Let them take you to the duchess.

You are being lead through the streets of the city. The city is loud and alive, despite the evening hour. Merchants are promoting their goods, or haggling with customers. Ox wagons and loaded donkeys are lead to the destination of their cargo. Messengers are running their last errands, children are playing with hoops and marbles. You're not counting exactly, but your impression remains, that women make out the majority of the population.

The cobbled road leads you upwards, now and then crossing one of the many brooks, dotting the city and introducing some green into this landscape of timber and stone. As the path makes a turn, the castle comes into sight. It's a robust building of white rock, seeming to grow out of the ground up, forming towers and battlements. A bridge extends over a dry ditch, surrounding the duchess's homestead. The gates are, again, guarded by female soldiers. The red evening sun casts reflections on their armor.

The castle nod towards their colleagues, and you are let in without questions. A small door within the big gates swings open, allowing you to enter the first court. You are let into a plain-looking building. Inside, there is a short corridor with doors on both sides, and a rather impressive portal on the other end. The blonde guard tells you to halt and waits with you in the entrance area, while her companion marches over to the big doors and slides in, without granting you a glance on what lies behind.

The blonde guard seems to have noticed the questions on your face. "She is asking the duchess's minister, whether the high lady has the time and will for an spontaneous audience."

You wonder what kind of person this duchess is. She seems to be the one in charge here, a lady of nobility. But which kind? An Arthurian ideal of virtuousness? A scheming, power-hungry aristocrat? An amazon queen? A widowed crone? Will you be able to proof yourself in an audience, not knowing the customs of this world?

Finally, the big doors open again, and the other guard returns, together with a middle-aged man, dressed in lush blue garment and rather stern-looking. He musters you, as he approaches. His gaze focuses especially on the printed design on your t-shirt. Finally standing before you, his posture extremely upright, he proclaims without words of welcome "Intricate clothing, indeed. Yet, I do not recognize the crest. Where do you allege to hail from?"

The question hits you unprepared. You should made up a story before entering this lion's den. But so, the only words that comes to your mind are "Well ... one could say ... from a land far away."

The minister frowns, but doesn't question you any further. "Inquiries about your origin shall be made. But not today. The high lady has no more capacities for examining this case until tomorrow. Bring this man into a chamber. If he is what his appearance claims to be, it will be a suitable accommodation. If not, we have one thief less freely roaming the streets. You'll guard him." He nods towards the non-blonde guard, then rushes away.