At last the familiar stone donjon of your castle looms above the horizon. You have journeyed long and hard and it is has been many years since you've seen its cheerful banners wave. Your companion, still dressed in his gloomy funeral clothes, shades his eyes and squints at something moving on the road. A procession of men with tonsured heads and plain white tunics fastened with nothing but belts of thick rope. At their head is a great red coffin borne on the backs of four men. You recognize the two in front as, Gamling, your father's closest friend and beside him your father himself, his mane of hair now white to the tips. They turn in a fork on the road, heading in the direction of the cairns in which several generations of your family are interred. They are too far and preoccupied to have noticed you."A bad omen," says your companion, spitting over his shoulder in the custom of his people when they receive unwelcome news.>Continue to the donjon>Join the procession at the back>Ride to the front and hail your father>Write-in
>>5999989>Join the procession at the backShouldn't interrupt a funeral procession, we should pay our respects.
>>5999989>>Continue to the donjon
>>5999989>Ride to the front and hail your father
>>5999989>Join the procession at the back
>join the procession at back
>>5999989>Join the procession at the backThe funeral may be a bad omen, but this is a time of many quads and quints, so it can't be all bad.
>Join the procession at the backYou wait for the last of the men to pass then you kick your horse to shadow close behind. No one pays you much attention. Your companion, usually the type to complain about sudden changes in plan, especially when it entails missing out on a meal and a warm bath, keeps his lips tightly shut. Who could be in the coffin? Your sister would not have merited the respect of holy men and your mother was dead long before you had even left. If your father is here then that can only leave one person. You blink hard, trying to summon tears that do not come. The procession stops a leg into the woods. Pillars of piled rocks with the rough contours of pinecones surround you. A hole has already been dug at the base of one them and your father and the other men set the red coffin beside it. They push off the lid. That time when your older brother taught you to mount horses in one leap suddenly chokes your throat. He could wrestle a horse to the ground his bare hands then. Now, he looks like something made of straw. A few of the tonsured men shuffle to the body and wave their hands over it and mutter in their sanctified tongue. Then two of them grab the sheet on which he's laid, wrap him tightly, and throw him into the hole as though he were no more than some log for the fireplace. "What in God's name are you doing?" you yell. The men leap aside like tenpins as you charge forward. "Why haven't you buried him in the coffin?" One of the tonsured men stammers something about your brother's wishes, his eyes locked to the sword you've unconsciously unsheathed from its scabbard. "Father," you say, turning to him, "is this your doing?"Your father reaches toward you with trembling hands. He looks back at Gamling, moaning and pointing at you like a half-wit. Gamling's mouth hangs open as though he'd just lost his entire month's wages at a hand of cards. Your father's powerful hand closes around your ankle, then slacks suddenly. He keels over, clutching his chest, and falls to his knees. >Attend to your father and carry him back to the castle if necessary>Order your companion to take a look at him, he knows medicine>Let the old bastard suffer for all that he's done>Write-in
>>6000394>Order your companion to take a look at him, he knows medicineOkay, not a good day then.
>>6000394>Order your companion to take a look at him, he knows medicineWhat the fuck is going on here? Is Dad demented and is now having a heart attack? A bad day for us…
>>6000394>Attend to your father and carry him back to the castle if necessaryNow suddenly we're the lord of the land. Wasn't expecting that so quickly.
>>6000394>Let the old bastard suffer for what he has doneI kind of want to see the reaction this could have, specially since we are now the Lord of the Castle
>>6000394>>Let the old bastard suffer for all that he's doneWhat did he do actually? is this the prodigal son returns 2.0 and the dad cucked the mc here too?
>>6000394If he cucked the MC>Let the old bastard suffer for all that he's doneIf he didn't cuck the MC>Attend to your father and carry him back to the castle if necessary
>>6000394>Order your companion to take a look at him, he knows medicine
>Order your companion to take a look at him, he knows medicineAs fathers eyes squeeze shut in pain, the men around him, even Gamling, stand frozen like the trees. Yes, this is just what you deserve you villain, you tyrant. Where is all the drunken strength you spent upon my mother and my sister now, you scoundrel? You close your eyes, your teeth aching from the clenching of your jaw. Then you give a short whistle. Your companion, who had held back all this time out of propriety, leaps off his horse and bolts toward your father. His concern is professional. The oaths of his profession are all that he holds sacred in this world."Will he live, Piruz?" you ask, as he struggles to loosen your father's cloak. Hindered by the intricate knot, he draws his knife and slices it off the neck in a single stroke. "A heathen!" says one of the tonsured men, sighting Piruz's wooly beard and the foreign curve of his dagger. Upon meeting your gaze, however, the man shrinks back and lowers his eyes, and is soon enfolded again into the white uniformity of his order. Piruz has cut open the front of your father's tunic, and has pressed his ear to the scraggly tufts of white hair on his chest. His eyes are closed and the tip of his tongue is pressed hard against his upper lip. Finally he glances at you and nods, his eyes slightly closed. "But I cannot examine him properly here," he says. "What does he say, Cat?" asks Gamling, his throat so dry the words seem like the conspiratorial murmur of the leaves.>You had better accompany Piruz back >Let Gamling escort Piruz, while you remain here>Let Piruz go alone, you need to question Gamling>Write-in
>>6000583>Let Gamling escort Piruz, while you remain hereWe have to ensure our brother is buried properly.
>>6000583>Let Piruz go alone, you need to question Gamling
>>6000583>You had better accompany Piruz backGamling is a moron and will attack Piruz, our brother’s body must wait
>>6000583>You had better accompany Piruz back
>>6000583>>You had better accompany Piruz back
>>6000583>Question Gamlin. Piruz has already confirmed father's survival, you need answers now, and still haven't eaten or rested. It's not like I trust him any more than Gamlin, I've seen who he is behind closed doors.
>>6000583>Question GamlinYes wtf. And on a side note i am suspicious of how the writing is done. It feels as if the qm has no story planned or this is solely done through ai generation
>You had better accompany Piruz backYou open and close your hand at Piruz, and he hoists your father's body onto your saddle. Your father's shaggy head rests annoyingly on the nape of your neck, the cold tip of his nose just brushing your earlobe. His slow, warm breath trickles down your chin, bereft of the familiar stench of cinnamon.You wrap your father's arm around your waist, holding it there firmly like it were a woman's. Without word, without even a look at the other men, you gallop away towards the castle. Gamling shouts your name, but you do not turn your head. A moment later you spot Piruz's speckled mount riding close behind you and you press your horse's side and lean forward, letting the world turn into wind. ===Though there is still ample daylight, you ordered the fireplace be lit. The hall which had been your whole life a steadily narrowing enclosure, seems now a cavernous emptiness, cold and lifeless as the desert night. The servants have set the table with whatever they could scrounge from your father's depleted cellars. A wheel of good cheese, a bucket of pears, some salted fish, a jar of picked eggs, and a small jug of very strong hypocras that fills the room with the ugly aroma of cinnamon. You've been informed that a calf will be slaughtered for tonight's dinner and that there will be a roast pheasant, apparently your favorite. But you have no appetite just now, and Piruz is astonished to find you standing before the fire, with your back to to all this plenty.He sits down at the table, loading his trencher--stiffer and more stale than the unleavened, buttered bread he's used to--with a fat chunk of the cheese and some pieces of salted fish. >Join him, it is rude to let someone eat alone>Tease Piruz for breaking the custom of his people in his eating first>Remain aloof by the fire, not giving your father the satisfaction of your concern>Write-in
>aloof by fireplace.I was hungry before, but now the setting demands solemn. I must contemplate what could have led to my brother's death and what else could be happening because or acause of it.
>>6000748>>Write-inTalk to your stepmother and try to learn what happened
>>6000748>Join him, it is rude to let someone eat aloneLet’s just try to be human, our brother is dead!
>>6000748>>Join him, it is rude to let someone eat alone
>>6000748>Join him, it is rude to let someone eat alone
You join him at the table, spearing a pear with your eating knife and just looking at it. "Well?"Piruz holds up a finger as he raises his mug, showing you the round crater of its bottom, then its nearer edge. Then he slams the mug down, wipes his mouth daintily with the tablecloth, and sighs with immense pleasure. "Your father is a man of discerning taste," he says, nodding at the mug. "May God bestow upon him long life.""What's wrong with him?" "A weak heart. Weakened by an imbalance of the black bile and the blood. Another shock like the one you gave him may prove fatal." "And he's lost his wits?"Piruz shakes his finger. "This is more strange." He leans in close. "I cannot be certain but it appears to me as if--"Gamling blusters into the hall, looking around as if he's lost. "My lord..." he says, out-of-breath."Will live," you reply, watching him closely. He pauses, then raises eyes to the rafters, mouthing some words of thanks to the unseen angels. Then he slumps down on a chair at the far end. "You buried him, then?" you ask.Gamling nods, looking at his folded hands. "He wanted to be buried like the Saints. You know, like Saint Francis? Your brother had a touch of the holiness when you left.""Had he?" You tear off a chunk of pear with your teeth."He was fasting a lot in his last days. He wouldn't take more than a handful of meal." He cupped his hands. "No more than that, once a day. And later he wouldn't even take water. We begged, your sister and I. Your sister stayed up with him every night listening to that cough, like the devil's laughter, all smoke and ash and blood. And still he wouldn't drink. She wept every night, your sister." Gamling brushes his eyes. "Well, he charged the friars to do it and they said they would have to put him in their yard, with their people, and they were glad to do it--for they loved him, you know, he was very good to them--but," Gamling shakes his head. "I wasn't budging on that point. He'll be buried by his mother, so I said, coffin or no.">And what about your sister now?>How did your brother fare with the estate?>Where was your father in all this?>Write-in
>>6001403>Where was your father in all this?So bro died on a religious hunger fast? He must have sinned greatly?
>>6001403>How did my brother fare with the estateIf we are now lord of the castle and this land, we need to know what is going on.
>>6001403>>Where was your father in all this?SUS
>>6001403>Where was your father in all this?We're not lord yet, our father still lives.
>>6001403>>Where was your father in all this?
>>6001403>Where was your father in all this?
>>6001403>Write inAfter some more questioning, let's go to the friars and find out what led out brother down this path!
You joinI suppose I must let it go now, eh, brother? I confess it is almost a relief. And as always, you've managed have the final word. A sainted son for a martyred mother. I might even call it cunning if I did not know how incapable you were of duplicity. Well, I forgive you. That is what I would have said and then I would have knocked some sense into you. You swallow and clear your throat. "My father was witness to all this?"Gamling opens his hands then sways his head side to side. "I don't know how much he understood.""When did it begin?""Oh, perhaps a year, after..." He looks at you, then drops his gaze. "We had the infirmarius from the monastery come. Your brother petitioned him personally, but still he could not stay for very long for the abbot, Father Zachariah--you remember him, he was at your mother's funeral, though he was only a sacrist then--well, he had also fallen ill. Anyway, that first attack was from too much blood, I think it was said, so the infirmarius let your father, bled him, for the three days he was with us. Your sister was against it, you know how squeamish she is, like your mother. But your father seemed to recover after that and before the infirmarius left, he gave us instructions to keep him out the damp and to support him on a strict diet of pears, cucumbers, and barley bread. Things to cool his humours. Absolutely, no meat or fish. Which, you know your father, was not something he took well." Gamling lets out a barking laugh."The cellarer tells me we sell our hypocras now for a good price."Gamling's lingering smile vanishes on the spot. "Yes, that was the first thing to go. Spiced wine incenses the blood, I think it was said. That was very hard for your father." Gamling speaks these words slowly and carefully.You chop the remains of the pear, now reduced to the core, into small pieces."It is all plausible," offers Piruz. "And the diet would explain the accumulation of the black bile, the cure superseding the cause--and with your brother in such a condition, the melancholy would have worsened it still more--""Ka'bah?" you ask, not recognizing the word.Piruz makes little circles with his hand. "Melancholy. Sadness. Sorrow.""You're mistaken," you say. Piruz raises his chin and then his brow."Not your diagnosis," you say. "Just that my father was not given to sentimentality. Farthest from it.""And you, my lord?" says Gamling, a little too loudly, cutting off whatever Piruz was about to say. "We had not expected your return," he pauses, then adds, looking at Piruz, "so soon.">The campaign against the heathens is over>You've had your fill of the continent>You came because your sister wrote to you>Write-in
>>6002514>You came because your sister wrote to you
>>6002514>>You came because your sister wrote to you
>the campaign against the heathens is over.
>>6002514>>You've had your fill of the continent
Dead?
QM you alive?
I'm willing to take over if the QM is really dead.
>>6002544>>6002551>>6003026>>6003146>>6003212>>6003968>>6004253You fix Gamling with a steady gaze, your fingers still toying with the remnants of the pear. "I came because my sister wrote to me," you state plainly, letting the simple truth of it hang in the air.Gamling shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearly taken aback by your sudden disclosure. "Your sister...," he starts, then falters, his eyes darting between you and Piruz. "We thought perhaps the letter had gone astray.""It did not," you say crisply, pushing the chopped pear aside. Your sister's desperate words, a scrawled plea for your return, echo in your mind, pulling you back to the urgency that hastened your journey."And what exactly did she say?" Piruz interjects, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward, his earlier medical conjectures set aside.You draw a deep breath, recalling the frantic lines. She wrote of your father’s worsening behavior, of strange happenings at the estate, and fears for her safety. She believed that something sinister was at play, something connected to the old enemies and rites remembered by few. "Nothing important," you lie, not trusting Gamling with your secrets.After all, your sister had asked for you because she trusts no one else here. And now, with your brother gone in such strange circumstances, you must find out what truly ails this place.>You pay a visit to your sister.>You make your way to the ancient cairns.>You call on your father's mistress.>Write-in
>>6010780>You pay a visit to your sister.
>>6010801>>6011575You navigate the winding corridors of the castle, the echo of your steps haunting the silent, somber halls that used to buzz with life. As you approach your sister's quarters, you notice the door slightly ajar, a warm glow of candlelight spilling into the dim hallway. With a gentle push, you enter.Your sister sits by the window, her silhouette bathed in moonlight, which makes her golden hair glow and her skin appear paler than you remember. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap, her gaze distant. She doesn’t notice you at first, lost in her thoughts, so you clear your throat softly.She whirls around, her expression transforming from surprise to relief. "You came, brother," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rustle of her dress."I did," you affirm, closing the distance to sit beside her. "Your letter worried me. I've since learned of our brother's fate... What's happening here? You mentioned father’s worsening behavior, strange happenings at the estate, and fears for your safety."She pauses, her fingers nervously playing with the lace at her sleeve. "It's not just father. The entire estate feels... tainted, somehow. Things have been wrong ever since you left.""Has Father mentioned anything about this?" you ask, your concern deepening as you note her distress.She shakes her head, a single tear tracing her cheek. "He's grown worse. He's withdrawn, speaks rarely, and when he does, his words are cryptic, as if he’s conversing with unseen forces. I fear he’s involved, somehow."You place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'll uncover the truth." You resolve to start with Piruz; he might shed light on Father's physical condition, which could explain some of his behavior.Her gratitude is evident as she clasps your hand tightly. "Thank you. I didn't know who else to turn to.""About our brother, do you know why he starved himself?" you probe, sensing there’s more she hasn’t said.Your sister hesitates, then murmurs, "I think he felt guilty about something, though he never told me what it was. He believed that by emulating the saints, by purifying himself, he could find atonement." Her voice is laden with sadness, reflecting the weight of unresolved secrets.>You seek out Piruz to discuss your father's mysterious symptoms.>You search through your brother’s belongings to uncover clues about his guilt.>You question the servants about recent strange occurrences.>You take a walk to the ancestral cairns.>Write-in
>>6011912>>You take a walk to the ancestral cairns.
>>6011912>You take a walk to the ancestral cairns.
>>6011947>>6012081>>6012841You decide to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the castle behind and take a walk to the ancestral cairns, where generations of your family rest in silence. The path is familiar, etched into your memory, yet it feels different today—more solemn, each step heavier than the last.As you approach the cairns, the air grows cooler, the mist hanging low around the ancient stones that mark the graves. The cairns stand like silent sentinels in a circle, their moss-covered stones whispering tales of the past.You pause before the newest addition—a simple, unadorned stone that marks your brother's final resting place. It feels surreal to think of him, once so vibrant and full of life, now reduced to a name carved in stone."Why did you choose this, brother?" you murmur, your voice barely a whisper against the wind.There's no answer, of course, but the silence feels laden with words unsaid, secrets kept. You crouch down, brushing your fingers over the damp moss, feeling the chill of the stone seep into your skin.Today, your brother was laid to rest without a coffin, placed next to your mother, a martyr to your father's tyranny. Long dead before your departure, she endured your father's drunken fury and his lecherous pursuits with serving girls and scullery maids. Too young to defend her then, those memories have fueled a deep-seated resentment towards your father. Now, sitting by her grave, you remember the circumstances of her death, pondering the injustices she suffered.>Her life had faded abruptly, as if drained of vitality overnight. Whispers of curses and foul play circulated, yet nothing was ever proven.>She was poisoned, leading your father to execute the accused—a foreigner with a vendre against your family.>She met her end through a stabbing, her body discovered with no sign of the assailant who remained elusive.>She succumbed to a sudden and severe illness, her decline so rapid that it sparked rumors of witchcraft among the local villagers.>She died in a fall from her horse, an accident that seemed mundane but occurred under such strange circumstances that some whispered it was no accident at all.>She perished in a fire that engulfed her chamber one night; the blaze was ruled an accident, but the door to her room was found locked from the outside, suggesting possible foul play.>Write-in
>>6012942>She succumbed to a sudden and severe illness, her decline so rapid that it sparked rumors of witchcraft among the local villagers.
>>6012942>She died in a fall from her horse, an accident that seemed mundane but occurred under such strange circumstances that some whispered it was no accident at all.
>>6012967>>6013409>>6013891>>6014561As you reflect on your mother's death, the details haunt you like a revenant. She died in a fall from her horse, an accident that seemed mundane but occurred under such strange circumstances that some whispered it was no accident at all. The circumstances were oddly convenient, occurring just when tensions within the household had reached a peak.Your father's reaction to the incident was predictably harsh. In his typical manner, he responded with brutality rather than grief. He ordered the horse slaughtered on the spot, its carcass left to rot as a reminder of the tragedy. The stable boy, barely more than a child himself, was whipped viciously within an inch of his life. Rumors circulated that the boy knew something he shouldn't—that the horse was spooked intentionally—but nothing more came of it.After the incident, your father quickly abandoned any facade of mourning. He plunged back into his usual vices—drowning in hypocras and taking liberties with the young, giggling serving girls, even more brazenly than before your mother's death.Your loathing for him grew daily, festering like an untreated wound in your heart. The suffocating atmosphere of the castle, the constant reminders of your mother’s untimely demise, and your father’s tyrannical rule became unbearable. As soon as you were old enough, you seized the opportunity to escape, joining a military campaign against the heathens. It was a desperate bid for freedom, a way to purge the helplessness and rage that had built up over the years.You had hoped your older brother would join you in the campaign, yet he chose to stay behind, committed to his duty as your father's heir despite the tyranny that characterized his rule. Before you left, you argued bitterly, accusing him of cowardice for not fleeing the castle's confines, when in truth, it was you who was running away. He met his end with the sanctity of a martyr, while you continued to grapple with your place in the world.Now, standing by your brother’s grave, these memories stir in your mind, a sea of melancholia, threatening to overflow. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to anchor yourself in the present, but the past clings to you, unyielding and omnipresent.Suddenly, you notice something deeply unsettling. Some of the graves appear to have been disturbed recently. Grave robbers? Animals? Or perhaps something more sinister? A cold chill runs down your spine, the melancholy swiftly replaced with a creeping sense of dread.>Return to the safety of the castle; your investigation cannot continue if you fall victim tonight.>Spend the night at the cairns; perhaps the darkness will reveal the secrets you seek.>Write-in
>>6014769>Spend the night at the cairns; perhaps the darkness will reveal the secrets you seek.
>>6014769>Spend the night at the cairns; perhaps the darkness will reveal the secrets you seek.>Have Piruz with us, we know he is sound and value his arm.
>>6014769>Return to the safety of the castle; your investigation cannot continue if you fall victim tonight.
>>6015286Supporting this
>>6015113>>6015286>>6015366>>6016110You make the decision to spend the night at the cairns; perhaps the darkness will reveal the secrets you seek. Piruz, whom you know to be sound and skilled in arms, is a reassuring presence beside you. Trust comes more easily with him, the outsider, than with anyone back at the castle.After partaking in the dinner celebrating your return—a feast of slaughtered calf and roast pheasant, which Piruz enjoyed heartily while you merely picked at your food, devoid of appetite—he joins you at the site of the disturbed graves."So, what do you think?" you ask, gesturing towards the unsettled earth and scattered stones.Piruz studies the graves with a measured gaze. "It confirms a suspicion I've had," he responds in a composed tone. "This isn’t mere superstition. It feels like witchcraft or black magic. It's not that your father lost his wits; it's more likely that someone or something has taken hold of them.""Let's stay here tonight, see if we can catch a glimpse of whoever—or whatever—is responsible," you whisper, your voice a mixture of determination and an unease that you can't quite suppress. The chill of the night seeps into your bones, but the chill in your heart as you consider the possibility of supernatural forces at work is far deeper.Piruz nods, setting himself up in a position where he can watch the graves without being easily seen. "We'll know more by dawn," he assures you, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the night.The night deepens around you as you and Piruz sit in vigilant silence, the occasional rustle of leaves or distant animal cry piercing the quiet. Your eyes continuously sweep the shadowy landscape, alert for any anomaly.Then, at the witching hour, a cloaked figure approaches your brother's grave. You signal to Piruz with a sharp nod, and he springs forward with feline agility, confronting the intruder.It's one of the tonsured monks from earlier—the one who called Piruz a heathen and insisted on your brother's coffinless burial. "Please, it's not my fault, she made me do it—" he gasps, but before he can say more, he starts frothing at the mouth, his eyes rolling back as he collapses, lifeless.>You decide to keep this grim revelation between yourself and Piruz, wary of trusting anyone else within the castle walls.>You confide solely in your sister, trusting her above all others not to be complicit in the dark schemes against your family.>You report the monk's mysterious death and his final words to Abbot Father Zachariah, hoping for insights or intervention from the church.>Write-in
>>6016140>You confide in your sister, trusting her above all others not to be complicit in the dark schemes against your family.She was the one who wrote to us to come back because of her concerns, after all. I think we should at least try to trust her here.
>>6016140>You confide solely in your sister, trusting her above all others not to be complicit in the dark schemes against your family.
>>6016140>>You confide solely in your sister, trusting her above all others not to be complicit in the dark schemes against your family.
>>6016296>>6020879>>6021786You and Piruz share a stunned look, the severity of the evening’s revelations weighing heavily on you both. "There’s no doubt left, it’s witchcraft," Piruz finally whispers, his voice barely audible as he murmurs a prayer in his native tongue.You nod in agreement. "The monk said 'she' made him do it. He was likely just a pawn—a minion who delved too deep into dark arts but never ascended beyond mere servitude. There’s a far more powerful witch lurking within the castle walls."Piruz reflects on this, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully. "I suspected as much. Your homecoming wasn't going to be just roast pheasant and cinnamon wine. This witch—do you have any idea who it might be?""No, but I intend to find out," you assert. The mysterious circumstances surrounding your brother’s death, your father’s erratic behavior, and your sister’s fears all seem to converge towards a sorcerous influence. An old enemy of your family, methodically dismantling your house one member at a time? You even begin to suspect that your mother's death years ago might be another piece in this wicked plot. "Stay vigilant. We'll continue our investigation at first light."Leaving the monk’s corpse where it fell, you decide his death will appear natural to those who find him come morning—a sudden, inexplicable illness, they’ll say. In truth, you surmise he was silenced by a curse, possibly cast by his malevolent mistress to keep her secrets safe from prying eyes.
You retreat to the relative safety of your sister's quarters, the only place within the castle walls where you feel a semblance of trust and candor is possible. You confide solely in her, trusting her above all others not to be complicit in the dark schemes against your family. "Brother’s death and father’s condition are likely tied to witchcraft," you explain the night's events. "Do you have any idea who this witch might be, sister?"Your sister looks troubled, her voice low. "It must be someone with a grudge against our house, or someone who stands to gain from our family's downfall. Could it be a woman father wronged in the past?"You sigh deeply. "There are many such women." You recount how your father exploited his position, seducing serving maids and then callously discarding them, even forcing those he impregnated to end their pregnancies. His drunken abuses and beatings extended even to your mother and sister. "It wouldn’t surprise me if one of his victims sought vengeance.""But why would they target our brother? He was always respectful towards women, unlike our father," your sister ponders aloud, the pieces of the puzzle not quite fitting together. You frown, feeling the complexity of the mystery deepen, "There's much we don't yet understand. But rest assured, I will uncover it.">You investigate a serving girl who had been impregnated by your father and then brutally cast out of the castle, considering that a feudal lord might recognize a bastard child if all legitimate heirs are dead.>You investigate a serving girl who had been impregnated by your father and then forced to have an abortion, realizing such cruelty could foster lifelong resentments and a thirst for vengeance.>You visit a nearby brothel your father often frequented, suspecting he may have fathered a child there, hoping one of the whores might provide a crucial piece of the puzzle.>You visit your father's current mistress, a young girl distantly related to Gamling, raising suspicions about Gamling’s potential involvement in the plot against your family.>Write-in
>>6021929>You visit your father's current mistress, a young girl distantly related to Gamling, raising suspicions about Gamling’s potential involvement in the plot against your family.
>>6021929>>You visit your father's current mistress, a young girl distantly related to Gamling, raising suspicions about Gamling’s potential involvement in the plot against your family.
>>6022312>>6022446>>6022480After breaking fast early in the morning—a hearty spread of white wheat bread, rye bread with currants, cooked ham, head cheese, cheese, boiled eggs, honey, mustard, lard, pork crackling, butter, and ale—you begin your investigations. Piruz tucks into the meal with gusto, and you marvel at how he maintains his appetite under such grim circumstances. A servant soon approaches with news of a tonsured monk found dead near your ancestral cairns. You feign ignorance, accepting the explanation of a sudden but natural death without question.You start by casually inquiring about those currently residing in the castle, feigning mere curiosity. The servant mentions the usual array of servants and monks, and a new addition—a young woman distantly related to Gamling, now living as a ward in your house."She was given sleeping quarters next to the lord's bedroom," you grimace, the implications clear. This girl is undoubtedly your father’s current mistress, likely positioned there by Gamling. His cunning and opportunistic nature is nothing new; procuring girls for his wealthy friend is a familiar tactic of his. A tactic that has kept him as your father's closest friend and most trusted confidante."The lord's eldest legitimate son and heir starved himself to death, and his other son was presumed dead in the campaign against the heathens," you recall, remembering Gamling’s shocked expression upon your return. He clearly hadn’t expected you to return."What game are you playing, Gamling?" you muse, piecing together his probable motives. With your brother's tragic end and your presumed death, your father would be left without an heir. Gamling's move to bring his niece into the castle, placing her in your father's bed, likely aimed at ensuring a new heir, whether through legitimate means or not. Perhaps he even planned to have her wed your father, so any child from that union would be a legitimate heir, with you and your brother conveniently out of the picture."It still doesn't explain why brother starved himself to death, or who or what has ensnared father’s wits," you ponder, questioning whether Gamling’s actions were merely opportunistic or if he's deeply entangled in the witchcraft menacing your house. Resolving to learn more, you decide that a visit to Gamling’s niece, your father’s new mistress, should be your next step.
Meeting her, however, catches you off guard. Gamling's niece is younger than you, probably around your sister's age, with red hair and blue eyes—a preference of your father's. Yet, she doesn't fit the mold of the cunning seductress you had anticipated; she seems surprisingly normal, though appearances can be deceiving. "My name is Henrietta, my lord. I heard a lot about you from your brother. I am glad you returned to us safe," she says with a sincerity that puzzles you.>Inquire about her background, her connection to Gamling, and the events leading to her residency at the castle.>Question her regarding her interactions with your father and whether she has observed any unusual activities or behaviors in the castle.>Ask her about her connections with your brother, specifically if she has any insights into his decision to starve himself.>Write-in
