Almandar had been surprised to receive the letter from Ansreal, the would-be paladin that Lady Tarissa had introduced him to a while ago. In it, she had asked him to meet her at the Silver Crown inn, but not to tell the others. It was a public place, and the woman was a devotee of Pardror, god of chivalry, so there seemed no reason to suspect an ulterior motive. But if so, why the need for secrecy? He had decided to go, of course, but he could not help but wonder what it was all about.
He did not know the Silver Crown very well, although he was aware of its location within the city. It was an expensive inn, catering to wealthy merchants and the like, which he supposed suggested that Ansreal herself might be well-connected. In front of the building was an open courtyard, dotted with tables and chairs around an ornate fountain, and it was there that he found her.
She raised her arm as she saw him arrive, and he waved in acknowledgement as he stepped over to the table, noting that she was alone. She wore the same plain white dress that she had when they previously met, the hemline reaching to her ankles, and the neck open only to her collarbone. It was, he gathered, some sort of uniform, a simple and unadorned costume symbolising the purity and dedication of aspirant paladins.
Unusually for a follower of Pardror, Ansreal was, of course, an elf. Her blonde hair was cut short in a bob, exposing her pointed ears and long neck but, he suspected, chosen more for practicality than looks. Glancing her over, with a slight touch of guilt, he could not help but think that some more colourful or revealing clothes might suit her better. For she was quite attractive, certainly compared with most humans. She was a little on the skinny side, perhaps, but her lips were full, her nose dainty, and her cheekbones high. He could not see her hips clearly from this angle, but the swell of her breasts beneath the white fabric was promising… or would be, were it not for her chosen calling.
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