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There's not much left here for you to do, no, so you ordered the men to get back into file and form so that the royal procession can continue on its actual purpose, the visiting of the great northern lords.
Unfortunately for you, the next stop on the journey was the home of Count Moritz von Talgeich, a fat, grasping man known for his excessive demands and short temper. As a boy, he was stationed with you as a page, though you disliked him then as you do now, not that he noticed, but you and the rest of the boys would eagerly watch the cook give him a clout on the ear when he was caught stealing sweets from the kitchen.
Your father had once forbidden you from bullying him further, not that the other boys needed you to push them into doing it anyway, but you kept away from it from then on out, and in the years after, as you went into your squiredom, you saw less and less of him, eventually losing touch completely.
His domain on the coast was primarily dominated by dense forests upon hills. His seat, a castle named Alstinburg, lay lazily along the river, brick-red, with turrets long neglected, though the residential parts seemed well-kept. Men bearing his livery were unloading barrels from a barge, while hunters were bringing in large amounts of freshly shot meat.
Still, you were hailed with a welcome befitting a king; the village churned out to watch your ride over the main road into the castle, where the count awaited you in his hall.
The hall itself was filled with rich tapestries, the smell of burning wood, and richly carved furniture. Moritz rose from his throne, slowly half walking/half waddling towards you. He greeted you warmly.
<span class="mu-i"> "Welcome, welcome, ha-hah; this, your majesty, will be the finest feast of all. My hunters have assured me that they have plucked the forest dry of the best meat about." </span> For someone fat, you found that he still retained those small, red lips, which seemed to pout with satisfaction as he spoke. As soon as he was finished with speaking with you, you saw him eyeing some servant or the other, ensuring your room had all the accommodation needed before scurrying off.
Come the evening, you must certainly have seen he had put on quite the show, not merely with the food, jugglers, acrobats, jesters, and musicians, who, to your distaste, seemed to have a penchant for playing tavern music. All in all, he didn't try to have the other guests keep pace with his gargantuan appetite, which you had satisfied around the time they brought out the cakes and pies, of which he got two. His eyes were getting tight, and his face was red from all the wine he had drunk, but he still seemed able to hold coherent conversation.
>Keep to small talk; you won't be able to extract anything of worth from him.
>Talk about the rumours in general; see what he knows.
>Ask about nearby monasteries.
>Write-in
