Aye, I see it in thine eyes already—thou wouldst ask why I came to Brackenbridge.
A fair question, truly. Perhaps thou thinkest it was for coin, and thou wouldst not be wrong. I have taken many a road for the promise of a well-filled purse, and many more for the whisper of mystery in the air. There is naught more tempting to a man such as myself than the scent of a secret waiting to be unburied.
Or mayhap, thou dost suspect some nobler cause? That I came to ease the suffering of those poor souls who whisper of curses in the dead of night? That I, Cassius Valeford—Roadman, rogue, and occasional fool—took it upon myself to battle the darkness that clings to this wretched place like ivy upon a crumbling wall?
Well. I would not go so far.
But I will tell thee this: Brackenbridge is a place where shadows move when they should not, and the weight of old sins presses heavy upon weary shoulders. The noble Lord Harrick, with his sharp tongue and sharper pride, hath summoned me to unravel his troubles, though he dares not name them for what they are. His sister, Lady Vivienne, is another matter—watchful, silver-tongued, and altogether too perceptive for mine own comfort. If she harbors suspicions of me, I cannot say they are unwarranted. And yet, I have found that sharp words are often more enjoyable than dull company.
And the villagers? They murmur of nightmares that do not end at waking, of voices that whisper from the dark, of a curse that hath made its home in their bones.
Aye, there is something amiss in this place. And though I have danced with trouble before, I cannot shake the feeling that this time, the music is of a tune I do not yet know.
So come, if thou art bold enough. Walk with me down these twisting roads, where truth and falsehood intertwine like lovers in the dark. Let us see if a Roadman may yet outpace the shadows that follow him.
But be warned, dear reader. Some roads, once taken, do not lead back the way they came.