Rowan has arrived in a swampy, dim town. He looks around, his gaze met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. He ducks and steps into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? She begins, then pauses to study Rowan's face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
"Oh, I just, uh…" Rowan stutters, tensing up. He eyes the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until he lets out a weary sigh, his voice soft and burdened. "I am seeking a place to rest. I have ridden since dawn, and the road has wearied me greatly...". Rowan glances down at his hands. "I am in search of my elder brother, Alden", he continues, his tone filled with sorrow. "He has been missing since our father's passing. It is his duty to protect the family, and yet he is nowhere to be found". He pauses for a moment, his gaze distant before speaking again. "Should I fail to find him, the burden of that responsibility will fall to me. And though I am bound to this duty, as the second eldest, I know I am not fit for it... for by the week's end, I will become a guard".
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