You awaken well-rested and ready.

The blessed rays of early morning stream through your window. And soon enough, they shine directly onto your pale cheek. You feel the sun gently tugging you from the land of dreams, insisting that you get up and continue your holy quest. Eventually, your eyes flit open, and it's time to start the day.

You perform your daily ritual as normal. Stripping down and stepping into the wash basin, you take a few minutes to cleanse your holy, pale body. The cool water makes you shiver as it runs down your nude form, and your nipples harden involuntarily. Two deep, red dots on your otherwise pale and white bosom. Resisting the urge to touch them, you quickly wash off the rest of your body, shivering a little as the cold morning air washes over your wet skin. Stepping out of the washbasin you quickly use the sheets you had just slept to dry most of your body. Then, of course, comes your armour. The next 10 minutes are spent with you strapping and tightening a myriad of straps and clasps, wishing all the while that you had a squire to do this for you. A cute squire maybe. Perhaps a young man, the same age as you, with sharp, elven features. Maybe he's shirtless too...

Rolling your eyes at your wanton day-dreaming, you spare a glance outside. From the position of the sun, you can see it's still early morning, and you have some time until it's time to meet the mayor. After making sure you're completely presentable in the mirror, you make your way down into the inn's main room. Barliman, predictably, is behind the bar, wiping down the surface. He greets you with a hearty smile, and you return the expression. "Morning Miss!" He called out merrily. "Breakfast is just about to be served." After sitting at the bar and making small talk for a few minutes, your food is placed before you on a clay plate. It's simple but hearty, eggs, bacon, mushrooms and a juicy sausage. Careful not to let the greasy food on your armour or clothes, you quickly gobble it down. The bartender seems in much better spirits than yesterday. Perhaps your counsel really did help him out.

Declining a morning beer with a knowing grin and a wagging finger, you bid the Barliman a good day and set out into the town. Knowing you have enough time, your journey there is laid back and easy. You pass by a group of cloaked figures that are talking in hushed tones in an alleyway. You take a long look as you walk by, but decide against lingering to eavesdrop. Your meeting with the mayor is more important.

Eventually, you arrive at the manor. Taking a deep breath, centering yourself and making sure your armour is pristine, you raise a hand to the door and knock.