"My Lord," the royal guard called into the far-too-empty hall, "The last of them have been driven out."
Impossible... Ludwig Orren lifted his bowed head. After hours of death, carnage, and heartbreak, did this woman dare speak of hope?
"There... there were some Seekers- heroes, really..." the guard continued, but the Lord was still processing her first words.
Was the madness finally over?
"... wouldn't have been able to handle it without them," she was saying when Lord Orren regained focus. "With all due respect, perhaps we should-"
"Yes, summon them," the Lord finished softly. "Have the magistrate address them, I want you out there tending to the people. What remains of them, anyway." The guard saluted and was off without another word, leaving Ludwig once again alone with his thoughts. He had sent his family to the safehouse of the keep as soon as he heard what had happened. Foul creatures in my own city. He was still in shock. How had they got in? And who was responsible for such an organized and brutal attack? Perhaps these Seekers would have more answers.
Lucky indeed. Despite the valiant efforts of his city's apparent saviors, Lord Orren knew he had some trying weeks ahead of him. Reconstruction, reputation, trade routes, and lowered morale on top of all the mourning and death. He might truly die before he rebuilt this city to what it was twenty four hours ago. But if there was someone to thank for stopping the bleeding, he wanted to meet them. Not just to thank them, but to beseech them. He wanted answers, and he had to be able to trust that whomever he tasked would be strong enough to find them and survive.
"My dear," the voice of his beloved was soft with grief. He did not turn toward it, could not bring himself to do so. From the door leading to the queen's quarters, Lady Marie Orren slowly but confidently approached the mourning lord and placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. Ludwig waited for his wife to continue, but she just massaged his back lightly. After what seemed like hours, all she said was, "If you keep sitting like that, your neck will be sore all day tomorrow." It was the caring chide of a mother. She couldn't bear children herself, so Lady Orren thought of the people of Orrenstead as more or less her own and she certainly treated them as such.
How terrible to lose so many children in one day.
Lord Orren finally stood to embrace Marie. He buried his teary face in her neck and allowed himself to weep deeply as she stroked his shoulder-length hair and held him close. "Anyone else might have thought that I would be the one sobbing right now," she said not unkindly. The young lord presented himself as a thoughtful and stoic ruler, but he was compassionate and quietly provided for his people however he could, unlike his father who ruled before him. Marie, unlike Ludwig, never seemed to stop smiling — even now, she smiled as she consoled her shaking husband. It was no secret that the two of them shared equal love for and equal stewardship of Orrenstead's folk.
"Why..." Lord Orren managed after a few minutes, "Why did it have to be us? Them?" he clarified, letting go of Marie and sweeping a hand toward the giant double doors of the hall. "Our people are kind, and friendly, and-and..." he stammered, overwhelmed by the simple goodness of the folk he had come to know.
"Hush now, my Lord," said Lady Orren. "I don't believe that you would wish this upon any others, now do you?" The lord frowned, but shook his head. He felt like an armored child with the way his grief had evolved. Marie continued, "Life will go on, as it always does. We need not a soothsayer to tell us such things. What matters now is what we do next. Our people need us, Ludwig, now more than ever. I am here, and you are here, and we will do all that we can for them as we always have. Right?" A nod in response, this time. Then her smile swelled, and the crestfallen lord fell in love again at the sight of it.
She was right. He knew she was right, as she often was. A time for mourning shall come. This time, he approached her, and the way she looked at him reassured him that everything was going to be okay. "I have sent for a group of Seekers," he suddenly announced, pushing away the sadness and the tears for now to address what was at hand. "Rynalt was saying that a few of them managed to turn the tide of the fight. Without them, I'm sure we wouldn't be talking right now," he concluded, trailing off. I could have lost her... But he shook the thought from his head and added, "Perhaps they can help us find out who or what caused this. That's my hope, at least."
"Then I cannot wait to meet them!" she encouraged. "We must provide them with some compensation for protecting a town that wasn't even theirs to protect. I will head to the vaults while you prepare to greet them," she finished and turned to walk away.
"Marie?" Ludwig called out. She turned on her heel fast as lightning, but before she could ask "What?", he was kissing her. When he was sure she wouldn't be gone the next day, he pulled away and said, "I would be half a man without you."
She blushed, smiled wide once again, and confidently declared, "I know." And then she was gone.
But not really.
Right on schedule, the doors of the great hall opened and Magistrate Celidan stepped through with four mismatched adventurers. The Seekers. Though they looked more like pilgrims and prisoners, the way they were dressed. Lord Orren took them in as they walked hastily toward his throne: a malnourished Half-Elf, whose lack of hygiene clashed sharply with the elegant scabbard at his side; a flamboyantly nonchalant Aasimar, whose very existence was a living contradiction; a Human from the east, whose garb resembled peacekeeping factions of the mountains; and a literal mechanoid, who carried naught but a small pouch and two swords of a style he had never seen before. They were all covered in abyssal ichor that reeked of brimstone and death — but here they were, alive and arguably healthy.
"My Lord, these are the Seekers whom Captain Rynalt spoke of before," Celidan introduced. "Montenegro, Sheva, Jiang, and- er..."
"You can call me the Guardian. Everyone else does," the mechanoid volunteered.
Lord Orren wordlessly stepped down to the group, fell to his hands and knees, and bowed deeply.
"You risked your lives for us, and we are eternally indebted to you as the Heroes of Orrenstead. But I have one more task for you, if can be so bold. I promise, we will make it worth your while." Right on cue, Lady Orren stepped into the hall carrying a small, heavy box.
