First real bath I've had in ages. It was glorious. Absolutely wonderful. And then, they give me this robe that felt like it was woven from actual clouds. Perfection. Then, of course, John tries to sneak in for a bath after me, but the servant, completely oblivious or just plain indifferent to his existence, pulls the plug and drains it right in front of him. Serves him right for communing with that duck.
There's a knock at the door, calling us all to the main hall for a nightcap. As we head down, there are a bunch of other people we haven't seen yet. I guess these are the folks from the other carriages. They're all just sitting around, chatting amongst themselves, probably talking about how great their baths were.
Servants bring around snifters of brandy and cups of warm milk. The old elf gives this incredibly awkward toast. The brandy, though, is actually quite nice. While we're relaxing, Bob, still fixated on his afterlife crisis, talks to the Viscount about us offering our "services" in exchange for some magic to fix the weakness he's had since the duck revived him.
After a bit, the Viscount and the wizard come back over. The "situation" the Viscount needs help with? Cementing an agreement with a tribe of goblins. And get this: it might involve someone marrying the goblin princess. Unbelievable.
Another option is to destroy some supposedly fake claim that someone is the Viscount's heir. The claim is apparently written in the language of demons and sealed with dragon wax. I'm just sitting here wondering why in the Nine Hells a demon would bother telling someone they're an heir to a Viscount. He's a noble, sure, but only at the whim of a Earl. That's not exactly a secure line of inheritance for a demon to invest in. Makes no sense.
While we're talking, Bob, still moping, blurts out that he doesn't think he's going anywhere but some place called Limbo. He genuinely seems to believe he hasn't done anything with his life to warrant a good afterlife. Once we get to town, I might actually try to find him that holiday book, "The Candlemark Reckoning: A Winter's Tale of Spirits and Illumination" by Master Chaldus Dicken. It's about redemption, apparently. Might give him something else to obsess over besides his impending doom.
In the middle of the night, there's a loud "BANG" on the building, and I wake up on the floor under my bed. I don't know how, but it's like I somehow passed through it. Looking up, there are what look like meteors with lightning trailing off them, slamming into the roof. Every time one hits, everything goes a bit transparent. It's like seeing two realities at once. My head's still spinning from that brandy, probably.
The wizard, swaying and wobbly, heads outside to deal with whatever is assaulting us. The attack slows down and finally stops, and the old wizard, whose name is apparently Wendell, crawls back in, looking pretty beat up. He and the Viscount both seem to know who's attacking us, and it sounds like it's not the first time. But for the life of me, I can't figure out who they're talking about. Sounds like some demon or a lord of Hell. Great.
Crisis averted, or maybe just delayed, we all head back to bed.
Shortly after I finally get settled and drift back to sleep, there's another knock at my door. Everything tonight seems determined to prevent any sleep. I open the door, and Bob's standing there, looking awkward as all get out. He says, "I love you, Fuzz," stares at me for a few more seconds, and then just wanders off. He definitely had too much to drink. That's the only explanation.
Come morning, as we're getting ready to leave this magical lodge, Bob's acting even weirder than usual. He keeps going on about some many-eyed being hovering above his bed during the night, talking to him about his "deepest regrets." I swear, that duck has completely addled his brain.
During breakfast, some guards come up and tell the Viscount that someone or something poisoned three of the horses. So now we're forced to leave the supply cart behind to use those horses to pull the rest of the carriages. Just another headache.
The next couple days of travel are uneventful, thankfully, and we finally make it to Avendale without any further incidents. The Viscount stops the carriages at the fork of the Yhalt River, where Avendale stands on the northern side. We say our goodbyes and thank-yous, and then we set out toward the city. Finally, some normalcy. Maybe.