In a castle filled with magic, there were countless possible ways to distract their guests. But after discussing it with Grimsby and Sir Clonk, Gideon realized there was one obvious solution. Since their guests were under the impression that The Last Rest was a ‘themed lodging experience,’ maybe it was time to deliver.

It might even win them some points with Caelan Whitfield or their mysterious ninth visitor. Gideon had asked Grimsby and Clonk if they’d seen the ninth person staying at the inn. Clonk remembered carrying a stack of his luggage—much more than anyone else had taken with them—but said the stranger hadn’t seemed memorable otherwise.

According to Grimsby, he was an older man who acted as if he were wealthy. He’d asked for room service for every meal. At the man’s instruction, Grimsby left trays of food outside his door and returned later to pick up the dishes.

How strange, Gideon thought. Is he reclusive or haughty? Either way, it hardly mattered.

They had a night to prepare for.

The three of them dusted off some tables and chairs from the old dining hall, carried them out to the courtyard, and arranged them in a semi-circle. It didn’t take Gideon long to build a small earthen stage using geomancy.

Melissa had no interest in any of it. After watching them for a minute or two, she headed back down the mountain to the forest, promising to return the next day for more food. Grimsby complained, but Gideon suspected the skeleton was happy to have such a reliable fan of his cooking.

By the time they were finished setting up, they’d attracted the attention of most of the guests, including Caelan Whitfield, who watched them dubiously from where he sat by one of the wagons.

“Dinner will be provided in the courtyard this evening,” Gideon explained as he approached the man, putting on his cheerful customer service persona. “Along with some … entertainment.” Gideon was far more confident about the dinner than the entertainment, but he kept that to himself.

Though Caelan looked skeptical, he nodded. “That’d be… That’s what we expected we’d be getting every night.”

“Yes, well, I apologize again for our staffing issues,” Gideon said. “I’ll come by shortly to collect your laundry.” Gideon looked around, making a show of counting the guests, even though he already knew one of them wasn’t there. “Does your ninth guest have any laundry they need to be done?”

Caelan grunted. “They’re the only one who needs any laundry done,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The rest of us are used to the road.” He let out a sigh. “But I wouldn’t mind having fresh breeches for the journey.”

Gideon blinked his eyes, confused. Caelan had been so demanding earlier—had it only taken a little [Quake] to get him to calm down? “Well, I’d be happy to take care of it,” Gideon said.

“You’d better, considering what we paid for this lodging.”

Gideon sighed. That attitude was more what he’d expected from Mr. Whitfield. Nevertheless, as long as Caelan wasn’t outright hostile, Gideon could work with that.

Leaning towards Caelan, Gideon lowered his voice and said, “You know, you’re all welcome in the castle, as long as you avoid the west wing and any locked doors.”

Caelan made a face and shook his head. “No, thank you. We’re just fine out here during the day. A rat watched me walk to my room last night. I swear it was following me. Its eyes were glowing like the moon.”

“State of the art illusion magic,” Gideon said, then chuckled nervously. “We, uh, take the ambiance very seriously here.”

Caelan looked at him dubiously, but said nothing.

Gideon walked back over to where Grimsby and Clonk were lounging in a couple of the dining chairs. “We’d better get to work on the night’s festivities.”

“I suppose we should, bub,” Grimsby said, a sarcastic tone in his voice as he hopped up and headed inside. There were still hours until sunset, which left plenty of time to prepare dinner. Gideon had asked Grimsby to try to impress them, if possible. Since they were leaving tomorrow, tonight would be the last chance to win them over.

“Work?” Clonk asked, his joints squeaking as he rose to his feet. “How dreadful, Gideon. You used to be more fun.”

Gideon cringed, hoping none of the guests had heard this exchange. Thankfully, they all seemed to be minding their business at the edge of the courtyard. Almost as if they were trying to be as far from the castle as they could.

“I’ll oil you after I start the laundry,” Gideon offered. “It would be awkward if you were squeaking tonight, anyway.” Clonk was in charge of the night’s entertainment, such as it was. “In the meantime, you can rehearse.”

“Rehearse?” Clonk said. “I know that book like the curve of my breastplate. Are you sure they’ll appreciate The Phantom of Wraithwood Manor?”

“It’s a classic ghost story, and it’s one of the only books on your shelf that doesn’t contain erotica,” Gideon said.

When deciding on the night’s entertainment, Gideon had thought they should stick with something Clonk was familiar with. Though the knight had an extensive collection of books in his room, most were inappropriate for polite company.

“You don’t think Swordplay and Silk might be a little more exciting?”

Gideon rubbed his forehead with his hand, then glanced towards Caelan Whitfield. “Does he look like he wants to be excited?”

“Probably not,” Clonk said, after a moment of hesitation. “Phantom it is.”

Gideon grabbed a wicker basket from the laundry room and collected the dirty linens from the guests in the courtyard. Other than Caelan, they were pleasant to interact with and seemed to appreciate his help.

He then headed up to the second floor of the castle and knocked gently at the door he’d passed earlier. None of the rooms were numbered, which Gideon knew they should rectify, but this was the largest in this hall. They could probably turn it into a suite.

“A bit early for supper!” a voice called from inside. “But fine, leave it there.”

“Uh, it’s not dinner yet,” Gideon said. “Do you have any laundry you’d like washed?”

There was a long pause, followed by the sound of shuffling feet. The door cracked open, and a man with balding salt and pepper hair peered out. He was tall, with gaunt, angular facial features and blue eyes surrounded by lines. He wore an elaborate silk jacket dyed with a gradient of colors resembling a sunset. Despite his unusually thin build, his clothes looked tailored to fit him perfectly. Gideon instantly pegged him for nobility—old money, which meant old magic.

Gideon took a risk and decided to [Appraise] him. If he was powerful, he would be able to detect it and might consider it rude, but Gideon was tired of not knowing anything about him.

Status

Name:

Marcus Stormrider

Level:

Attributes

Might:

Brilliance:

Fortitude:

Willpower:

Finesse:

Skills

Phosphomancy:

Copper, B Grade

Meditation:

Copper, D Grade

Manasculpting:

Stone, C Grade