Lord Upton would be considered eccentric by most stands, perhaps clinically insane by others. The idle life of a lord, the wealth of several generations behind him, left him to pursue just about anything he wished with little getting in the way. His father had been an Earl, his nephew now held the title with the passing of his elder brother several years ago. Alone he chose to rusticate, and that led to his interest in... collecting. The large estate, situated several days ride from the main families holding, a castle of enormous proportions, was all but filled to the brim with artifacts, treasures, and anything else one could possibly find interesting and collect.

In his advanced age he was unable to gather most of the thing himself, so he stuck with paying others to do it for him. That wasn't enough though, to have the interesting items, he needed the stories behind them. It was with this in mind he put into plan his latest endeavor, finding someone to do a bit of "research". A few people so far had showed up at his door, but none of them proved to be what he needed. Many were men desperate for coin, with families to go home to, which wouldn't do, as he needed adventurers. Someone to get him information, or items, at just about any cost.

With this in mind, Lord Upton paced the his study, waiting for the recent applicants to show up. He looked to the silver rose on his desk, curiosity driving him crazy. It seemed far too intricate, too lifelike, to have been made by any crafter, the petals creased, torn. It wasn't perfect by any means, as if just any rose, plucked from a garden, had been turned to silver. The story that seemed to follow it was that a witch, jealous of a beautiful woman that stole the heart of the man she loved, turns it to silver and pierced her heart with it. Could that be true? He didn't know, but he was interested to find out...

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The carriage swayed far too much, Mellie found herself ready to lose the contents of her stomach. She was used to walking, or riding a mule, not riding in one of these wooden contraptions along bumpy roads. Perhaps she should have just stayed with the troupe. Yet she knew why she couldn't, Alan had set his eyes on her and would not be deterred until he had her. That was why she had stole away in the middle of the night and had been trying to make it on her own for nearly two months now. Playing on the street for a few coins or loaf of bread wasn't the most glamorous thing, but it beat sleeping with a knife under her pillow. Not that she had a pillow anymore...

She looked over the crumpled paper in her hand once more, she didn't know exactly what it said, considering she had never learned to read, but she hoped it was the key to a better life. It was by chance she had been given the piece of parchment, she had wandered into a strange shop one night while trying to avoid some rather brutish looking fellows on the street. While waiting for them to pass, she browsed through old and strange goods. The shopkeeper had tried to sell her some nonsense about some gold coins, supposedly pirates treasure, but she explained she knew it to be the work of gypsies instead. It was there she talked with the old shopkeeper for hours, about her life growing up with the gypsies, the traveling, the abuse, and her time with the troupe, singing and playing for any willing to pay. Before she left he explained the paper to her, a regular customer of his looking for some knowledgeable people to help him out.

So here she was, stuffed into the mail cart, on her way to this eccentric lords house. She would do most anything if it meant being paid, and from what she heard, this lord was quite wealthy. Would she be what he was looking for? She knew all the old stories and faerie tales, had been all over the country side as a child, and had few fears of the unknown. The sun had set by the time the carriage rocked to a stop and she was left on the side of the dirt road. The strange looks from those heading home for the day reminded her that she was sure to stand out. Despite her time with the troupe she hadn't left behind her gypsy heritage. Her copper hair hung free, down to her waist, braids threaded with beads and ribbons scattered within. Her skin was pale and freckled, her eyes bright green, giving away her Irish heritage without a single word from her. She had sharp features, with a small, upturned nose, her cheeks more gaunt than they should be, but with the lack of funds and meals, it was to be expected. The loose, linen shirt, a pale purple in colour, hung off one shoulder, a silver chain cinching it around the waist. Her skirts were of the same material, layered and dyed linen that swished with each step. Another belt, this one boasting two small knives and a leather pouch, hung low on her hips.

She avoided the bells and jewelry like most of them wore, preferring to be as plain as possible and not attract attention. In her hand was a battered leather satchel which contained everything she owned. The bag rustled and out popped a furry, grey head. "I'll find us something to eat soon, Bear." She whispered to the creature as it climbed from its hiding spot and settled itself on her shoulder. The small ferret was mostly dark grey, with rings of white and black. The tail, dipped in white, wrapped itself around her neck as she walked. She had nearly no coin left, perhaps the lord would serve refreshments and she could save what little she had.

The directions from the driver of the cart were correct, though he did not quite mention it would take nearly an hour of walking in the dark to reach the large estate. Many of the windows were still illuminated, the place almost welcoming her there. Hesitantly she knocked on the door, wondering if they'd turn her away, as most places did when they saw her dress and heard her speak. Hurriedly she tucked Bear into her bag, not wanting them to see the creature. The door creaked loudly as it opened, a prim and proper butler standing in the light, casting a large shadow over her. Word escaped her and she dumbly held up the parchment in front of her. The butler showed no emotion as he waved her inside, she followed him down the hall to a parlor. Never before had she been anywhere so grand, the floors boasted large, ornate rugs, the furniture was beautiful and intricate... All around here seemed a display of wealth she could never hope to obtain.

Left in the room, she walked slowly around, tapestries covered the walls, some new, some old... other things, strange swords and weapons filled other spaces. Everywhere she looked there was something, none of the surfaces, aside from chairs, seemed to be free of clutter. She fingered a small, golden statue, it looked much like a wooden one that she had seen many times growing up with the caravan. One of the patron saints of Ireland, perhaps? Yet this one had small jewels around the base, and was probably worth more money than... well, she wasn't sure she could even imagine that.

It wasn't long before an older man strolled into the room, dressed in the finest clothes she had ever seen, his black waistcoat perfectly pressed, his voice startling her. "Ah, you've arrived. Welcome. Please, feel free to look around or have a seat while we wait on my other guest..." She dropped into a sloppy curtsy, not sure if it was the proper thing to do in the presence of a lord. Before she could reply, several maids bustled in, carts laden with tea and snacks. Her eyes widened and her stomach growled at the prospect of food, and they all looked so delicious as they were laid out on a table. The old lord motioned her to a seat in front of the table where the refreshments were placed. The amount of food would last her weeks, how could this only be for three people? Impatiently she sat, not wanting to seem rude, despite wanting to stuff her face with the treats before her. Finally he filled a small plate with the treats and she did the same, struggling to not overload it. The first bite was heaven and she couldn't control herself afterwards...

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