Greetings, Most Honored Paladin,
From Dref Ceffel, Bishop of Chastity,
Member of the Holy Council;
After your skillful and successful expedition into the Fertile Plain and subsequent vanquishment of the evil spirit and his dreadful ogre assistant, the Holy Council has meditated on your next assignment. After extensive prayer and consideration we have decided, through the grace of God, that you should, with the same courage and fortitude that you have displayed in all your endeavors, journey back to the continent, that same den of evil and iniquity you just departed, and make your way, with care and discretion, to the County of Dunn.
There you shall, with bravery and initiative, disperse the ring of banditry that has enthralled the region so that peaceful travelers and merchants shall once more be able to traverse the roads of Dunn County. Not only will this strike a tremendous blow in the Holy War against the Dark Tides, by displaying the strength and vigor of the Church to the common folk of the continent, it will also restore a steady supply of fine iron ore that used to flow through the trade routes of the County.
Unfortunately, I find my time entirely consumed by the affairs of the Holy Council, and cannot grant you an audience to provide you with further information. If you should have questions, you should find answers in my agent, Ralph Betternot. You will find him, if you look, just like last time, in The Broken Limb, a rough but goodhearted inn. Go now with my blessing and win another great victory for the Holy Council,
Bishop of Chastity
James set the letter down on the table and looked across at the stocky barbarian.
“We literally just got back a week ago,” Wain protested, “I’ve met a barmaid down at the Sloshing Skull, cute little redhead. I can’t go dashing off to the continent now!”
“Duty calls,” Sir James sighed, “It’s actually only been six days. I was to lead Vespers this weekend.”
“Who does the old Bish think he is,” Wain stood up, even standing he was only a head taller than the seated paladin, “He can’t just send us constantly scampering off around the world willy nilly every second of the day.”
“Well, actually Wain,” Sir James shook his head, “He can.”
“I haven’t even had time to sharpen my sword,” Wain paced to the opposite side of the room, “Not to mention, my bleeding leg was cut off! I deserve some rest time for that!”
“Your leg is entirely healed,” Sir James said, “I know, because I was there.”
“Yes, you re-attached it miraculously well,” Wain agreed, “But there is still the emotional trauma.”
“Well, you can stay here and come to grips with it,” Sir James proposed, “While I go to The Broken Limb to gather some more information.”
“Now now,” Wain whirled around, “Let’s not be hasty. The Broken Limb is a rough joint, as your bodyguard, it would be best if I went with you.”
“I thought so,” Sir James rose and walked to the door, “But I was concerned for your emotional trauma.
“Beer is the best medicine,” Wain grinned, and followed him out.