The Lord Mayor sat with the elves, nervously tapping his foot. He wanted to be sure they honored their agreement, so he wasn’t willing to leave them alone. The male priest continued his reading, unperturbed by the world at large, including the very odd assembly of canines that had arrived to circle the demon tree. Apparently more empathetic, the female priest continued watching, noting that a new dog had recently joined the enthralled pack.

Moments later its owner had come after it, pleading and calling with the animal to come home. It didn’t work, of course, so she was forced to pick up the animal and carry it away, while it caterwauled and struggled in her arms.

Poor thing.

Suddenly coming into view was a member of the Yost townguard, with a white haired girl in tow. Out of respect, the female elven priest rose to her feet, reclaiming every inch of her lithe, willowy grace. She gave off the presence of an older sister, welcoming an estranged relation back into the fold. 

“Byalin, she has arrived,” she ushered to the male priest, who closed his book and lifted his head, but remained seating.

The Lord Mayor got to his feet at once, looking something like tumbling idiot next to the fairer race. He was a corpulent, well fed man who his his chins within a thick, graying beard.

“Aha, Miss Beltran!” the Lord Mayor greeted, as if they were old friends. To best recollection, they had never before spoken directly. “So good of you to come! Ah—” He beckoned to the guard, only to dismiss him with a gesture. “That’ll be all, Devon, thank you kindly. So, Marelli!” Unsure where to go next, he trailed off and glanced at the elf.

“There is a matter we bring that involves you personally, Miss Beltran,” the female elf spoke, ignoring the Lord Mayor in such a way that it seemed she was unaware that he had spoken at all. “I am Jawene, a priestess of Lum, the moon goddess. This is Byalin, a priest of the same.”

Byalin spoke some phrase in elvish. Although the words were foreign, it sounded friendly enough to be a polite greeting.


Jawene stared at the girl a moment, considering the red in her eyes. She seemed disconcerted.

“Janus of Red Crest has died.” It was no one Marelli has ever heard of. “My condolences, Miss Beltran, but I must inform you that Janus has left you, and only you, an inheritance. To claim it,  you must accompany Byalin and I to his home in Crens.”