Eathelred had finally concluded his dreadful business in Astavon, he did not like it for it involved one of his least favorite activities: spending money. Yet he still had to host the festival every nine years as it was his duty. There was alway so much to do, from making sure the slowly collapsing castle was presentable, to making the port city safe, in which he was currently residing.

Astavon itself was one of the oldest still used settlements of the island, despite its historic importance to scholars it fell into disrepair. The city center once home to merchant houses and families whose reach was beyond compare, now only housed minor players in the mercantile world. The tall brick and timber buildings were many stories smaller than they used to be. Most of the windows were barred by wooden planks so the frigid wind would not invade the warm sanctuaries against the winter. Only the foundations made from rough stone seemed to be untouched by time and the decay around them.

Eathelred was still saddened by the sight of what had once been the crown jewel of his barony, yet he did not know it any different, in his lifetime the once proud city was always relegated to a struggling village. He reigned over a region cold and barren yet he was obligated to keep it safe and to pay the barons tax to his liege the king. He had to pay a higher tax the higher his income went over a certain amount, and with a region which rivaled a large county or a small duchy, his resources were too drained to help the rebuilding of his cities.

The lord noticed that Brayden rode close to him, recognizing there was something on his friend's mind, Eathelred beckoned him to come closer.

“My lord, a messenger arrived and told me the son of the masked knight to the north will come for the festival.” said the steward.

“I hope their entire family will come.” said Eathelred

“Yes of course but after it concluded he will accompany Eathel to your brother, and will be his brother in arms” said Brayden.

“That is good to hear our land needs capable warriors, but was his child not of sickly nature?” the baron asked.

“Yes and I have been told his face was a gruesome sight, he was not seen without his Bronze mask except by his closest kin and aids.” said Brayden “Edgir asked on the behalf of his son and the attending guest that the young Edwin must not show his face.”

“I am not a cruel man to force a child to expose himself, he shall not have to show his face”

They rode on until they reached the entrance of the last. Eathelred knew something was up when the normally proud looking gate guard would not meet his eye. He did not bother to ask the normal soldiers and he was sure someone would tell him in due time.

Later that day, after hours of training with sword, spear and lance, Eathelred had to do his second least favorite activity. He looked through all the reports coming in from all over the barony, missing food there, not enough money here, a bandit problem making the streets unsafer than they already were.

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He heard a meek knock at the door. What could happen to frighten them so much.

After inviting them in a guard captain entered, he tried to not look afraid but failed miserably at that.

“My lord the stewards' son, Edmure vanished.” Said the soldier, sweat trickled down his face, and he could not even bring his legs to not shiver.

Eathelred face remained passive for a time until he suddenly slammed his fist into his table.

“Vanished? What do you mean vanished? I gave you the order to keep an eye on him and Eathel, how am I supposed to trust you with my son if you lose his retainer? Tell me what you know?” screamed the lord, losing his temper due to all the stress he was under.

After that the guard captain telled all the differing tales of Edmure's vanishment. Eathelred sighed deeply, not wanting to tell his friend that his son disappeared.

He sent the officer out. He had to finish the reports, an activity which now seemed to be one of his most liked. He did so until the late evening hours not feeling good about delaying the inevitable but he knew if he went to his friend first he would not finish his duty for the day.

Finally there was an end in sight looking out of the window. Eathelred saw his family's castle illuminated only by a full moon and the many stars, their light was reflected by the many glass windows giving the otherwise massive and grounded castle a more delicate and fairytale appearance. He forced himself away to not be lost in his thoughts when he had something more important to do.

He could not let himself be seen weak otherwise he would have skulked to Braydens office. He knocked on the door and opened it right after.

“I have come to bear you grave news.” said the baron, it was as difficult as ever to deliver travesties.

“I already know about my son.” Said the steward in a weak voice.

Finally, Eathelred took in the whole scene. Brayden was slouching in his chair, his eyes were red. In one hand he held a bottle and more concerning in his other was a pipe. He could smell the shamans' plant from the entrance. It took an enormous amount of willpower for him not to admonish his battle brother. He only did so to let the man grieve in rest. He could even see a tear form in the corner of his stewards eyes.

He excused himself silently feeling as if he was intruding on Brayden, and he had a task he hated even more.

Eathel was lying in bed, he could not sleep, he was thinking about the past events. He was told enough to roughly understand what was going on, but not enough to have a clear picture of the situation. His thoughts were a carousel he could not escape, so he lay in bed not able to sleep or to do anything with purpose. He stayed in this condition until a man he would not have expected showed up.

“Father, why have you come?” asked Eathel.

“To see how you are coming to terms, there is nothing shameful to cry over a good friend!” Said Eathlered he had repeated in his head what he would say to his son.

The boy was confused for a moment, not having shed a tear.

“I am afraid there are machinacions going on that I do not understand. Sometimes I believe we are not surrounded by retainers loyal to you.” said Eathel, probing if his father had the same inclinations.

The baron closed the door behind himself and went to sit on the bed next to his son, on which shoulder he put a hand.“I know son, there are foreign and familiar powers, trying to exert their influence on our struggling land,” said the father. “I can not talk to you about this without it getting into the wrong ears. Now I have an excuse to talk to you without unwanted listeners.