Final Fantasy – Crystal Beacon #7


Noah led them upstairs to Bunther’s office, then ran off to find his father per Ailreds instruction.

Bunther was a dark-haired hume dressed slightly more finely than the other villagers, sitting in a fine chair behind a wide wooden desk. While he looked pleased enough to meet them, he did not seem a sympathetic sort.

Nora hurriedly smoothed her robe and sat down in the single chair in front of the table. Bunther leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him.

“So, Miss Bergen, why have you and yours visited our quiet village?”

Nora eased into the chair, conscious that her travelling robes still carried the dust of the road. “I travelled here with Ser Deormund of House Wright in search of a lighthouse that should be on this stretch of coastline,” She casually motioned towards Erroix standing behind her, “Kalurard here uncovered some evidence that suggests a relic of our clan might be found within.”

“A relic?”

Nora reached forward and placed their Hearth of Home badge on the table. It was strictly not a members badge, but they were gambling that a small-village mayor would not know that little detail. “The Crest of Elias. It belonged to the son of previous clan-leader who took on a quest somewhere north of the Zedlei. He never returned and the Crest was lost several hundred years ago.” A straight lie. Hearth of Home as a clan was not even 30 years old, as Gremi von Nalbina was both founder and leader. To Noras knowledge, the matronly woman did not have any children.

Bunther sighed softly, then leaned back in his chair. “Then I must dissapoint you, sadly. I do not know of any lighthouse in or near Luthadale. We do have tall cliffs where we occasionally light bonfires, but no lighthouses. I would have told as much to your friend.”

“Our friend?” Nora asked, suspecting the answer.

Bunther ran a hand through his thin beard. “Passed through here some 10 days ago. He did not give his name and did not pay in any way for the advice he was given. Long dark hair and impressive armour. Just about everyone in the village considered him downright rude, and he was scaring the children. Leed and Berkholt suggested we should drive him out, but before any plans could be made,” The mayor swept his hands upwards in an almost theatrical motion, “He had just vanished from Luthadale.”

“Volkmarr is no friend of ours.” Bodvar growled.


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