Daybreak cast itself over the decrepit, sprawling city of Petrogorod. Townsfolk awoke to see snow falling from the gloomy heavens above, coating the ground in a soft veneer of whiteness, as it did every year. Winter was coming, and the townsfolk who began their day by donning burlap scarves, cheap cloaks and leather gloves knew all too well of it.
In the lavish home of Lord Ogolon, there lived in an Elven slave girl by the name of Kamella. She was a pretty thing, though she was visibly changing with age. Tiny crow's feet clasped about her lively, soft blue eyes, and wrinkles were beginning to form on her forehead. Soon, she thought, she would be unable to work.
Sunlight poured in through her chamber window. She awakened, dazed, and began to ready herself for the day ahead. First, she dressed in a plain green dress, her only outfit. She came to the mirror in the dimly lit hall, rife with warm-colored tapestries and old paintings of Ogolon's ancestors. Promptly she put her short, voluminous blonde hair in a bun; a strand of gold that refused to be pinned up hung on the right side of her face.
Kamella's pointed elven ears perked when she heard the soft call of Lord Ologon from the study, where he often stayed. With little hesitation, she scurried down the hall, and then down the staircase to the right. She met gazes with the old Lord Ologon. Quite sensible for him to have a slave girl, Kamella thought, for he was far more unfit to work than she.
Ologon was a tall man, without a single hair on his head and a great, clean beard with braids and gold rings to adorn it. His face was round, with power in every feature. The gnarled, pink scars on his lip and forehead told of great battles Ologon had once fought. What these battles were, Kamella was never told, but she certainly pondered it often.
Perhaps he fought in the Triadic Wars, gallantly riding against the evil forces of Chirnelosk? Or maybe he was a great hunter, clawed on the head by a hulking bear? When alone, she wondered and wondered, for it was all she truly could do during what little time of leisure she enjoyed.
Kamella came to the study, a large room with great windows facing the street, but with red drapes covering them. Only the pulsing orange flame of the fireplace illuminated the opulent, colorful rug on the floor, the beautifully crafted chairs and the low table that sat in the center of the chamber. On it sat a variety of yellow-colored pages, with odd symbols and copious text written upon them. One had a drawing of a lamb, which Kamella thought was somewhat odd.
"Good morning, Kamella, my dear." He said softly, facing toward the flame. Kamella once despised it when he called her dear, but in the past years there was certainly something enchanting about the man. She wasn't sure if she had changed or he had.
"Good morning, Lord Ologon." She responded quietly, with a tinge of fear in her voice. It was silent for a moment, save for the muffled sound of a cart's wheels making its way over the bumpy cobblestone streets just outside. Lord Ologon motioned for the slave elf to sit in a chair on the right side of the room, and she wasted no time accepting his offer. The elder Lord had a quill in his hand; he was writing a letter of some sort. Kamella could not make out any of the words.
"Dear Kamella, I would like you to take this letter," he said, taking it in hand and folding it halfwise. "to a particular man by name of Zugek Zoldensky. He owns a mill by the river. Do you remember where that is?" He extended his arm towards Kamella, offering her the letter. She took it gingerly.
"Yes, I do." She replied.
"Then get to it." With that, Kamella nodded, standing up and hurriedly making her way for the door. Hung by the door was a silken scarf that Ologon permitted her to use; she quickly wrapped it about her smooth, pale neck. She reached for the doorknob, but was stopped by the voice of her master.
"One more thing, though." He said. "Conceal the letter. At all costs." Kamella looked back at Ologon's deep glare with concern.. His dark eyes reflected the fire's orange glimmer, and had an unsettling emptiness to them. Kamella slowly turned back to the door and stepped onto the snow-covered streets.