Quoted By:
"That pie you ate," Antonio says. "It must've been from that witch. The one who visits Barovia at night."
You and Ireena are packing up your tent and belongings for your journey later. It's just after sunrise, and the camp is now abuzz with activity. Antonio is leaning on the side of a wagon, chewing on a celery root.
"That sounds right," Ireena says. "She did say an old woman in Barovia sold it to her," Ireena says.
"Morgantha was her name," you add. "At least, that's what she said."
"Had I known, I would have warned you," Antonio says. "You don't want to know what goes into making those pies. She calls them 'dream pastries' and sells them to sad Barovians."
You don't want to say it out loud, but part of you still regrets ridding yourself of the other half of that pie; something tells you if you had more, the vision would've been even stronger than the first one. More real.
"I don't suppose you know where one would find more of them?" you ask. You don't plan to act on that knowledge per se, but you can't help but inqure.
Antonio hesitates for a moment. "On the road to Vallaki, near the top of the hill, before the western gate of Barovia, you will come across an old windmill. You will probably find the witch or her sisters there."
You nod quickly, wishing to move on from the subject.
"Just know though," he says, "if you plan on doing anything besides buying pastries, you are putting yourself in danger. Do not underestimate those women. If I were you, I would avoid the place entirely."
Ireena nods.
It's almost time to leave. But first, it's time to see the person you came here to speak to.
(cont.)
