As dusk descended upon the land, master and disciple strode to the edge of the Twilight Forest.

Yet just before departing that sylvan sanctuary, Celestius halted abruptly in his tracks.

Rosen started in alarm, fearing some unseen danger. "What is it, Master?" he asked anxiously.

But the response was only Celestius' icy warning.

"Boy, listen closely to my words. Once we leave these woods, speak not a whisper of curses, venom, or the dead who walk.

Should any ask of my identity, you shall say I am Celestius Gargorel, a licensed magus of the lesser ranks, graduated from the Golden Dawn Academy of Arcane Arts in White Sands of the South. Have you committed this to memory?"

As he spoke, the middle-aged mage fixed his murky gaze upon Rosen's face, a baleful glint flickering in his hooded eyes, as if the slightest disagreement might provoke violence.

Rosen dared not treat the matter lightly. "I have it memorized, Master," he nodded firmly.

"Recite it back to me!" Celestius demanded.

Rosen promptly obeyed.

Only when the repetition was complete did Celestius' ominous mien relent.

"Beyond the forest lies the town of White Horse, holding of Baron Moray. Once we enter, I shall secure lodgings at the Green Warbler Inn in the town center, then depart to conduct my affairs.

While I am gone, you shall wait patiently in our room and not set foot outside, nor speak to any strangers. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Master."

"Good."

The two continued down the forest path until they reached the main road. Turning west, they walked for nearly half an hour before the town came into view.

The settlement sprawled along a river, its buildings clustered together in a dreary smudge no more than three li across. Like a pockmark marring the flesh of the earth.

On the outskirts stretched vast farmlands, and scattered amongst them, small thatched cottages gathered into little hamlets, sprouting from the plain like mushrooms.

At the western edge of the town loomed a rocky prominence, upon which stood a grand white castle, ringed by high walls and a moat - a formidable stronghold indeed.

Yet the eye was drawn not to the castle, but the simple white obelisk on the hillside nearby. Unadorned and unassuming, it paled entirely beside the splendid citadel.

Strangely, though clouded skies hung over the castle, a hole in the churning canopy allowed a shaft of golden sunlight to pierce through and illuminate the monument.

At first Rosen thought it coincidence, but as they walked on for half an hour more, he realized the rift remained fixed in place, the glow never wavering. Curious magic there.

Noticing his interest, Celestius volunteered an explanation, "That is Baron Moray's White Stone Castle. The obelisk is the God-Given Stone, blessed by the golden favor of the divine. So long as its radiance endures, House Moray shall remain masters of these lands."

Then astonishingly, his face twisted in disdain, "Golden favor...heh, fitting indeed."

Rosen stared, perplexed by this reaction. "Is there some issue with the golden blessing, Master?" he ventured hesitantly.

Celestius' expression darkened. "Curiosity is a virtue, yet too much invites calamity. For now, hold your tongue!"

And so Rosen fell silent.

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As they continued on, drawing nearer to the town, travelers on the road grew more plentiful. All kept a wary distance from Celestius, giving the mage a berth of five meters, as though an invisible aura warned them away.

"Why do they fear you so, Master?" Rosen wondered aloud.

Celestius snorted derisively, "Merely ignorant country folk. Pay their attitudes no heed."

Rosen did not inquire further, only watched this strange new world unfold before his eyes. In a word, it was filthy - far worse than Wolfsden. The nearer they came to town, the fouler it became.

The roads were choked with mud black as pitch, littered with dung and refuse wherever men and beasts had trod. Folk squatted to relieve themselves without regard for gender, propriety or privacy.

The very air was noxious, redolent of spoilt food, ordure, sewage, mold and nameless stenches that turned the stomach.

As for the people, they were filthier still.

Hair hung lank and greasy, bodies exuded the rank musk of grime and sweat. Their gaping mouths revealed teeth coated in yellow plaque, and breath that reeked to high heaven.

Coughing and spitting sounds assaulted the ears relentlessly, the noises of perpetual discontent. It seemed all walked with resentment in their hearts, which only yells and shouts could vent.

In the hundreds they passed, not one maiden fair caught Rosen's eye. Young and old, man and woman alike, life had crushed the humanity from their souls.

No wonder a casual sketch could entrance Celestius so. No wonder he named these folk ignorant country bumpkins.

Yet Celestius seemed inured to it all, focused only on the road ahead.

Soon they came to the town center, where a large well stood in the square, surrounded by a milling crowd that jostled to draw water. Here the press of people grew thicker, merchants' stalls lining the streets, and every bare patch of earth crammed with vendors' carts.

Rosen's gaze roamed over baked goods and clothing, daily wares and weapons, even books and artwork. A profusion of offerings, remarkably diverse for this backward place.

Voices washed over him as they walked - hawkers crying their wares, the chatter of haggling and gossip. The thick atmosphere of mundane life.

Celestius ignored the vendors' solicitations and made straight for a shop signed 'Curiosities of Times Past'.

At the counter, he presented Rosen's sketch. "Horace my friend, tell me what this drawing might fetch."

The shopkeeper, Horace, recognized him at once. Chuckling, he teased, "Come to peddling artwork now, Master Mage? And taken on an assistant too, I see."

Celestius rapped the countertop impatiently. "Enough nonsense. I'm in haste."

Horace put on his spectacles and inspected the painting closely. As he did, sighing admiringly, "Exquisite work, wonderfully evocative. But ink washes lack vibrancy...at most I can offer one crown."

Celestius looked shocked. "One silver for this? What might it be worth properly painted, with fine pigments and canvas?"

Horace considered. "In oils, same quality, I could pay a gold crown apiece."

Rosen noticed Celestius' breathing grow distinctively heavier.

The mage adjusted his hat lower, shrouding his expression, and spoke quietly, "Good. Fetch me a complete set of oil painting supplies. Finest quality."

"The very best? That won't come cheap - three gold crowns a set."

Celestius already had three bright coins displayed upon the counter. "As you will."

Horace raised his eyebrows in surprise, but knew better than to pry. "Right away, Master Celestius."

Taking up the toolkit, Celestius grasped Rosen firmly by the arm and steered him from the shop. His grip was painfully tight, as though fearing his prisoner might flee.

Leaving Curiosities of Times Past, Celestius turned unerringly right and walked a hundred paces more before halting at a building marked by a painted bird. Through glass windows, Rosen glimpsed a bustling tavern below.

The noise hit him like a blow when they entered. Scents blended of spirits, sweat, food and perfumes washed over him, cloying and nauseous. He sneezed violently three times.

Then a vision glided up, clad in a provocative purple gown. A sweet voice purred, "Seeking pleasure tonight, Master Mage?"

This girl was perhaps sixteen or seventeen, extremely comely even by Rosen's standards. The low neckline displayed her charms to great effect. Compared to the wretches outside, she seemed a goddess incarnate.

Celestius too was entranced, looking her up and down appreciatively. "New here? I don't believe I've seen you before."

The girl smiled coyly behind one hand. "The mage's memory is as keen as his gaze. I'm Lilith, quite freshly arrived."

"Lilith?" Celestius repeated the name softly, studying her intently. Then suddenly, the lust in his eyes cleared.

"My thanks for your gracious offer, fair Lilith. Please convey my regards to Madam Patsy. And do take this meager gift." So saying, he slipped a gold coin subtly into her palm.

The sultry look vanished from the girl's face. "You are too generous, Master Mage. I wish you a pleasant stay in White Horse." Curtseying, she glided smoothly away.

Rosen thought he glimpsed Celestius breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

The mage went directly upstairs and secured a room. Without the slightest delay he hurried inside, nearly running down the corridor and slipping quickly through the door.

Yet rather than shut it completely, he left a thin gap and stationed himself silently just within. There he waited, unmoving, for a full minute.

Finally assured of safety, the tension eased from his body. "Whew..." he exhaled heavily.

Bolting the door at last, Celestius fixed Rosen with an intense stare. "Remember this well, boy - the fair ladies of White Horse all carry poison. Not one word of theirs can be trusted."

"Else you'll be food for crows!"