard the rising of the winds and a howl that called them to the place where Lord December had summoned the Siege before.

He was in wolf form and silent, nodding his head toward Tom and his companions, with a subtle disapproval that Tom had brought people whom he did not know, but acknowledging his right to do so. To my side, he bade them, and when they had done so, he gave song to the night again, creating the Siege of Winds before it had even finished dissipating. The air fairly howled along in protest, but Lord December mastered the gusts, and the cool summery night gave way to full winter in Mirari.

This time servants awaited them not far from the clearing with a carriage, with fur-lined cloaks and warm clothes. I have much to do, Lord December silently conveyed to Tom. If you have need of me, send word with my seneschal. My driver will take you into town whither you wish to go.

That desire stated as being the Golden Hawks station, the driver, a wolf-man wrapped warmly in a lambskin jacket, nodded to Tom as his companions hurried into the warmth of the carriage. "Hup, horseys! Time to earn yer oats!" he cried, as Tom slipped in after them, and then off they went toward the distant white-frosted city walls ...

The Mews
This is the name jestingly given the Golden Hawks headquarters, which was a large stable renovated into offices and quarters for the Golden Hawks in residence, surrounding a court in the middle. Horses are still stabled here as well, evident from the smell and the bales of hay stacked at the far side, but Persian carpets and tapestries make the living quarters quite comfortable, and several fireplaces are alight, wafting smoke into the sky, heating the headquarters to a livable, if slightly chilly temperature within. The streets wind around this area, allowing Golden Hawks to slip in and out by any number of ways.

Minstrel Sam looks up surprised from where he had been speaking with some of the servants as Tom walks into the Mews, followed by Simon and Elinor. "Ah, Tom! Returned from your ventures already? What news?" Those with whom Minstrel Sam speaks would not be termed Golden Hawks, though they serve that order of scouts and explorers; they seem more of the order of stable keepers and cooks and the like.

"Just beginning them, I'm afraid," Thomas replies, glancing back at the others. "Shortly after I returned to the other word, I came across some evidence that pointed to the Lord Protector being here. Well, at least it implied that to me in a form. I've also learned a few interesting things about our world, but I am not sure I should share them. It might cause ... confusion. How have things been here, Sam?"

The cab driver tethers the carriage to a nearby post and walks in to ask a cup of hot apple cider from a maid, who smiles winsomely and curtseys before going to fetch it. "Ach, milord, let me know if ye'll be needing my services any further, or if I'm to return to the castle, aye?" he says.

The minstrel scratches behind his ear. "As if things aren't confused enough already, milord! You asked me to have people keep an eye and ear out for news from the Lords, and well, near as I can tell, it's Spring and Autumn at each other's throats, politically speaking, on contention of whether Lord April's to be due heir or whether some old promise should stand and none of April or October should rule this coming Year. 'Neither October nor April shall rule o'er the other, unto the fiftieth generation'," he says, taking on a pompous nobleman's tone.

"Pfft! Might as well settle it by duel as by words; it'd be over faster! An' you might think the Queen would be speakin' up for her brother to be Heir, but word is that she's on outs with April since some mishap at a tournament back in the Spring. Meanwhile, Summer is doing its best to help those as been hardest set upon by the long Winter, and Lord December says we all ought to be doing our best to find the missing King, though you'd think it'd be the other way around. An' of course no one wants to try and pass the succession on wit'out the King; never been done in History. Nah, ne'er been done."

He peers at Tom's companions, recognizing Simon -- whom he gives a wink -- then coos at the sight of Elinor, muffled in her cloak. "Ah! Who's your pretty lady, milord?"

The cab driver, meanwhile, sits on a chair and sips at warming apple cider. A maid brings more mugs of the same to Tom and Simon and Elinor, one of which Simon gratefully accepts.

Thomas' eyebrow goes up at the question. "That would be Rachel Antoine, Sam. I thought you two were acquainted?" Thomas asks, glancing back toward Elinor curiously.

The old man peers at Elinor's face in apparent lack of recognition for a moment. "Ah! Of course, it's just been so long," Minstrel Sam says, a grin showing at last. "Why, she was just a sprout in the Spring, and now she's all grown up into a fine young flower, haven't ye?" He reaches out to pinch Rachel's cheek, but converts it to a courtly bow, having evidently decided that she looks a bit too chilled to pinch.

The bundled Rachel Antoine blinks a few times, and something about her changes, almost like a glamour that had made her a little taller or more impressive had suddenly melted away. She blinks a few times, as if confused herself, then comes to her sense and curtsies back. "It has been too long, Minstrel Sam," she answers with a smile. "But you haven't changed much, I can tell."

Minstrel Sam grins. "Secret o' my long life, lass, secret o' my long life."

"Not like us old-timers, eh? It's still so strange to be back here." Tom says with a grin. "Sam," Tom says, growing a bit more serious, asking, "do we still have the old journals and maps we kept those years ago?" He glances back toward Elinor for a moment, green eyes looking over her.

"Oh, aye," Minstrel Sam says. "All the most important maps and journals will have been copied here, for the records. What're you wanting to know?"

Simon sips on his mug of cider and looks greatly warmed.

Rachel moves to stand by one of the large fireplaces, opening her great cloak and spreading her arm to let the warmth in. She looks normal to Thomas's eyes -- much the same girl he first saw stepping off the bus in Ainigton.

"My last journal," Tom replies. "I want to see what I wrote before I left. I want to see what my last thoughts were, and if I left any clues as to where I went. The Lord Protector is likely a prisoner of Year's End, or of Jack. Looks like I have one last dance with them. Not looking forward to it, but it must be done."

Minstrel Sam frowns at this. "Not all such papers'll have been copied here, Tom, just so you know. This here's the official headquarters, but there's no exploring to be done here, so you may well have started from Hawksmoor, and if that's so, if you left any journal, it might have been left there, not bein' a proper travelogue, as it were. Still, we can get maps of most places here."

"Hawksmoor, my lord?" Rachel looks up from the fireplace. "Has there been any news from there of late, Minstrel Sam? I thought it had fallen into disuse ... like too many things the Golden Hawks once maintained," the girl ends, sadly.

"Disuse or not," Tom says, "if it still stands, it's as good a place as any to stop and rest. It's on the way to the West, if I do remember right." Thomas walks over to the fire to warm himself. The boy then glances toward Elinor and asks, "How come you never mentioned or seemed surprised when I used the name 'Hawksmoor' before? I used it long before I realized who I was."

The old minstrel looks surprised. "One loses track so of time when one gets old," he grumbles, shaking his head. "Why, I remember it just like yesterday, manned by strong soldiers, Golden Hawks going to and fro to all manners of wild places ... "

"You used the name 'Lord Explorer Thomas' long before you knew who you were, too," Rachel says, quietly. "After the jruuh, I learned not to be surprised by how much you all seemed to know ... without really knowing it -- if that makes any sense."

"True enough, I suppose," Tom replies, looking into the fireplace. "How long of a journey is it from here?"

Minstrel Sam rubs his stubbly chin. "Some days' ride, I daresay. We'll be going past the settled lands and into wild country, and you can see the mountains where there's supposed to be a legendary bandit chieftain, One-Eye, who lost his other eye in a dispute with a dragon over treasure. Who can tell if he's live or dead these days though? Maybe a day's hard riding, if you've a good horse under you, and start from first dawn gleaming and end at dusk."

The carriage driver gets up and nods to Tom. "By yer leave, milord, I'll be returning to December. If ye've need of a ride, send word and I'll be back, aye? Though I fancy ye'll be wanting an Explorer's horse under you than some city hacks in front of you."

"Well, it's a journey I have to make, so I guess the distance doesn't matter too much," Tom says quietly, then nods to the driver. "Thank you for your help, good sir. Inform Lord December I hope to have the Lord Protector returned to us soon."

"Aye, we'll all be hopin' for yer success, Lord Explorer," the driver says. The wolf-man bows, tipping his hat, then heads back to his carriage.

Thomas then looks at Simon and Elinor, saying, "I'd like to leave on the trip West from House November, if you two do not mind. I've often heard that familiar places will help resurface memories, so, I figure it's worth a shot. If you two aren't interested in going to the lands of November, though, I can always come back and meet you here before heading West."

Simon looks surprised. "House November? Do you think they'll help you?"

"Not so much help me," Tom answers, "as hopefully jog my memory. Did you forget I was from House November, Simon?"

"Well, actually, yes," Simon says with a grin. "But I meant, do you think they'll give us the good horses we need? Or are we just going to pay a visit and see if they'll let us in to look around?"

"It wouldn't hurt to ask them," Tom answers, then grins. "Of course, failing that, you do have feet, Simon."

Simon wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, but I can't walk faster than a horse can trot."

Tom looks to Elinor and says, "We could always try asking House October if November refuses."

"I would be honored to visit the House of your ancestors with you," Rachel offers, turning from the fire to smile at Thomas. "I do not think November would refuse you anything, Lord Thomas -- and if they did, October would gladly provide it. The lands of Autumn are to the North of here. As for mounts ... " She gestures to one of the doorways leading from the common room. "... the Mews have many. This was once a stable, you'll recall."

Thomas laughs. "After my time. I don't think the Mews was around when I was. I also figured there wouldn't be any here, as there doesn't appear to be any Golden Hawks around, save for us three." He then smiles to Elinor. "And thank you for offering to come to November."

"Can't get rid of me," Simon adds with a grin. "I want to see if it's anything like -- " He gestures as if to suggest Tom's house in Ainigton.

Minstrel Sam grins wryly. "Most of the Golden Hawks are out and about looking for word of the King, but aye, we keep horses here, and traveling supplies. Never can tell when an Explorer will come in out of the cold, can you? We're well noted for being difficult to predict."

Tom chuckles and nods, saying, "It's decided, then. We'll head there as soon as everyone is warmed up and ready to travel." He then turns to Sam. "Hmm. Sam? The dragon you mentioned a moment ago that cost a man his eye ... Was the dragon called Monitor?"

The old minstrel ponders this latest question. "Nay, I've never heard of a dragon so named, but they're not exactly very sociable sorts, you know. More apt to toast a Hawk crispy than to settle down to tea with him. 'Monitor,' eh? Doesn't sound like a very dragonly name. Why not 'Themidorac,' or 'Cattlescourge?'"

Thomas shrugs and says, "Well, we met one called 'Monitor.' I was curious as to if it was the same one." He pauses, then says, "That reminds me. I want you to think hard on this. Does the name 'Lady Redmane,' or 'Knight Redmane,' mean anything at all to you? Any old stories, perhaps in which it is mentioned? An old song, perhaps?"

"'Redmane,' aye? You've asked me that before, and I was thinking that it sounded familiar, so I did some askin' around. Turns out she did make some pages in Historie, after all," Minstrel Sam says.

Simon snickers. "Or a dragon named 'Clutchducat' or 'Longnameheredrac,' for that matter."

"Really," Tom says, "What did she do? And when?" He then glares at Simon.

Simon looks innocent.

Minstrel Sam laughs. "Aye, the naming of dragons is a difficult thing, for ye must be sure to pick a name for which they wouldn't come out and toast you if they heard about it. Well, anyway, turns out that there was a Lady Redmane around in our time. 'Cording to Historie, she was the first to train a Knightsteed, an' was supposed to have a real gift with gettin' horses to do as she wanted. Defeated a dragon once herself, too, in the mountains, rescuin' the King's daughter, an' for that, she was granted a nice estate in the country. Doesn't say what happened to her, though. For all I know, she might have disappeared same time you did, or might have just lived to a ripe old age and died out on her estate." He leans toward Tom. "How's she figure into this?"

Thomas listens, then nods. "Oh, because I happen to know her, and she's still around. She's been with me in the other world all this time. Rather odd person, really. Right now, she's somewhere in Mirari with someone who calls herself Nymuae."

Thomas then asks, "Did you happen to read what house she was from?"

"Really! The Lady Sorceress Nymuae? Aye, it was the height of the news when she returned from her own long disappearance, and even more so when she began to turn her hands to the threats on Mirari from monsters encroaching on our borders," Minstrel Sam says, evidencing real respect for Nymuae. "Lady Redmane can be in no safer hands than hers. Aye, 'tis a Year for many happy returns." He grins crookedly.

Thomas's eyes narrow and he mutters, "As you say. I believe we've probably taken up enough of your time, Sam." He looks toward the other two and asks, "Are you up for some travel?"

Simon grimaces. "Right this minute?"

"Aw, 'tis good to see you again, milord," Minstrel Sam says, clapping Tom on the shoulder. "Time spent with you is time happily spent and not grudged a bit."

Thomas huffs, "Tell that to Nymuae." He then looks to the others and says, "I suppose we did rather push it today. If we aren't imposing too much, can we stay here, Sam? We should at least go over any provisions and weapons we may take before heading off to sleep, at least."

"A rest might do us all good," Rachel agrees, looking sympathetically at Simon's grimace.

"Aye, and I'll have 'em fetch out what maps you might want as well," Minstrel Sam says. "You shouldn't even have to question whether you'll be welcome or not, this being the house you as much as built, milord Explorer, but you were always polite in the strangest ways, ah?" He grins. "Make yourself at home!"

Another nod from Thomas. "We'll want maps leading from November as far west as they go, then," he replies. He then walks over and whispers in Minstrel Sam's ear, "Lady Redmane may be looking for you. If you haven't heard back from me before I return, tell her where I've gone." He then pats the old man on the shoulder and says, "We may never meet again after this night, Sam, for I fear what lies ahead for me. If we do not, please know that it's always been a pleasure to have traveled with you. Thank you for always being there." With that, he turns to the others and says, "All right, let's get supplies sorted, then go to sleep. We've got a long journey ahead."

Where the city was asleep when Tom and his friends entered, with first cock's crow it wakes in pieces, the merchants bustling out of their houses and farmers coming in from the fields through the gates of the city to the market squares, tinkers and smiths opening their doors with loud bangs, and perhaps up in the noble houses, servants rush to prepare breakfasts for their lords and ladies who stretch and turn about to sleep again until their servants waken them.

This morning finds a breakfast of fried eggs and sausages and warmed apple ciders awaiting Tom and his friends as they awaken, and servants are quick to bring them the horses and saddlebags that have been readied for their trip to the West. Minstrel Sam, it seems, is still abed from having gone out drinking "to true Tom, may his memory never die," but a letter from him wishes the Lord Explorer well and urges him to send word back as often as he can.

November's estates prove to lie in the northwest quarter of the city, a quarter of leaf-bare trees and old mills and stolid shops and houses, and one of the Gates opens out from the city past his quarter, so it is indeed on the way.

House of Lord November
Where Lord December had a castle made of ice, November's house seems autumnal, as if trees had been bent to form the frame of the house, their branches folded so the red and orange leaves of their canopy forms the walls themselves, though other branches stretch outward that would provide shade in the hot summer -- at this time of the year, they are weighted down with snow. The windows are simple glass panes set into silvery frames, and the front doors are tall oak panels carved with repeated images of hawks. Up close, it becomes evident that the leaves are in fact covering plain solid stone, but they are so close together that the stonework is invisible from a distance.

With little embarrassment, Thomas manages to ride all the way. He may regret riding later, as he's heard stories about how tiring it can be. He pauses in front of the House and looks up at it. He swallows softly, his green eyes scanning over the structure. His brow furrows, almost as if recognition hits him, something so familiar about it. A smile breaks across his face and he says back to the others, "Magnificent, isn't it? Beauty of the forest! Even in winter, it's incredible. I ... " He finds himself lost for words for a moment. "I can't believe I had forgotten of this."

Simon looks impressed. "It's like they built a whole house out of -- hey! They cheated!" He peers closer at the stonework. "It's just covering up the real house."

Thomas laughs. "Well, there is the problem of drafts, Simon! What did you expect, them to stuff mud between the trees?" he replies, slowly dismounting from the saddle. He grimaces momentarily, muscles complaining.

Rachel gives a little laugh. She seems particularly pleased today, and glad to be riding in the lands of Autumn again, even with the snows all around them. "Leaves are not even as substantial a building material as ice, I'm afraid."

"Well ... " Simon grins. He dismounts with more difficulty, being unused to horse-riding, and winds up all but falling on his face. "Oof!" He too winces as he stands, feeling much in the same condition that Tom evidently is in.

Rachel swings down from her horse with more practice than the other two, stretching, then follows Tom as he leads the way to the castle.

Tom glances over to Rachel and smiles as they walk up to the door. He reaches out to knock, then hesitates. "You know," he says, "it's wonderful to be back in the old lands. But, I can't help and feel nervous. I've been gone so long ... " His statement trails off and he shrugs, knocking firmly.

The door opens soon, upon one of the strangest people that the three have yet seen, someone of bark-like skin with green hair, dressed all in an impeccable butler's suit. "Yes -- " He looks over the young but lordly-seeming Thomas, and his two younger companions, and adds a "Milord?"

Thomas bows slightly. "Good day, sir," he replies, "I do hope we're not intruding." He pauses a moment and looks at the figure, then asks, "Have we met before? I know I've seen you before. But first, where are my manners, eh? These are my companions: Rachel Antoine of House October and the Golden Hawks, next to her is Simon, my trusted friend. I ... " He pauses, unsure as to what reaction what he's about to say will cause. "I am Lord Thomas, member of House November and Founder of the Golden Hawks. It has been more than fourteen Years since I lay foot upon these lands. May we enter?"

"Goodness gracious!" exclaims the butler tree-thing. "Is it really -- " He bends down, with faint creaking sounds, to examine Tom more closely. "I had best speak to the Lord about this, milord. Allow me to show you to the sitting room." He bows (more creaking) and then straightens up to lead Tom and his friends into the house, beneath rounded plaster ceilings painted with frescoes of autumn canopies so that it's as if one was walking beneath the trees out in the open. Perhaps this house might have inspired the Lord Explorer's love of the outdoors.

Thomas looks back at his friends as they walk. "Beautiful, isn't it? You can feel as though you're within a forest, even when safe within the walls of a castle," he says. "No better design."

Simon grins. "I'd just worry about setting fire to the place and having it all burn down around my ears."

The sitting room proves to be a comfortable place with wicker-work chairs supporting thick cushions, and a roaring fireplace provides relief from the chill that pervades the city. The butler pours juices for the young Lord and his friends before going to find his master.

Thomas samples the juice, then looks at Rachel and Simon. "You always find something to make fun of, don't you, Simon?" Tom prods jokingly. "Just imagine it, laying in your bed at night and still being surrounded by branches and leaves. A breeze blows through, and the calm sound of wind in the leaves ... absolutely perfect. Talk about feeling home."

"Well, that's what jesters are for, isn't it?" Simon points out.

"How true," Tom admits.

The other Golden Hawk smiles, her eyes shining. "November's house is almost a lovely as October's," she agrees, settling into one of the chairs. She starts to smooth down her clothing, then realizes she's wearing riding slacks and not her usual skirts, and laughs lightly at herself.

"You'll have to show me October's house someday, so I can compare," Tom says with a grin and reclines back into a chair. "It's amazing how even in winter, the land retains its beauty. I'm sure October's has as well."

"At the seat of the season, the essence of it always dwells," Elinor says, as if reciting from memory. "In the heat of summer, one can still find cool ice at the House of January, and when leaves bud on the trees, one can still watch golds and reds drift down from the boughs of October." She pauses, glancing out the window at the snowy world beyond. "At least, so it has always been before."

It is a little while later that the butler returns to announce that Lord November will be with the Lord Explorer shortly, and mightn't he freshen the guests' drinks ... and some time after that, before Lord November himself arrives. He is a tall but thin man with dark brown hair, edged with some red highlights to show that his hair might be darkening as he ages. His nose is long and beaky, and his ears rise to slight points, though this would not be exceptionable were Tom not looking for signs that he is not human, and he is dressed in colors of brown and red.

"Ah, milord," Lord November says, smiling faintly. "I had heard rumors that the Lord Explorer Thomas had been seen in the city again. It is truly a miracle that you have returned after so long in the wilderness -- if, of course, you are truly Lord Explorer Thomas?"

Thomas stands and bows to Lord November. "Indeed, I am," he replies. "I refused to believe it myself for a time. After being trapped in the mortal realm for fourteen years, memories gone, it was hard to believe it. But, I cannot deny who I was and still am. I am unsure of how to prove it to you, though, Lord November."

"You greatly resemble the paintings of Thomas who was, that is true," Lord November observes, "but it is not unknown that two will be born who resemble one another greatly, and shape shifters can cause even a mother great vexation." He accepts a goblet of wine from his butler, and sips it, then taps his chin with thought. "Assuming for the moment that you are in fact, the Lord Explorer, have you come to take sides in the matter of succession of King? Will you cast your voice for the Lord of April or the Lord of October? Or have you come otherwise? For Lord Explorer Thomas had been heard to declare long ago that the Explorers, and thus he himself, were of no one House but for all."

The black-haired girl watches Lord November without speaking. At his concluding statement, she sets her jaw, and glances to Thomas.

Simon grimaces. He looks as if he's longing to lean over and whisper something to Tom, but now would not be the right time to do it.

"Quite true," Thomas replies. "You would not be the first to assume me to be some sort of shape shifter, pretending to be Lord Thomas. Whisper of Stars thought so at one time as well." He shrugs and strolls over to the fireplace. "I am here to resolve the matter of the decay of my homeland. Who assumes the throne matters not to me at this time. I know neither, so I cannot say one is better than the other." He turns and faces the Lord, then says, "What I can do, is resolve the matter as to why the King left in the first place -- And! -- why the Lord Protector has also gone missing. That is why I am here. I believe the Year's End is creeping upon us one again, yet the Houses still squabble and ignore the signs. We should be facing the enemy outside, not fighting amongst ourselves! Our world is dying. Day by day, it creeps further toward the end. We have to stand together."

"A passionately given speech," Lord November says as he sits in the largest of the chairs. "Yet there are always those hocus-pocusers who will cry out, 'Year's End' at every calamity, and if one points out that an accident was bound to happen, they will say that Year's End must have had its hand in it somehow, rather than simple bad luck. It is true that it is unprecedented that the King has departed his rightful station, and but it is not unknown that long times should go by without the Lord Protector being called upon to fulfill some duty or another." He pauses, about to make his point. "What is it you say we should be doing then? Calls to universal amity are all very well, but under whose banners do we unite? Toward what great goals should we stride?"

Rachel shifts uncomfortably in her chair, exchanging a glance with Simon, but she doesn't interrupt the two.

"Quit blaming the other Houses for the cause of ills, is a start. April blames October, and vice-versa, and so on," Tom replies, taking a short breath. "As for the Lord Protector, he has been needed, and has not shown. In fact, I have learned that Nymuae has contacted him through magic, according to two friends of mine who were there. He is trapped, in the West, in a realm of darkness," Thomas continues answering. "As for the banner, that is simple. We unite under the banner of Mirari itself. We strive then to end this forever winter that has consumed the land." Thomas then grows silent and takes a deep breath, feeling a surge of anger. For a moment, he almost imagines himself addressing the Houses, all those years ago and the refusal that followed then, too. He looks toward Elinor and Simon, motioning for them to stand.

"Well, the Lady Sorceress Nymuae has shown her power, and she has the respect of the people and the Lords and Ladies for it," Lord November observes. "But you -- you chastise me for showing caution in knowing who cries truly when they cry out that they stand for Mirari, and then ask me to rally to your banner, and what have you truly shown as proof?" He leans back and steeples his hands, cool in the face of Thomas's anger. "The Lord Explorer was said to be gifted with the power to find anything, anything. Do you have that power?"

Simon looks hesitant but stands. "Er, milord, I've never known Tom to fail in finding anything -- er." He looks up at Tom, not sure what he's supposed to be doing.

Lord November smiles slightly at this, then looks toward Tom as well.

Rachel tosses her braid over her shoulder with a shake of her head, standing at Tom's gesture. She flanks him, silently supportive. Her eyes are on Lord November, cold and hard.

Thomas smiles toward Simon and raises his hand slightly and says, "It's all right, Simon. He has the right to be suspicious. After all, I share a similar trait." He then looks toward Rachel and nods slightly in thanks. Finally, his gaze returns to Lord November and he says, "It is true that I can find anything. Only one thing has continued to elude me, and that is the Jack of Hearts. But, that hunt is not over. What is it you wish of me to find?"

Simon mutters, "Boy, do you share it." He grins wryly.

Even Rachel manages a smile at the shared suspicious nature of the two men of November.

"I suppose that asking you to find the King so that the succession might go on as it should have ages ago would be out of bound?" Lord November asks, raising an eyebrow. "After all, you have said that you would rather find the reason he has gone missing. Indeed, it sounds almost as if you know he has left by choice, rather than having been kidnapped by dark forces, or even by one or another House, as some have alleged. I would be curious to know how that is."

"Because I know where he initially fled to," Thomas replies, eyes focused on Lord November. "I have, in fact, met him once, but that is another matter entirely." He pauses for a moment, then asks, "Have you ever looked into the eyes of a haunted man, Lord November? One who has experienced something truly bad? It speaks volumes."

"No, I cannot say that I have," Lord November says, raising an eyebrow. He waits for Tom to complete his answer.

"Because when looked into his eyes, I saw some sort of tangible pain, Lord November. Something happened to make him want to leave; I am assuming a betrayal of some sort, simply because it would take something that deathly serious for a man to abandon his home and only take his two guardians with him. As for the complete reason for leaving, I cannot say because I do not know," Tom continues. "Besides, have you ever seen the Lord Protector angry? It would be difficult to force the King to leave with him standing guard. And yes, the Lord Protector was around for a time after the King left."

"And, he warned us to stay away," Thomas concludes.

Evidently looking into Tom's eyes while he told the story has softened Lord November's skepticism a little, for his voice is a little kinder as he speaks. "Indeed, there is truth in what you say, Thomas. Though it seems odd that the King would bid Lord Explorer Thomas to stay away -- from what? And has not Lord Explorer Thomas ever been one to be doubly curious about anything from which he was forbidden?"

"Well, then. As you are already in search of the reason that the King has departed his station, and of the Lord Protector himself ... " November taps his chin, then continues, "If you further show your powers by finding a certain person who was last reported in the vicinity of Hawksmoor, why then, I might find myself more in accord with your point of view, I should think." There is worry evident in his eyes over this "person".

"The more a secret, the more I wish to know. Gets me into trouble more often than not, I must admit," Thomas says. "We were, in fact, headed towards Hawksmoor on matters regarding the realm in which the Lord Protector is being held. So, I can most certainly try and find this person of whom you speak. What can you tell me about this individual? Description? Demeanor? Perhaps why he worries you?"

"Well, in point of fact ... " Lord November appears almost embarrassed, before standing and bidding Thomas to follow him.

Thomas looks to the other two and motions for them to remain. "I'll be back shortly," he says quietly to them, then follows Lord November.

Rachel and Simon don't look happy about being left behind, but as before, they concede to Tom's lead.

November leads Thomas to another chamber which appears to be a private sitting room, placed on a higher floor where one can look out -- but from the privacy of leaves blocking the view from below, not be seen -- and there, bids him to look upon a painting, which depicts a young girl sitting in a chair amidst a drift of falling leaves, painted so that even though nothing moves, there is the sensation that a leaf is about to fall upon her shoulder. The girl looks to be ten, and her hair is of a color that might be described as red in some light, brown in other, and even blonde under direct sunlight, and her face has an impish quality about it.

"Your daughter, I presume?" Thomas inquires as he looks over the picture.

"Aye, you have guessed rightly," November says. "Hannah was always of a venturesome nature, and spoke often of joining the Golden Hawks, though those were the years that they were ... out of style. Moreover, I feared that she would fall prey to the dangers of the roadside and the wilderness. I feared to ... " He shakes his head, not finishing that sentence. "It is not easy to cage any of November, it seems. One day I awoke to find that she had left the castle, and a note said that she had gone to Hawksmoor to find her fortune and true brethren. I sent men at once to try and find her and bring her back, of course."

Thomas nods and says, "As any father would. We of November have always been a bit headstrong, I'm afraid. And, you had rights to fear. The road is an incredibly dangerous place, as was the area surrounding Hawksmoor back in my day. It may have improved since then, but ... a child that young should not be alone there."

Lord November frowns deeply. "They were unsuccessful at even reaching the Keep. The road has become difficult, it seems. Some have reported sighting brigands, others say that a dark forest has sprung up, filled with magic so that they lost their way, and still others I have sent have never even returned. I know not what has befallen the place, but I fear for my daughter's life, Lord Explorer. If you will find her ... I can send soldiers with you, if you think they will help."

"Why would a dark forest spring up around the old keep," Thomas muses, then considers Lord November's offer. "In truth, I do not think soldiers will help. Since some have gone before and failed, it is unlikely sending more would accomplish much. Smaller groups are better at infiltrating and sneaking past dangers. How long has she been gone?"

"It has been a Year," says Lord November bitterly. "She may have even grown into a full woman, and I have been denied the pleasure of seeing it. Or she may have perished in that time."

Thomas blinks, surprised. "Years? Then you're right, she may well be an adult. I know many of November are long-lived, so," he says, pausing. "What were her interests? Did she read a lot? Explore? Climb trees? Study fighting of any sort? Do you think she could have made it there?"

"She was always given to the stories of the old days, and of her ancestors, such as that of one Lord Explorer Thomas ... " Faint annoyance there; perhaps the house of November was none too pleased that their famous scion should have chosen to present himself as of no particular house. "... but she was also often outdoors and an excellent rider. Too, she was gifted with the power of glamourie. For the sake of my sanity, I pray that she is alive, but none of my men have come across any mention of the finding of one dead who would have resembled her." He gazes upon the painting, as if trying to imagine her older, or perhaps thinking what fate might have befallen her.

"If there has been no remains found, nor any clothing or other items, then you should not assume she has met a bad fate. Glamourie could have protected her from many dangers; so could skills in the outdoors. Moving amongst the branches, for example, can avoid many dangers," Thomas says, "and, if she had read the old stories, she would know how to find the Keep, which would certainly be the safest place for her out there. I will need one thing from you, I think: proof that you sent me to find her. Do you have a symbol I may carry to show her?" he says, taking one last hard, long, look at the picture. Finally, he glances back towards the doorway and the others he left behind. "May we return to the others? We can discuss this as we walk, of course. Rachel and Simon may start to worry if we're gone too long."

"Of course, Lord Explorer," Lord November says. He takes off his signet ring and holds it out to Thomas, smiling wryly at the irony of whom it should be he asks to find his Explorers-smitten daughter. "This should more than convince her that you come in my name. Find her, and there are few prices that will be too much to pay."

Thomas accepts the ring and turns it over in his hand. "I will certainly return this as well when I find what has become of your daughter," he replies. "As for a price, well, I never came seeking anything from you. I came back home to simply help mend some of my shattered memories from my encounter with Jack -- which, it has." He offers a smile to the Lord, "Fear not. I will find your daughter, somehow. Come, let us rejoin the others so we may undertake this quest."

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.