Nowhere on the continent was the Keeper worshipped with as much fervor as in Highligland. Their fanatical love for the god practically ran in their veins—when your life is filled with pain, hunger, cold, and an uncomfortable anticipation of an unpleasant demise, you unwittingly want to believe in something good. And that’s why the study of the Way, which promised all its followers happiness and a reunion with their loved ones in the Crystal Hall after death, enjoyed so much popularity in those lands. It was impossible to tell if that happiness actually existed or if it was all a great bait and switch thought up by a slick group of Latanians thousands of years before. Ultimately, nobody had returned from the Crystal Hall, and therefore the promises had never been confirmed or denied.

Still, the masters were to a large degree respected and welcomed in Highligland, though there weren’t many who were willing to risk their lives traveling to those harsh climes. That meant that the appearance of an unfamiliar cleric within the walls of Ellisdor was bound to draw attention. Even Aldor himself, exhausted from hours spent studying petitions, came down.

Leaning on a carved wooden staff, a man ambled into the inner courtyard, instantly garnering himself glances from all sides. Servants, refugees, and soldiers all looked up from their work and fell into reverent silence. After getting to the wide staircase leading to the manor house, the man bowed to the baron standing at the top. A traveling cloak that had seen better days was thrown wide to display the cleric’s outfit and a silver disk dangling on a long chain. The godly person smiled radiantly.

“Welcome to Ellisdor, Master,” Aldor nodded.

“I am an itinerant monk,” said the guest as he looked around. “Brother Aristid. I bring word of the Way and help those in need wherever the merciful Keeper sends me.”

The steward smiled in reply.

“Ellisdor is always happy to see god’s people. I am Baron Aldor den Grauer, in charge of the manor in Duke Gregor Voldhard’s absence. What can I do for you, holy brother?”

“Oh, I wanted to ask what I can do for you and these people!” The friar once again beamed a forgiving smile and gestured toward the crowd. “You live on hard lands torn by conflict and a harsh climate. It’s a place for cruel men and strong women. But even you, who have seen nothing but war, pain, and grief over the centuries, sometimes need an uplifting word. I’d like to ask permission to stay in the manor in order to help those in need to the best of my ability. On my way north, I met refugees from the Disputed Lands. That made me think I could be of use in Ellisdor.”

“Of course,” Aldor said with a nod. “We would be grateful for your aid. You can enjoy the hospitality of the manor and speak with Master Dararius—he is in charge of our Shrine.”

Brother Aristid brightened.

“In truth, god is with me! I’m sure I will not be a burden to you. Among my talents is more than just knowledge of reading and theology; living abroad in Belter, Rikenaar, Gatson, and even Ennia has taught me much. I even have some knowledge of the healing arts, so I could help your local healers.”

“An invaluable skill in these parts,” said Aldor. “Welcome to Ellisdor.”