10th Day of Fireseek, 565 CY
The Castle Farlyow, Furyondy

"It's getting late."

Aslan glanced over at Elrohir, sitting over to his right. "We have no option but to wait, Elrohir. We are seeking his aid, not the other way around."

The ranger grimaced but made no reply. He knew he didn't have the paladin's patience, but he couldn't help it. It simply wasn't part of his makeup. He looked over again at Tojo and Tadoa, sitting fifteen feet away on chairs across the hall. Tojo was sitting with his eyes closed, as usual. He may as well have been a statue there. Tadoa, bored even more than Elrohir was, was gazing at the large standards of Farlyow that were hanging on both sides of the hall. Elrohir thought he was probably wishing that the Earl had put some kind of a lion or dragon or something on it, just to liven it up. Occasionally, someone would pass through the small receiving hall they were sitting in, but no one gave the quartet more than an idle glance as they went by. Everybody seemed very busy.

The castle itself, and the small village surrounding it were rather modest and nondescript as well, Elrohir thought. He was still trying to adapt to the idea of an Earl being beneath a Baron, but the relative spartan quality of the environs here went a long way towards convincing him.

The ranger sighed and tried to put his best face forward. "At least it's warm here." He smiled over at Aslan, who nodded.

"No torches or fireplaces, either. I'm sure that magic is used to keep this area comfortable. That's an encouraging sign," the paladin noted.

Elrohir frowned. "Why?"

Aslan shrugged. "According to Cygnus, it's quite expensive to use magic in this way," he replied, gesturing around at the walls. "Permanent spells. We've seen no obvious evidence of magic elsewhere. If the Earl chose to spend his coin on making his supplicants more comfortable, that says to me that he's a man who listens to the opinions of others."

A slight smirk crossed Elrohir's features. "Or he likes to deceive them into thinking that's the case."

Aslan made a sour face. "I suppose that could be true, as well." The silence resumed. Elrohir was again trying to think of something to say when the door at the far end of the hall opened and three men entered.

The Earl of Farlyow was much younger than Elrohir and his companions would have guessed. He appeared to be barely into his twenties, with a healthy shock of dark blonde hair and expressive hazel eyes. He had the weathered features of those, like Elrohir, who had spent much of their life outdoors. For a noble, he was dressed rather plainly in a dark blue shirt and breeches. A billowing dark blue, velvet cape and a silver circlet upon his head were the only ostentatious features visible at a quick glance. A swordsman in plate mail- a knight most likely- and a young servant accompanied him.

The Earl moved crisply over to the quartet, who stood as one to greet him by bowing. Elrohir was ready to cede the diplomatic initiative to Aslan, but the look in the paladin's eyes told the ranger that he should do the talking. He sighed inwardly and put on his most officious smile.

"My Lord Farlyow. We come to you as your humble servants."

A small smile graced the young man's features. "Humility hardly becomes those of your stature. You are Elrohir, freeman of Willip?" he inquired.

The ranger wasn't exactly sure what that meant but decided that he probably was. "Yes, my Lord." He would have introduced the rest of the party, but the Earl had already turned to them.

"And you must be Aslan, and Tojo!" he stated. "The deeds of you three, and of your companions are known to me, if only through gossip and rumors. If only half of them are to believed, you have served your liege well. Furyondy needs more men such as you." He now looked down at Tadoa, and then turned to Elrohir with a quizzical expression. "And who is the elven child?"

Even keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Lord Farlyow's face, Elrohir could feel Tadoa bristling. Please Tad, don't say anything. The ranger smiled at the noble and said, "This is Tadoa, a fighter of no mean skill and a valued companion," he said, stressing the last word.

With some surprise, the Earl scrutinized the child. Then his slight grin returned. "Welcome to Farlyow, young Tadoa!"

The child's face relaxed, and he bowed again. "At your service, my Lord."

The noble turned back to Elrohir. "I must apologize for keeping you waiting. I have had many pressing matters to attend to, and have but a few minutes to spare. My duties take me to Keristen, and I must be there ere nightfall. What service may I do for you?"

"My Lord," Elrohir began, "If this has not been told to you before, we are the slayers of the dragon Sandcats."

The noble nodded. "I had heard such. I am indebted to you for that." His thin smile turned to a grim expression. "Would that you could rid me of his replacement, as well."

"We have done so," said Elrohir quietly.

Startled, the Earl looked from one party member to another. His gaze, slightly suspicious, returned to meet Elrohir's. "When?'

"Two days ago. The corpse of Sandcat's daughter Bellicose rots outside our inn walls as we speak."

Lord Farlyow was silent for several seconds as he digested this. "It would seem then that I am indebted to you twice." His expression clearly indicated that he knew a request was forthcoming. "Speak then. If what you wish can be granted, it shall be."

Elrohir made a self-effacing gesture. "My Lord, we merely wish authorization from you to enter the dragon's lair, to see what we may find there. In addition, if the mercenaries we encountered there are to deter against the dragon, you may wish to relieve-"

The Earl cut him off. "They are there only in part because of this new dragon," he said. "When this Bellicose first appeared, there were those foolhardy souls who took it upon themselves to enter the lair when they thought the dragon was not present." His face was grim. "They did not expect to encounter the centaur."

Elrohir and Tadoa's faces registered complete puzzlement at this statement. Aslan's showed a mild curiosity, while Tojo had no reaction at all.

"My Lord," Elrohir said, not entirely certain he had heard right, "a centaur?"

The noble shrugged. "Half-man, half-horse? That is how it was described to me. Of course, this was also told to me second-hand. My own forces are elsewhere occupied, so I had to use sellswords to guard the entrance. I will of course grant you complete freedom to enter the lair and rights to whatever you find therein. If you were to encounter this centaur and put an end to it, I would be even more in your debt; and the Farlyow memory stretches long, good Elrohir." He then whispered something to his youthful servant, who left the hall. He then gestured for the quartet to follow him.

Outside the castle, the earl's horse was being brought out for him. A retinue of guards and servants, already mounted, awaited their liege.

"Allow me, my Lord." Elrohir cupped his hands for the Earl to step up upon, and he did so, mounting his steed with accomplished ease. His servant came back holding something, which he gave to Elrohir.

The ranger examined it. It was a beaten sheet of what looked like bronze, possibly mixed with tin. It was about six inches wide and twice that long. On one side the standard of Farlyow was stamped into the metal. On the other, the number "2" was likewise engraved. Elrohir glanced up at Lord Farlyow, who nodded at him.

"Present that to the mercenary leader outside the cave. He will grant you passage. You may wish to make haste though," he added. "Others have gone before you." With that he goaded his horse into action. "Ride!" he called out, and his entourage followed him off in a cloud of dust down a trail to the east.

Elrohir and his friends huddled, the ranger fingering the number "2" on the plate. "Others, indeed. I wonder who number "1" is?" he asked of his companions.

Tojo raised an eyebrow. "Three armored men, perhaps?"

Aslan glanced sharply at the team leader. "If that was them, they might already be inside by now. Or at least close."

Elrohir eyed his companion and smiled. "Are you ready to go, Aslan?"

The paladin smiled back, but it had little mirth to it. "I am Elrohir, but remember, I'll have nothing left if we have to take on this centaur."

Elrohir put his hand on Aslan's shoulder, even as the paladin put his on Tad and Tojo's. "I think we can handle a centaur, my friend."

"So do I," piped up Tadoa, "except that centaurs don't live in caves. They don't even like them."

The others looked at the young elf. He returned their gazes solemnly.

"Can we handle whatever it really is?"

"We'll find out," said Elrohir grimly. He looked at the paladin. "Aslan, go!"