<Almost hidden in the attic of the stable you find the remains of a deceased person, its cracked bones telling you of its old age. Next to it, a piece of paper, equally as old, yet still readable enough to recognize its contents. Reading it, he must've taken it with him before fleeing into these stables. Perhaps you can be the one to deliver it after all these years.>
Can I help you with something?
<Griselda is reading the dusty letter carefully, so as not to rip its paper with an unmindful move. A bittersweet expression hushes across the face, her eyes showing mild shock, but not the kind brought upon by bad news. Instead, a smile whisks itself upon her lips.> It's been many years, and a lot has happened since. I used to have a family, husband and son, with whom I lived here in Ambershire before the First War. My son was an energetic boy, full of aspirations, dreams and talent. He helped his father on the fields of Northwind, not earning much, but enough for us three to live a humble life. Then, when the orcs invaded our lands, he was conscripted to fight for our kingdom, far away from home on the island of Balor. I still remember his face the day he left: ambitious, with a breath of somberness. Back then I knew it would be the last time I'd see his beautiful face... Oh, my boy... Thank you for bringing me his last letter, adventurer. It may not be much, but please, take this.