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incidents occurred at the Highstone Pass that was disrupting trade and the normal movement of the realm’s business. Due to this, the once smaller entourages were now beefed up to better protect the traveler, or they banded together in loose caravans to move together, though even this was not a certainty of safety, as some reports from the far north returned that entire caravans had been lost.
    “I was quite tired, but I’m working on a special project, and when I heard that a sighting was possible, I knew I had to accompany you,” Diamedes explained.
    “Well, I think you’ll find this rather boring, if anything at all, and perhaps a complete waste of your valuable time, Master Historian,” Corwin said.
    Diamedes nodded. “You may be right, but my path has followed strange courses before, not all beneficial, but enough so that I can’t disregard a lead such as this.”
    “It’s your time. I hope you find it worth it,” Corwin finished.
    The group rode on through the pass and reached the northern slopes of the Felsic Mountains, seeing Moartown in the distance below. It took them the rest of the day before they arrived, and they never saw the Kesh spy near the road, nor the large white wolf a mile off, both watching their small contingent of men as they traversed the narrow road.
    Many of the town’s inhabitants stopped what they were doing to watch the group arrive. They were accustomed to travelers, but not one of the justiciar’s stature. Diamedes was more of an afterthought, not many people noting the small man dressed in a plain brown robe, riding alongside the chief justice of the duke himself. Most thought the man a servant, just one of many porters who helped carry goods across the mountain pass.
    When the sun had gone down, the group congregated at the main town hall that doubled for a theater of sorts when not used on official business. There was no thespian show scheduled for that night, nor any night that week, not being a large outpost for those who loved, or supported, the arts.
    The town was relatively compact. Built at the base of the mountains, it was still higher in elevation than most towns, and the roofs were angled more sharply to prevent snow from accumulating and causing a collapse. There were several inns and pubs, and the only stone structure of any merit was a large tower, which housed a contingent of the duke’s troops, as well as the local magistrate, and other various governmental offices, in stout wooden buildings that ringed the tower, creating a sort of courtyard within.
    The justiciar had a special room reserved for him in the tower, and his aide, troops, and porters stayed in the barracks along the courtyard of the facility. Diamedes was relegated to one of the taverns that had an inn, and when he found out that the man in question was staying at the Peak Pub and Inn, the historian elected to rent a room at the same establishment.
    Diamedes was invited to dine with the justiciar after their meeting, and was in attendance as an official witness of sorts. Group pleasantries were observed, and the short meeting was called to order.
    “So in the name of Duke Uthor, Lord of the Duchy of Ulatha and ruler of this realm, his honorable Lord Justiciar Corwin Baines has called the initial inquiry to order.”
    “Thank you, Titus,” Corwin said to his aide, who nodded and sat at a nearby table. The justiciar sat by himself on a chair on the actual stage, high above everyone else. He looked more regal in his blue and yellow uniform, with the badge of the justice attached over his heart. Only the duke could appoint someone to that position, and there were less than a dozen of them in the entire kingdom.
    “The state will present its complaint,” Titus called out.
    A man in fine clothes, with a bit of roughness to them, stepped forward. “I am Magistrate Galen of Moartown, and the charges presented against the accused include treason, murder, theft, larceny, and misuse and misappropriation