It is a crisp winter evening, the sun is slowly making its descent as the guards begin to change shifts high up in castle Zha’til. Things have been quiet in the Skaadi mountains with no hellspawn intruders from the west, road patrols have been relaxed, and the nation has had the chance to take a sigh of relief, at least for the next cycle.
As always, the gates have been lowered, and the castle doors shut closed nearing night time, the torches are being lit by the men, and the castle residence are settling down for the day. Ara’Gottix is as always in his office rolled up in more papers, he pities the fools the crown makes climb this mountain to bring him these. He chose this castle for its peaceful secluded location, to rest his nerves in the calm winds and fresh air of the mountains from the diplomatic lunacy and bureaucratic rubbish he usually has to deal with, but even here, people bother him.
Every so often, he gets up to stoke the fire in his fireplace, every time considering simply burning the heap of reports on his table, as he basically already knew what he would read from them before he even opened the envelope, but the state requires such documentation preserved, and as such, they must remain… sadly.
But then, unexpectedly, a figure approaches the castle from below, a new face not seen before in these parts… a human?