>>5902798>>5902801>>5902809>>5902868>>5903357>Ask about the lady knight who nearly killed you. Sigrid actually showed some regard for her.>Take a look over the blunderbuss, it looks like a newer version we have back in the cathedral.>So if you were friends with that knight, how come she hasn't come over to visit you?“My lady, just who <span class="mu-i">was</span> that mercenary, anyways..? A-achk, ow..” You rub your throat in dismay–the teeth of her gauntlet seem to have left superficial perforations around your head and neck. “You were a mercenary alongside her, right? You didn’t seriously run with that brute..?”
“I did.” Your master responds very matter-of-factly. “That was ANA DE ARMAS, head of the gang back when I was a spellsword.. a good friend of mine. You got off pretty easy, all told. You could’ve been burnt alive. And not the fun, magical burning alive, I mean the flesh-melting chemical burning alive.”
“A friend? I mean.. really..?” You frown.
“I went foul in the head after my expulsion from the conservatory. I thought everything I had had just gone up in smoke–all I ever wanted to be for my entire life was a witch, and I had wasted it.” Your master’s words are short and plain, but wistful. “Ana hired me as a mercenary for this gang and dragged me out of my second lowest point in life. I don’t tolerate people as a rule, but with them, I was.. happy, for a time.”
“Hm? And.. then what?” You know how mercenaries are. “You never mention any of them in any interviews.”
“Life happened. The company split up because we had separate paths to walk. We keep in touch, but.. things are different. You’ll see when you’re a little older.” Sigrid shrugs. “I made my return to the conservatory and became a great witch. Ana retired–think she’s a fisherwoman or whaler now, lives with her family on the Waxing Coast in Curna. One shipped off to the east end of the Phorcysic, became a master tailor.. she actually made the dress for my human form. And the last.. well, I shouldn’t say. But you probably know him already.”
“What? Who?” Your brow furrows. “U-uh.. Van den Bos? No, Lud Cornwall? Can I have a hint?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Sigrid scoffs. “Anyways, enough digging around my past. We need to get out of this memory.”
>Ask for specific details of the memory–a thread to pull at.>Head out into the hallway. Investigate the other rooms of the caravan.>Hold on, your master really stinks in this memory, actually. It’s kind of plugging up your nose.>Cast a spell. See what you roll.>[Write-In.] 