Felix Caelus

Deep in the Parkland woods, twilight holds sway despite the early hour. The crumbling grey walls rise high and forbidding from the outside, but the heavy door stands ajar and swings open noiselessly when pushed – there’s fresh oil on the hinges.

Inside lies a great courtyard surrounded by a columned portico, with narrow doorways leading off into more dark corners. In the center, however, is a wide well with a low stone edge. Off to one side, its hooded summoner waits. Felix has spread a mat over the cracked paving stones, and now sits cross-legged beside his knapsack, picking over a few implements and books, checking the edge of a steel dagger. Aside from his hood, the conjurer has abandoned the legionary uniform for plainer leather armor, worn and mended from long use.

It’s been very quiet for some time. Just the skittering of breeze-blown leaves and birdsong drifting over the walls. Felix is quick to look up at a new presence.