Chapter 250: The Grass is always Greener
“The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet.”
James Oppenheim
“Lord Njord?” I asked, concerned. Bypassing, waiting for Namir, and quickly questioning our first lead. Who in the depths of the Lodestone Labyrinth was Lord Njord? It was a stupid name anyway. The stallkeeper, recognising my frustration, chose to rephrase and elaborate.
“Jarl Njord . . .” He paused as if I should know who that was. Confused, he continued, “He is in charge of the Drangavik, Drangasfjord and Drangaskol.” As if that would enlighten us when we were passing through and had not seen the point of learning the political landscape when we would be beyond it in a day or two.
“Where does he live?” I asked, worried about what we might find ourselves wrapped up in and focused on retrieving my companion. How the heck Nyx had escaped my own personal spatial vault was beyond me.
“He is staying in the GryFalcon’s Ledge. Drangavik, Drangasfjord and Drangaskol are just his towns. Usually, he resides in Castle Dranga, but he is collecting taxes this time of the year and touring his towns in the process.” He correctly interpreted what I was genuinely asking: Where was Lord Njord right now?
“Where’s the Lodge?” Namir demanded, driving quickly to the definitive answer we needed. Wherever the Lord was, Nyx was most likely to be there as well.
“Up there,” he pointed to the cliff that sheltered the town on the river's other side from the Endless Ice's bitter winds. There, on the cliff face with a wonderful view of the town, rested a sprawling building wedged halfway up the cliff; it seemed to stretch along the cliff partly carved into the cave or ledge it had been constructed upon.