Usually, Gilbert was the type to wake up slowly and calmly, in a way in which it would take minutes for anyone to catch on that he was simply laying down with his eyes closed for a while longer. It had its advantages when it came to adventuring, but mostly it was just a matter of comfort. As a younger man, he had been unable to stand the idea of lingering in bed needlessly, when he could have been doing things, but with age came wisdom on the matter. However, on this particular morning, he flinched awake. Tumbling down from the narrow bench of the coach he had made his bed on, causing the entire vehicle to sway. Had Solaria’s coffee making apparatuses not been enchanted against such disturbances, they would have been scattered on the floor along with the few other odds and ends that actually did fall. In a groggy stupor, the old adventurer glanced up at the amused looking-mage, the necromancer who had clearly not slept a wink and the two simulacra, the larger of whom offered him a hand to aid in getting up. He accepted the offer and quickly made it back onto the bench, especially for his size and age.

  “Well that’s a first.” The necromancer snickered.

  Solaria quickly gestured a more concerned question.

  “I am fine, it was just a dream… I think.” Gilbert sighed and limbered his now sore shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fall.

  The mention of a dream perked up both Anastacia and Solaria, who had just been conversing about the dream that the soul inside King had experienced. Anastacia had of course left out how exactly she acquired this information, and the mage didn’t pry.

  “What kind of a dream was it? A nightmare? Something saucy?” Anastacia inquired.

  The old adventurer immediately caught on to the sense of importance and haste the question had – and of course, he was well aware of the nightmares their destination was plagued by so he understood the reason for it. He recollected what he had seen, still oddly vivid in his memory for a dream. “Neither… Not sure what to call it. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but not unpleasant either. Exciting, if I had to describe it with a word.”

  Solaria grabbed his notebook and began writing while gesturing for the adventurer to continue in detail.

  Gilbert remembered standing atop a flat mountaintop, gazing at an even larger mountain beside it. He had climbed a couple of mountains in his time but did not recognize the vista. Among the first things he had noticed was the almost unnatural limberness and strength of his body, it went beyond being young and spry again, into the territory of inhuman. The hefty lance and shield in his hands had felt like they were barely there, and the thick armor on his body didn’t weight him down, as if it was a second skin he was completely adjusted to. To his sides he could see two other warriors, clad in gray armor made of stone and carrying bows as tall as themselves. Around each was a dozen or so arrows that would have passed as oversized spears, stabbed into the ground. Without knowing why, he gave a wordless order to the archer to his left, who picked up one of the mighty arrows, lined it up with the taller mountain ahead and began pulling back the string. The bow gave off a loud hum as blue lights on its surface flashed to life, spreading along the string to the arrow, which launched off at an incredible speed, barely arching at all over the span between the mountains and slamming into the rocks with enough explosive force to wipe out entire keeps.

  As the building-sized boulders tumbled down the mountainside, Gilbert stepped forth and repeated the order to the archer to his right, whose arrow had a similar result as it buried itself deep into the stone. However, this time the explosion was followed by a deep rumble that shook the ground below their feet. Feeling exhilaration swell within him, Gilbert grasped his weapon and shield tighter, as six massive eyes opened in the side of the mountain ahead. lined up in three pairs above a slowly opening maw of vast proportions, spewing out molten rock like drool as the beast detached itself from its primordial resting place and prepared to respond to the rude awakening with violence. Despite being faced with some manner of a beast of legend he didn’t even dare to think existed in the waking world, his gaze was drawn to the side, to a looming darkness in the northwest horizon.

  It was there that Gilbert had woken up from the dream he felt was far too realistic for one. Finishing his recount of it to his friends, he found himself yearning for the excitement he had felt during the final moment of the dream.

  “Stone armor, you say…” Anastacia picked up a detail most familiar to her.

  Gilbert nodded and took the cup of coffee Solaria offered to him. “Aye, but not like these two.” He grunted and nodded towards the simulacra. “I was still flesh and blood under it.”

  “You didn’t happen to catch any names, did you?” The necromancer pressed.

  The old adventurer shook his head. “Nay, but why do I get a feeling you know something?”

  “I think you may have been spirited to a body of an aureun – a knight of stone to be specific.” Anastacia said, mostly to herself. “I’ll have to ask if it was a memory or something else next time.”

  “Ask who?” Gilbert immediately caught on to the necromancer’s slipup.

  Realizing her mistake and still wanting to keep her conversations with the two aureun a secret, Anastacia frowned. “A good friend of mine. They’re called Mind Your Own Business, a weird name, I know, but you can blame that on their parents.”

  The old adventurer sighed disapprovingly but didn’t start an argument, instead focusing on the drink in his hand and the all-important decision of which tobacco he would load his pipe with once that was done.

  In the silence that followed, as Gilbert enjoyed his pipe, Solaria made notes on his theories regarding the dreams he had learned about, Anastacia fiddled with King’s mechanical hand and Leggy happily stared at the now stale cup of coffee she had been given again, all of them individually noted that the wind outside was starting to pick up and the snow that had fallen calmly when they had woken up was now whipping across their view almost horizontally. The coach always wobbled slightly as they moved, but the harsh wind was clearly starting to tip it to the side with every gust. It didn’t take long for them to come to a halt as the guards driving the coach hopped off their warmed seats, one to clear up the snow piling on the luggage stored on the roof, and the other to politely knock on the door before cracking it open just enough to speak through the gap.

  “The weather is disagreeing with our plans a tad, so we’ll look for shelter to hunker down in until it clears. The animals are hardy but it doesn’t do them any good if we get stuck in a storm.” The guard informed the party of the change in plans.

  “How are the two of you doing out there?” Anastacia worried, feeling the frigid breeze invade the warm cabin from the small gap.

  “Oh, we’re just peachy, don’t worry about us! Just make sure there’s a fire in the stove and we’ll be as comfy as cats in the sun!” The guard laughed and tried to give her a thumbs up with the thick gloves he had on.

  Solaria waved a gesture at him that lacked the complexity of the sign language he and Gilbert spoke in, but clearly meant that the guards should do as they must.

  To aid in the search of a cover and to lighten the load, King and Leggy willingly went outside, since the cold had no effect on them anyway. Still, compared to how swimmingly the beginning of the journey had gone, their progress almost stalled as the storm kept worsening and no shelter seemed to be in sight.

  Suddenly the coach came to a halt again, and Anastacia instinctively began scanning the surroundings. Only a few meters ahead of the beasts dragging them was something living – something being the important part of the discovery as it appeared almost shapeless to the necromancer. She could sense it being there, but some immense willpower kept her from prodding or even hoping to affect it with her powers. Whatever it was, it stood in their path and showed no intention of moving. One of the guards was quick to act and hopped off his seat with a weapon in hand to confront the thing.

  Gilbert could see the puzzled look on the necromancer. “What is it?”

  “I… I have no idea. I know there’s something in front of us but that’s all I can get. Not much bigger than a person… I think.” She reported as well as she could.

  Gilbert immediately rushed through the door into the snowstorm, seemingly unbothered by the cold and mostly just annoyed by the harsh winds. Shielding his face with one hand and carrying the sword he had grabbed along in the other, he trudged to the front to see the guard interrogating someone, or something, with the tip of his halberd just out of the thing’s reach.

  Covered in torn black cloth and tattered leather, the creature before them had the rough shape of a human, though was about as tall as King. Its head was locked inside an almost cage-like metal helmet with a wide metal brim to it, as if someone had shaped a stereotypical wizard’s hat from brass and placed it atop the helmet, complete with the cone at the top. From under the cloth and leather, at least six mechanical arms dangled out with daggers in their brass grips – flimsy-looking for someone used to simulacra, and definitely not of the same origin. Mechanical legs resembling that of an eagle’s held the thing above the snow, barely visible among the drooping cloth and leather that flapped in the wind.

  There were a number of beasties and creatures that preyed on people stuck in snowstorms, some of them even causing the weather itself, but this wasn’t any of the ones the old adventurer knew.

  Slowly, the creature turned to look at Gilbert and repeated the only thing it had said to the guard. “The Lodge.” It stated and pointed into the forest, along what may have been a path that deviated from the road, or it could have just been a perfect spot to get a coach completely stuck for all one could tell. The snow could have hidden any manner of rocks or roots along a seemingly open path.

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  “The lodge?” Gilbert repeated the line in the form of a question.

  “Safe and warm.” The creature spoke in a strangely comforting tone, not at all befit of its appearance.

  The adventurer glanced at the guard as if to ask if they had much in the way of options besides trusting this thing of brass and leather. The guard’s answer was a wordless shrug admitting that they probably didn’t. As he turned to look back at the creature, it had vanished into thin air, which wasn’t particularly hard given the weather.

  King and Leggy arrived not a moment later to see why they had stopped. King seemed to have missed what had happened, but Leggy’s keen gaze still followed something moving among the trees. An arrangement was made, where King would lead the way along the path to make sure it was clear, and Leggy kept an eye on the creature while their made their way to the shelter the thing had promised.

  Gilbert returned to the warmth of the coach, irked by the fact that they were forced to follow the suggestion of some unknown creature, that could well be luring them into a trap. He gave its description to the mage and necromancer, but neither could shed any light on its identity, though Anastacia very much wanted to see it for herself.

  For about twenty minutes, they slowly made their way in King’s footprints and in ever harshening conditions. Just when getting stranded in the storm started to look like a certainty, a gust of wind cleared enough snow from the air to reveal a large wooden building less than a hundred meters before them – something they should have seen coming much earlier but only now made its presence known.

  As the coach made it to the less snowy area in front of the building, a large pair of doors swung open on a smaller but still sizeable building attached to the massive and more eye-catching one. A stable, warm and full of hay for the beasts of burden to munch on. Easily big enough for the coach and the animals to be sheltered from the weather and lit by the warm yellow light of a few lanterns dangling from the supporting pillars.

  “Well, that’s suspicious.” Anastacia voiced out what everyone was thinking as the guards stopped the coach into the stable.

  Clambering out of their ride, Gilbert kneeled to take a look at the hay on the ground, rubbing some of it between his fingers before giving one of the wooden supports a push. “If this is an illusion, I have never seen a better one.” He pondered the situation for a while before making a plan.

  The guards were all too happy to stay behind and watch over the animals, the coach and the luggage, and while the simulacra stayed outside and prepared to come to the aid of anyone who yelled, the adventurers and the mage would enter the lodge itself. They strapped on their protective gear and gathered the essentials from their backpacks before exiting the stable and taking a look around.

  Built from massive pieces of dark lumber, the lodge towered over the nearby trees at four stories high. It had clearly seen more than a few winters based on the weathering on the wood, but someone had also been taking good care of it since there were no signs of rot in sight, not even moss grew on the stones keeping the logs from touching the ground. The simple carved decorations on the windowsills, the warm light glowing through the windows on the bottom floor and the little sign by the door, telling visitors to wipe their feet before entering made for a cozy and inviting atmosphere that did wonders to counter the suspicious situation the party had gotten themselves into.

  While the adventurers and the mage hesitantly approached the door, King took position in the middle of the area surrounded by the lodge, the stable, a couple of smaller storage buildings and a wooden fence keeping the wilderness out. Meanwhile Leggy ran up the wall of the stable and flipped onto the roof to perch on the edge, instantly locking her gaze to the same dark figure she had followed the entire time, who now stood in the rapidly disappearing tracks of the coach some distance down the path they had traveled.

  Walking up the couple of wooden steps leading to the door with a lovingly carved handle, Gilbert stopped in his tracks to look at the sign. On one hand it was a horrible idea to heed the commands of creatures with illusionary powers, but on the other hand it was an equally awful one to anger anything or anyone else with just an interest of keeping their floors clean. Some years back some adventurers had been forced to fight a lich because the party had failed to do the polite thing and take off their hats when entering the throne room of the ruined keep the undead thing lorded over.

  “Wipe your feet.” He whispered to the necromancer and tapped the sign. “Can you tell if there’s anyone inside?”

  “Nope. There’s some material around, but I think it’s all stuff like food and decorations carved from antlers. There’s a meat pantry as well.” Anastacia relayed the reading on the area she had gotten as soon as they had gotten out of the coach.

  After making sure their boots were clean of snow and getting a nod from both the mage and the necromancer behind him, Gilbert pulled open the somewhat hefty door as quietly as he possibly could. The scent of cinnamon immediately flooded from inside, along with the warm air that felt like a blessing, even if the trio had hardly spent a moment out in the cold.

  “Welcome, welcome, welcome, dearest guests!” Echoed cheery a voice from inside before anyone had gotten so much as a glimpse of the interior. Though it was mellow and friendly, the voice had some kind of an otherworldly aspect to it, one that Anastacia knew she recognized well. “Do step inside already, I hear the weather out there is nightmarish!”

  Warily, one by one, the party made their way into the warmth of the lodge. The entrance opened up to a massive room that must have taken up a good portion of the ground floor. Lit by a roaring fire in a large fireplace as well as a couple of huge but intricate chandeliers made of brass and carved antlers, the cozily furnished space was filled with comfortable-looking recliners, bookcases lined with classics and more obscure works, and carpets imported from far-off lands. The dark lumber of the walls and floor contrasted with the skillfully crafted birch furniture, but both of them were largely drowned out by the complex and colorful patterns of the carpets and fabrics used for everything from wall decorations to tablecloths. Where there wasn’t an exotic-looking fabric hanging from the walls, there were paintings of lands that had never seen winters like the one outside and of places not of the mortal realm, as well as detailed drawings of animals and creatures.

  Tucked in one of the corners of the room, behind a counter and surrounded by cabinets filled to brim with liquors and tonics stored in bottles that must have cost more completely empty than the full bottles of the finest wines Rosie could be bothered to stock, stood the presumed proprietor of the lodge. A spriggan in the loose shape of a human, lacking much of the finer details like a nose, the correct number of fingers, or ears, but donning an impressive pair of wooden antlers – one of which was grasping onto what looked like a shiny brass orb, big enough to be an awkward thing to hold in one hand, and likely much too heavy. The nature spirit was also the culprit for the colorful and eccentric decorations, as they were wearing a set of robes – or rather, had a length of the same fabric wrapped around them in a somewhat convenient manner that didn’t get in the way and at least appeared intentional.

  They swiftly pranced to the middle of the hall from their post behind the counter to further address their guests. “Make yourselves at home, dearest guests, for The Lodge is at your service. Shed yourselves of the stresses of traveling in that dastardly storm, for you have arrived to a place of safety and warmth! I, Iatum of The Lodge, am your humble servant during your stay. Simply call on my name wherever you might be, as my help is required – I think you’ll find my hearing quite apt.” They introduced themselves and bowed with exaggerated arm gestures.

  None of the three guests took the lead in their response. As the movement of Iatum’s mouth had nothing to do with the voice echoing from within the wooden form, Solaria had gained nothing from the introduction besides the bow, and Gilbert was still trying to figure out how he felt about the whole situation, scanning every inch of the room for possible threats. Eventually he glanced at Anastacia, clearly telling her to speak up since she was the expert of the group when it came to tree spirits.

  “Uh… Hi-“ Was all she had time to say before the spriggan walked closer to have a better look at her, only to recoil away in what seemed like disgust.

  “Oh what a foul stench you’ve brought along, grand soul of old! My very bark crawls and spirit could well have fainted, were I to step closer!” Iatum dramatically wailed and covered the nose that didn’t exist.

  Being stuck in the coach for a few days with limited facilities for washing up did mean she wasn’t as fresh as she could have been, but Anastacia found it hard to believe her odor would overtake her companions’ that significantly, clearly it had to be something else. “Is this about me being a necromancer?” She sighed tiredly.

  “Oh, goodness no! The Lodge welcomes beings of any ilk without prejudice!” The spriggan regained their refined posture once they were done overacting and far enough away. “I simply did not anticipate the odor of that wretched grove on someone so… meaty. Like driving red-hot nails into my precious spirit it is!”

  “Grove? Do you mean The Mother Grove? I take it you’re not with them then?” The necromancer deduced from the not-so-subtle reaction.

  Iatum shook their head. “Those very words do violence to my hearing. My path with The Balance was severed in ages so old that I’m not even sure they happened, I serve a much different lord now.”

  “Then who do you serve?” Gilbert intervened.

  A bright smile took over the spriggan’s face as they spread their arms wide. “Why, The Lodge, of course! There is no lord more generous in these sun-cursed lands! And of course, dearest guests, no host more hospitable.”

  Gilbert did not like the answer, not in the slightest. In his mind, at best they were dealing with an insane forest spirit, and at worst with some kind of a sentient building, which tended to have a diet of unaware guests.

  “So what’s the-“ Anastacia tried to ask directly what the deal was, but Iatum interrupted her with a grandiose hand gesture asking her to wait while turning their attention to the mage, who was still woefully lost on what was going on, but did not show it thanks to years of practice.

  “Why? Oh why, master of arcane, do my words not reach your heart? What flaw is there in my speech that befouls the connection?” Iatum pleaded to know to no avail while stepping closer to the mage until their faces were almost touching. The energy swirling within the spriggan, more yellowish than the ones Anastacia had seen before but still definitely green, pulsated calmly as the spirit came to an understanding of the situation. “An embarrassing blunder! A crude mistake! Oh, the shame!” They howled and threw themselves onto the floor to hide their face in shame.

  At the same time Solaria started to glance around the room curiously, looking for something. Gilbert gestured to him, asking what was going on but before the mage had time to respond, the spriggan explained instead, still laying down on the floor and shaking a fist at some unknown force they blamed for their mistake.

  “In my callous simplicity, I had thought the mortal species to hear with their ears… but here I lay, broken by my hubris-fueled assumption! But The Lodge be blessed! My fallible self knows just enough of the arcane arts to converse in the correct manner, mind to mind, thought to thought!”

  “I don’t like any of this.” Gilbert grumbled to himself.

  “Beats being out there.” Anastacia whispered. “Besides, I can always burn this place down if something happens.”

  “I don’t like that either.” The old adventurer continued to grumble before returning to his interrogation of the spriggan. “What about the creature out there, it showed us the way here. What role does it play in all this?”

  Iatum ceased their wailing in an instant and lifted their head to look at Gilbert. “So you’ve met Sam? How fortuitous! He is the doorman of The Lodge. One could not ask for a better companion! Dutiful, precise, quick and professional! He combs the storm for waywards such as you, dearest guests, before things take a turn for the worse!”

  Yet another answer Gilbert wasn’t fond of. “Worse?”

  “Should you not know it just as well as I, Winter-born, or did your elders not teach you of the winter turned foul?” The spriggan spoke their first serious words since receiving guests. “A day of snow, a day of darkness…”

  “…A day of foul winter.” The old adventurer uttered under his breath.

  “The Lodge will keep you safe.” Iatum uttered as some kind of a mixture of an apology and a promise, before returning to their previous self. “And comfortable, dearest guests!”

  The Lodge.