Bastien, my brother, went off to fight the Black Ones. I've reason to think he stood in the great battle nearby. He's not returned to this day. Like many others, you'll say, and you'll be in the right. But if he fell, and I know it's like he did, I'd give him up to the ground the least, like our fathers have done always. I'd bury him 'neath the barrow where our parents lie, not leave his corpse to be ate by the corpsers prowling the battleground.
So I see a man brave, able with a sword, and willing to venture out with me to find Bastien. I won't pay much, for I've not much to give, but I'm not stingy with gratitude and sure to show it aplenty.
Any man willing to help - look for a razed hut along the road to White Orchard, just near the bridge, I've made camp there.