On a country road...

A brown traveling cloak served to mostly hide the form of the riding figure, though the speed of his galloping horse created a wind that tugged the cloak aside now and then to reveal a glimpse of red coat or green cuff. A brace of pistols were in easy reach of his hand, and now and then his eyes strayed to them above the collar turned up to his nose.

He slowed the horse's gallop as he neared the rickety wooden bridge, just where he'd been told it would be. A leap took him into the stream with a splash, and he set off down the watercourse before turning out of it at a rocky shelf that jutted into the water's course. Trecherous footing, even for his horse, but a careful path over the stone left a cold trail for any followers before he struck out through the woods again. Soon, the thatched structure appeared in a small clearing, and he slowed again, making a careful approach. As he neared, a young woman came out to meet him, ushering him inside.

"Patrick...I see you had no trouble finding the place. Did you meet any patrols along the road?" The young teen who greeted him as he ducked inside was older in demeanor than his years suggested. Wiser, too. Patrick had been concerned when the boy had stepped into his father's shoes upon the elder's untimely death....he was so young for such a mantle. But it seemed his father had taught him well. He greeted the young man with affection. "None, but I had a chance meeting with one of Asgard's spies in the village. He told me of the silver pig incident. Do we know who was behind it?"

The young teen smiled slightly, a calmly self-satisfied sort of look that stopped well short of smug. "The first thought would be the Stagonian agitator....he's been stirring up sentiment against the Princes amongst the smiths in town. But I have reason to believe that it may have been a Nachtschwein agent. To learn the answer, we must first learn who the pigs were destined for...."