"It is quite the costly setup that you propose," muses the woman in red, some time later. 

"It is commensurate with the stakes. I thought it would be worth the investment."

"And your fee, of course." 

"Naturally. It remains a more attractive option than outright war, does it not? To take this much territory by main force would be long and bloody work. The price I ask is not so dear, given the alternative." 

"He's got us there."

"Then we are in agreement?" 

"We are. One champion each, your methods against mine, the playing field carved out from our domains." 

The man in robes of dusk stands between the circles, and extends one hand into each. The Monarch of Shadows produces a dagger and draws it across the man's left palm; the Monarch of Guests draws blood from his right with a fingernail. Their hands clasp, Monarch to man to Monarch, and a pact in blood is sealed.

The Monarch of Shadows fades into night, darkness pooling in the circle where he stood. 

The Monarch of Guests dissolves, seeping redly into the ground below, until all that is left is a stain. 

The man in robes of dusk withdraws his hands, still dripping blood; it would be an affront to bandage them here. He departs. 

The Monarch of Shadows rises smoothly from a pool of darkness, occupying his circle once more. His nod of acknowledgement is almost imperceptible, save for the bobbing of the pinpricks of blue light where his eyes should be. "Tidebringer." 

A shimmer in the air resolves into the ghostly figure of a severe woman in robes of blue and gold. "Shadows. Be warned. The Courtiers are compromised; the master plots with the Monarch of Guests. The game is to be rigged, and not in your favor." 

Blue glints flick to the woman. The Monarch of Shadows draws a dagger from nowhere, toying idly with the blade. "You could not get through the wards to warn me while alive...you died to bring me this news. Bold of you; thanks are owed. Is there aught you would ask of me in return?"

"Escape this bargain, if you can. My agents were able to set a loophole —" 

"A feat for which I commend them, and one which may yet prove worth the sacrifice. But there is no need to be so hasty." Blue light smolders in the shadows. "The Guests may lay the board, but I set the rules. And what's the point of playing if you don't plan to cheat?"

"Then bear my soul into the Shadowlands, Lord of Death and Ashes, and use it well. Oh, and if the worst should happen, shield my nephew from the fallout. He may be young and foolhardy, yet, but if the House splinters, I expect you'll want the help." 

"You have a deal. Come, then, and let us speak of...eviction." 

Eriksmont isn't the smallest town in Valirinum province worthy of the name. Technically, that honor goes to Helicas, farther upriver, which bears the brunt of the casualties whenever there's a border scuffle with the Long Gardens. The Cabelpas is much wider near Eriksmont, and lacks a proper ford, making it rather inconvenient to raid.

That's probably why Jennifer Wolling settled here with her precocious grandson, a safe distance from the political infighting of the Imperial heartlands.

It's the 1st of Undindar, and the day of the spring equinox, and said grandson is currently being rudely awoken by the crowing of Ser Peckingsworth the Bold from the nearby Lucius farm. It's not quite dawn, so the elderly Ser Peckingsworth has probably mistaken a traveler's torch for the sunrise again. 

Alex is still young enough to greet the day with a good amount of energy even when awakened a touch early. It still takes him a few seconds to rub the sleep out of his eyes before sitting up though.

And he's greeted by a floating blue rectangle filled with text. 

Alexandr (Alex) Lustig
Player of Games
Some say the gods play games with the world, with all Creation as their board and its creatures as their pieces. But if you are a piece in a larger game, who is to say you cannot also be a Player? 

Age 22
Decrepitude 0

Might 0
Fatigue: Fresh
Wounds: None

Personality
Inquisitive +1
Muleheaded +2
Ambitious +3

Characteristics
Intelligence +4
Perception -1
Presence +1
Communication -2
Strength +2
Stamina +1
Dexterity +1
Quickness 0

General Abilities
Animal Handling 2 (+saving livestock from their own idiocy)
Athletics 2 (+climbing)
Awareness 3 (+magic)
Bargain 1 (+buying books)
Brawl 2 (+people who insulted your grandmother)
Charm 1 (+scholars)
Chirurgy 2 (+setting bones)
Concentration 1 (+reading)
Leadership 2 (+leading by example)
Living Language (Umbrican) 5 (+arguments)  
Living Language (Miezan) 3 (+reading texts) 
Profession (scribe) 1 (+copying) 
Swim 3 (+rivers) 
Eriksmont Lore 2 (+where to get books)

Academic Abilities
Artes Liberales 2 (+logic) 
Imperial Law 1 (+taxes)
Medicine 3 (+anatomy)
Philosophae 1 (+justifying what you wanted to do anyway)
Theology 1 (+grandma's various heresies)

Magical Abilities
Magic Theory 2 (+esoteric trivia)

Supernatural Abilities
Magic Sensitivity 1 

Petronian Arts (unopened)
Creo 4
Intellego 1
Animal 2
Corpus 3
Herbam 1

Powers and Aspects
???: [locked]

Status Effects
???: [locked]

Virtues
The Gift
You have the innate potential to become a mage. You have yet to associate with a particular school of magic, though you have picked up some Petronian theory here and there. 
Great Intelligence
You may raise any Characteristic that already has a score of at least +3 by one point, to no more than +5. You may take this Virtue twice for the same Characteristic, and for more than one Characteristic. With this Virtue, your Intelligence is raised to +4. 
Inventive Genius
Invention comes naturally to you. You receive +3 on Lab Totals when you invent new spells, craft magic items, and make potions. If you experiment, you get +6.
Magic Sensitivity
You are often able to identify a place or object as magical. However, your sensitivity makes you more susceptible to magical effects: subtract your Magic Sensitivity score from your Magic Resistance. Choosing this Virtue confers the Ability Magic Sensitivity 1. 
Learn from Mistakes
Being totally green has its perks. When you botch or barely fail a task, you will sometimes gain experience in an associated Ability or Art. 

Flaws
Hedge Wizard
Because you are an outsider who is neither bound to the army nor properly apprenticed, other magi distrust you, and more importantly, grant you no respect. You start with a negative Reputation within the Petronian Orders. 
Rigid Magic
Due to your lack of proper training in the Petronian style, you cannot use vis when you cast spells. Thus, you cannot increase your spell rolls with vis, or cast Ritual magic. You can still use vis in the laboratory, if you manage to find either vis or a laboratory. Good luck with that. 

Info/Characteristics
Intelligence: You are very smart. Congratulations on this entirely unearned accomplishment. Don't let it go to your head. 
Perception: You are reasonably perceptive, but easily distracted by shiny interesting things. You will notice someone calling your name, most of the time, even if you probably won't register the first sentence they utter after doing so. 
Presence: You are more noticeable than average; people will tend to pay attention to you, whether you want them to or not. 
Communication: You are socially awkward, laughably gullible, and not particularly good at making yourself understood. You can still manage not to offend people most of the time if you're actually trying. 
Strength: You are reasonably fit, and stronger than most civilians. If you put all your effort into striking someone, it will hurt. (If you use a weapon, it'll probably only hurt them.)
Stamina: You have slightly more endurance and resilience than average, and are correspondingly better at enduring the stresses of magical casting. You are moderately resistant to disease. 
Dexterity: You are reasonably agile. You can wield a weapon without putting out your eye, and maybe even hit something with it. 
Quickness: Your reflexes and ability to think on your feet are solidly average. 

That is a lot of text.

At first all he can register is that there's a lot of text and he looks around to see if there's any sort of obvious cause but upon seeing nothing but his relatively modest room he decides to read it before doing anything else. If a proper mage has gone to the trouble of sending him such a long message with a spell he's never heard of before, not that he's heard of that many spells, he figures it's probably not a trap, he's just not that important.

The text about being a piece in the God's games is a worrying start but on the other hand he has always yearned for more than this small village maybe this isn't just a trick and it's a path to being something like that.

The summary of his attributes and skills is a little hard to understand without context but the relative levels of his skills do seem about right. It adds at least a little plausibility to this being accurate.

Him being best at using philosophy to argue for  what he wanted to do sounds like something Jen would say.

The description of his Virtues starts to make things more concrete. He's pretty pleased with being termed an inventive genius. Honestly more pleased than the more general claim about playing on the same board as the gods.

The Flaws... don't actually seem that bad, hopefully with time he'll be able to work past those.

The explanation of his characteristics is a bit of a mixed bag. It absolutely hurts to be called laughably gullible but... he has fallen for some things over the years and he tends to get focused to the point of missing the obvious so that also fits.

Now he needs to figure out if this is one more lie someone is trying to make him fall for. And his best chance to figure that out is Jen.

Jennifer Wolling, or Jen to her grandson and friends is still fairly spry in her old age but it takes her a bit to get out of bed in the morning. She's really quite surprised when Alex bursts into her room so early.

"Jen something really weird has happened. There's this giant wall of text floating in front of me and it's saying a lot. I'm not really sure what it means or if I should believe it."

Jen can see no such thing, but she remembers the wide variety of what magic can accomplish from her time closer to the capital. The same 'accomplishments' that took her daughter from her. She shakes her head slightly but firmly.

"What exactly are you seeing? You said it's a lot of text can you read it to me?"

"Of, course." And he does he pauses occasionally in case she wants to interrupt.

But she doesn't. Her face shows off her shifts between confusion, intrigue and concern as the text goes on. It's clear Alex isn't just making this up. "I think we need to take this seriously and also to learn more if we can. Does anything happen if you try to touch it?"

"I haven't tried, I wanted to ask you first just in case especially with what it said about me being gullible." He reaches out and tries to touch the blue rectangle.

His hand passes through the rectangle without resistance. He gets a new popup, though.

Available Commands
Status: Show or hide status shade. That's the big blue box with all the stuff. You'll get used to it.
Quests: Show or hide quest shade. 
Inventory: Show or hide inventory shade. 
Info [Topic]: Show or hide detailed description of [topic], if available. Valid topics include, but are not limited to: Quests, Inventory, Advancement, and specific Abilities, Arts, Characteristics, Virtues, or Flaws. 

Huh, well that's something. He reads out the new box to Jen. Then he tries it out by saying "Status," to hide the annoying box and "Quests," to start on learning more.

Conveniently, reading it aloud doesn't trigger anything. On command, the Status shade vanishes and a new one appears.

Active Quests

The First Time's Always the Hardest
Trouble is coming to Eriksmont. Will you meet it when it does?
Objective: Survive for a year and a day. Time remaining: 369 days 17 hours 20 minutes 53 seconds
Success: +5 Might XP. Unlock [???]. ???
Failure: An important lesson. Unlock [???]. ???
Bonus Objective 1: Jennifer is still alive after a year and a day. ???
Bonus Objective 2: ???

The "seconds" number is ticking down steadily.

"Faex!" He rereads the text once to be sure it says what he thought it does but can't quite bring himself to read it out and make it more real.

"What are you seeing? I can't see what you're seeing so I can't help if you don't tell me."

He takes a deep breath and reads it out. "Reading it for a third time I'm noticing that it thinks I'll survive dying somehow. And also there's something about this being the first time. Hmm, the gods are immortal so if I'm supposed to be able to play on their field maybe that means the same for me somehow. Not that I'm eager to test it."

"Or it's as you suggested and someone is just playing a cruel joke on you. You should try more of those commands."

"Yeah, it's just hard to keep that in mind or fathom why they would want to." He closes "Quests" and opens "Inventory."

Inventory (Level 1)

[Empty]

Info/Inventory

You can store objects in your Inventory shade. You may store one object per Inventory rank. At level 1, you may store a single small object (Size -8 or less). If you have a bonded object, such as a staff or talisman, it always counts as small enough to store in your Inventory. As a general rule, living creatures not already in stasis may not be placed into Inventory. 

Inventory Commands
Store: Place held object into your Inventory shade, if there is space available.
Retrieve [object]: Restore [object] from Inventory shade to corporeal form.

Additional functionality may be unlocked at higher Inventory levels. 

"I think it gave me something like a spell." He reaches over and grabs a quill Jen has on her bedroom desk and then says "Store."

The quill vanishes in a wisp of black smoke.

Inventory (Level 1)

Jen's quill

"It worked! Retrieve Jen's Quill."

There's another tendril of black smoke (?) from nowhere, and then Alex is holding the quill. It seems unchanged by the ordeal.

"Incredible."

"It is I've only heard of one sort of magic that's supposed to be anything like this and it's supposed to be out of reach of everyone but archmages."

"Well that's certainly an escalation in how seriously we need to take this all. I still can't read what you're seeing though. Read it all out for me."

Alex does. "And that makes me wonder about: Info Advancement."

Info/Advancement

You can improve your talents by earning experience points (XP), completing Quests, or acting the part of a hero or villain out of legend. 

By default, XP accrues to your Abilities and magical Arts through practice, study, and learning from books or teachers, with the amount of XP determined by the breadth, depth, and intensity of practice and by the Quality of the source(s) from which you study. In other words, you get better at what you practice, just like anyone else. 

As the Player of Games, you are unusually advantaged in your ability to learn and grow without limit, and you may occasionally discover a way to access skills and talents normally restricted by birth or circumstance. Use these secrets well.

As a prospective Named, you also have a Might score, though currently your ability to use Might is sharply limited. XP accrues to your Might as you follow in the footsteps of the mighty who came before, impose your will upon Creation, or seize power that once belonged to another. But be warned; those who entangle themselves in Fate find that the strings pull both ways. To be Named is to be a character in a story, with all that is entailed thereby. 

When Alex is done reading, another shade appears unprompted. 

There Is Always a Choice

Congratulations! You have completed the tutorial content! The important bits, anyway. 

Here's the thing: You don't have to go any farther than this. You can always reject a Name, and the power and entanglements that come with it, although doing so is not wholly without cost. 

The Game goes on, whether or not you play it. Should you refuse this power, the deeds you would do with its aid will go undone, for good or ill. The troubles of the world will remain; and although they will be less inclined to treat you, specifically, as a fulcrum on which Fate turns, nor shall you enjoy any special protection from them.

What say you, Alexandr Lustig? 

Accept / Decline

A tendril of shadow snakes around the border of the last two words. 

He gasps a little when it mentions him becoming a Named. In a sense it was implied but not even all archmages have Names. He blinks briefly when the other window appears and blows out his cheeks when he reaches the end. He reads it all out to Jen and then he says. "I'm pretty sure I have to accept. There's no guarantee that whatever is supposed to kill me at the end of the year won't still happen if I say no."

"If we grant that it's being truthful I agree with you. But the games of the Named... they're the sorts of people who might do something as elaborate as this as a deception. I don't see why they'd offer you the chance to decline though."

"That sounds like I should accept in either case, if someone is playing games with me I doubt they'll take it well if I call their bluff. And if this is real... It's a risky choice but it's also the opportunity of a lifetime."

Jen nods slowly. "I'm worried about all the implications there especially about the influences of fate and the narrative, but if I'm being honest I would do the same thing if I got that offer."

"Right then. I Accept."

By resolving to become the Player of Games in truth, and taking your first step on the road to becoming a legendary hero and/or villain, you have gained 1 Might XP! (Might 0: 1/5 to next level) 

It should go without saying that it only gets harder from here. 

It does, actually, feel faintly like something has solidified in Alex.

He feels a brief moment of doubt at it saying things will only get harder but he's committed, and a large part of him relishes the challenge. "Apparently I'm a fifth of the way to my first milestone on the path to being Named." He reads the whole message just in case there's something important he missed.

"Whatever that means."

He nods. Hmm, what is important to get info on first. He'll go through it all eventually but priorities. "Info Quests."

Info/Quests

Fate loves agency, but She's not above sweetening the deal. Sometimes, you will receive a unique opportunity to accomplish something of note for an appropriate and commensurate reward: coin, XP, Reputation, items, rare spells or Abilities, and even large-scale consequences to others might be among the stakes of any given venture. Of course, not every consequence of your actions will be listed among the details. You'll have to discover the rest for yourself. 

Quests may be started in a variety of ways, but it helps to leave the house.

He'll read this one out as well. He had been planning on just trying to get info for all the things he can find on the status screen but maybe he shouldn't get quite that focused quite that quickly.

That can be something to do in the evenings or when he happens to be free during the day. A year isn't actually that long all things being equal. He conveys this reasoning to Jen.

"I don't remember everything but I'm inclined to agree nothing jumped out at me. Maybe you can use it to learn more about magic though. That seems like one of the faster paths to advancement."

"Of course!" A part of him wants to start on that immediately but he resists the urge and instead gives Jen a kiss and goes off to do his morning chores. He'll read more over breakfast.

Dawn creeps over the horizon as Alex works, loudly announced (again) by Ser Peckingsworth. 

A few others are up and about as well. Edmund, a young farmhand working for the Lucius family, waves cheerfully. "Mornin', Mister Alex! You goin' to the festival today?"

The Festival of Asteron is a longstanding tradition in Eriksmont and a few surrounding villages, dating back to before the Miezan Empire conquered and enslaved the local populace. It's not as grand as the summer celebrations, nor as bounteous as the autumn harvest, but it has remained stubbornly popular nevertheless. There's a blessing of homes and ploughs, a burning of incense to the ancestors, and a mock battle between costumed monsters. 

These rites are grudgingly tolerated by the Empire, officially because it isn't worth the effort to stamp them out, and unofficially because the last several times the Empire tried, they started right back up again a few years later.

In the last few years, recruiters for the Imperial army have been taking advantage of the festival-driven surge in population to make their pitch to as many people as possible. (Imperator Khale is said to have abolished or at least restricted conscription, but he's off campaigning across the Beluic Sea, now, and who knows when or if he'll be back.)

He had actually forgotten that was today with all the events of this morning but his mysterious benefactor did encourage him to get out of the house in order to succeed. "Of course."

"I'm excited to meet the foreigners!* I heard there's even a wizard in town this year." 

* i.e. anyone who lives more than fifty miles away. 

A new quest is available! 

Party Like There's No Tomorrow

Eriksmont is not famous for very many things, but the town does know how to celebrate. Many find it an excellent opportunity to mingle.

Objectives:
- Have a drink at the tavern, like a proper adventurer. (+1 Carouse XP)
- Meet folk from out of town. (0/10) (+1 Folk Ken XP)
- Attend the afternoon and evening festivities. (0/4) (+1 Carouse XP, +1 Magic Sensitivity XP) 
Success: Several new connections to pursue. +2 Might XP. 
Failure: ???

Accept quest?

Well he was going to go to the festivities anyway... the bit about failing worries him but hopefully it won't be anything bad. He'll mutter "Accept" to see if that works. Some other time he'll need to see if he can do things without speaking somehow.

To Edmond he'll try to pass off his surprise as just being about what he said. "Wow, I'll have to see if I can meet them then."

That does make the translucent blue shade go away, yes. 

"I hope I get to see them too!" Edmund grins, then excuses himself to go about his own chores.

As much as part of him wants to depart for the tavern immediately he still isn't quite finished with his chores and even if he plans to break his fast at the tavern it would be polite to let Jen know first. So he'll finish his chores and then tell Jen about the quest before putting on some nicer clothes to make a good impression and picking up the purse with the money he saved up so he could use it at the festival.

Jen's property sits just at the edge of town, at the base of the hill from the stone walls and wooden gates that guard Eriksmont. It borders the town's sprawling outbuildings to the west, the Lucius farm to the east, and the public road known as Via Janus to the north. To the south, past a few more buildings and farmsteads, is the river Cabelpas, ever winding its long and lazy journey to the sea.

Nothing much disturbs Alex while he's getting ready, though he can see people heading into town along Via Janus already. He does overhear some excited chatter from the farmhands next door about a goat. 

Well then he'll depart without too much delay. It's always great to see how cheerful people are on Festival day.

Eriksmont is bustling with activity. Workers string pennants from the tallest houses, peddlers erect stalls in the square, and soon-to-be fairgoers jostle each other in the street.

The town's most prominent inn and tavern is the Vorkenfalx, just off the main square. A woven banner depicting the eponymous curved blade flaps proudly over the entrance — just distinct enough from the falx-and-spear of old Eriksmont to be permitted to fly under Miezan law. 

With the context of some sort of danger set to come to the village he wonders if their quiet defiance is related. He hadn't really seen it as something notable before, they are complying with the law after all and surely other villages and towns do the same.

He doesn't really expect to solve the mystery today though.

He isn't quite sure what the quest means by having a drink like a proper adventurer but he can certainly order an ale to go with breaking his fast and see if that counts.

In addition to its modest furnishings, this first-floor tavern presently contains: 

• Four (4) dockworkers getting an early start on enjoying their day off;
• One (1) grey-haired man in travel-stained brown robes, attempting quiet conversation with the aforementioned dockworkers;
• One (1) notorious drunk whom Alex recalls is named Grumio, nursing what appears to be a second ale already;
• One (1) woman in a pristine, emerald green, floor-length ballroom dress and matching diamond tiara, who even to Alex's limited senses positively thrums with magic, sitting on a rickety barstool and leaning casually on the slightly stained bar with long-gloved hands;
• Two (2) soldiers in gleaming armor, flanking her with alert no-nonsense looks;
• One (1) broad-shouldered and bearded tavern owner (Navic, jovial, friends with Jen, claims to be a descendant of Vorka himself) hovering nervously in the vicinity;
• One (1) wide-eyed female barkeep (Gaedoris, Navic's niece), pouring wine from a dusty and expensive-looking bottle;
• One (1) presumably off-duty member of the town guard, watching the proceedings open-mouthed.

Getting that ale might prove slightly complicated. 

... well Edmund did say there was a visiting mage. Is this woman the mage or does she just have a lot of magic items. He hasn't really had enough practice with sensing magic to be able to tell the difference. He tries to focus in on the sensation just in case.

Assuming nothing comes of that, is the bar long enough for him to approach it without getting within say twice arms reach of the guards?

Alex can't yet tease apart the difference between effects caused by spells and those caused by items. But the magic seems to be coming from...all of her, clothes and accessories included? It's kind of loud. 

Also from the guards, more faintly, but...maybe just their armor? 

He can get a seat on the far side of the bar. One of the guards glances at him and frowns, but does not react further. 

The maybe-mage is chatting amiably with Gaedoris and Navic about how delightful it is to be in town for the festival, or rather chatting amiably at them while they nod and "Mmm" in nervous agreement. 

He isn't going to immediately try to join the conversation but he can join in with the chorus of nods and Mmms and if he's directly addressed he'll respond to that. And of course he'll listen.

"...and I told the governor I didn't care if it was five hundred leagues to Eriksmont, I simply had to see what all the fuss was about. Imagine hearing a beautiful song about the dances at the Festival of Asteron and not wanting to go see it for yourself! Iblius is a charming gentleman, mind, simply charming, but he has no ambition — thank you, dear, you have no idea how hard it is to get ahold of a bottle of Tutovan red in the city these days —", sip, "— oh that's divine, simply divine, Welligan you must try some,"

"I'm on duty, ma'am," recites the guard opposite Alex. 

"Oh come now, a little nip in the morning never hurt anyone. Priscus, what about you? No? You're quite sure? Well, perhaps some other time." 

She seems like exactly the kind of person Jen would worry about him interacting with and she might be a mage with everything that caries with it but also she might be important for this quest. He hopes the quest isn't a trap somehow.

Regardless this doesn't seem to be a good opening.

If his plan is to wait for a pause in the chatter, there may be a slight problem with that.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it's only about thirty seconds before —

"Oh, hello there young man!" she says to Alex. "You look suitably local! I've only just arrived in town for the festival, and I'm looking for a guide. I don't want to miss anything worth seeing, after all! I can pay you for your trouble, of course."  

Well, he did want to take opportunities today. "I like to think I count as a local. Of course, my grandmother and I moved here while I was a child so not everyone here in Eriksmont agrees. You know how small towns can be I'm sure. Do you have any particular interests? Some of the events happen simultaneously so it would be hard to see all of everything especially if you want to participate in any of the competitive events."

"Splendid!" she exclaims, while the two guards exchange long-suffering looks. "My most particular interest, at the moment, is dance, and I have heard such things about the festival dances that I shan't want to miss a one of them. I don't feel especially competitive today, but perhaps that will change once I've learned what there is to compete in!" 

A new quest is available! 

About the Town

Serve as Lilian Weald's local guide to Eriksmont during the Festival of Asteron. This quest is complete when you receive your payment. 

Success: +2 Eriksmont Lore XP, improved relations with Lilian Weald, improved Reputation with the Order of Dreams. 
Failure: Reduced relations with Lilian Weald, reduced Reputation with the Order of Dreams. 

Accept quest?

He will try to think Accept at it particularly hard and see if that works. Otherwise he can try to deal with it he doesn't want to mutter something while he has this important person's attention.

Speaking of that important person, "Most of the dancing will be in the town square and the green outside of town. There are some special dances at noon and sunset but otherwise almost everything repeats. You also probably won't want to miss the mock battle between the Queen of the Waves and the Drownfather.

"As for competitions, there's some boating competitions on the river and also the log roll. You might be more used to things like the archery competition or the baking contest. There's also a bunch of races, some traditional and some more intended to have people fail a bit like the three legged race."

After a few moments of thinking at the shade, a couple rectangles appear at the bottom with "Accept" and "Decline" written inside them, along with a small image of a hand with one finger extended below each. 

"I'll be sure to see those dances then! I'd like to see some of the competitions as well, believe it or not we don't get much in the way of archery contests where I'm from. I can't imagine I'd be much good at boating or log rolling, but I want to see those too. Perhaps I'll try out the three-legged race, how hard could it possibly be?" 

"I'm not sure that would be entirely wise —" chokes out the guard named Priscus. 

"Oh nonsense, it's just a bit of harmless fun, as I'm sure our new friend here will attest." 

"I nominate Priscus as the other leg and a half," Welligan offers drily. "For...security reasons." The younger man looks horrified at the thought. 

"Huh, do people there mostly not hunt or do they just have other ways of hunting. I'd expect anywhere people hunt with bows they'd want to also show off their skill but perhaps I'm wrong.

"And that sounds quite doable. I do want to get a drink and a bit of porridge before we set out if you don't mind waiting, but I could also just pick something up from a market stall."

He'll do his best to find a time where poking the accept button won't be obvious. Maybe he can incorporate it into a gesture at the barkeeper or something.

The poke succeeds. 

"Hunting's less common in the Imperial heartland, with most of the land dedicated to farming or grazing," Welligan explains, before returning his attention to his vigil. 

"Oh, I don't mind at all!" the woman says. "By all means get some good food in you first. Doris dear, would you — Oh! Where are my manners, I'm Lilian Weald and this is Welligan and Priscus." 

"I'm Alex Lustig, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What do you spend your time doing when you're not travelling to distant festivals?"

"Art, of course! And writing. Well, and my formal duties, which consist largely of commissions for vain officials and various Imperial assignments I'm not supposed to talk about. They are terribly boring most of the time, but one must pay one's dues, I suppose."

"Indeed we must. What mediums of art do you work in?"

"My good man, I am a sensation-specialized magus. I am not limited by such trivial things as mediums. Observe!" She makes a sweeping gesture that brushes against Priscus, incanting briefly, and for a moment the guard appears as a marble sculpture of a man, complete with sapphire irises and obsidian hair. 

Gaedoris, in the middle of getting the requested ale and bowl of porridge, nearly drops the tray in shock.

(It's not that magi are all that rare. But superstition and lack of training mean it's unusual for one to run around being this blatantly magical in frontier towns without causing some unfortunate accident.)

"Wow! That's Muto Imaginem right? That must have taken so long to learn! To make such a sophisticated image on such short notice."

"Oh, are you a student of the Arts as well? Yes, it took me quite a lot of practice, but it was well worth it." 

"I'm only a novice. I can't cast any spells; I've just read some books."

"Tch, that seems such a waste of your talents. No offense, of course. Books are a fine thing, but to properly understand an Art I've always felt one has to live it. After all, how can one possibly replicate the soft touch of Yan Tei silk or the tang of a pickled Crescent eel if one never experiences them for oneself? Art is in the doing, and never you forget it."

"I tend to agree, but there aren't many opportunities to learn outside of books out here, far from the capital."

"Why do you think I'm here? Besides the excellent wine, that is." She raises a jaunty glass towards the barkeep. "Oh, the Orders have their apprenticeships and Grawtosh Academy has its classes, and it can be quite the task to pull oneself up by one's bootstraps without something in the way of mentorship, but I find most of my colleagues tend to spend far too much time in their towers and libraries and not nearly enough on the road. Have you at least been opened to the Arts*?" 

*According to Alex's books, an expensive season-long ritual invented by Petronus himself grants a Gifted individual a much more intuitive understanding of the five Techniques and ten Forms of Petronian magic. It is only offered at the Academy, and comes with a long-term commitment of service to the Miezan Empire. Those Gifted who choose not to make such a commitment are called hedge magi, and their magic tends to be weaker and more varied. The Empire hasn't forcibly recruited Gifted in decades, not since the start of Imperator Khale's reign, but many hedge magi still prefer to avoid Imperial attention.

"I haven't been through the ritual but I think I have some native gift."

"Well, your reasons are none of my business, I'm sure, but if you'd ever like a referral to the Academy, you need only ask." 

"I'll have to think about it. Now then," Alex proceeds to go into more details about the days events as he finishes his breakfast.

Lilian is delighted to hear all about it.

After a few minutes, Navic seems satisfied that nothing is about to violently explode and ceases his nervous hovering. Or rather, he adjusts his location to one that permits him to go about various chores and festival-preparation tasks while still keeping a suspicious eye on things.

The brown-robed traveler departs shortly thereafter, as does the town guard. A few more customers file in, several of them so busy gawking at the Imperial magus that Gaedoris has to remind them to order.

Once Alex is done he'll lead the way towards the log rolling competition and start explaining the rules for that.

"So both people, though it's usually men, are balancing on the same log. There's a bright red line painted on the center and they're not allowed to cross that center point or to touch each other.

"Otherwise they have free reign to spin or jostle the log from their side as much as they want to try to unbalance the other person. Oh, they also have to keep one foot on the log at all times no jumping allowed."

This time of year the river is cold with snowmelt; of course that makes birling an even more popular challenge for the hardy and boastful youth of Eriksmont. In the final bout, a hirsute fellow by the name of Raskos expertly pitches his opponent into the Cabelpas, to much applause from the watching crowd at the riverbank. (Said crowd gives Lilian and her guards a rather wide berth.) 

It's almost noon when the audience breaks up to head back towards the city proper, following the enticing smells of baked bread and roasting meat. 

Preparations for the Feast of Thresholds have begun on the eastern green, the only place large and flat enough to accommodate most of the town. Households will traditionally bring a mix of ingredients preserved from last harvest (pickles, jams, dried fruits) and something fresh-sprouted (first herbs, spring onions, fresh-caught fish). Several large fires already burn, pigs and goats slow-roasting in groups of four and eight by long tradition. The feast itself is to begin at dusk, after the blessings and ancestor-offerings. For now, a space is cleared for a round of (largely disorganized) dancing and singing under the noonday sun. 

But if the evening belongs to the old gods, the day belongs to the new. Near the center of town, the Miezan temple will have thrown open its doors and emptied its larder into the square, offering bread, cheese, and imported figs and olives. Those who keep the Miezan tradition, or who wish to be seen doing so, will make their offerings of blood and libum, while Eriksmont's bakers compete for the right to bake the offerings for the most influential citizens.

Alex will check with Lilian but he's guessing she'd prefer the dancing to the imperial tradition she's probably attended more impressive versions of elsewhere.

She's a bit sad to miss the baking contest, but the dancing does indeed sound far more attractive. 

Then Alex will start explaining some of the common dances. While they're walking he'll also raise another topic, "What's it like being an imperial mage? Do most of you travel with guards or is that a sign of your achievement?"

"Well, most full magi go about with an entourage, albeit a smaller one when not on active duty. Officially it's in recognition of valuable services to the Empire, and unofficially it's on account of a few too many stabbings. Historically speaking, of course. I wouldn't dream of suggesting that anyone important had been assassinated in the last, oh, five years or so.

"As an Imperial magus, I answer first to the Imperator and second to the Petronian Order of which I am a member, through which most of my duties are discharged. The Order of Dreams, in turn, owes certain duties to the Empire, and is 'empowered and required to teach and employ sufficient magi to fulfill those duties.' Seasons of service to the Empire are assigned to magi like myself on the basis of individual specialization, seniority, service record, and a frankly unwholesome amount of internal politics. 

"When I'm not on official assignment, my time is my own. I spend some of it traveling to amuse myself and practice my Art, and some getting acquainted with the delights of Imperial high society. Since of course the Empire is more than capable of taking care of its own, I of course take no special comfort from the fact that a great many officials would be deeply disappointed to be deprived of my services." 

Those are some very specific denials. Alex isn't quite hopeless enough to ask about them though. "Does the Order of Dreams specialize in magic like yours then? Or is it a wider umbrella?"

"Everyone specializes a little bit differently, but most of my fellow Dreamers work with the senses in some manner or other. We're a relatively new and small Order; most of the others cover broader interests. The Order of Aetherics, at the other extreme, houses specialists in all four elemental Forms and various combinations."

"Interesting, you said there were a lot of politics involved is it harder or easier to navigate that being from a newer order?"

"Hard to say, really, I've only ever been in the one. There's some tension with the Order of Device, since Dreams broke off from them. Very different creative visions, you know, despite shared influences. That's the way it is, sometimes, with those who rightly ought to be our friends and collaborators. It's a problem that plagues all the Orders, tragically." 

"Are the orders competing for resources then? I would guess that's part of the source of tension."

"Quite. Budget, status, stocks of vis, laboratory space, research time and materials... there's only so much to go around these days, and without a Primor Magnus to keep everyone in line, the loudest squabblers win."

"Ma'am, I'm not sure it's wise to say all that —"

"Come now, it's nothing he couldn't pick up in any city in the Empire with half an hour's asking. Gods forbid the Veiled or the Secretary's agents should learn that there's politics in Petronian Orders." 

"I'm aware that closer to the capital politics becomes more all encompassing and more pointed. Anyway I've satisfied my curiosity for the moment and we're just about there."

"Oh, good, I can't wait to see the..." 

"...politics."

On the road just north of the green, several dozen men and women in Miezan dress, at least a dozen of whom are armed, surround a cart of supplies and a purple-robed man riding a white horse. They appear to be mid-conversation with several of the dance organizers on the green; the would-be dancers have turned to stare at the scene, murmuring amongst themselves. 

"Oh, fiddlebricks, that looks like a Cog."

That's concerning. "What's a Cog?"

"Order of Cognizance. Self-proclaimed purest of the Orders, Imperial ritual-keepers, metamagic experts, inventors of certamen, blah blah blah. Direct line of apprenticeship to Petronus himself, as they are quite keen to remind everyone they ever meet. Insufferable windbags, really. Their only redeeming grace is that they rarely extract themselves from their studies long enough to bother the rest of us. 

"This one's probably out looking for Gifted youngsters, that's one of their jobs, you know. Wonder who he offended to be sent this far from the capital. Erm, no offense. I think it's quite lovely here, but the Cogs don't get out much if they can help it." 

"I see. I wonder what they're hoping to do with the festival grounds."

"I doubt it's a dance." 

"We could still turn back and enjoy the baking competition."

"Yes, I suppose we ought." And, dryly, "Maybe if we ignore him, he'll go away." 

Back through the eastern gates, the streets are bustling all the way to the square. Just off the main thoroughfare, merchants have set up stalls selling fabric, jewelry, and a dozen other things. There's a small mob around one stall selling charms and talismans said to ward off witchcraft; its members fall silent when Lilian passes by.

The smell of fresh-baked bread wafts from large ovens, whose contents converge with fruits, meats, and cheeses on overloaded trestle tables lining several blocks. 

"I'm guessing those don't do much," he says in a wry tone.

"Hmm? Oh, the charms. Not as a general rule, no." 

"Well onto the competition, we aren't judges but there's always plenty of extras available for a small fee."

"Excellent. Off we go, then!" 

In the town square, the baking contest proceeds apace, with small slices arranged in front of several discerning judges while onlookers cheer between mouthfuls.

A bright-eyed girl of perhaps fourteen manages the overflow table. She eyes the out-of-towners warily. 

"Hello! Would you be responsible for any of these delights? They smell simply divine."

"My da made these," she says, pointing to a pair of cheese-and-honey loaves, already partially sliced for the contest.

"Well then I simply must try them." Lilian hands over a larger coin than is strictly required, even for a group of four. The girl accepts it, staring a bit before motioning for the group to help themselves.

Lilian's guards take turns between watching for trouble and snacking on the extra.

Alex will also partake. "Mmm. Your da is very talented."

"Thanks! I helped with the rest of the baking this festival. Next year he says he'll let me help with the contest, too."

Lilian chats with the girl and passerby, paying only the barest attention to the baking contest. The girl, Marin, gradually warms to Lilian and is soon talking animatedly about the relative merits of stone and clay ovens.

The contest is not quite finished when the noon bell tolls. Shortly thereafter, before the awards are properly handed out, there's a shout from the edge of the square. Conversations die and heads turn to look at the source, a sweaty runner in Eriksmont livery. 

"...citizens ordered to gather on the green! Audite! Audite! By Imperial command, all citizens and festival-goers are to gather on the green! No exceptions! Everyone to the green!"

The crier doesn't wait to be acknowledged; after only a few shouts he dashes off in the direction of the temple, leaving a confused murmur in his wake.

"That is not how things usually go. I guess we can't escape the politics after all."

"Oh, ferrets. Well, I suppose there's nothing else for it." 

Lilian and her guards join the steady stream of people milling in the general direction of the east gates. 

It's slow, noisy going. There's a press of people filtering out of the square, side streets, and nearby houses, but they don't seem to be going anywhere; they're mostly standing around and talking in a confused murmur that slowly evolves into a hubbub. 

It takes nearly fifteen minutes to get out of the gates. The situation at the green looks similarly disorganized; the Order of Cognizance magus and his entourage are still there, along with a halfhearted line of former dancers, a pile of fabric streamers, and an unattended and partially assembled archery range. Near the entourage, a scowling bear of a man stands with a half-dozen others, glaring at the guards. Alex recognizes the first man as the town's foremost blacksmith, Aldric; he sometimes makes medical tools to Jen's exacting specifications.

Also recognizeable is the mayor of Eriksmont, Daertes, engaged in a sweaty conference with half a dozen town officials and ombudsmen. 

Aldric isn't usually easy to rile. Alex is starting to get a bad feeling about this.

"I wonder what's going on. What's so important that they need everyone here?"

"Well, in more centrally Imperial towns it's common practice to gather everyone in one place for the annual Gift check. The annual scheduled Gift check, mind you, which everyone knows about because it happens every year on the same day. I can only assume that's what this is about. But if this fellow expects a border town to turn out in droves to stand patiently for some Imperial function they probably haven't seen in half a generation, on an hour's notice, on a festival day, he's even more shortsighted than I thought. It's embarrassing, that's what it is, simply embarrassing." 

"I hope that's all this is."

As time ticks by and the entire village continues to mostly fail to show up promptly, tensions visibly escalate. Twice, the magus (now dismounted) approaches the mayor's group; the second time, Aldric marches over to the mayor's side, gesticulating angrily.

At about a quarter to one, it looks like the magus has finally had enough; he says something and a pair of his guards seize Aldric and begin to drag him bodily towards the town gate. Aldric, mercifully, doesn't seem inclined to fight; they're armed, and he isn't. But the look on his face is thunderously angry. The other townsfolk eye the line of menacing soldiers and likewise stay put. Murmurs pass through the slowly gathering crowd; Alex catches only a few words, among them "delays?" and "Aldric" and "make an example".

"I wonder what he said. He's a good man he doesn't deserve to die for this." Alex is increasingly wondering if it would be better to flee but it seems like it might be too late for that.

Aldric is brought into town through the gates, and an uneasy silence reigns over the green. 

It's at this point that the magus appears to take notice of the woman in the fancy ballgown at the edge of the green. He gestures to the remainder of his entourage, then remounts and begins to approach.

"Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later." 

The magus looks decidedly older than Lilian, and his robes are fine but somewhat rumpled. He approaches at a steady trot, half a dozen guards jogging to keep up.

"Why, Aeschivus, you old dog, whatever brings you so far from the capital? Here to enjoy the sights of lovely Eriksmont? I must say, I never knew you to be a festive type."

"Business, Lilian," the magus says, stiffly. "I am fulfilling my duties to the Empire, as do all respectable magi, when called upon. I'm far more interested in what you think you're doing out here." 

"Why, attending the Festival of Asteron, of course! I heard the most wonderful songs about it, and decided I must see it for myself. The sights and sounds of faroff places are of great use to my Art, after all. And the festivities are simply delightful."

"Well, they were."

"The needs of the Empire take precedence over mere revelry. Even the likes of you ought to appreciate that. I don't suppose you'd care to assist in my efforts to perform this essential public service as quickly and efficiently as possible, given that said revelry may resume as soon as the business of the Order is concluded." 

"My good man, why the hurry? You've no doubt had a long and exhausting journey. Why not rest your weary, erm, feet, and enjoy this wonderful opportunity while it lasts? I'd wager it would be much easier to assemble the local populace around dusk, when they gather to partake of yonder delicious-smelling roasted livestock and sundry other treats."

"Had you bothered to attend to my conversation with Mayor Daertes, you would know that my work is quite time-sensitive, and does not afford me the luxury of waiting six hours for a shank of roasted goat. Do you, in fact, have anything useful to contribute to this situation." 

"Evidently not." 

"Then I will thank you to at the very least stay out of the way. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Charming fellow," Lilian remarks after Aeschivus departs (having not so much as glanced at Alex). "Desperately in need of a holiday, though.

"For what it's worth, I doubt that poor man he had dragged off is in any real danger of dying. Aeschivus may be stern, but he's not murderous. It's probably just a public whipping, I'd expect."

"That's reassuring. Do you have any idea why he's saying what he's doing is time sensitive?"

"Noticed that, too, did you? I'm afraid I haven't the faintest notion what that's about. Although, to be fair, I suspect I ought not be saying anything even if I did." 

"Reasonable." Alex is wondering if there's something he's supposed to be doing here, blue windows wise. A tiny part of his mind drifts back to the very first quest but he reminds himself it said he had to survive a year. Surely it wouldn't suggest such a long window if he was overwhelmingly likely to die today.

...

Within half an hour of Aldric's disappearance into the town, the trickle of confused townsfolk approaching the green swells into a sullen stream. Alex overhears snippets of conversation from passerby. 
"Who's that on the horse? Is that the Imperator?"
"Where's Clarisse, did you see her?" 
"Larian! Larian, there you are, do you know what's going on?"
"At least they let Jennifer look after him." 

Alex is glad they didn't kill him.

He looks to see if he can see Jen in and among the people filtering in. Though, maybe that comment was about Jen.

He doesn't spot Jen for a while, but she does show up among the dwindling arrival groups about an hour later. 

It's good she's here, well probably at least. Going over to talk with her isn't going to improve anything though and he's still technically working as a festival guide. He'll see if he can catch her attention but otherwise stay put.

Jen is looking for him too and manages to notice him and come to stand next to him. She'll explain briefly that Aldric was whipped to the point of drawing blood but that he'll be fine. She'll give him a brief hug before doing her best not to attract more attention.

She succeeds! Well, mostly. 

After introductions have been made, Lilian is eager to chat with Alex and Jen about life in Eriksmont while they wait.

Two or three hours after noon, it looks like most of the town has been gathered in loose rows on the green, several people deep. Guards are dispatched to knock on doors and shake out the stragglers, who are directed to form up at the end. Aeschivus mounts and starts riding across the lines row by row, leaning a bit to the right as if to better examine those he passes.

Some tense minutes later, Aeschivus passes over Alex and Lilian. He looks to be - sniffing the air? - and his nose wrinkles as he passes Lilian. He pauses, then, reining in his horse and drawing several sharp breaths through his nose; but ultimately he shakes his head and moves on. 

A few rows down, Aeschivus stops again, this time dismounting to approach one row more closely, flanked by a pair of guards. The line parts nervously at his approach. He leans in uncomfortably close towards a family of six, contemplating each in turn, then steps back and points to a boy of perhaps eight years old. There's a collective gasp from the crowd, and the father's hands grip the boy's shoulders tightly. 

Aeschivus pauses, and Alex is close enough to hear him say, in a surprisingly gentle voice, "The boy is blessed with the Gift of magic. If he is not taught control, he will be a danger to himself and others. The Orders of Petronus offer an illustrious career as a magus in Imperial service; at Grawtosh Academy, he will be taught to control his Gift safely, and to use it for the betterment of the Empire." This doesn't seem especially convincing to the boy's family, but Aeschivus does not wait to argue his case. He orders the family off to one side of the proceedings, then remounts and continues his progress while his guards escort the parents and children out of the line. 

Twice more, Aeschivus stops and dismounts. The first time is by Old Hauer, a retired hedge magus who once taught young Alex meditation techniques to avoid triggering outbursts of uncontrolled magic, and loaned out some of his books. Aeschivus doesn't bother trying to recruit him, it seems; he just says something which is recorded by an attending scribe.

The second time Aeschivus stops, it's by someone else Alex recognizes: Marin, the baker's daughter from the overflow table. They're just out of earshot, but Alex catches some of the conversation when voices are raised—

"—danger to herself or others—"
"—did not raise a witch—"
—something quieter from Aeschivus, a scream from the mother, the father looking shocked and then infuriated—
"—no daughter of mine!" 

Marin is in tears by the time Aeschivus moves on. 

After another hour, with the task nearly complete, a mounted soldier rides in from the north. Aeschivus exits the rows and rides out to confer with the rider in low voices for a time. 

Shortly thereafter, the magus rides over to talk with a different officer, then returns to scanning the rows of townsfolk. The rider gallops off to the north again. 

Not long after that, Aeschivus completes his survey and reconvenes with his entourage, now slightly smaller than when he arrived. They head north, rather than east along the road.

There's a collective relaxing of tension at their departure, which lasts only long enough for people to suddenly realize there's only an hour or two left before the Feast of Thresholds.

Under the direction of a tired-looking Daertes, the organizers start scrambling to finish their abandoned preparations. There's supposed to be a ceremonial procession through the town right about now, blessing homes with herbs and a ritual denial-of-entrance-to-spirits, but it's looking like it will take half an hour to get everything ready. 

"Well, that's was a lot of fuss for how minor the results were, as awful as they were for Marin and that young boy. I hope they find a way to be happy wherever they end up." He is not going to comment on it being good he stayed next to her. Jen would be annoyed and he's pretty sure Lilian already understands what happened there.

"They're both young, they'll adjust even if it won't be easy at first. Poor girl, her father rejecting her will be the worst of it, at least to start."

Eventually, the town gets its act together enough for the procession to begin. Most of the townsfolk accompany Eriksmont's priests on a winding path through the streets. Heads of households and owners of buildings stand just inside their properties, participating in the ceremonial call-and-response in which the home is blessed, evil spirits are denied entry, and any existing invitations are rescinded. 

"It's believed among some Order members that those do actually work, at least on a handful of weaker spirits," Lilian remarks to Alex after a few of these blessings. "Of course, others think it's superstitious nonsense. Either way, a proper warding scheme is much more airtight." 

The procession also stops at the town graveyard, where incense is burned to the ancestors, and songs of remembrance are sung. Then it returns to the green, where awaits the Feast of Thresholds. Rows of tables bear a blend of last year's harvest and this year's new growth. Whole stuffed cabbages sit next to fresh sorrel soup; dried mushroom pies accompany a plate of nettle fritters. Dried and salted meats sit alongside fresh-caught fish and roasted pork and goat.

The mood is somewhat soured by the interruption and subsequent hasty preparations — archery targets sit unused in a sad pile — but Eriksmont planned a festival, and by the gods it's going to have one. Townsfolk dig in with gusto, and as the sun sets, the battle of the equinox begins.

The Queen of the Waves (represented by a villager in a costume shaped like a spiral shell, waving black streamers on sticks in lieu of tentacles) and the Drownfather (an elder in a twenty-foot-long trailing gown of knitted seaweed) rise from beneath the sea (a dozen townsfolk holding blue and green ribbons). They circle and sing, calling forth their minions — more performers in costumes of sea creatures and pale drowned dead — and as the last rays of daylight dwindle into darkness, the Queen surges forth to battle the Drownfather. She envelops him in billowing tendrils, and "casts him out into the greater depths." (He falls dramatically, and is carried off the green by half a dozen performers). 

And then: dancing! 

(Between dances, Lilian is persuaded by a few brave urchins to briefly alter their visages into that of the sea-monsters, and they clumsily reenact the battle to a mixture of laughter and scandalized looks from the adults who notice). 

There's music and dancing to be had in the town square, as well, quieter and less raucous than the chaos on the green. The wealthier, more dignified townsfolk tend to head that way, although both areas are traditionally open to all.

Alex is happy the festival is back on track. He'll explain the options to Lilian and let her choose.

Chaos first, definitely chaos. But she'll make her way to the town square in time! 

It turns out she has more than just the two guards, as they swap out after the feast. ("Go enjoy yourselves!" she tells Welligan and Priscus."It's not an order but it is a very strong suggestion!")

"And thank you, Alex, you've been an excellent host despite the difficulties of the festival. I think I can find my own way for now, and I wouldn't dream of keeping you from the evening's entertainments. Have your fee, and my thanks." She hands over a generous collection of Imperial coinage.

"None of the problems were on you and I think you being here had some distinct upsides. I hope you enjoy the rest of the festival."

Quest complete: About the Town
You have gained 2 Eriksmont Lore XP! 
You have gained Reputation with Petronian Orders! 

"Likewise!"

Lilian glides off into the crowd of dancers. 

Well after all of that a night of dancing to let off some tension sounds good. He'll join in the chaotic dancing and let the rest of the night pass away.

After he bumps into a few more out-of-towners: 

Quest complete: Party Like There's No Tomorrow
You have gained 2 Carouse XP!
You have gained 1 Folk Ken XP! 
You have gained 1 Magic Sensitivity XP! 
You have gained 2 Might XP! 

A little bit before the town bell tolls nine, Jen is asked to tend to a dancer with a sprained ankle. It's a relatively easy splint, though that particular dancer shouldn't be on their feet for the rest of the night.

And sometime around ten, a small group of people emerge from town through the eastern gates. Many such groups have come and gone this evening, so this scene is nothing special, even if it is a bit unusual to see a half-dozen or so town guards surrounding a lone woman in a dress of black and silver. 

Nor is it particularly remarkable when they approach the green; nor when the woman ascends the small musicians' platform, during the gap between dances, and begins to sing. 

The song itself is unusual; a soft and haunting dirge, standing in sharp contrast to the fast-paced fiddling of the dances. People pause to listen; many gather closer, curious and entranced. 

The remarkable thing is how, as the final note rings out, a sudden drowsiness strikes the listeners, and how, in the span of a few moments, a thousand people slump over unconscious at once. 

Alex wakes to a searing pain across his throat. He is paralyzed, his limbs unresponsive, unable to do so much as open his eyes. There is the sound of heavy footsteps nearby, and the wet slick of blade against flesh. Again the sounds come, and again, and again. 

The only mercy is that, soon after waking, a deeper and more lasting slumber claims him.