Moonday afternoon, Fireseek 3, 591 Common Year

Ragnbjorn and the Marinus brothers arrived at Westkeep shortly after noon. They could smell Westkeep long before seeing the levee-docks of the warehouse district. The next thing after the god-awful smell was the raucous cacophony of noise – at first a murmur at the edge of hearing then building to a loud buzzing like being inside a mill. Turning the final bend of the meandering river the levee-docks of the warehouse district came into view.

A dozen small riverboats are docked and in various stages of loading and unloading. Stevedores swarm everywhere, carrying cargo up and down the ramps leading from the levee-docks down to the warehouse lined thoroughfare called the Riverway or else loading or unloading larger crates onto large wooden cranes. Shouting and whip cracking rises above the noise as masters and supervisors drive the predominantly Olman workers to new levels of toil to speed up the work.

Indranil shakes his head in sympathy for the workers and their lot in life. They would spend a long day from before sunup to beyond sun down toiling on the docks and receive only a few coppers, enough to buy their daily bread and find a dry corner to sleep in that night. Beyond the day they had no hope for tomorrow. It is no wonder that Westkeep is such a cesspool, he thinks to himself.

They tie up against an old rickety staircase in the middle of the central wharf. Then carry the canoe down the ramp and elbow their way across the Riverway through the masses; receiving a few looks: respectful salutes from fellow Keolanders, but many looks from the Keepers clearly wishing them ill will. They approach a large wooden warehouse with lots of activity in front of it and many people and wagons going to and fro from its cavernous large double doors. They bypass the doors and continue around to the side of the warehouse.

Ragnbjorn gestures for Indranil to go ahead. Indranil knocks loudly with the palm of his canoe paddle. They wait a few minutes and then knock again. And again wait and knock. Then from within they hear a loud, “If you beggars keep bothering me I will have the lot of you thrown in the river as crocodile food.” A small spy hole opens and an eye looks out at them and exclaims, “The Lady Herself! Ragnbjorn! Indranil and Lorindel too! Bless me it’s been a long time!” Then they hear the sound of bars, latches, chains and locks being thrown and opened and the door, though it appears old and rusted, swings up soundlessly. Standing there filling the entire doorway is a giant barrel-chested, bearded man, with one wooden leg in a worn leather apron. The only thing competing with his chest size is the girth of his enormous belly. 

Vaughn was a former ranger himself but lost his leg during the battle for Westkeep and was forced to retire from the rangers. Losing his services was a sore loss to the King but in gratitude and seeing a possible benefit from Vaughn’s continued services the King set him up as the proprietor of this customs house and the drayage firm that operates there. In fact Vaughn’s ranger skills were eclipsed by his mercantile skills and his customs house grew to be the second largest in Westkeep. Indranil loved Vaughn and considered him an uncle. Vaughn was a close friend of his family on his mother’s-side and was a major reason Indranil had chosen to become a ranger.

Indranil smiles as he looks upon Vaughn of Gorham. Indranil says, “Ah Vaughn, ‘tis good to see you. I see that being a merchant and living in the city agrees with you if we are to believe the size of your belly!”

Vaughn hugs each one of them in turn and replies, “Indranil you scoundrel! Always with an easy joke you are! It is good to see you all. We have much to catch up on, but I am sure you are about the King’s business and in a hurry as usual. Let’s stow your gear and get you on your way. Perhaps tonight we can meet at Ragallach’s and talk story over a pint or three!”

Vaughn keeps a locked room in the back of the warehouse for the rangers to secure their gear and equipment while staying in Westkeep. Here the rangers leave their things before heading out to report to the Prince. They stow the canoe upside down to dry out in a rack made for it and each stow their extra gear inside cubbyholes. The companions then agree, with more hugs, hearty slaps and promises, to meet later when they can and then they leave to report to the Prince.

As they head past the market on the way to the keep, Indranil says to Ragnbjorn and Lorindel, “Wait a moment.” Indranil runs over to a grilled meat cart and buys three meat sticks, which he has to bargain down to twice what they would go for in Keoland, one gold Keoland eagle altogether. Running back he hands one to each of his companions. “Yum! I do miss the squab-on-a-stick.”

After arriving at the keep, Ragnbjorn and the brothers make their way to the palace to report to Sir Bodwyn who takes them to the barracks to refresh themselves and put on clean garments and lay aside their weapons, except of course their daggers. In all this, the brothers take their cues from Ragnbjorn, for they had not yet had occasion to enter the palace or meet any of the court, let alone the Prince-Governor. On their brief sojourns in Westkeep before this, they stayed in the barracks and only stayed long enough to get supplies and return to the marshes.

“Please wait here,” says Sir Bodwyn. The Prince will see you in a moment. As they stand off to the side, they see that Prince Prospero is engaged in a discussion with a heavyset man in blue robes with silver trim. He has graying dark blond hair and careworn blue eyes. Ragnbjorn whispers to the brothers that the man speaking to the prince is the Paragon Muire, the high priest of Heironeous.

“Your Highness, all is almost in readiness. The paladins have cleared the goblins out of the dormitories. The paladins are ready to clear the streets around the chapel. The clerics will go in swiftly into the chapel with spells of calming and get their leaders to agree to move their people into the dormitories, where they will be cared for until they can be settled more permanently on land outside the city. We are ready to move on your command. Once the temple has been repaired and re-consecrated we will be ready to begin. The clerics have brewed many potions that can cure the diseases that have been ravaging Westkeep, and I have also crafted this,” Paragon Muire then flourishes an oaken wand before the prince, carved in an intricate interlacing pattern. “This wand will remove the Red Ache and the Filth Fever from the multitudes. I believe that this time we will have enough divine healing power to prevent another general outbreak of plague and sickness.”

Prince Prospero considers this for a moment, “I certainly hope that this time things go as planned. Now you know the desperation and lack of scruples of the people of this town. You must use divine magic to keep them calm. You must have enough paladins on hand to provide adequate security. You must not let them think that anyone will go uncared for. You are, I assume, still going to use the triage system?”

“Of course, Your Highness. But this time we will use lesser spells to delay the course of the sicknesses, and to comfort those we may not be able to heal immediately. We will also look to convert and recruit among the local populace so that they too may become healers in time. They will come to know the mercy and justice of Heironeous.”

“Thank you, Paragon Muire. Have the paladins and clerics assemble in the courtyard at noon. Then go and reclaim the temple, for Heironeous, for Keoland, and for the healing of the people of Westkeep.”

“As you command, Your Highness.” Paragon Muire bows, and then hurries away.

A red haired woman then whispers in the prince’s ear and he looks over to Ragnbjorn and the brothers. “Ah, Ragnbjorn! You have arrived. I am so glad to see you cousin.”

“Your Highness, it is good to see you again. As ever, I am at your service. Please allow me to introduce to you my companions, Sir Indranil and Sir Lorindel. Sir Indranil is a member of the King’s Rangers, and Sir Lorindel is one of the King’s Scouts. They have been helping me survey the Hool Marshes now that they are a protectorate of Keoland.”

“Thank you for coming so quickly gentlemen. Was your journey a safe one?”

“Not so much, Your Highness. But it might be best to talk about it later,” Ragnbjorn says, eyeing the courtiers.

“I see,” says the prince solemnly. “It seems you have a tale to tell. I will be eager to hear it. Perhaps in my solar after I am done here,” says the prince referring to his private chambers. “Are any of you injured? Are you in need of healing?”

“Just a few scrapes and bites from, well,” Ragnbjorn again glances in the direction of the courtiers, “the critters that live out there. All the same, I would appreciate it if one of your priests could attend to us.”

“It shall be done. Now, Sir Ragnbjorn, I have news for you that will be related to our business but you should be aware of it now. Hopefully it will be a pleasant surprise. Your son, Sir Fingol, is here at the palace. He came in just a couple of days ago to report his discoveries in the marsh. It was that report which caused me to have you called in. But as I said, we will speak of that business later. I just wanted you to know that he is well and currently my guest.”

Ragnbjorn looks pleased and indeed surprised to hear this. “I must say, I am glad to hear this Your Highness. I look forward to seeing him. I must say: I have to wonder what could have brought him out of the wild. Maybe his travels were as eventful as ours have been.”

“Well, I am sure that if you don’t run into him in the halls or grounds, that you’ll see him at supper tonight.” The prince then turns to the red haired woman at his side, “Lady Sedara, please take these gentlemen to see Paragon Muire. I am sure he can spend a few moments attending to them. And then please see that they are given rooms in the guest wing and that their things are brought over from the barracks. Then bring them up to the solar.” Lady Sedara then leads Ragnbjorn and the brothers out of the hall to find Paragon Muire.

They find Paragon Muire in his offices near the palace chapel. He is busy conferring with his underlings, the lesser clerics of Heironeous who came from Keoland. It only takes a moment for one of his subordinates to brandish the silver lightning bolt of Heironeous and utter a simple invocation to detect the presence of any disease in either Ragnbjorn or Indranil. Fortunately, Ragnbjorn’s poultices seem to have worked, as they are both given a clean bill of health.

When that is accomplished, Ragnbjorn proceeds to tell Paragon Muire about the encounter with the things in the swamp. He then reaches into his pack and pulls out the sack with the head he had collected. He deposits it on the table and swiftly unties it to roll out the gruesome trophy.

“How charming,” utters the high priest of Heironeous, but his tone is far from pleased. He sucks in his breath and says, “OK, please put it away now. Give it to him,” he indicates one of the novices standing nearby. “Take that out and see that it is burned and the proper rites said.” The novice also looks far from pleased, but hurriedly does as he is told.

“Yes, well, that is what the sages have classified as a ghoul. They are a moderately powerful form of undead: corpses infused and animated by spiritual forces from the Negative Energy Plane. Ah here,” he reaches behind him for a tome from his library, The Manual of the Planes. He flips through the pages and reads:

It is the blackest night.

It is the heart of darkness.

It is the hunger that devours souls.

Continuing with the reading he says, “The Negative Energy Plane is a barren empty place, a void without end, and a place of empty, endless night. Worse, it is a needy, greedy plane, sucking the life out of anything that is vulnerable. Heat, fire, and life itself are all drawn into the maw of this plane, which hungers for more.” He shudders and places the book back on the shelf.

“Necromancers can draw upon the energy of this plane to deliberately create undead. Other times, the power of evil over a place or the mark of evil on a soul is so strong that corpses rise of themselves. Ghouls are said to be the risen remains of those who indulged in cannibalism in life, or those who were so wicked and debauched that they found a way to continue their foul depredations even beyond the grave. No one is really sure, but certainly the Amedi warriors are known for their cannibalism, and the people of this town were evil enough even before the Scarlet Brotherhood came here. I am afraid I am not surprised that the site of such an atrocity in this place would have become a breeding ground, so to speak, for ghouls. I am glad that you encountered no worse there and that you came through unscathed. As you may have heard, we are a little overworked at the moment just trying to deal with this town. But certainly an expedition to clean that site up will have to be mounted in the near future.”

After that meeting, Lady Sedara, who did not flinch at either the sight of the ghoul’s head or Paragon Muire’s ominous recital, leads Ragnbjorn and the brothers to their rooms and sends servants to fetch their things from the barracks. “I’ll let you settle in and come back for you in an hour to take you to see the prince in his chambers where you can speak privately.”

Indranil quickly and subtly sweeps the room with his senses – assessing points of entry and egress, points of concealment where a hidden threat might be as well as planning how best to defend the room should it be attacked. This analysis was taught to all rangers from the very beginning of their intensive ranger training. Besides the heavy wooden door, the only other possible entrance would be the window. The window, however, was only four feet high and one foot wide, set in a recess in the wall furnished with a seat. An oiled sheepskin covered it, but that could be rolled up. On the other side was a sturdy iron grill set in the masonry. Satisfied the room presented no immediate threat he relaxed a bit from the state of high alert he had been in since entering Westkeep.

After Lady Sedara leaves, Lorindel gives his brother a quizzical glance, “What do you make of all that? And what of Lady Sedara? Some fortitude that one’s got – not so much as a wince at the sight of Ragnbjorn’s trophy.”

Indranil walks over to claim the bed farthest from the door and window, the one where he would have the most warning should a threat appear. As the older brother and more experienced ranger he has no qualms about claiming the prime bed. He sets his things under it and sits down upon its foot facing the door and looks at Lorindel saying, “Indeed brother, a formidable leader and warrior, and beautiful as well. The prince chooses his confidants and key advisors well it seems. We are in good company.”

Ragnbjorn comes in after inspecting his own room across the hall and asks, “So how are you boys getting on? Better than the barracks isn’t it?” He flicks the silver washbasin on the side-table with his finger and sets it ringing.

Indranil says to his companions, “I am relieved to have a quiet moment with just the three of us to pause and gather ourselves. Being in the Prince’s Court was quite an eye-opening experience for me. Methinks being in the depths of the Hool Marshes was not as dangerous as navigating the nuances of the court! At least I know who my enemies are in the marshes. I would wonder that many of those courtiers would as soon as stick a knife in your back as smile at you given a chance to profit.”

“Ahh, they are goodly folk for the most part,” says Ragnbjorn. “More than a bit in over their heads perhaps, but they are doing what they can. The gods of Keoland, like Heironeous, will not tolerate the kinds of things that go on in other courts throughout the Flanaess. Even still, ignorance, ambition, hardheadedness, and personal squabbles can sometimes cause as much harm as malice, or lead to malice. And Scarlet Brotherhood agents could be anywhere ready to exploit any weakness and sow seeds of dissension, so you are right to be careful.”

Indranil turns to Ragnbjorn and says, “Milord, thank you again for your healing prowess. I am most relieved the priest gave us a clean bill of health and found no signs of infection from the ghoul bite. I must confess it has been weighing on my mind since the attack.”

Ragnbjorn nods gravely and says, “Think nothing of it. What kind of ranger would I be if I couldn’t keep us safe and well? I still feel bad about leading us all into that ambush. Let’s just thank the gods we got here in one piece.”

Indranil then says, “I crave a hot meal, a bath, and a chance to sleep!”

“We’ll get all that before long. After we meet with the prince in his solar I’m sure they can find a tub and some hot water for us all. And supper is not too far away. Maybe then we’ll find Fingol and I can introduce you to him. Truly he’s a fine lad, just a little shy and wet behind the ears. Like you two,” he grins.

As promised, servants come with their gear and stow it away for them. Then Lady Sedara returns and takes them all to the prince’s solar. The Prince bids them to make themselves comfortable. After a moment, Lady Sedara excuses herself and leaves.

“Again, I thank you for coming so quickly, cousin Ragnbjorn. And I am pleased to meet such noble companions as you two brothers, cousin Indranil and cousin Lorindel,” again the Prince addresses them by the common term of affection and courtesy used by the Keoland nobility among each other.

After other pleasantries have been exchanged the Prince turns to the business he summoned them for. “I had Paragon Muire, the high priest of Heironeous stationed here at Westkeep,” he explains for the brothers’ benefit, “call to you with a sending because I have a bit of a problem that I believe you are uniquely qualified to help me with. The day before yesterday, Ragnbjorn, your son Fingol came here to warn us that the lizardfolk were becoming restive, even overtly hostile. We have for some time been hearing from the fishermen, crabbers, and shrimpers that the lizardfolk have been cutting their nets, destroying their traps, and even casting spears at them to drive them out of the bayous. So Fingol’s news was just confirmation of what we have feared for some time: that the lizardfolk may be on the verge of outright hostilities. But Fingol wasn’t the only messenger from the wilds. A Flan priest by the name of Gar Dragonsbreath came to us as an emissary from the Great Druidess of the Dreadwood. He came bearing a message from her warning that she foresaw a great flood engulfing Westkeep. This flood would in fact engulf the world, and furthermore it would carry the taint of undeath. Gar told us that this flood might well be triggered by our conflict with the lizardfolk, and that it was the fishermen and others who were destroying spawning grounds and fouling the waterways of the lizardfolk with their nets that was destroying the Balance or harmony of nature. This is what would precipitate the disaster. Now of course, I cannot tell the fishermen, crabbers, and shrimpers to stop gathering the food we need to survive. As you well know, our supplies are low as it is. Because of the blockade by the Scarlet Brotherhood and their allies, the Lordship of the Isles, supplies can’t be shipped to us up the River Javan. No caravan has come from Keoland proper in some months. In fact, isn’t that your current mission, to survey the Hool Marshes so that a more suitable trail can be found through them? Anyway, it became apparent to me, and to the cooler and wiser heads in my court, that we have to build a just and sustainable peace with the lizardfolk that will still allow us to gather the fish, crabs, shrimp and other food that we need. Now to that end I am putting together a team, and you, Ragnbjorn, are a key part of that team. I have appointed Fingol and Gar to be intermediaries with the lizardfolk.”

At this declaration Ragnbjorn is briefly overcome by several conflicting emotions that play across his face: surprise, pride in his son, puzzlement that his son was chosen for such a mission, and then concern. “Fingol? Your pardon Highness, but did I hear you correctly? Did you say Fingol? He’s no diplomat. In fact, well… I’m just a little surprised and puzzled. He doesn’t even speak Draconian.”

The prince laughs gently at this. “No he does not. But you do. In fact you not only speak Draconian but I believe you are on speaking terms with the lizardfolk chieftain are you not?”

“Well, yes. I am acquainted with the leader of the Malarat tribe. His name is Rhodophylax in High Draconic, or Rahk in their dialect. I wouldn’t say Chief Rahk and I are friends exactly, but there is mutual respect and he did permit me to stay with them for a time and learn their language and ways if I would teach him the Common tongue and the ways of humans.”

“Well there it is then. You are the perfect guide and translator. I would prefer you stay out of the negotiations yourself, as I wouldn’t want whatever trust you have built up with the lizardfolk to be compromised. Certainly advise them privately. I have a feeling about Fingol though. I think he will do his best to find a just resolution. I also trust Gar. His interest in maintaining the Balance for the Great Druidess and his god Obad-Hai is undoubtedly sincere. He will have the respect of our own people, the fishermen, and the lizardfolk.

“Now I am also sending representatives from the Fishmonger’s Guild and aldermen to represent the fishermen. They will be a problem. I believe they have been overfishing as Gar claims, and furthermore I believe they have been provoking the lizardfolk. They would love nothing else than to see us Keolanders and the lizardfolk finish each other off so that they can come in and take the spoils. And yet, we cannot ignore their needs, because their needs are our own. We do need to eat, just as much if not more than we need to preserve the peace. We certainly don’t have enough troops here to maintain the peace within Westkeep, fend off the Scarlet Brotherhood, and fight a war with the lizardfolk. So the stakes are quite high.

“Oh, and lastly I am going to be sending one of Sir Gorman’s squads to accompany you as a security detail. You will, of course, be traveling under the flag of Rao, the god of peace. Hopefully that will be recognized and respected by even the lizardfolk.

“Now my staff is still putting some things together. My counselors are speaking with the Guild representative and the aldermen. I must say that they have not been entirely pleased that we plan to negotiate instead of just exterminating the lizardfolk as they have been asking. They are also not happy about being sent into the marshes. Also, my counselors have been getting supplies ready and loading them aboard the keelboat that we have reserved for this mission. I’ll have someone take you down to the docks to look at it tomorrow and inspect the supplies and meet the crew. Then you can tell me if there is anything else you’ll require. Fingol and Gar are ready to go and the other representatives and the squad of men-at-arms should be ready to go the day after tomorrow at the latest.

“So do you have any questions?”

Ragnbjorn thinks for a moment and then shakes his head. “Your Highness, I am honored to have been chosen for this. I am doubly honored that you have chosen my son to be one of the negotiators. We will do all we can to show that your faith in us is well founded. I’ll look over the boat and supplies tomorrow. I’d like to meet that squad as well. Then I’ll have a better idea of where things stand.”

“That will be arranged,” says the prince. “I’ll have someone meet you to take you there after dinner in the morning.”

“Now,” says the Prince turning his attention to Indranil and Lorindel, “is there anything you would like to ask?”

Indranil looks towards the Prince and goes to one knee saying, “My Prince, I seek to serve you as you see most fit. If you have no other mission for me at this time, I beg you to let me remain with Ragnbjorn and be part of his party to aid Fingol’s mission.”

“Certainly, you both shall be included in this mission,” the Prince says. He then looks to Ragnborn again with a wry grin and says, “Now, tell me about these “critters” that attacked you?”

Ragnbjorn frowns, “Now there is a grim story Your Highness. I consulted with Paragon Muire, and he told me that what we ran into were ghouls. They are undead eaters of flesh. We were attacked by five of them altogether not even a day’s journey away from here. Two attacked our camp last night at first. Then we trailed them back to where they came from and got ambushed by three more. That was my fault. We walked right into them in an oak grove. Thanks to the courage and skill of these two we got out with just a bite and some scratches. Well, to be specific, he” pointing to Indranil, “got bit and I got scratched. Thankfully we were both given a clean bill of health by the clerics. Anyway, once we dispatched those things, we found a mass grave on the other side of the oak grave. That is where they came from. Apparently all those people who the townsfolk say disappeared during the occupation of the Scarlet Brotherhood were taken and executed there. I propose that we lead some clerics and paladins back there and put those poor souls to rest, destroy any more of those filthy ghouls, if there are any more, and consecrate the grounds.”

The Prince nods, “Yes, you are right. That will be done. But we have some other urgent matters to take care of here in Westkeep first. You can lead another mission there when you have finished helping to broker a peace with the lizardfolk. I think you should come by again tonight, after supper, so we can talk about the other matters. I’ll send Sir Bodwyn to get you. These young men need not concern themselves about these other problems for now; and perhaps they would prefer baths and some well earned rest. Thank you for telling me about what happened. I assure you all will be taken care of in time. So for now, please rest for awhile and enjoy supper in the great hall.”

To the prince’s offer, Lorindel gives a sweeping bow. As he rises, he says, “Your hospitality is most appreciated. Some warm food and a hot bath sound divine.” As the court and castle puts him out of his element, Lorindel does his best to sound regal, but mostly comes off sounding aloof.

Once the meeting with the prince is over, a page escorts them back to their rooms. He tells them that he’ll send someone for them when the baths are ready.

Indranil closes the door to their room and lies down upon the bed with his feet crossed and arms behind his head and lets out a great sigh saying, “Ah that feels wonderful! Finally we have a moment of peace and quiet.”

“Indranil, all these worldly comforts, yet I cannot feel at ease,” Lorindel states as he paces in their quarters. ”I know my place,” he continues, “and I trust Ragnbjorn with my life, but something just doesn’t sit right. Should I simply relax and enjoy this good fortune? Or do you think there is just cause to warrant my alarm? Either way: I’m keeping a dagger under the pillow and my bow strung.”

Indranil looks over at Lorindel and says, “Yes brother you are worrying too much. While you are right we can never let our guard down in the palace where they play the great game, I do feel that tonight we may rest easy in the prince’s good graces and protection. Always keep your dagger handy, but you can unstring your bow!”

“Perhaps you are right. I suppose I should simply enjoy this momentary respite. Who knows when we’ll have the chance to enjoy such comforts? Plus, that hot bath sure beats mucking around in a pond.” Lorindel then leaves his bow unstrung.

Indranil says, “Indeed it does. I am actually pretty excited about getting the royal treatment as they say. A hot bath, clean clothes, a warm meal and cold beer sounds like heaven. Then brother we must go find some of those human women you talked about to spend a rousing evening with! They do love our – elven blood – ‘talents.’ Anyway, Please wake me when the page returns,” and then he closes his eyes and falls fast asleep.

After an hour or so the page does indeed return to escort Indranil and Lorindel to the baths. It is in one of the halls adjoining the great hall. In it is a large hearth upon which a large kettle of water is being heated. Two large oaken tubs, with wheels, are in the middle of the room. Tables with towels stand next to the tubs. Two beefy servants stand at the ready to fill the tubs now that the brothers have arrived, and a couple of squires also standby to help them disrobe. The bath is warm and deeply relaxing. The servants even sprinkle in some powdered herbs as well. Once finished, the servants help them to dry off and even offer to send for the masseuses to loosen up their muscles if they should so desire.

Indranil looks over at Lorindel and says, “I would enjoy a massage, how about you brother?” 

Lorindel decides that a massage would be just the thing, and readily accepts the offer. ”Brother, I think the massage will do much to ease my mind.”

Indranil then turns to the servant and says, “Yes, a massage sounds good, just what I need to whet my appetite before dinner.”
The two brothers follow the servant out onto the patio leading off of the bath hall and lie down upon low padded tables, while the masseuses are sent for. They turn out to be attractive young women, dressed chastely in the blouses and pantaloons typical of this clime. They have very strong hands and seem to know exactly how to best knead their muscles and what pressure points to press down upon to relieve their tension.

At one point Indranil asks with a grin, “Will there be a happy ending?”

The masseuse working on Indranil gently rebukes him saying, “Good sir, we are respectable ladies-in-waiting of a respectable court, and are devotees of Heironeous besides; so please keep your towels on and your hands to yourselves.”

After that rebuke Indranil keeps silent. His mind wanders and his senses roam: first to the sound of flowing water in the fountain, then to the birds and insects flying nearby, then to the sounds of the palace and entire surrounding city. He seems to float in a state of observation; utterly relaxing.
Once done the masseuses quietly back out and leave the brothers alone on the tables. After a few minutes of lying quietly Indranil slowly rises and sits on the table looking out over the garden.

As they are getting dressed, without looking up Lorindel says to Indranil, “You’re right. That was what I needed. It feels like the weight of the past 48 hours has washed away. I think I am ready to enjoy myself. It’s a big city full of impressionable young maidens.”

Indranil looks over at his brother and says, “Ah, Lorindel; that was restorative!  All the cares of the last few weeks scouting a new route through the marshes have slipped away. I feel wonderful. Now that I have taken care of my body I wish to pay my respects to Heironeous inside the palace chapel and mediate until dinner. Would you care to join me?”

“No brother, go without me. Later I will seek out a temple for Corellon.”