The figure on one of the two towers by the gate leading into Darkhold has become a usual sight for the guards on the walls. Few people willingly climb the stairs to expose themselves fully to the cold and harsh winds. The Magus had warded herself against the cold but the winds still played havoc with her dark hair and tugged at her robes. Only a warm fire, blanket and thick walls around oneself would make the discomfort go away.
"No doubt the Dukes' lands and its people bask in the warmth of summer while I..." She looks up, snow mixed with cold, wet rain falling on her face and she sighs heavily. She leans over the stone wall, looking towards the bridge. A merchant caravan was approaching slowly, they were tired from the journey up the mountains but trying to hide it. The guards' backs straightened noticeably as they came closer, not wanting to appear lax in the eyes of the guard captains in the Hold. The Magus watched them pass and walked to the other side of the tower to overlook the courtyard, trying to guess what goods were hidden in the wagons.
Would the caravan only make a stop here and continue? Or was this the destination? Such simple things was what she amused herself with. No reward for making the right guess. No punishment for making the wrong one. The answer was always easy at hand, she could wave down a guard, have them notify her... but it would ruin the fun. Contraband? It did not look like slaves were being delivered. Weaponry? Food supplies? That shipment of wines from the far south she had overlooked the order of herself...? No, not the wines. They would not be able to make a delivery that fast. Servants and guards began to unload the wagons, walking around hurriedly, trying to spend as little time as necessary in the cold. The Magus smiled. At least the cold made for hard working people. They had to keep moving to stay warm. The horses were seen to, the wagons removed from the courtyard and soon everything was still and quiet again. Guards returned to their posts, staying close to the large braziers in a effort to stay warm and attempted to look as vigilant as they could even if with no doubt, they were counting down the time till the end of their shift.
The Magus walked back to the side of the tower overseeing the road again. Nothing happened for some time. She pulled out a piece of paper from her right sleeve and unfolded it. Snow and rain began to dissolve the ink but she knew what it said already. Should she react somehow? What was a proper reaction? She stared at the blurry names. Her own name. It did not come as a surprise to see it there, she expected it after she had decided to not hide her allegiances. However... did writing things on a piece of paper, claim them as honest and sign it with a paladin's name make it all true? Suddenly the ground seemed too far away and she gripped the wall with both hands, her nails clawing at the cold stone as she was hit by dizziness. The paper had escaped her, stolen away by the winds. For a moment, she felt weak.
Knew that she was weak. Knew that eyes were likely watching her. She tasted something and it made her angry. The Weave became clearer around her as it often did with emotion and she reached out,
pulling at its string about to... The sound of a horse approaching quickly made her stop. A lone rider. She forgot her recent vertigo entirely and leaned dangerously far over the wall to see who it was. One of the outrider scouts sent to report something. She let out a breath she had not realized she held. The anger broken by the sudden distraction and gone. She watched the outrider speak with one of the Zhentilar officers and be sent out, to the cold again.
When the rider disappeared from view, the Magus was left wondering again what she was supposed to feel. Supposed to do. She shook her head, finding no answers at hand except for...
Duty.
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