Dinner was Served.

A grand hall from around the corner, once more under the gaze of the elvish lords of yore. For long was the planting of the library, and longer the harvesting, with baskets filled with information carried upon their necks. It was only it were so easy to digest the volumes piled atop Kethan's desk working at a leisurely pace. Such books were treasured things, and Lawrence did his best, but a sheet of paper was quickly filled with annotations regarding the condition of the Mavros' collection. Half the penned calligraphy was written as notes of the old cleric's findings, while the other half were recommendations on repairs to be made to some of the shabbier volumes. Folded pages, nibbled-corners, worn-down bindings, and faded ink & illustrations in dire need of retouching. Preen through his spectacles to see just beyond his nose for whatever scrap and tidbit of information could be gleaned as the wax wanes and hours pass without much realization. Lost in the sorted piles of books at his desk, several editions of compendiums of bestiaries and field reports on the Northern Mountains including a traveller's guide to Mavros & Vael Turog. And curious of all perhaps a colouring book belonging to Ada of which was reflected in Kethan's notes as [i]Young Lady Mavros did not stay within the lines as she colored. NB color selection, use of warm tones for frost giants[/i]. But as the Duke invited them as gracious host to sup, Kethan's attention peered up from the latest cartography spread to accompany the Duke and Others to dine as proper guests.

There in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast. There arranged before them, a feast for the hungry eyes, and meal for the weary soul. A hero's feast, with exotic dishes pulled from around the lands as fine and hearty for the well-traveled and well-cultured fellow. Froth and bubbles of Dwarven ale from the undermountains in pewter tankards touched by the very same artisans no doubt. Darkwood a basket of Elven lembas, the sylvan silver-leaves blossoming open to reveal the baked bread. Roast suckling pig charred whole on silver platter, adorned with skewers of beef and mutton doused liberally in spices. Golden quail sauted with a rainbow of vegetables served with a bath of veloute supreme. Strong farmer's goat cheese, pungently paired with the upliftingly mesmeric Gnomish goodberries. Lightly friend Lakefish filets battered with Halfing honey mead, and aromatic bowls of jasmine rice and boar-belly. Oh how many more courses of such extravagance was there as the company took their seats with the duke and dinner began rather silently as everyone took his or her share of the meal. Kethan himself only took a bowl of lentil soup, a simple dish commonly found but alas never quite as savored more at his advanced age. If a man was willing to trade all that he had and would have for a single bowl, who would dare insult lentil soup, sweetest of delicacies?

[color=dead2b]"Caelmarth. I see. Well done, Miss Lonett of Caernath. I Trust your instincts. I am not yet prepared to scry tonight, as the hour is late, and I'm afraid I don't have the stamina of my youth. However we do have that orb with Miss Ann'leah... Who appears to be my senior if I recall her jest..."[/color] [i]Anything you like Miss, if you think me quite the young man, but dare I request you not call me late to dinner.[/i] The irony of the earlier line in response to the ancient elf's inquisition to Kethan's name. A bit of wit for wit returned in kind,
 keeps the mind sharp and heart light, but quickly turned into a solemn regard as Kethan gave his name to the elf. [color=dead2b]"Sir Lakeltia, I believe you were assisting Miss Lonett of Caernath, did you by chance ask His Divine Justice of Caelmarth? If there is a circle there or within close travel, I can teleport us there with knowledge of the appropriate sigils. Else, I fear we may be required to take the long journey there."[/color]

A bit of a pause for an old man to sip his quaff of dwarven ale from his personal tankard, one carved with a rather stern face bearing a somewhat similar resemblance to the drinker. It was no time to be be caught drunk on their asses, as this very night there could very well be a dragon or army of giants at their front door. And all this feasting and eating in excess was a terrible binge to indulge the sensorium. A good night's rest would be a blessing for the old man, but vigilance was still needed, not as far as to purify all the food and drink suspecting Lord Mavros had tainted the meal, but enough to know that not all poisons were designed by nature to be foul.

[color=dead2b]"For those heading North, I caution both the cold, and the danger. I advise visiting the old city of Vael Turog. It is a bastion for travelers with many folk adapted to the cold. Pick up some warm clothes and supplies there, Prepare yourselves for coming to Winter. And more so, local knowledge, there are isolated reports of powerful giants in the far north mountains. I suspect these paragons of giantkin are ones capable of taming dragons. Given the amount of information on these giants..."[/color]

Kethan's silence said more than his words ever could. Looking at Lord Mavros brother, acknowledge the dangers his sister may face with a nod.

[hider=mechanics]
Research Results with Advantage & Guidance: 
15 on Giants & Northern Mountain Range
16 on Giants & Northern Mountain Range
15 on Giants & White Dragons 
24 on Northern Mountain Range Geography
[/hider]