Chapter 9

### **The Group Travels to Asle Lenor**

Oren sits at the back of the cart, and looks at Elise. “I guess you're driving... are we taking the horses with us to the north? Should we pack some of that horsefood?"

Minerva nods. "We may as well take them as far as we can."

Oren smiles at her, "right, I support this decision." He rubs his neck, leaving the cart to ensure they have enough food for the horses. After he's on, he holds out his hand to help Minerva and Elise up.

Minerva looks a little confused, but recovers and takes it.

Elise looks as if she's about to say something, but then silently accepts the help up.

"Do you know how to drive a cart?" he repeats his question to Elise as Eliam joins them, sitting next to him.

She shakes her head. "Sorry... I mean, I could grab the reins and try but I've never done it before."

Minerva shrugs and says to Eliam, "Eliam, how about you drive? You'd be closer to Gwen so she can tell you how you're doing since I'm guessing she knows horses pretty well."

Eliam leans in toward her, trying to explain. "I... we're really not like that,” he protests. “I mean, I made a promise, and..." he sighs. "Never mind. It's been a long time, but I think I remember how to ride somewhat. No guarantees, but I'll try."

Eliam takes his seat at the front of the wagon and grabs the reins. He whips them and the horses move, slowly at first, steadily thereafter.

Oren naps in the wagon, leaning on Minerva as he does so. She allows it, grinning very slightly.

Time passes and the group arrives at the shore.

Minerva nudges Oren awake, then stands and pats Eliam's shoulder. "Hey, that was well driven. Nice job."

"Thanks!” He says happily. “There should be plenty of boats to pick from here."

A dozen boats are tied to various docks along the shore. Of them, about three look like they could hold the size of a wagon. Only one of those appears to have a ramp to actually load the wagon on.

Minerva looks up and down the shore, then at Eliam and Gwen. "What do you think? Do we want to try and take the wagon?"

The boat with the wagon ramp is old, but looks reliable.

"I think we might as well, at this point," Gwen suggests.

Minerva nods, saying, "Okay. Gwendolyn, can you help me drag out the ramp for the wagon?"

Gwen successfully drags out the ramp, but Minerva completely fumbles her side and begins to drop her side into the water. She desperately claws at it to keep it up as Gwen hangs on to her side. "Eliam, Eliam, Eliam!" she shouts desperately. "Help, help!"

He hops off the wagon and bounds over to her, effortlessly heaving up the ramp with a single hand. He looks surprised at his own strength.

"Next time, you should just help me instead," Gwen says to him, impressed.

Minerva scowls jovially. "Mine was the heavy side."

Eliam and Gwen set up the ramp and secure it so the boat won't drift. The horses look unsettled by the water. She senses her horse's discomfort and easily calms it.

As Eliam begins to move them onto the ramp, the other horses grow increasingly skittish. Elise walks to one of the horses and pats its mane to calm it. It manages to take a step.

While Oren and Eliam carry their things off the wagon and onto the boat, Gwen unhitches the first horse and takes its reins. She attempts to soothe it onto the ramp. She soothes the first horse so effectively that the second horse notices and nuzzles her. She effortlessly brings the two horses on board at once.

The third horse is uncomfortable and rears as Gwen attempts to settle it. Its front leg knocks her chin as it jostles. "It's okay, you'll be fine," she says, keeping her voice steady. The horse boards the ship, calmed by the paladin. Finally, the horses stand on the ship, mostly calm. The wagon is prepared to be brought on board.

"Minerva, can you drive this thing?" Oren asks, indicating the boat.

"Yes, I absolutely can," she says with a smirk. "I can't get it to where we want it to go, but I can totally move it."

"Good. We're going here," he says, pulling out the map and pointing at it.

"Are... you sure you want to do this?” Eliam asks her, noticing the strangeness of her response. “Maybe Elise can try; make sure the winds are in our favor."

Elise muses, "Hm..." she walks to the bow of the ship and closes her eyes. She whispers inaudibly, then seems to be listening intently. Finally she turns and says, "The winds say I shouldn't try."

"Can you only use your powers when you're upset?" Gwen asks, thinking back to their first meeting.

"No," she answers. "I can probably summon some wind, but... isn't there more to sailing than that?"

"Definitely," Oren answers, untying the ropes binding them to the dock.

Eliam turns to look at him. "You seem to know what you're doing."

"I read about it,” he answers, “but I've never been on a boat."

Eliam shrugs. "You're about as well prepared as any of us, then, if you want to give it a shot."

Gwendolyn steps forward. "It's been awhile, but... my father used to take me sailing."

Oren finishes untying the boat, and Gwen, light shining on her from the sun peeking through the clouds, takes her out to sea.

Minerva stands next to Gwen, says, "Thank you" and begins humming to herself.

As they push out into the river, Oren pulls out the piece of Votig's shirt he took at the arena. He casts a spell, searching for any sign of him. He senses traces of him in the water, but cannot pinpoint his body.

“Can you sense your orb?” He asks Eliam, once he is done.

### **Eliam Chats with Minerva on the Boat**

He closes his eyes, trying to see the aether, but is unsuccessful in his search. He shakes his head no, and pulls out two bottles of wine from one of the crates. "So. I think you said you wanted to share a drink?" He says, handing one to Minerva.

She takes the drink and taps his bottle. "Cheers."

He takes her arm, walking her to a private part of the boat. She raises an eyebrow, but follows.

Once they are out of earshot of everyone but Elise, he turns to her. "Be honest with me. Are you hungry?"

She scrunches up her face a little. "Kind of? It's like... you know when you eat a bunch of chocolate cake, and so you're full, but you still feel kind of empty? The horse blood filled me up but it didn't... satisfy."

He looks at her for a moment, sighing. "Elise was desperate enough to take without asking. But if you get that desperate... I don't think Oren has enough blood for two people. How often are you going to have to take some?"

Minerva reddens. "I... uh... I was... 'gathering' an orc every night." She says quickly, "It's not like I had to drain and kill them, though so... we could just use the horses. Feed from a pair every night and alternate. They should be fine like that."

Eliam thinks about this, and takes a large swig from his bottle. "Does it hurt? When you take blood?"

She stares at him, hard, an oddly intimate look. "No. It... fulfills. Wait," she says, shaking her head. "For me or for them?"

"For them."

"It did when the Noctyr bit me," she said, "but she's also... different than me? More completely Noctyr. I mean, I don't have, like... fangs. So I don't know."

Eliam looks out to sea, finishing his bottle. After a deep sigh, he speaks. "Okay. I don't think Oren being the only person is going to work for this, not without hurting him. And you already said the horses barely work, so... I'm... volunteering, I guess. Just... don't tell the others, okay?"

She tilts her head and smiles. "Other than Elise, you mean? I'm sure she already knows."

He laughs. "I assume that's a given."

"Thank you, Eliam," she says, "really."

He nods, and thinks. "I kind of thought you hated us now, to be honest. But I guess we were all having a rough day."

She laughs shortly and mirthlessly, swigging the rest of her bottle in one go. "In one week, Elise and I struck out on our own, were cursed, kidnapped a bunch of orcs to drain their blood, saw one of our closest friends die, and watched another of our friends kill a few other tens of thousands of people, so... yeah. Rough week."

"You ever start to think we're just not cut out for this?” He asks. “I've been trying to think of a single plan we've tried to do that's turned out okay. So far, I have nothing."

She shrugs. "Your plan to drink with me is working out all right."

"Okay, fair. One isn't too bad!" He holds out his bottle, offering a cheers.

She clinks it, notices her own bottle is empty, and tosses it overboard. "One for you, Votig."

Eliam throws his as well, holding out his arm as they go back to meet with everyone else.

She looks at his arm and puts her arm around his shoulders instead. "There's a three-drink limit before I take a man's arm." She laughs - genuinely this time - and walks back to the group.

Oren and Gwen both look at them suspiciously when they return. Oren grabs him, pulling him aside, and whispers into his ear, “Don't get seduced by *her* either, she's still a vampire and she'll bite you without meaning to.

Eliam laughs cheerfully. "If you keep telling me that, I'm going to start thinking you're getting jealous."

Oren blushes, and his voice turns serious. "I just don't want her to hurt you. And I don't want you to leave if she goes crazy like that bartender. You make women act crazy. And what if she gets pregnant? She told you not to get any 'monster chicks' knocked up and now she's a monster chick. Do you want a vampire baby?"

"I'm not going to leave. I promised you I wouldn't go anywhere. And I-- I'm not going to...” Eliam stammers. “I don't make women act crazy."

Oren looks around at the others, then turns back to him. “Are you sure?"

He sighs, and starts in on another bottle. "It's just... kind of nice to have people like me for once. But don't worry, everything's going to be fine."

"Oh, yeah that's true,” Oren says. “She's been really nice today, and yesterday she was nice to me... maybe she was just hungry before. I hope she really does like me and isn't just pretending to get food..."

"I'm sure she wouldn't do that. Probably... I don't know. She said she was just having a pretty bad week. But maybe she's getting better. I mean, it doesn't explain why she was mean to you back in Iquai, but... maybe she's trying to be friendlier?"

"Maybe, she seems like a nice person,” Oren says. “I think she just doesn't like me." He thinks for a moment, then looks at his bottle of wine. "Hey, do you..." he trails off, looking around for paper and a pen.

After a minute, he returns, and writes, "Do you like all of the girls?"

Eliam takes the pen. "I don't know. Gwen is really pretty. And nice! But every girl that likes me so far has been crazy. I don't really know her that well, I guess. Minerva can be really mean sometimes, and I wish she'd be nicer to you. But I think she likes me, maybe?"

Oren writes, "what about Elise?"

"She's a little young for me,” Eliam writes.

Ore writes, "Okay well would you want to kiss them? We can play a game where you kiss people, then you can have an excuse and get some affection and see if they like you."

Eliam reads it and smiles, speaking out loud. "I appreciate it, but don't worry about it, okay? Let's go back and see how everyone is doing."

"Let's go see if Gwen needs help," Oren says, as Eliam helps him stand. Oren proceeds to the steering, while the bard speaks to the others.

### **The Group Talks about Oren's Flower**

"Hi. How far do you think it is?” Gwen asks, as he walks up. “I'm not entirely sure where I'm going." She has locked the wheel, and is sitting on a bench nearby, reading a book and holding a glass of wine.

Oren looks around confused, then turns back to her. He holds out his map to her. “I guess just north, then west?” Awkwardly, he pushes the map into her hands, and leaves to take a nap in the cabins below.

As he leaves, she wanders over to the rest of the group, reading with the others. Noticing Oren is gone, Eliam speaks. "So... I have sort of a favor to ask, Minerva. You took Oren's magic focus, right? The flower? Could you... hold on to it, for a while? Just until we really need it. He told me about it, and he said it makes him kind of... crazy. That it makes him lie to us, and that he hears things from it, but I shouldn't worry. But he seem a lot saner and... present, I guess, without it."

Elise tilts her head a little but says nothing. Minerva replies uncomfortably, "You don't say? I, uh.... I gave it back to him already."

"Oh! I mean... that's fine. He said being in his element helped him too...” Eliam pauses and thinks. “...And he's dealt with it a while, so I'm sure he'll be okay. And maybe being on the river like this will help. So... don't worry about it, it should be fine."

Minerva uncharacteristically nibbles at the edge of her thumb. "Y-yeah..."

Gwendolyn looks up from her book at Eliam, exasperated. "Why am I just now hearing about an artifact that makes people *crazy*? And if you knew, why didn't you destroy it?"

"I mean, I only just really saw how drastic of an effect it was on him," Eliam answers sheepishly. "And that's the good news, actually! It's part of why we're going north. He said that he knew a way to destroy it there. So I assume it has something to do with the wellspring."

Minerva avoids making eye contact with anyone, then asks, "Has anyone ever tried... holding it?"

Eliam shakes his head no.

"We could just throw it overboard. Why go north for that?" Gwen asks him, before turning to Minerva. "No, of course I haven't."

He shrugs. "It’s some kind of magical artifact, right? I doubt it'd be destroyed that easily. It'd probably magically find its way back, or Oren would be compelled to jump in after it or something."

Gwendolyn massages the bridge of her nose, annoyed. "So then we just have to keep it away from him until we can destroy it."

"Minerva gave it back, I guess, and he seemed to be doing just fine today,” Eliam says. “So I'm sure he can handle it for a time. But I can always offer to hold onto it for a bit, so he doesn't get overwhelmed."

“No,” Gwendolyn says quickly. "No way. It sounds too dangerous, Eliam."

"Though... I guess even in the arena, he was still a little... off,” he continues. “He was pretty obsessed with getting back to it, and he lied about Votig... but maybe it takes time for the effects to wear off? Or he was just as hungry and miserable as the rest of us."

"I'm assuming he had had it for quite a while at that point. Maybe the effects take longer to wear off the longer you hold it,” she says. "But you also said it was magic, right? Maybe it only affects mages."

"Oh... that would make sense,” Eliam nods. “Especially if it is a magical artifact."

"So you can get it back from him, then,” Gwen says. "And I'll hold on to it."

"I... but, it's dangerous, you said? I don't even know if he'll agree to let anyone hold it. He'd probably be mad I'm even suggesting this. It's his magic focus; it means a lot to him. And what if you start hearing things?" Eliam says, concerned.

"Yes, it is dangerous.*For you.* You're too important." She pauses, then looks around at the others. "You *all* are. If I'm to protect you all, this seems like a good first step. You just have to have faith, like I do, that I'll be fine."

The bard sighs. "I'll ask him. I'll be surprised if he agrees, but I'll give it a try." He leaves to go wake Oren up.

When he reaches the room Oren was resting in, he shakes him lightly, sitting down on the bed. Oren wakes up, and smiles upon seeing him.

Eliam lays down next to him on the bed. "So... I talked to Minerva earlier. I volunteered for the vampire thing, since I don't think you have enough blood to feed both them and the flower."

"Okay,” Oren says, snuggling him. “If you want to. The flower doesn't need blood anymore, it's just dried petals and seeds."

"Oh... that's good then. But when you didn't have it, you told me it make you feel a little... crazy. So I was thinking. Maybe one of us could hold onto it for a bit for you?"

"No,” the mage says quickly, “that isn't necessary." After a moment, he kisses Eliam on the cheek. "Don't worry about me."

Eliam puts his arm around him. "That's part of being friends. Gwendolyn said she wouldn't mind holding onto it. She's not a mage, so she might not hear things from it the way you do. Then you wouldn't have to worry about if you'll trick us, or anything like that."

"It won't change my behavior and it has nothing to do with being a mage or not.”

"Oh... okay." Eliam looks at him, thinking for a moment. "I trust you. And I trust that you know what you're doing." He gets up from the bed, looking back at Oren. "I'm going to go back up there. Do you want to come with me?"

"If you want me to."

Eliam laughs. "I'm asking if you want to. I feel kind of bad I interrupted your nap. I'll meet you upstairs if you feel like you want to come up, okay?"

Oren stands up, and follows him back upstairs.

The two walk up, and meet back with the others. Eliam smiles cheerfully at Gwen. "Sorry... no luck. But don't worry about it, okay? Everything sounds like it's fine."

Oren looks at him, confused. "So.... How long will it take to get to.. Agri..whatever..."

Elise stands and follows the group. She stands beside Oren and says, "Do you want to come look at the waves with me for a minute?" She gestures to the ship's stern.

"...Sure," he says, leaving with her.

After he's gone, Gwendolyn looks at Eliam meaningfully. "*Everything's fine?*Is that what he said?"

"Yup," he answers happily.

"So he has the flower that, presumably, makes him *lie*,” she says slowly. “And he says he's fine."

"I know. I know how it sounds. But he's my best friend. He wouldn't just lie to me like that, flower or not."

"Are you sure? Hasn't he had the flower the whole time till recently? Do you even really know him?"

"What? Of course I do,” Eliam says. “I mean, we talk every night. And he didn't have it for the week we were going to the arena. He was still nice then; he made sure we got our things and escaped. I don't think the flower would make him malicious or anything, he just gets... focused. A little obsessed on his goals. But he's still always been nice to me."

"I want to believe that,” Gwen says quietly. “I really do."

Elise leans against the stern rail and closes her eyes. The breeze seems to be therapeutic for her. She pauses to give Oren time to join her at the rail.

He stands next to her, leaning against the rail as well.

When he is close enough to hear her over the wind, she says, "Are you hearing things? From your flower?"

"What? No. It's not even alive anymore"

"So you **were**," she infers.

"No, maybe once. It's not like it talks really. It's a flower. "

"Oh," she says, somewhat crestfallen. “I hear voices all the time. I mean, you know that, but... I thought you might have been kinda like me," she says, slightly hopefully. "It would be nice not to be the only person dealing with that..."

"Oh. Not really. ...Sorry? You're not that weird though. And out here you can't hear anything right? Just listen to the wind instead. And everybody is dead, which probably helps."

"Yeah, it, um... it's actually been really nice since you... you know. Did that thing," she admits. She looks crestfallen as she says, "Does that make me a bad person?"

"Probably not. It might make me a bad person, but they killed Votig... sort of, so I didn't really care at all. I hope Minerva isn't disappointed, she wants me to be good but I'm not very good at it."

Oren looks down at her, considering her for a moment. "You've been very good today, you know. ...and you haven't stolen any more blood, right?

She shrugs. "Only from the horses. They can't give me permission so I guess that's stealing, but... I suppose it's better than people."

He nods. "Definitely better to drink horse blood than ours for now... come on, let's go hang out with everybody. Maybe we can play that truth game again, and this time you can be honest with us. We have wine too, which tastes much better than ale."

"Okay," Elise says. "I... um... okay.” She walks back up to where everyone else is standing.

### **The Group Plays a Card Game**

When they return to the group, Oren asks, "so what should we do? We have a few days until we get to... that town I can't remember the name of."

Eliam shrugs. "Plenty of food, wine, and conversation I guess. Do you guys have any ideas?"

"I like two of those things,” Oren responds. He gets one of the cases of wine and some cups, and brings them onto the deck so they can keep an eye on the steering. "Minerva, did you get that deck of cards? Maybe there are some games for five people..." he grabs some pillows and blankets, and throws them down into a circle.

Minerva retreats to the bags and returns a moment later with a deck of cards. Oren sits down and begins pouring the wine.

Elise takes her cup, says, "Thanks," and takes a sip. She pulls a face and attempts to hide it... badly.

Eliam looks at her and tries not to laugh. "Don't tell me you've never had a drink before?"

Elise replies, "I've just.... never had much of a taste of it." Quickly, she takes a seat next to Oren.

Minerva whispers to Eliam, "She just became legal a month ago, she means." ("I heard that!" Elise responds.)

"This wine is just ok, real wine back home is much better,” Oren says. “You don't have to get drunk like some people," he whispers to her, as Minerva takes a seat next to Elise.

Eliam sits next to Oren, and Gwen quickly takes the seat on his other side.

"Do you know any card games?" Oren asks, looking at Minerva and Eliam.

Minerva shrugs. "Wasn't really a lot of time to learn games when you're part of the underground all your life."

He gives her a look, then turns to Elise. "Elise, do you know any games?"

"Well," she says, "Heather did teach me one but said I wasn't allowed to play it until I could drink. Although, really, I guess this qualifies."

She takes the deck and sorts it. "The deck has cards from one to ten. We all draw one card from the pile. Then we show them. Lowest two numbers have to drink. Highest number gets to ask the lowest number one question. Lowest number can either answer, or has to drink again."

Minerva arches an eyebrow. "You are the last person I would expect to know a drinking game."

"Really?" Oren asks.

Elise responds, "There are a lot of things we don't know about each other. Maybe this will help."

Gwendolyn moves slightly closer to Eliam while they talk. "Heather seems like the sort of person to know games. She was fun. And Elise is her sister so it makes sense,” Oren decides.

"Shall we try?" Elise says, reaching for the pile.

They each pull out a card. Oren and Elise drink. Gwen gets to ask Oren a question.

"Are you really planning on destroying your flower?" She asks.

Oren looks at Eliam somewhat annoyed, then puts his hand over his heart. “If I can.”

Eliam avoids his gaze, looking at Gwendolyn. "I... I'm not sure you understand the game. But it's okay!"

Oren, annoyed, picks out a card, and the others follow. Gwen and Eliam drink. Oren gets to ask Gwen a question.

"Gwendolyn, how old are you?" he asks.

Minerva looks sourly at her wine, having yet to choose a good number, and drinks anyway.

"Twenty-seven," she answers. The group picks out cards once again. Oren and Eliam drink. Gwen asks Eliam a question.

"What's your favorite memory from...before you left your home?" She asks.

Eliam looks thoughtful for a moment, then takes another sip. "It was a long time ago... my sister and I were pretty young. This merchant had come to visit and talk business over dinner, and he was incredibly rude to us. He wasn't a fan of kids, I guess; he thought we should have to eat separately in the kitchen until we were old enough to join in the conversation, I guess. So," he grins, "we decided to set his horses free. They didn't exactly get far; they mostly just grazed on the grass until someone finally noticed. But we got quite the talking to. Well, mostly me. Everyone assumed I talked my sister into helping, but honestly, it was her idea."

Oren whispers to him concernedly, “they kicked you out for that?”

“No no,” Eliam laughs as he whispers back. “That came way later. We were like, fourteen.”

The group pulls cards. Elise and Eliam drink. Minerva asks Elise a question.

Minerva ponders for a moment, then asks, "When Heather suggested we take you with us, why did you agree to pack up and leave everything behind?"

Elise looks around the cabin for a moment, then says, "Heather told me so much about how you... slayed the monsters in Saloria. How you were strong, and heroes, and amazing, good people. I thought if I went with you for a while, maybe... maybe you could fix me. Maybe you could make me stop hearing voices everywhere I go."

They pull cards again, and Elise and Eliam pick the same low number. "What happens if we tie?" Eliam asks.

Elise and Eliam drink. Elise says, "Um... I don't know. Maybe he should ask us both a question? Or ask one question that we both have to answer. I dunno. You decide, Oren."

"Ok... Both of you can tell us about becoming mages and why you picked the arcana you've studied," he answers. "Eliam go first because she just answered one." While they think, he fills their cups.

"Okay... well, I never really... studied it, much,” Eliam says. “It just sort of came naturally. Being able to make a fire ended up being pretty useful when out camping or hunting, so I just sort of... learned it, I guess?" he shrugs. "Same with healing. It just seemed convenient to be able to fix up scratches or bruises real quick."

Elise says, "I always wanted to heal after Heather told me how much Mom and Dad suffered when the fever came through town. I don't really remember it but she cries every time. And Wind just... happened."

"That makes sense," Oren says, sipping awkwardly.

They pull cards again, and Oren and Eliam both choose the same lowest number. Oren and Eliam drink. Elise asks a question for both.

Eliam, tipsy from having drank every round, looks over at Oren. "Did you stack the deck?"

"I don't know what that means," he answers, "but Elise can move cards with her mind..."

Elise thinks about the voices she never stops hearing and the impact they've had on her. She thinks about how difficult it was to grow up with that and, despite the fact she has spoken to Oren, she can't shake this nagging worry about him and his flower. So she asks, "Do you think Oren's flower is safe? Eliam answers first. Be honest."

Immediately, Oren's demeanor goes from relaxed to irritated.

Eliam thinks, then answers. "He says it is, so... yes. I trust him. He's been studying magic for his whole life, so I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

Oren looks at his drink, then sips. He flips a card, declining to answer. Gwendolyn raises an eyebrow at him, but says nothing.

The group flips cards. Elise flips low, and Oren flips high.

Oren looks at her before everyone finishes pulling their cards. “Why don't you tell us about th' time you drank m'blood," he says, slurring his words, an accent creeping in through his anger.

Elise's mouth thins. She raises her own glass to drink, then stops and lowers it.

Oren smiles, then feels guilty. “Wait, it's okay,” he says, patting her shoulder.

"I was starving and desperate,” she answers, ignoring him. “I've learned to somewhat block out noises. I couldn't block out hunger, and the scent of blood. The longer I waited, the harder and harder it was to resist. I locked my door and buried my head under the pillow. I bit my own arm. I tried to tie myself to the leg of my bed with a belt strap. Nothing helped." She's close to crying but refuses to.

"It's okay," he says quietly, trying to comfort her.

"I drank your blood because nothing I could do could stop my body from moving toward you. I tried and I failed. I hope that you like your answer." She tries to stand, wavers and stumbles, but regains her feet. "I think I need a moment at the rail, please. Excuse me." She slips away from the party and goes to find solitude.

Eliam gives Minerva a measured look. "So... she never fed off any of the orcs here? At all?"

Minerva says, "She did, but... not as much as I did. She, um... she resisted it more than I did. She tried to go some days without feeding and it was... hard on her. I was sneaking out orcs and feeding every day. I lured some to her occasionally but she resisted when she could."

Oren covers Eliam's mouth, and whispers, “Don't, don't be mean, don't make them mad at us again, please...”

"When you guys came back to the inn, I don't think she'd fed in two days," Minerva says. "It was hard on her."

"I'm sorry,” Eliam says, removing Oren's hand. “You did what you had to."

Oren smiles and nods. "Yeah, so... Elise should come back, and play... games..."

"If only she had done what she had to to begin with," Gwendolyn says sharply.

Oren draws a card, silently begging the others to join in. Gwen and Oren drink. Eliam asks a question.

Minerva stands suddenly and says, "You know, I think I'll get more drunk just drinking. Pardon me, I'm going to check on her." She takes her glass and goes to find the young wind mage.

Oren leans on Eliam after they leave. "They're all mad at me again."

Eliam puts his arm around him. “Hey, it's okay. No one's mad. Just emotional. I don't know what you said to her, but Elise seems like she's trying hard to be more honest with us... so that's good. And Minerva's not mad; just worried about her."

Oren nods, and refills their cups. Eliam accepts the drink and looks at Gwen. "So," he says cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood, "How about you? You mentioned you were a paladin. What's the happiest memory you have from your time in the church?"

She smiles, and idly reaches for Prilla's locket around her neck. "When I overheard Prilla slip up and refer to me as her daughter, when she was talking to one of the monks. I was never close to my real mother, and Prilla had been there for me when I needed it most, so..." she sips, and draws a card.

"May I see the locket for a minute?" Oren asks.

"Why?" She responds.

"Oh! That reminds me, Oren. I couldn't find your book on blood magic... I'm sorry. But we recovered the book on Thirshalon. Hopefully it's helpful to us."

"I want to mark it with magic so that I can find you if you are separated from us. That's okay, Eliam, I already read it but I was hoping to give it to my master for his collection... I saw that you found the Thirshalon book though, that might be useful when we arrive. Thank you."

"I...I'd prefer not,” Gwendolyn responds to him. “But thank you."

Oren looks at Eliam for help. "It's not a bad idea," Eliam tells her. "He did it for all of us, just in case we get separated."

Oren flips a card and cocks his head to the side a little. "Do we both ask a question? And does she drink twice?"

"Uh... good question,” he says.

"I think with only 3, only the lowest should drink,” Gwen answers. “Not two lowest. Though you both asking seems fine."

"I just asked you one, so Oren first,” Eliam says.

"Uhm... what's your favorite thing that's happened to you since you arrived in Thirshalon?" He asks her.

"A midnight chat. With a new friend.” She drinks, and smiles at Eliam. Oren blushes, avoiding eye contact with them both, and excuses himself.

Eliam blushes as well, looking quietly flustered at his drink. After a moment, he looks back at Gwen. "Are you still planning to hurt any of my friends?"

She looks back at him, and after a long moment, smiles. She finishes her glass. "I should go check the map, make sure we're still on course."

She stands and leaves. Eliam starts on another bottle.

### **Oren Chats with Elise and Minerva on the Boat**

Oren goes abovedecks to find Elise with Minerva. They have gone over to one of the horses and Elise is feeding from it.

As she finishes, Minerva says, "There. Feel any better?"

Oren walks up to them awkwardly. "Hey... I thought they could use some time alone. How are you doing?" He asks Elise.

Elise shrugs noncommittedly to Minerva. "Fuller. Not sure if I'm better. Oh," she says upon seeing Oren. "Hello." Her tone is flat and emotionless. She doesn't seem to have registered the question.

He smiles at her. "You look like some drunk jerk hurt your feelings."

Elise seems stunned.

Oren reaches out to pat her head, and Elise goes from being almost happy to irritated in the length of one pat. She brushes his hand off and turns to look at the waves silently. Minerva watches them quietly.

Oren looks over at Minerva, flicking his eyes up and down her body. He looks at her face, studying her features, thinking. Before she can respond, he smiles and moves to stand next to Elise. He leans on the railing next to her and whispers, "How can I make you happy again?"

"I know you think I'm young," she says. "But you need to realize I'm an adult, too. We both are. That means we get to be the ones who decide what 'adult' actually means. I define it as staring at clouds and being lost in my thoughts so I don't have to hear every snippet of every conversation within two blocks of me. I don't really care what your definition is, but you need to stop trying to choose mine."

"I don't care what you do in yer free time, but if you don't listen and get upset every time anyone talks to you then we have a problem,” he answers, his voice calm but stern. “You need to act mature when it's necessary, and not overreact to everything." Comfortingly, he reaches out to rub her back.

"Fine," she says shortly. She walks away at his touch.

He sighs dramatically and looks at Minerva. "Are you mad at me too?"

Minerva stands up from feeding on a horse and wipes her mouth. "Sorry, were you saying something? I was distracted."

Oren smiles awkwardly, and avoids looking at her while she finishes her meal. "Hey..."

She looks at him curiously. "Yeah...?"

"Um... so, this boat is sort of small and there's nowhere... private, really, but once we get to where we're going we can be alone, and I can try to, um... did you read the letter?" he looks around, trying to make sure Elise is too far to hear.

"I-I did. Yes." She looks at her wine glass and regrets the lack of alcohol. "I think it's a great idea, I just... a little nervous, maybe. If this flower, wellspring, whatever it is idea doesn't work out... Then yeah."

Oren hands her his cup. "Well don't worry, even if you're never cured I'll feed you. And the flower doesn't even matter, why's everyone asking about it?"

Minerva looks awkward but says, "They're just worried about you. We're worried."

"Why? It's ridiculous, you shouldn't be worried about *me*. Everything's goin' great for me. You're the ones with problems, don't you want to try to remove the curse? Do you want to wait to jump in the wellspring?"

"Even if you're not anymore, you were hearing whispers and voices from that... that thing," she says, gesturing to where she assumes the flower is. "That's not normal. Do you realize how weird that is?"

"It wouldn't make any difference, even when I'm normal I'm weird, so who cares? It doesn't even talk, it's a dead flower. I already know what t' do with it. And... it doesn't matter." He smiles. "Don't worry about it. It's really fine. We should worry about your problems, I want to help you. Are you hungry? You can have some of my blood if you want. And then when you're cured we'll go back to Iquai and I'll drown all of Siraj if you want, okay? Unless you don't want me to, I don't care. I'll do whatever you want." He takes her hands.

Minerva steps back a little, but not so much that she breaks the grip. "Oren, you... you're kind of scaring me a little. You're my friend. You can't be so casual about so much murder. We need to stop the Elyde but we can't murder a city to do it."

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry. I won't kill anyone without your permission ever again, okay?"

Minerva tilts her head a little, seriously considering this. Then she shakes her head a little and says, "No, no. No. No killing unless it's an absolute last resort. No killing unless your, or someone's, life is in danger that you can save."

Oren thinks for a moment. "Uh, okay. I'll do that." He smiles, and hugs her. She accepts and returns the hug.

When he pulls away, he flicks his eyes down her body once more. She rolls her eyes. "Not tonight, Oren. Not tonight." She walks away from him.

### **Oren and Eliam Practice the Lute**

The next morning, Oren and Eliam pass time together in their room. Oren messes with his hair, and Eliam practices futilely at his lute. Frustrated at his inability to show off for Oren, he sings a quick song for him instead.

"You're almost as good a singer as Votig was..." Oren trails off, sighing.

"Why, thank you! I always meant to ask him to teach me some of his songs, but..." Eliam trails off as well, and the two sit quietly for a moment, unsure of what to say. Oren twists his tangled hair into smaller clumps, twisting them as he goes.

"Have you ever played an instrument?" Eliam asks, breaking the silence.

"No, there weren't any where I lived."

"Oh... that's a bit sad, actually. Here," he says, pushing his lute into Oren's hands.

He takes the lute, mimicking how he's seen Eliam hold it in the past. He plucks a string uncertainly, then immediately tries to hand it back.

The bard ignores him, and pushes the lute back into his hands. "See? It's not hard, really, once you figure out how it works. You just pluck different strings for different notes."

"You should practice," Oren protests, "don't try to trick me into doing it for you. You said peasants don't deserve lutes, and that you could learn it easily. So you should try, you're already better than anyone I know."

"I wish you could just practice for me!" Eliam laughs, then sighs at the peasant comment. "I didn't mean *you*. And uh... I'm starting to learn I might have exaggerated just how easily I could learn. Thank you, though. If you do want to learn, I'd be happy to teach you." He takes the lute back and plucks the strings idly, while Oren returns to his hair.

"I don't think I should," Oren answers, "I'll just listen. If you practice and play a whole song I'll do something for you in return ok? But don't trick me. I don't know any songs, so I'll have to trust you not to fake it."

"It's a deal!" Eliam says, smiling. "But I'm not going to trick you. Even if I tried, I'm pretty sure everyone else would call me out on my playing. Hey, why do you keep doing that with your hair?"

Oren stops. "Uhhh... doing what...? Oh... I was uh... fixing it."

"Fixing... how? Aren't you basically just tangling it?"

"Well sort of... but then you don't have to brush it, this way it won't be... all tangled together."

"Oh... that makes sense! You always seem to have practical ideas. It's good we have someone like you here, honestly. It's kind of surprising, actually, you know so much about traveling... and even in fights, you're really good at seeing what needs to be done. Are you sure you never left home at all?"

"Just a few times to go to the village to buy things mostly," Oren answers. "Sometimes I was allowed to go into the garden. I don't know much about traveling myself. My Master travels a lot so maybe I learned it from him."

"You needed permission... just to go into the garden?" Eliam frowns. "Seems a little irresponsible to just leave a kid alone like that, as well. Especially since it seems like you know about as much cooking as I do."

"All the food was conjured, and I didn't exactly need permission I guess. I just asked, and he'd usually say it's not a good idea or not right now or it's dangerous. I mean, to go out other places really. Or if it was raining or something."

"Yeah... I guess. But... hey, when all this is over, do you really want to go back there?"

"I miss it sometimes, I don't know," Oren answers sadly. "I would like to see him again. But I want to see you more, so if you can't visit me I wouldn't want to be there."

"Oh... yeah. Homesickness is a little rough," Eliam says, leaning back and thinking for a minute. "Well... I was thinking, maybe, we could open a healing shop? Maybe even in Westbridge, if you really want to keep visiting him. You can doctor anyone who comes in, and I can heal anyone too far gone for bandages with magic."

"If you want to," Oren nods. "People will give you anything for healing. The people there probably won't want us though, and we'd be competing with him. We should find another place."

"I mean, I want to. But do *you*?" Eliam asks, sitting up and looking him in the eye.

"I don't know what else I can do. I liked being a doctor before, so that's probably a good idea."

"It's a plan then! I guess I didn't consider your mentor would be competition, but there's sure to be some other towns within visiting distance we can settle down in. Just... maybe not Glenhaven. But we'll figure it out when we get back."

"Okay," Oren answers.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get pretty hungry," Eliam says, standing up and holding out his hand for Oren. "You packed some food, right?"

### **Gwendolyn Makes Breakfast on the Boat**

Oren accepts his hand, and together they walk outside to the deck. Gwendolyn stands alone outside, staring frustratedly at the anchor, an open bottle of wine set nearby. She is drenched with water, and pulls at the anchor one last time, but it slips from her grasp once more and returns to the bottom of the Beck.

"Good morning," Eliam greets her. "Do you want some help?"

She looks at him in disbelief, as though trying to figure out if he's mocking her. "Yes."

"So, you know how to cook, right?" He asks as he easily hauls up the anchor using the crank.

Gwendolyn sighs, defeated, and takes a deep sip of her wine. "Yes. Well, a little."

"More than either of us!" Eliam laughs cheerfully. "Never really had to cook for myself, so... would you mind helping us out? Or at least teaching us, if you'd rather go that way with it."

"Sure, um, let me go get changed. Meet me in the kitchen," she offers, pausing and looking around. "...Does this thing even have a kitchen?"

He shrugs. "There's enough rooms that it must, I'm sure. You'd need a specific space to feed that many people on a boat like this."

"That's true," Gwen says, leaving to change her clothes.

Oren and Eliam find their way to the kitchen, and wait for Gwendolyn to arrive. As they suspected, the boat has a small kitchen with a stove, some utensils, and a small counter. After a few minutes she steps inside, carrying some bread and eggs from their crates of supplies. Oren watches her intently, curious to see how the eggs are meant to be eaten.

Gwendolyn walks over to the stove, and the others follow. She presses a hole into a piece of bread and places it in the pan, cracking an egg into the center. After making herself her meal, she steps away from the stove, leaving the others to cook for themselves, and moves her plate to the counter to eat.

Following her lead, Eliam does the same with a piece of bread and an egg. "That didn't look that difficult, actually. Thank you. Did the church teach you how to cook?"

"It's really not, more of a timing thing, Gwen answers. "And no, they didn't. When I was little my parents used to make me help our cook when I would get in trouble."

"You? Get in trouble?" Eliam grins at her. "For what? That's nice, though. Looks like those skills are coming in handy." He steps away from the stove to let Oren cook some toast as well.

"I didn't *always* belong to the Church, you know," Gwendolyn smiles. "Being the only child... well, you learned how to push limits fairly early. And the only thing more mischievous than your average group of teens who thought the world belonged to them, is the same group but with relatively easy access to alcohol. The Church calmed me quite a bit, which I'm thankful for."

Oren struggles to crack the egg, and Eliam steps forward, quietly taking it and cracking it for him. He makes the toast, and hands the plate to Oren. They stand at the counter, eating.

"I didn't expect you to be the mischievous type," Eliam says to Gwen as he finishes his meal. "I'm surprised you joined the Church at all then."

"Life is strange that way, I suppose," she says, smiling at him.

Oren bites into his piece of bread, and gives Eliam a strange look.

"Is the toast any good?" Eliam asks.

Oren nods. He stands and takes another egg, cracking it and handing Eliam a second serving. "...Toast? Is that what this is called?"

"Oh! Thanks," the bard says. "And yeah, it's just toast with egg on it."

"Egg..." Oren trails off, looking out the window.

"You've... never heard the word egg before?" Eliam asks, confused.

"I know what an egg is. But what do they hatch into?"

"A chicken?" Gwendolyn answers, confused that she has to answer such a question. "Unless Thirshalon is different."

"Oh, okay. Uh... thanks," Oren says quietly, picking at his food. "So what should we do until we get to town?"

"Probably not any games, unless you know of some that won't end like yesterday," Gwen answers.

"I only know a few games," the mage says. "One where you say something you can do or have done and everybody who can also do it takes a sip. You go around a circle, that way everybody could drink more if that's what they want. It's easy to get drunk that way. Though I guess we could just drink. The other game involves kissing, so I doubt anyone wants to play with this group."

"Where did *you* learn a game about kissing?" Eliam asks. "The drinking game would probably be best though, unless you can get Minerva. I mean... Unless Gwen prefers it this way," he says, grinning at her.

She chokes on the glass of wine she was drinking, coughing and turning red. "I... I'd prefer the drinking game," she stammers.

"Some girls taught it to me a long time ago," Oren answers Eliam. "We can do whatever you want, do you want to ask Minerva? I think Elise will probably not want to after the last game."

"That's fine! We can save the other game for when it's just us," Eliam says to Gwen. "Or, well..." he looks askance at Oren, sighing as he remembers his promise to him. "Maybe not. Either way, drinking game it is."

"I don't think the game works with two anyway," Oren says. "You're just kissing at that point. Maybe you should get Minerva if you want to play that one, no matter who you get you'll win."

"Definitely can't let you break your promise." Gwendolyn says, leaving to gather more alcohol for the game. "No similar promise in regards to Minerva, hm?"

Eliam looks at Oren to answer. He shrugs, blushing, and looks away from them.

"What? I mean... You probably shouldn't, but it's up to you what you do," he says, flustered. "Anyway you don't have to listen to me I just didn't want you to get distracted from what really matters, and Gwendolyn is a lady. She's highborne and virtuous and you shouldn't be seducing ladies like that."

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Oren. But don't worry, he's not the first handsome man I've ever met. And I've no intention of being seduced. I am *virtuous* after all." She smiles teasingly at Eliam as she pours everyone some wine. "So who starts?"

Eliam looks away, vaguely flustered at the compliment. "Oren, I guess. It's his game."

"Okay," Oren answers. "So I guess you say something about yourself and then everybody who can do that thing, or has done it, or whatever takes a drink. So like if I said 'I've been on a boat' now you would both drink. So... I've.. Been to Ushad."

All three of them drink.

"Hmmmmm... I'm a pretty good swimmer," Eliam says, taking a drink. Oren takes a sip as well, but Gwen leaves her drink untouched.

"I'm a fairly good gardener," Gwendolyn says, drinking. Oren drinks, but Eliam does not.

"Hmm.. Oh, I've kissed a girl," Oren says, drinking. Eliam grins and drinks as well.

Gwendolyn pauses and drinks quickly, blushing as she does so.

Eliam raises an eyebrow at her. "Oh?"

"It's...um. Your turn," she tells him quickly.

"That doesn't sound virtuous," Oren says.

"I don't remember *explaining* being part of the game," she tells him.

"It's not, I'm just wondering if we should invite Minerva for the next one after all, since you don't mind kissing girls."

"I *d*o mind, actually," she says, sighing. "It's complicated."

"Oh okay. Sorry," Oren apologizes. "Eliam, it's your turn."

"I can sing pretty well," he says.

No one drinks, and he sighs, looking at Gwendolyn. "Oh, that's a shame," he says, taking a sip.

"This isn't my first time on a boat," Gwendolyn says. Eliam drinks, but Oren does not.

The three continue talking and drinking as the boat continues north.

### **The Group Arrives at Ariglodo**

The boat sails for two days before approaching shore at what everyone assumes is Ariglodo.

The dock at this new place is fairly empty. There are some orcs moving around the street near the water, but not many. There is space to dock the boat.

"There are orcs, what do we do?" Oren asks. He puts up his cloak to hide his ears.

"They don't know anything happened, possibly, and if they do they don't know it was us. Better to keep it that way,” Eliam suggests.

Minerva says, "I agree."

The sun breaks the clouds as Gwen easily guides the ship into port.

An old orc with a clipboard and greying hair rises as she ties the ship down. He looks like he's going to come register the ship when a younger woman in a dark blue cloak approaches, pats his shoulder and beckons him to sit. She takes the clipboard and walks over.

"Hello," she calls up. "Who's captain?"

"Gwendolyn sailed us here," Eliam says, motioning to her.

"Just charm her," Oren whispers.

Eliam sighs and whispers back, "I'm done with charming girls. And guys. Every single time, they're crazy."

Oren nods at him. "Sorry."

"Huh? Oh," he puts his arm around the mage's shoulder comfortingly, "I didn't mean you. Don't worry."

Gwendolyn looks at Eliam, shrugs, and walk over to side. "I am. Captain Gwendolyn Oberle, of the..." she looks around, but cannot find a name written on the ship. "...Maker's Chosen."

"An interesting name, to be sure," the woman says. She scribbles on her clipboard. "Crew?"

"I'm the first officer," Eliam answers. "This one is our navigator," he motions to Oren. "That woman is the chef, and the girl is the stewardess," he points to Minerva and Elise, respectively.

“Thank you,” Gwendolyn mouths silently to him when the woman looks down at her clipboard.

"So five," the woman writes. "Arriving from where?"

"Asle Lenor,” the bard replies.

"Oh!" she says, her interest piqued. "Rare to see someone leave mid-Judgment. How was it going?"

"Really well, but we had to leave," Oren answers.

"Unusual. Purpose of travel to Ariglodo?" she asks.

"Confidential,” the mage answers. “Just put that the Maker sent us."

"Unacceptable," the woman says quickly. "All ships coming through Ariglodo must be strictly defined. Purpose, please."

"We were on our way to Meadowgrove Harbour, but in the night we ran into... I believe I was told a rock? Bad navigation, it seems. We decided to stop here to assess the damage and let our horses get some much needed land time," Gwendolyn explains. "Don't mind the navigator, he's a little cranky. Been having to clean everything, after such a mistake."

"Hmm," the woman says. "A reasonable tale. Interesting that there's no list to your vessel." She scribbles on her clipboard. "Very well. I believe that satisfies most of our requirements," she says. She hands the paper she'd been writing on to Gwendolyn. A quick glance shows a written record of all that they've told her.

"Now," she goes on, "All that's left is to register yourselves with our head office and pay your landing and docking fees. If you would all come with me, please.” She turns on the spot, her cloak flapping in the breeze behind her.

"Shouldn't someone stay with the ship?" Oren asks.

She pauses and glances at him over her shoulder. Then she waves at the old man she was speaking to before. "Rethik!" she shouts. “No one touches the ships, right?" The old man waves back. "There."

The group disembarks, and follows obediently.

The woman leads everyone into to a stone building with detailed brick siding. She holds open the door and allows everyone to enter in advance of her. As they go, she says, "Landing fees for five people with cargo will set you back about a single gold, but for a ship your size, to dock at our harbour, you'll probably be paying an extra five on top of that. How long did you say you were staying docked?" she asks of Gwendolyn.

"A week. The crew deserves a rest after all the excitement of the Judgement."

"I see. Five gold should be sufficient, then," she answers. She leads them past the main desk - waving at an orc to whom she says, "Nice day, Lettak," and who answers, "Always a pleasure, Ms. Lillia," - and walks them to an office in the back.

Oren pulls out some gold and begins counting it out.

"Excellent," she says, seeing the money. "Thank you for being so prompt and efficient. It makes my job much easier." As they all enter the office, she closes the door for privacy and sits down at the desk.

Gwendolyn takes one of the seats, pulling Eliam next to her.

She hands out a form to everyone and gives everyone a quill. "Please just indicate name, date of birth, reason of visit, length of stay, goods brought into Ariglodo... anything the form asks for. I'll return in a few minutes to collect."

As she nears the door, she smiles and asks, "Can I offer you a drink while you fill those out? Water?"

"Water, please," Eliam answers distractedly, looking over the form.

"Wine?" Gwendolyn requests. Minerva and Elise decline.

"We're bureaucracy," she replies. "No wine on company hours, I'm afraid."

"A shame,” she answers. “I'll pass, then."

The woman nods at Eliam. "I can do that," she says. "Water always was a specialty of mine."

She closes the door. There is a click.

### **The Group Fills Out Some Forms**

As he starts on his form, Oren looks around for a calendar.

Immediately, Eliam stands and walks to the door. He gently tugs on it, but it doesn't open. "Oh, for..." he turns to the party and says, "It's locked. I could maybe get it open, but she locked us in."

Minerva stands quickly. "She what."

"We didn't even do anything!” Eliam exclaims. “Why would she lock us in?!"

Gwendolyn looks at Elise. "Can you hear anything?"

Elise shakes her head. "The door is closed and the windows are sealed. The winds can't carry any voices to me."

"Well... I can try picking the lock,” Eliam suggests. “But if this is a misunderstanding, we're going to have to answer some awkward questions once we get out there."

Elise says, "It could be an accident..."

Minerva replies, "When is it **ever** an accident."

Eliam tries to pick the lock, but it is unyielding. He looks over at Minerva. "Do you have any experience with this kind of thing?"

"What, unexplained death traps? We seem to keep falling into them, yes."

“What is today's date?” Oren asks from his seat.

Minerva says with a sigh, "Is this **really** the time?"

"I mean the lock," Eliam rolls his eyes at her. "Maybe your resistance group had a lesson in lockpicking, I don't know."

Minerva answers, "I can try it. Never been great at it." She fiddles with the doorknob for a moment. It fails to open.

"Do you have a last name?" Oren

asks Minerva, pointing to a form.

Minerva is tapping at the glass,
looking for a vulnerability. She shakes her head when Oren distracts
her. "What? Oh. Yes. Of course I have a last name." She
goes back to tapping the glass.

Elise taps her shoulder. "Minerva,
he wants to know your last name. Wake up."

"What? Again, seriously,
now? It's Cosette."

"Yours, too..." Oren
says to Elise, writing that in. "And do any of you know
your birth dates? It's asking for that. And today's date, I think
I lost track"

Elise says, "It's Rayner."

He writes that in, then moves on to the next question.

"Oren," Minerva says, "If
they don't use the same months as we do, how will our birthdays
make any sense?"

"Do we know that?” He asks.
“Anyway we need to write something, I can just put the
number.” He writes in 1/1/7408 for his own birthday.

Elise answers Oren, "Laphone
8, 7411."

"5 Tolea 7409," Eliam
answers as well.

Minerva shakes her head and says,
"18th of Frayne, 7404."

Oren considers everyone's answers,
and puts in numbers for the months, just in case.

"Goodness," Elise says,
looking at Minerva. "You **are** getting
old." Minerva wheels on her but Elise grins to show she's

joking and hugs her.

Gwendolyn lifts up a chair, and throws it at the window. The chair collides with the window with an incredibly loud **thud**. The window holds. The noise echoes through the room and, presumably, through the building.

"Every woman I meet. Every single one either tries to murder me, or trick me..." Eliam mutters to himself, trying the lock once more. It doesn't give. When he looks up, the woman in the dark blue cloak is looking down at him through the window in the door. Her demeanor has changed.

"Goodness. So naughty," she purrs. "Are you the type that likes to be punished, or...?" She flicks her head and long black hair ripples over her shoulder.

"I think you accidentally jammed the door as you left," he tells her.

"Oh, yes, what a shame," she responds dryly. "I'm forever doing that. I do so hate it when my men escape on me..."

A shorter man with grey hair and brown eyes approaches from the other end of the window. He winks at your group, then speaks to the woman. "Was this necessary?" he asks.

"Well," she responds, "you heard Patriarch Arceo's orders. The Saints saw **some** planned attack going down and they claim to have come straight from Asle Lenor. They either participated or they saw something."

The old man shakes his head. "You young kids and your games. I care less about the Patriarch's orders than I do our own. \*Hey.\* Hey all of you in there," he says, shouting unnecessarily loud to be heard through the glass. "Don't worry. **I-can-get-you-out**. I mean, eventually. Unless you tried to murder the Patriarch in which case, you know."

The woman sighs. "Oh, stop trying to play the hero, you old buffoon. I swear, between your teasing and your incompetence..."

The old man holds a hand to his heart. "Oh. You wound me, Sarina."

"I wish," she grumbles. She raises her voice and shouts, "Morton, do you want to come put Herb down for his nap? I'm trying to work."

Gwendolyn lifts another chair, throwing it at the same spot in the window she weakened earlier. A splintering crack appears, about two foot long.

A man in his twenties with brown hair walks forward and approaches Sarina. He begins to say, "Yes, we're **all** trying to- **is she throwing furniture at the** window?**"**

Herb nods sagely. "She seems displeased."

"S-stop that!" Morton yells. "**Stop. That.**"

"Come in here, then. And make me," she says.

Eliam walks over to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Okay. I'm sorry, but I think this is a misunderstanding. I promise you, we've done nothing wrong... unless, of course, your lovely companion would like me to. But I assure you, there's no need to hold us hostage."

Morton glares at Sarina. "What did you **do**?"

Sarina shrugs. "Technically I offered them water and didn't provide it."

"Such a charming hostess," Herb teases.

"Can we **focus**." Morton snaps.

"You there," Morton says, pointing at Oren as he calmly fills out his forms. "You seem reasonable. What's your name?"

"Oren," he answers without looking up.

"Hi, Oren. I'm Morton," he says. "It's nice to meet you." He gestures at the two next to him. "This is Sarina, and this is Herb. We're some of the Maker's Children. Don't be astonished, we, uh... we get those reactions a lot. I know it's a little overwhelming so... Just take a breath."

"Okay," Oren answers, holding up his completed forms. “Can we go?”

"We've been informed that someone attacked the Judgment and tried to kill Holy Patriarch Arceo," he continues. "Since you were there, we need to ask you some questions individually. We need to understand what happened there. Once we have questioned you and we can ascertain your innocence, you'll be free to leave."

Eliam looks over at Sarina. "Can we choose who we talk with?"

She leans close against the door. "Careful," she says in a sultry tone. "You might get what you wish for."

Morton says, "We need to take a few minutes to set up. We didn't expect anyone to appear so soon. Please be patient and we'll come collect you for questioning one at a time." The three Children leave. They seem to have not noticed the small crack Gwen put in the glass.

### **The Group Gets Locked In**

Once they round the corner, Eliam nudges Elise. "Is that enough to hear anything?"

She shakes her head and touches the glass. "It's just a surface crack; it doesn't seem to go through to the other side, so there's no airflow. Sorry..."

Oren sits back down and shakes his head. "Don't talk about that."

Eliam nods. "That's a safe assumption. Sorry. It's fine," he says, turning to Elise.

He picks up a spare piece of paper and a quill. He writes and hands to Gwendolyn, "Do we trust them?"

Gwendolyn shakes her head no.

As Eliam passes Oren the note, he writes on it, “No.”

Eliam passes Minerva and Elise the note. Minerva shakes her head. Elise looks more thoughtful. She writes, "They're just trying to find some criminals. For all they know, we're them. I don't think they're bad."

Minerva shakes her head.

Gwendolyn takes the paper and writes, "weren't most of you wrongfully accused and *still* put in the Judgment?"

Eliam sighs, giving Gwendolyn a look. He takes the paper, and writes "Maybe not... wrongfully. Not all the charges were wrong. Just some of them. We may have... stolen a bit, after a merchant cheated me out of some money. But they accused at least me of a murder I didn't do."

Sarina returns to the door, and Eliam quickly shoves the piece of paper into his pocket. "All right. You, please," she says, pointing at Elise. "Come to the door. The rest of you, if you could move to the rear of the office."

"You're going to make me start to feel jealous at this rate," Eliam says as he moves back.

Oren follows him and whispers to him, “don't worry, Elise will tell them the truth, that we know nothing about this."

Elise gives the faintest of nods as she leaves the room.

"I know you told me not to seduce anyone,” Eliam whispers to Oren after they're gone. “But that's what we call low hanging fruit."

Sarina returns after a few minutes. "You're next," she says, looking at Minerva. "Everyone else, to the rear, please." She has not brought back Elise. Minerva exits.

"Thank for handling the forms," Eliam says as they wait.

"Do you think they're alright?" He asks. "What if they're torturing them?"

"Minerva's fine, I'm sure. Elise... should be okay, probably," Eliam says quietly. "If they are taking us for torture... I don't know what we even can do. The window's pretty solid, and they already have the girls, so... I doubt we could grab them and escape easily."

Oren thinks about it. "Should we attack her when she comes back? Or wait and answer questions?"

"There were only three of them, and she's coming back by herself," Gwendolyn points out.

"Presumably there are five..." Oren trails off.

"We could *maybe*take a hostage... but we don't how many others are in the building,” Eliam says.

Oren sighs. "We should probably just behave, whenever we try anything daring we make things worse."

Eliam leans back against the desk. "Pretty much. I'd really rather not end up back in the Arena, or what's left of it."

Sarina returns. She looks at Gwen. "Lady of the Chair. You're up."

"When can we see Minerva and Elise? Where are they?" Oren asks.

"They're in questioning right now. You'll see them when you've all answered our inquiries," Sarina responds.

"And then, we're free to go?" Eliam asks.

"Assuming your innocence, yes," she answers.

"Fine,” Gwendolyn says, following her to the door. They leave.

Oren begins to fret. He hugs Eliam, who hugs him back. "Don't worry, I won't let them keep you. Give me some of your blood, that way if you lose your bow I can find you." He pulls out his knife.

Eliam looks at him uncertain, but after a moment, says “Okay.” He holds out his hand, and looks away.

Oren takes his hand, cutting a tiny pinpoint. He presses his sleeve against the mark, so the blood stains his shirt. He holds it there until the bleeding stops, then puts his knife away.

"Thanks,” the bard says.

Sarina returns. "You're next, loverboy."

Eliam turns back, hugging Oren one last time. "It'll be fine. We'll be back on the boat together before you know it." He stands to go to the door, and casually says to Sarina, "Kept me waiting long enough."

Sarina raises an eyebrow. "Not sure how I should feel about that."

He puts his arm around her. “Don't worry about it. Now where, exactly, did you want to go?"

She is too slow to stop him putting his arm around her as she does not expect the move at all. She stops walking and says, "First, you haven't bought me a drink. Second, I don't date potential criminals. Third, **you didn't buy me a** drink**."**

Eliam removes his arm and grins. "Sorry, sorry. I suppose we'll get around to that later."

She leaves with him.

Oren notices that, because Eliam distracted Sarina as she took him away, she neglected to lock the door to the office as she left.

He leaves the room and takes the forms to the front desk.

Lettak greets him at the desk. "Oh. Hello, there." He spots the forms in his hand. "Are those all filled out?"

“Do you know the date?” Oren asks, preparing to write it in. "We've been... travelling..."

Lettak checks his desk. "Looks liiiike... 27th of Lora."

Oren writes it in, and hands over the forms.

Lettak takes them and flips through them. "These all seem to be well in ord-- hold on. Five? Where are the rest of you?"

"They were taken to the back to be questioned."

Lettak's hand moves slowly below the desk, out of sight. "... And... you're not being questioned because...?"

"I think I'm next. But... it'll probably take a while... my friend has other plans for her," he answers.

Suddenly, a scream comes from down the hall. "**Who** let him out?!**"**

"Hey, why weren't you at the judgment?" Oren asks.

Lettak ignores him completely, hearing Sarina scream. "I-is that you, Ms. Lillia?!"\_

"That was fast,” the mage says. “I guess he didn't succeed."

Sarina comes racing around the corner, shouting, "Who let that litt- **what are you doing here**?!"

Lettak stutters, "H-h-he was handing in forms! I thought you let him out!"

Oren looks at Lettak, then back to Sarina. "Hello, did Eliam answer the questions correctly? He's not very good at that sort of thing."

"Wh-what?! Who said you could leave the office?!" she snaps. "Who even let you out?!"

"...Uh, I just left," he answers.

She cries, "But the door was locked!"

"No it wasn't. ...So, can I go now? I answered your questions..." he looks around awkwardly, then looks at Lettak, wondering why she's so upset.

Sarina rubs her temples, feeling a headache coming. "No. No you can't. Come with me, please, to the questioning room. And **you,**" she says to Lettak, "not **one word** to Herb, you hear me? Not. One."

The orc just smiles back.

Oren rolls his eyes and follows her. "Where are my friends? If you were torturing them you'll regret it, you should really just let us go..."

Sarina's fists clench as she squares her jaw. Her eyes glow blue as a blue aura overtakes her. "Don't. Threaten. Me."

"Oh. Uh... I didn't mean to," Oren says politely.

"Oh," she responds. The aura vanishes.

"What would you do if someone tortured your friends?" he asks.

"Exactly the same as you, I'm beginning to suspect," she answers honestly. "Please come with me."

He shrugs, and follows. Oren is led to the room to be questioned.

### **The Group Answers some Questions**

#### **Minerva**

Minerva is seated before a tall man with brown hair and crimson eyes. His build is muscular but lean, and his skin is a pale grey. He looks Minerva up and down quickly -- a gesture she does not overlook -- and says, “Please, have a seat.” Minerva does so without hesitation.

Sarina turns to leave the room. Before she goes, she says, “This is Marcus Bannon. He’s going to be questioning you. Be truthful.” There is the sound of a closing door, and a click, and she is gone.

Minerva leans back in her chair and returns Marcus’ gaze. She looks him up and down. He smirks. “Sauce for the goose,” she says indifferently. “I’ve seen better, though.”

“Nice,” he replies, “even though I doubt that. Let’s get started, all right?” He picks up a clipboard and quill and begins to scribble. “Like she said, I’m Marcus, *yes*, I’m the Child of Fire, I get that a lot, and no, I only date non-criminals, so you’d better prove yourself first. Okay?” Minerva snorts. “What?” he says. “What’s so funny?”

She waves her hands dismissively before her face. “Nothing, nothing. Just… yeah. Let’s move on.”

Eyeing her warily, Marcus looks down to the sheet. “Name, age, and occupation, please.”

Minerva answers, “Minerva Cosette, 26. Farmer.”

The orc writes her words. “Where have you been farming?”

“Meadowgrove,” she responds quickly. “Plots on the outskirts. A little far to make it to the river but it is what it is.”

Marcus nods as he continues to write. “Very well. Please tell me what happened at the arena.”

She shrugs in answer. “I wish I could… It all happened so quickly. I had stepped outside the arena shortly after the first event started. I don’t do well in crowds and I felt like I needed to take a breath in some open space before watching more. I was walking around the grasses to the east of Asle Lenor when there was a huge crack and this enormous rushing sound, like water pouring from a massive, endless waterfall. I ran to the water’s edge to see what was happening, and saw the Beck diverting into the arena. I couldn’t see how or why, it just… it was. My compatriots came running out of the arena shortly after and said it was flooding. We ran away, scared of the river overflowing onto the banks where we were standing. From a distance, we saw the water… flow over the top of the arena somehow. It didn’t make any sense. I’m sure it sounds crazy.”

The other Child is silent for a moment as he scribbles furiously, dipping his quill every few scratches. “Well,” he says at length, “I was also going to ask how you survived, seeing as you are the only group we’ve seen come back from Asle Lenor, but I suppose you’ve answered that as well.”

Minerva nods. “It was… horrifying. A tragedy beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Tragedies come in many shapes and forms,” Marcus answers. “Though you’re right, this one was… astonishing. And speaking of tragedies,” he continues, eyeing her, “could you tell me a little about your... deformity?”

Minerva freezes. “Pardon?”

“It’s unusual enough to see one person with a deformity like yours, let alone five all travelling together. I assume that’s why you wear clothing with a hood?” he asks.

“Oh,” she answers, drawing it up a little. “Yes. Yes, it is. We, uh… we found each other in our travels. Deformed orcs gotta stick together, you know. Some of them passed by my farm on the way to Asle Lenor. Some we found on the road. You know.” She seems slightly uncomfortable.

“Indeed I do,” he answers, writing. “Anything else I should know before we wrap this up? And before you ask, I was born in Jolice, yes, I like a good beer, and no, I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

Minerva smiles. “I think you know quite enough,” she says smoothly, “though once my group is free and we’ve returned from our travels, we could arrange for you to earn a little… more.”

He looks up at her, putting his quill down instantly. “Yes. Quite. Well, then. I’ll be returning you to the office for the time being until the other questioning is done.”

#### **Elise**

Elise enters the questioning room somewhat shyly. She is looking around curiously and only barely takes notice of the small girl sitting before her at the table. Like Elise, the girl’s hair is silvery, but the resemblance ends with that. The girl’s eyes are teal, hidden behind small glasses with a thick rim, and her skin is a muted lavender.

Sarina leads Elise to a seat and gestures for her to sit. “This is Florence Ciara. She’s going to be questioning you. Answer honestly and everything will be fine.” Elise sits as Sarina leaves the room. The door closes with a soft click.

Florence has a clipboard and quill at her desk, but she doesn’t touch them. She rests her elbows on her desk and places her head on her folded hands. She stares at Elise silently.

After a moment, Elise begins to redden uncomfortably. “U-uh… Flore--”

“Shhh,” Florence snaps. “No words, please.”

Elise awkwardly turns her gaze away and looks up to the ceiling. Denied the sky, she feels unsettled, but is determined not to show it.

A minute later, Florence finally reaches for the clipboard. “Thank you,” she says. “I find I learn so much more about people by watching them and studying their habits. Your upward gaze is fascinating. A nervous tic or a learned habit? It is no matter I suppose.” She says all this quickly and with a single breath.

Elise is somewhat taken aback. “I… um… what?” she stumbles.

“No matter, no matter,” Florence continues. I’ll get it out of you eventually. Anyway, yes, as Sarina mentioned, I am Florence Ciara, the Child of Wind. Try not to be starstruck as we have much to ask.”

“I-I’ll try,” Elise stammers.

“Name, age, and occupation, please,” Florence says, all business.

“Elise Raynor, 19. I suppose… healer? Traveller?” she says. “Yes. Healer and traveller.”

“Not a lot of money in that last one,” Florence answers, “although a competent healer is always wonderful to see. You are competent, I assume?”

“Some days I’m not sure,” Elise answers, a little sadly.

“Hm. Well, perhaps none of us ever are,” the Child responds. “Please tell us what happened at the arena.”

Elise shakes her head. “I-I’m sorry but it’s… um… it’s kind of difficult for me to piece it together.”

“It’s difficult for all of us,” Florence says, attempting gentleness. “Tragic things happened.”

“No, that’s not… fully what I meant,” Elise answered. “I have a… condition?” She sees Minerva in her memory, telling her that it was okay to admit her power to others, and that it would make them more comfortable with her. She’s not certain if this is the right time or person to say anything to, but it can’t hurt. “The Maker… gave me a gift. I think it’s a gift.”

Florence’s eyes narrow. “Go on,” she says slowly. She has stopped writing.

“I hear voices on the wind. It carries conversations to me,” Elise admits softly. “I hear them from all over around me, as long as the wind can blow. But I can’t… stop it, or turn it off. I just hear it all. So when I’m in a busy place, like Asle Lenor… It’s like torture,” she says, her eyes closed. “All the voices, resounding your head as clear as if they were all right next to you, and you can’t shut them out or turn them away or…” Her voice shakes and she stops herself. She draws steadying breaths, and Florence remains quiet, studying her. “When I say it’s difficult for me to piece together what happened, I mean it was impossible for me to concentrate on *anything*. I couldn’t even tell you what happened in the arena itself. It was all I took just to be in there without collapsing.”

There is a long silence, after which Florence immediately grabs a separate piece of paper and begins scribbling frantically. “This is fascinating. I cannot believe the Maker has blessed someone with such power, and for it to be someone blessed by the winds… It sounds like my own Air spell, *Voices* on the Wind*, but infinitely more complex and powerful. Even as a Child of* Wind I’ve never imagined being so…” She stops and pauses and stares hard at Elise. “Are you lying?”

Elise shakes her head vehemently. “No! No, I promise.”

“And this works as long as the wind can carry voices to you?”

“Yes.”

Florence stands and opens the door. “Good science demands experimentation. I’m going to go name three objects to Lettak. The door will remain open. You are to stay in your seat. When I return, please tell me what I said to him.”

Florence leaves, the door remaining wide open. Elise doesn’t move, but sits with her eyes closed, listening to the wind. Momentarily she returns with a look of expectation on her face.

Elise opens her eyes confidently. “You said four. You said ‘book,’ ‘lemon,’ ‘boat,’ and ‘market.’ Then you told him that you were using four instead of three to make sure I couldn’t just get lucky.”

Florence nearly leaps over the desk in her haste to get to her notes. “Fascinating. *Fascinating!*” In her recklessness, the clipboard with the questions she was meant to be asking falls onto the floor.

“Um,” Elise says, pointing at it, “Aren’t you mean to…?”

Florence blinks. “What? Oh. Oh, yes. *Damn*. Science is always a slave to something.Very well. One sentence answers: how did you survive?”

Elise answers, “When we saw the water breaking in, my friend Eliam pulled me out immediately. We made it out before the water managed to rise to the stands.”

“Explain your physical deformity.”

“M-my what?”

Florence shakes her head impatiently. “Never mind. Knowing of your power, the ears might be a sign that the Maker has blessed your heading. Now… let’s talk about the *interesting* stuff…”

#### **Eliam**

Sarina leads Eliam to a small room with a wooden desk. Morton is sitting behind it, holding a clipboard and a quill. She says to Eliam, “Doubtless you remember, but this is Morton Gause. He’ll be questioning you. Be good. Try not to hit on him, too.”

The door closes and clicks. Morton says, “Hello. I’m Morton, the Child of Aether.” He smiles and gestures for Eliam to sit. "Please feel comfortable to sit or stand as you please. I'd just like the most truthful answers you can give. Firstly, I would like your name, age, and occupation."

"That's kind of you, thank you. Eliam Westmonte, 21, traveling bard," he says, as he sits and tries to hide the disappointment on his face that Sarina won't be doing the questioning.

Morton smiles a little. "Oh, you don't see those very much. What a wonderful job. That explains the lute, I suppose. Perhaps we'll get you to play for us when this is all over."

"Indeed!" Eliam responds cheerfully. "Takes me interesting places, if nothing else. I'm a bit new at the lute, I'm afraid; I mostly stick to singing. But I'd be happy to serenade you, since you asked me so nicely."

Morton's smile hasn't left him. "That sounds great. For now, though, we should stick to business." He jots a few notes down on the clipboard, then continues. "Please tell me everything that happened at the arena in as much detail as you can."

"Oh... terrible business, that. I was in the stands with my friend, Elise. The girl with the silvery hair. I'd had a bad feeling all morning... something seemed to happen, and while we were there, the wall began to crack. I was worried for our safety, so I grabbed her and booked it outside. We made it out just in time, I suppose... the river was furiously bashing against the walls. I'd never seen its like before. We met up with our other friends outside, and left quickly, trying to avoid harm."

"Did you see anyone or anything that would have caused the arena to flood?" Morton asks, after a pause in which he scribbled Eliam's answer. "The arena is above sea level. What happened is impossible without intervention."

"No, unfortunately. I was pretty distracted with keeping Elise and I safe. And trying to find my friends before we all got separated by the crowd I assumed would follow outside at the first sign of trouble.

Morton nods as he writes. "A reasonable reaction, Eliam. I like to think I would have done much the same. My friends are very important to me as well. So," he recaps, "it is your declaration that you survived this immense disaster -- one that claimed more lives than any disaster in our history -- because you 'left quickly.'"

Eliam leans forward, looking him directly in the eyes. "Yes."

Morton regards him somewhat suspiciously. He slowly looks down and continues to write. "This question is of a somewhat sensitive nature," he explains, "but I will need you to answer it to the best of your ability. Could you please explain your physical deformity?"

"Oh! The scar?" Eliam asks, leaning back and smiling. "Quite the story there. See, I was back in Meadowgrove, trying to find a ferry to Asle Lenor for the Judgment. My friends and I were walking along when some hooded man attacked us. He was actually some sort of mage, if you can believe it; summoned some demonic cat creature at us. The man must have been utterly lacking in common decency, since he sicced it right at my face. I... guess that's not actually the most interesting story though. I feel like I should spice it up more for the future, probably."

Morton stares at him. "No. Not the scar."

Eliam raises an eyebrow. "There's kinder ways to say I'm not your type."

"Well," he says, "humans are no one's type, sir. And ears like that make one wonder of your heritage. Makes one wonder of what \*you\* are and of what you may be capable of. One of the problems with being a Child is you are constantly reminded of your gifts, and of the past. We remember what Sylvatir wanted to do. We remember why humans were purged from Thirshalon. If you carry that blood... Let's just say it's not a stretch to imagine you committing similar atrocities. So let me repeat: your ears. Explain."

"One simple bard, committing such an atrocity? That's quite the assumption," he answers, smiling. "I assure you, my bloodline is just fine."

"Let us hope so," Morton said. "You may find yourself singing a different tune if not." For the first time, his demeanor has changed from a pleasant and friendly facade to a more serious and severe persona. "Is there anything else you would like me to know before we conclude this session, Mr. Westmonte?"

"My full name, Eliam Westmonte. If you could remind your lovely friend... Sarina? Of it, I'd be eternally grateful."

"Oh, trust me, Mr. Westmonte," Morton replies, a slight chuckle in his voice, "If she wants to know your name... She'll know it. Well," he says, lowering the clipboard and standing, "If that is all, I will be returning you to the office. The others will join you when they are finished, then I and my colleagues will compare stories. Assuming things match up and there is nothing suspicious, you will be free to go. Thank you for being patient with this process."

"Of course," Eliam says, standing to follow. They return to the office silently, and Morton leaves, locking the door behind him.

#### **Oren**

Sarina leads Oren to a small room with a wooden desk. She closes the door when they are both in the room, then walks around the desk to sit behind it. She picks up a clipboard and a quill. She says, “I believe this is the point where I need to reintroduce myself. I’m Sarina Lillia, the Child of Water. I’ll be your questioner.”

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Oren," he says, sitting down.

"Likewise. I have to say, it's refreshing meeting someone so interested in getting things done properly. You could teach your little friend there a thing or two. Now, then," she says, eyes studying him. "Let's get the basics. Name, age, and occupation, please."

"Oh, um... Oren Lane, I'm.. 22.. I'm a doctor."

"Oh, a healer, are you?" she says, impressed. "A noble profession. Good on you." She scribbles briefly on the clipboard, then fixes him with a piercing gaze. "Now, could you please tell us everything that happened at the arena. Be as detailed as you can."

"I'm not really sure... We left," he answers with a shrug.

Sarina frowns a little. "Perhaps going to the beginning will help jog your memory. You arrived at Asle Lenor and entered the arena, I presume?"

"...Uh.. Sort of. Um, do you know what happened? Is everyone ok?"

She purses her lips tightly. "Do I know? Yes. Am I privy to share that? No. Not yet. What I need is your perspective to help put the puzzle together."

"Alright... well we were in the arena watching, and then I guess someone wanted to go outside? I wasn't really paying attention, they just said let's go for whatever reason and I followed. I think maybe they wanted a drink. So, we were outside and there was like, an earthquake? And everybody was screaming and running and we just got out of there. I think the wall was damaged because the river was rushing by, maybe the earthquake did that. We don't really know what happened because we weren't exactly there."

Sarina is quiet for a few moments as she scribbles down the answer. Then she looks back at him as she asks, "We would have assumed what happened there to be impossible without the presence of a Child based on the fact that the arena flooded, despite being above sea level. It would take a massive amount of magical power and connection to the aether to command water on that scale. So either it was me, or there's a group of mages responsible. Did you see anyone or anything that could have caused it while you were in or out of the arena?"

"No, sorry. ...Do you think it was one of those cults?"

Her gaze turns dark and serious. "There are no cults on Thirshalon. Or do you know something I don't?"

"No, but you said a group of mages," Oren says. "I think a group of mages trying to kill people counts as a cult. But I've never believed in cults. If you say they're not real, then I guess you'd know better than me."

She eyes him with suspicion but seems generally satisfied with his answer. "Very well," she says. "Let's put that aside for now. You're travelling with a particularly interesting group. Physical deformities across the lot. It's very unusual to find so many deformities in one place like that. How did that come to happen?"

"What deformities?"

Sarina lays the clipboard on the desk face-down, then lays her hands on her desk. "Perhaps you haven't noticed- somehow- so let me make it clear. You're traveling with a group of four other people, all of whom have human-like ears. Some humans avoided the purge from millennia ago and live on, hidden among us, or worse, bred into our race. Humans are dangerous. They are powerful. They nearly destroyed Thirshalon in the Maker's War, and this kind of attack seems like exactly something they could do. Now you appear with four people who are either deformed or are human to some degree, traveling from the exact site of the greatest loss of life since the Maker's War.

"In other words, Mr. Lane: I. Want. Information."

"I never noticed," Oren says, shrugging. "Lots of people have ears like that."

She writes his words down with a slight frown.

"Can I see my friends? Elise is just a child, she shouldn't be questioned alone... she's probably scared."

"When we are done," Sarina replies, "You will be returned to the office, as will all of your friends when they are done. We will confer with each other, and then release you should there be nothing suspicious about your stories." she picks up the clipboard again, and asks, "Is there anything else we should know about you, your group, or the events at the arena before we conclude?"

"Why weren't you there?" He asks.

She blinks, as though surprised she's explaining. "The Children rarely make appearances at the Judgment. Our job is to roam the countryside and help ensure peace amongst the rest of society while Asle Lenor is full."

"I guess. That's lucky. So none of the children were there, right? It would be horrible if something happened to one of you. Thank the Maker you're all safe..." he says, smiling at her.

"Yes," Sarina says, slowly and with a slightly troubled tone. "It seems all the Children were fine... Well," she finishes, "I think we're done here." She stands and tucks her clipboard under her arm.

"That's good. Because the skyglyph looks different..." He trails off as he stands to follow her. "Oh okay, good."

"Yes," she says. "It certainly does..."

Sarina escorts him back to the office and closes the door, leaving Oren behind with Eliam to wait for the others.

#### **Gwendolyn**

Sarina leads Gwen to a small room with a wooden desk. Herb is sitting behind it, holding a clipboard and a quill. She says to Gwen, “Doubtless you remember, but this is Herb Gorriah. He’ll be questioning you. Be honest.”

The door closes and clicks. Herb says, “Hello. I’m Herb, the Child of Earth. Sit if you like," he says, gesturing toward a chair, "Or don't. Whatever makes you most comfortable. I just need some truthful answers to these questions, and then we should all be out of here before dinner. Now then," he says, squinting a little at the clipboard. "Name... age... and occult... no, occupation. Name, age, and occupation. Sorry, the eyes aren't what they were."

Gwendolyn unbuckles her sword from her belt, and removes her shield from its place on her back. She leans them against the table, making sure they won't be in the way, and looks at Herb, quietly trying to see if she can read anything from his expression.

"My name is Gwendolyn Oberle," she says politely as she sits down. "27 years old, and  ship captain of the *Maker's Chosen*."

Herb nods as he writes slowly. "A fine name for a vessel. Can't say I've seen that one before. New?"

"The boat itself isn't, no. I don't know what it was named before, though."

"Fair enough," Herb answers. "Now, how about you tell me everything that happened at the arena. Give me every detail you can."

"I'm sorry," she replies, "but I wasn't at the arena."

"Oh?" Herb intones. "Late to the show, eh? I've been there. Was nearly late to my own wedding forty-two years ago. Wife would have killed me if she could. Now, then, let's see..." He reads down the clipboard. "Have you heard anything about the events at Asle Lenor from your shipmates? Were they there?"

"Just that there was some sort of flood," she answers. "I haven't pressed it, honestly. What little I saw of the aftermath seemed horrific."

"It was that, yes," Herb agrees. He sighs, a deep and heavy exhalation that reveals some of the weight he's feeling. "Very well. I don't suppose I will learn much of the arena from you. Perhaps you could help shed light on another mystery I'm trying to solve. Could you please explain your physical deformity to me?"

"I'm...not sure what you mean."

Herb's eyes narrow and he's suddenly all business. "Over seven millennia ago, Thirshalon fought in a war against Sylvatir. The humans of Sylvatir were particularly vicious, and after the Maker destroyed them, as you know, we purged them in Thirshalon, following Her divine will. But some escaped to the outskirts of society and survived. Some bred with good, honest orcs. Their bloodline exists still, like a stain on all of us.

"So now, we have a group of sailors with physical deformities coming from the site of the greatest loss of life since the Maker's War," he continues, voice merely a growl. "Which means you or your crew carry the blood of humans, the most vicious race to ever stain the Maker's realm... and you're coming to us from the loss of tens of thousands of good orcish lives."

Angered slightly, he stands now, leaning over the table and speaking lowly and slowly at Gwen. "So I'll repeat myself: explain. Your. Deformity."

"I suppose it's possible," she says quietly, "that I have human blood in me. It was never something I wanted to know about, so I guess I've been ignoring it all my life. My adopted mother never mentioned knowing my parents or knowing what happened to them, and she took me in at such a young age I never knew them myself."

Herb's face softens. He clears his throat and sits. He picks up the clipboard and begins writing. "And your comrades?"

"Well, when you live your whole life trying to ignore your own, you tend to pass over other's as well. They're loyal, Mr Gorriah. And kind. Beyond that, I suppose I overlooked whatever deformities they might have. But they're good people, and that's all I wanted for my crew."

There is no sound in the room save the noise of the quill scratching against the paper. Gwen chose good words, words that seemed to have resonated with something within Herb. "Very well," he answers. "Is there anything else I should know about you, your comrades, or the events at the arena before we conclude?"

Gwen shakes her head. "I don't believe so. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help about the arena."

"Not at all," he replies. "I appreciate your candor. If you would return with me to the office, I will reunite you with your comrades. I will compare notes with the other questioners, and we will release you should there be no inconsistencies or suspicions."

"Of course," she says, standing and taking back her sword and shield. She equips them again, and Herb leads her back to the office, where Oren and Eliam are waiting. As she goes to join them, the door clicks locked behind her.

**Chapter 10**