On the road to Unfer, Drakwald
Winter is reluctantly making way for spring. The snows are mostly melted this far south - the coachmen say winter is in full swing up by Middenheim - but the nights are bitterly cold still. The days are worse: it's either raining or snowing, big fat drops or large sticky flakes that will make a man wet, cold, and miserable in less time than it takes to saddle a horse.
The village, if it can be called that, of Unfer lies a long dozen miles from the town of Neue Etzel - the closest thing to a home for me - and the Altdorf-Middenheim road, in the foothills of the Five Sisters, deep within the Drakwald. The nearest village is Herenhost, right at the edge of the great forest. They don't like each other much, the Herens and the Unters. Strange how neighbors - and siblings - are so quick to quarrel.
Unfer is an uninteresting place in every way, an insular village of two hundred or so souls hidden away inside the green realm of the Drakwald. The people of Unfer pay their taxes to the bailiff on time - furs and hides of wild beasts for the most part - and expect to be left alone in return. Günter von Etzel, Duke of Etzel-Drakzen and Baron of Etzel, thinks this a grand arrangement - so few of his subjects are so willing and able to pay what is owed to their liege.
This winter was different. Several trappers and hunters from Unfer went missing in the Five Sisters. All experienced men who knew every rock and tree like the back of their hand. Foul play was a given. But who or what was responsible for the disappearances? Several times the villagers petitioned the Duke for aid. The third time they came knocking, the Duke did receive them - only to tell them they had better handle a few goblins or brigands or whatever. Taxes would be due in spring, just like every year, and they better be ready to pay up.
Only they didn't. Or maybe they did. No one knows for sure. The bailiff passed through Neue Etzel with three wagons, drivers, and guards. They're days overdue now. Sergeant Tomas has sent an outrider to the Etzelhaus to tell the Duke. A thankless assignment. The only task worse: to go to Unfer and figure out what's happened. That's MY job.
I rode through Herenhorst an hour ago, in heavy rain. Then my horse went lame from stumbling in a rut in the waterlogged road, and we're now walking together, man and beast. At this rate, it'll be nearly dark before I reach Unfer. And it just started snowing. Can't wait to get out of this weather, grab an ale, and dry up before a fireplace...
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