The fields of somebody's... scratch that, YOUR holdings

You blink slowly as you clutch the map in one hand, reaching up to cradle your head as the weight of this message sinks in. This note couldn't possibly be telling the truth right? It had to be some kind of joke: one of your buddies having dragged you out into the middle of nowhere and written it up as a gag. Or you were dreaming... yes, that made sense. Some kind of weird lucid dream brought on by falling asleep while bing-watching the first three seasons all in a row. The panic gradual subsides as you manage to rationalize the strange event, finally getting back onto your feet and brushing the grass from your breeches.

Yes, breeches. It seemed your subconscious wanted you dressed for the part; bumming sweatpants , t-shirt, and socks having been replaced by ankle-length breeches, long-sleeved doublet, and a pair of well-worn, leather boots. Through they're a bit stiff at first, after a few moments of walking they turn out to be surprisingly comfortable; certainly suited for climbing up the hills that seemed to form a raised ring around your point of arrival. Seven Hells, from what you could make out from down there you could be just about anywhere, the world around you only coming into view once you step over the top of one of the obstructionist hills. The surrounding landscape seems to be one of a few slits of rolling plains among the forest; patches of green and yellow sprouts and the occasional thatched hovel of the smallfolk tending to them breaking apart long, wide stands of trees. You can make out a few of them on their knees plucking weeds or taking an axe to the treeline; nothing unexpected even if it wasn't the glamour and courtly intrigue the show usually focused on... but hey, somebody had to grow the food for that feast.

Uncertain of what to do, you begin making your way down the hills, following a poorly worn track down one of the gentler slopes. The map provides details as you walk, revealing a network of cart trails leading east through the forest towards something or another... probably some sort of civilization. You take a deep breath of the air; crisper and truly clean of anything worse then a little wood smoke, making your hike towards the farms pleasant. As you walk through, the smallfolk finally begin to take notice; stopping their tasks and greeting you pleasantly as you move by.

"Lovely day, your lordship"

"Is an honor."

"Pardons for that rut, I'll have my son see that fixed."

You dare not answer in return, feeling slightly nervous about this newfound attention. You'd never been some kind of social outcast or anything... but getting sweet and not so subtle smiles from nearly every woman you walked past was still a bit daunting, even if half of them did smell like cows. You stop at a gentle nod of recognition, keeping your eyes trained on the map so as not to get lost in this maze of fields. After an hour or so, something on the map's edge starts to catch your eye; nameless features scrolling out as you see signs of writing; the name of something still teasingly out of view. The map's edge now as your full attention, curiousity and the desire for any sense of direction compelling you to know that landmark as soon as possible.

"Ah!" You find yourself chocked back into reality by a firm and slightly deep, but still distinctly feminine voice. "Looks like I've finally caught up with our footloose young lord, yes?" Its impossible not to shudder a bit in surprise, now aware of the soft trot of horse hooves as your eyes settle on the source of the sound. Straddled atop a svelt grey horse was a woman with a dark complexion from her days in the sun who seems to be a little older then you in her late twenties; scoffed up with dirt and clearly of thick peasant stock... the ragged forest-green tunic and astride legs leaving little to the imagination from this angle. "You've got to stop running of on all these adventures like you're still a boy." She chides jokingly, horse stopped a few feet in front of you. "You got responsibilities now, you know. The whole staff's been in a tizzy looking for you." You can't help but stare a little, shaking your head as some vague memories prod at the back of your brain... like it was desperately trying to search for some information about this woman who clearly seemed to know you. Standing still with your mouth agape, the rider's firm face slowly curls into a humored smile, offering you an arm up. "You gone deaf and dumb on me... or am I going to have to assume you hit the cups a bit too hard?" She said jokingly, your muscles seeming to move naturally as you settle yourself on the steed's back; it's size leaving little room between your front and your escort's back.

"That must be it," you quickly seize on the available explanation... realizing just how much you'd need to plan for what was ahead. "Too much to drink..." You wrap your arms around her shoulders as the ride gives her horse a good kick, bouncing up and down bareback as you steadly gallop east: the edge of your map slowly scrolling out the words "Everstone Stand" over the image of what looked like a fair-sized castle.