The party setting out for the sisterhood consists of Pral, Med, The Countess, Harwold, two men-at-arms named Murton and Clegg, and a stable hand whose name you haven't learned. Harwold directs Murton and Pral to lead the way and Med and Clegg to bring up the rear, leaving himself, the Countess and the stable hand in the middle.
The morning passes without incident or conversation. Shortly after your departure from the inn, you crest a ridge whose densely wooded slope the trail had been climbing. Beyond the crest, an alpine meadow, studded with tiny flowers, wraps around the north side of the mountain.
The trail forks here. One branch is an easy, much-travelled trail, almost a road, that cuts across the meadow and turns out of sight. Little stone obelisks carved with symbols of Kronnor flank the path at regular intervals, marking the path to the Harmonic Brotherhood. Your path, however, turns to the southeast and follows the spine of the ridge line towards the peak. The climb becomes steeper and a bit more treacherous. The horses want to cluster more tightly, and it's all Med can do to keep his mare in check. The ridge itself is bare, but forest blankets the slopes on either side.
By late morning, well up the first stage of the ridge, you have broad views to the north and south. Med and the mare have gotten used to each other now, and he manages to twist in the saddle enough to look back to the west. Far below, he can make out the roof of the inn at the edge of the forest. The cliffs of the Collar seem less impressive from here. In fact, he can see the weirdly flat top of it, The whole thing is not even half a mile wide, and a matching set of cliffs drop away on the other side. Snakelike, it winds to the south almost as if the whole thing was built specifically to hold a road. Beyond it to the west, mountains stretch as far as can be seen.
As Med turns back, something moving lower on the ridge grabs his attention. A few hundred yards behind them, a mounted, armored figure is following the party. Med catches Clegg's eye and points. Clegg just shrugs. "That's Sir Nobody. Don't mind him."
Meanwhile, up front, Murton and Pral reach the peak of the ridge. Beyond, they can see that the trail makes a steep descent into a sort of crevasse, beyond which the true summit looms. There is no way that horses are going to make that final ascent, but it turns out that this has been planned for. Everyone dismounts. The stable hand tethers the horses to a long line and begins to lead them back down the ridge.
"We continue on foot", states the Countess plainly. "Harwold, fetch my walking boots."
The lady changes footwear. Murton opens a large bag packed with trail food and hands out the contents. While Pral munches his disappointingly small share, he looks around. There is a surprising amount of scat here from some large animal. Maybe a bear?
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