Vix was having, frankly speaking, a fantastic time in the mansion.

The air was sweet, the couches were couchy, and he was surrounded by his friends. Well, was surrounded by his friends. He’d watched them all filter out the front door one by one, leaving him alone and to his own devices. So, not all was right in paradise. So what? He still had plenty of cushions at his disposal, plenty of art to name, and more than enough activities to keep himself - ring.

“Finally, someone’s back!”

He somersaulted to the ground and stumbled to the door at full speed. Opening it, sweaty and red, he was met with an unexpected sight.

“Hello, half-elf,” Scrum said. He was one of the only people Vix had met in Rattwater who was close to his own height, so he looked comfortably into his eyes.

“Hi, Scrum!” he said. “My name’s Vix, by the way.”

“Ok half-elf, the council has called you freaks into the chamber. I’m here to escort you and I’m busy, so call them down here and make it snappy!”

“I’m the only one here. Everyone else is out, I think.”

“You’ll do,” Scrum said. “The meeting’ll be more entertaining that way, anyway. C’mon.”

Vix skipped out the door without a second thought. Or first. Even as the rain matted his long hair into his face and poured into his eyes, he maintained a steady speed ahead. And as they walked, the curtain of grey lifted, leaving only a sprinkle by the time they entered the chamber hall. Vix was still dripping heavily, however, as he passed over the lush, expensive, dry-clean only carpeting of the council room. He looked up to see the three councilpersons above him. Three?

“Where are the others?” one of them asked.

“Out,” he said, squelching into a chair. There was some commotion along the lines of “Him? Can we? But, him?” Suddenly, one of them broke the other two off:

“You will bear a message to your companions. It is of the utmost importance, you must understand.”

“I’ll try!” Vix said, leaning back.

“Yes,” the councilman said, exhausted, “please find it within yourself to try. We ask this of you without alternative. Do not misinterpret our cooperation with your group. Do not for a moment forget that you are working for us, and that the second we feel your usefulness is spent…”

He awoke to the helmeted face of a guard looking down on him.

“Good morning,” Vix said to him, and yawned.

“Finished with your fun?” the councilman asked through gritted teeth. Vix could hear Scrum holding back a laugh somewhere outside.

“Fun?” Vix asked, sitting up. The councilman sighed.

“Listen. Listen well, you brainless spineworm, and listen hard. Take this message to your reason-wielding co-workers. You will investigate the disappearance of several guards on leave to the forests of middle Denn, to a place known to us as Crescent Lake. At least twelve guards have failed to return to their posts over the past two moons. This is all the information we can give you, use it well.”

Before Vix could comprehend the instructions he’d been given, he was grabbed by the shoulders and lifted by two large guards, who dropped him into a gutter a hundred feet away from the council building. He felt more at home there at that moment anyhow, being wet still from the journey there.

But now he was alone again, led away even from the post of Scrum and without his guidance. All alone, disoriented.

And with no way home.