The night passes peacefully. The sky is clear, revealing the full glory of the stars.
Admund dreams that he is lying in a peaceful field under a benevolent sun: a raven lands beside him, hopping over and tapping him with its beak. As it flies away, the dream dissolves into another one. Now he is standing in a Marienburg street at night, outside a shop with shuttered windows and barking dogs within. A sign above the door reads, "Sybo's Mystic Emporium." Three hooded men approach the shop, two of them carrying between them a long wooden crate. A watch patrol stop them: some money changes hands, and the watch patrol walk away. The hooded men carry the crate into the shop's yard, where it is received by a hunched, also-hooded man. Admund has a glimpse of this man's face - withered, the skin flaking horribly. But his eyes burn with feverish intensity. On the rooftop, a raven caws. This dream too dissolves, replaced by a surreal episode involving talking fruit.
In the morning, the Marienburg dream is still fresh in Admund's mind.
[it is now Festag the 12th of Vorgeheim]
The group have breakfast before breaking camp and returning to the ridgeway. Here they say goodbye to Rollie, and the halfling (after shaking hands with everyone and thanking them again for their help) sets off for his home. The group return along the ridgeway towards the main road, passing the ancient barrows and cryptic monuments of those far-off people from the time before Sigmar.
After some hours they reach the cave where they found Rollie's message, and beyond that the Marienburg road. By evening the party have reached another coaching inn. This one is unusual in that its structure incorporates the ruins of an ancient castle. A low, round keep of weathered stone forms the main accommodation area of the inn, with an extension housing the bar room, kitchens and other areas adjoining it. The curtain wall surrounding the courtyard is of new construction. The inn's sign proclaims it to be 'The Castle Inn.'
A poster that has been newly nailed to the gatepost reads thus:
PEOPLE of THE EMPIRE!
Do not fear the IRON HAND of the LORDS
The FEW will be overwhelmed by the MANY!
The NEW MILLENNIUM is coming! The AGE OF THE PEOPLE!
Inside, the inn is clean and welcoming. In the bar, the low ceiling beams are hung with pewter tankards, and the flagstone floor undulates smoothly. Small, secluded alcoves around the edges of the room contain private tables. Games of various sorts - Kraken's Beak, Invader, Round the Walls of Averheim, and others - are piled up on a table in one corner, for the patrons to use. A chalk board by the bar proclaims 'Cider Festival!' Behind the bar are dozens of different casks.
There are five groups of people here: four roadwardens at one table, six coachmen at another, and three groups of travelers.
When the party enter, the barman - a short, bald man wearing a traditional Drakwald fur waistcoat despite the warm evening - greets them cheerfully. "Welcome to the Castle Inn!" he says, "we have twenty-five different ciders on tap. Or there're other drinks if you prefer!"
As Max orders drinks for the group, the barman engages him in conversation. "So, young sir, where are you and your friends headed? To Middenheim? If so, you've missed the carnival already."
"Actually, we came from Middenheim, sir," Max says, "we were there for the carnival. Now we're on our way to Marienburg."
"Ah, the city of pirates! Watch your purse while you're there. The merchants and the tax men rob you to your face, and the thieves take what's left once your back is turned. Well, you can be in Bokel tomorrow, if you make good time on the road. Then you'll be about half way through your journey. Be sure you keep a good watch out though - word is there's some beast on the loose near Bokel. Nobody's seen it clearly, but it's caused a bit of a scare. "