The bells of Moorvale ring bright and clear across the city, their tones carrying over marble spires, bustling markets, and the cobalt domes of the Arcane University. Today, the campus grounds have transformed from a quiet and orderly place of learning into a festival of color and celebration. Banners in shades of sapphire and gold flutter from floating poles, arcane lanterns drift lazily overhead, shedding warm, dancing light, and the grand lawn is lined with food stalls, performance circles, and clusters of curious onlookers who have come to witness history.

For this is the wedding of Professor Ancrea Finch, firbolg wizard and former dean of the Arcane University. It was her brilliant mind from which the invention of the arcane locomotive emerged to reshape trade, travel, and society across the region. Her name is spoken with reverence in lecture halls, with awe in taverns, with envy in research circles, and with suspicion in temples. And today, she has thrown open the gates of her alma mater to celebrate not an academic triumph, but a personal joy.

A sea of guests drifts among the decorated pavilions: students in crisp robes, noblemen and guildmasters in regal attire, scholars from distant lands, and common folk from every corner of Moorvale. You and your aristocratic family stand among these honored few who received invitations penned in Professor Finch’s own looping handwriting, indicating her desire for the presence of you and yours at the event in particular.

At the center of it all, the ceremony dais rises beneath the shade of a colossal ironwood tree that was one of Finch’s earliest botanical experiments. Its branches hang with luminous crystalline blossoms that pulse in time with the music. Attendants bustle about preparing last-minute details, and arcane wards shimmer faintly in the air, ensuring that today remains unmarred by mishap or mischief. A well-dressed gnome man stands before the dais. You recognize him as Dean Valtor Carlin Kellen Duvamil Seebo Orla Mermop. He was Professor Finch's deputy dean. He was the one to take her place as dean when she stepped off the position to focus completely on her work. And now, he is the one who is marrying her today.

Further out from the center of the celebration you recognize other faces among the guests. Of course, there is your family. Many of your broader relatives managed to carve out some time to come to the event. As have all of your closest family members.

Your brother Lysander moves among the academics in attendance, no doubt looking to pick the brains of the foreign scholars for knowledge and insights from lands far beyond the walls of Moorvale.

Your sister Seraphina has ingratiated herself into the presence of the political elite who have come to the wedding, most likely in search of ways to advance her own ambitions and aspirations.

Your father Dmitri may have come to the wedding, but it seems he has brought his work with him and is now scribbling away in one of the quieter corners of grand lawn.

Your mother Cassandra is mingling among the other high society folk and fulfilling the duties at this event that would have fallen to her father had he the presence of mind to perform them.

But that doesn't mean he's totally unable to attend. Your grandfather Aldric is having one of his better days, and while he isn't entirely certain why everyone has decided to drop what they're doing and have a massive party in the middle of a Great Modron March, he certainly isn't about to complain. Now he sits in a gazebo away from the thick of things, where he is content to have slightly incoherent yet otherwise pleasant conversations with anyone who draws near.

Your family are not the only noteworthy guests though. Many important nobles, guildmasters, and scholars have gathered for this occasion. And any one of them would be a good friend to have for one reason or another. Though there are some notables that don't blend together with the rest.

Andraste Amastacia, the high elf founder of Moorvale, is present for the wedding. And surprisingly enough, so to is Durwith Bronzebeard, the old dwarf making a rare public appearance alongside his fellow founder. The two of them hold court on the furthest corner of the grand lawn from the dais, where a large number of guests flock to in the hopes of seeing these two historical figures up close.

And while the other founders may no longer be among the living, their descendants remain. Orthog Troll-Puncher, a descendant of Moorvale's half-orc founder, lays siege to one end of the wedding's buffet table. Meanwhile, Alton Goodbarrel, a descendant of Moorvale's halfling founder, attacks it from the other end. Ghesh Drachedandion, a descendant of Moorvale's dragonborn founder, was taking bets on how long it would take the half-orc and the halfling to meet in the middle. And in one of the performance circles, Sir Temerity Danger Greatness, a knightly descendant of Moorvale's tiefling founder, was telling clearly exaggerated tall tales about his knightly exploits and the knightly exploits of his ancestors.

Strangely enough, there are also members of the clergy here. Slightly concerning too, given that of all those who have spoken out against Professor Finch and her latest invention, their voices have been the loudest. Apparently Professor Finch's trains reminded them a little to much of the infernal war machines of the Nine Hells for their liking. Finding a cleric to officiate the wedding had been something of a challenge as a result. But thankfully, a priest of Boccob the Uncaring had been willing to perform the ceremony. He was a human by the name of Gregory Benedict, and he was sitting now a little off to the side of the dais while stoically rebuffing a pair of preachers trying to talk him out of it.

In the backdrop of all this, Flurry is staring off into the middle distance. You know from experience that he tends to do this when something has caught his attention, a quirk that he acquired from his reanimation and one that can be triggered by the most random of things. You cannot see what has done it this time, but you know he will stay by your side unless you permit him to go after it and you know that he'll eventually lose interest once he's stared at it for long enough.

The wedding of a legendary wizard is in full swing, and with it, the very first steps of your adventure. What do you do?

The festival atmosphere pressed against me. Everywhere I looked, there were people. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. They laughed and talked and moved through the decorated grounds in colorful waves. The arcane lanterns cast warm light across their faces. The music seemed to pull them together into groups.

I had attended the Arcane University until just a few years ago. Even then the campus had been full. But it had been full of students and scholars too absorbed in their studies to bother with idle talk. This was different. This was overwhelming.

For my mother and Lysander, this place was like home. They probably spent more time here than at our actual house. Lysander and I still lived with our parents. My sister, Lysander's twin, Seraphina had moved out years ago. She had her own place now. But Lysander seemed content to stay, especially when it meant being close to the University. To him, these grounds were more familiar than his own bedroom.

I retreated toward one of the towering columns. The cool marble provided some barrier between myself and the crowd. A tall window nearby caught my reflection, and I paused to examine it. At least I looked the part.

My suit was blood red, cut in the formal Moorvale style. It had a high collar and a fitted jacket. Murrey-colored thread traced patterns down the sleeves and lapels. The tailoring was perfect. Every line was crisp and clean.

In the distance, I could see the elf and dwarf founders. Andraste Amastacia stood tall and graceful even after all these centuries. Durwith Bronzebeard sat like he was part of the landscape itself. Solid, unmoving. People gathered around them in careful circles. They were drawn by history and legend. I had no intention of joining that crowd.

Movement at my side drew my attention. Flurry stood perfectly still. His form was stiff with focus as he stared into the middle distance. I followed his empty gaze. I tried to spot whatever had captured his attention this time.

My father had given me quite the lecture about bringing an undead dog to a wedding. Something about proper behavior and respect for the living. But now he sat hunched over his papers in a quiet corner. He was completely absorbed in his work. I doubted he would even remember the conversation, let alone notice Flurry here beside me.

I turned my attention to the gazebo where my grandfather sat. I tried to count how many guests were around him. This was one of his good days. He had been an old man even when I was born. His hair was already silver. His hands were already marked by time. If today was truly a good day, and if there weren't too many people crowding him, I should go to him. Spend time while I still could. Though knowing myself, if the worst happened, I would probably just try to bring him back.

I shifted my focus again. I searched the crowd for Professor Finch herself. Hoping the bride would be visible somewhere among all this display. And I kept one eye on Flurry's fixed stare, wondering what strange thing had caught his attention this time.

Neither Professor Finch nor any of her bridesmaids had had yet to emerge from wherever it was they had gone to make the bride's final preparations. And no indication of just what it was that Flurry has spotted could be seen from where you currently stand.

There was something that you were able to see as you searched though. A young boy of about eight or nine years of age had noticed the rather unique appearance of your canine companion. And it seemed like a distrust of necromancy had yet to be instilled within him. As rather than looking upon it with fear or trepidation, he looked at it like it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. It wasn't long before he ran off into the crowd though, so you didn't really make much not of it before going back to your search.

But now, as you begin to thing about concluding your search, the boy has returned. And he brought other children with him to see flurry as well. They mostly looked to be about the same age as the boy who led them here, and each of them seemed to be just as impressed by the sight of Flurry as well. So much so, in fact, that one of them wasn't content with just looking.

"Dogie!"

The youngest of the assembled children, a little girl who looked to be around three or four broke away from the group and began moving towards Flurry with a slightly unsteady, yet none the less excited gait and both arms extended in front of her. "Pet the dogie!" The girl exclaimed happily. Flurry enjoyed such attention in life and had no strong feelings one way or the other about it in death. But as a result of the reanimation process you used to pull him back from death, petting him in the wrong place could lead to a most unpleasant electric shock. And between the girl's angle of approach putting her squarely in the wrong place to pet zone, as well as the haphazard way in which most small children handle anything that interests them, it is a safe bet that letting the girl do as she pleases will not end well.

What do you do?

I was still trying to count heads around my grandfather's gazebo when I heard the excited whispers behind me. Children's voices. Several of them. I glanced back just long enough to see a small group gathered a few paces away. They were staring at Flurry with wide eyes and pointing fingers. The boy who led them looked about eight or nine. He seemed thrilled rather than afraid.

I turned back to the gazebo. If there were only two or three people with my grandfather, I could approach without overwhelming him. But the children's whispers grew louder. More excited. I was trying to focus on both things at once when I heard small footsteps running toward me.
"Dogie!"

A little girl broke from the group. She couldn't have been older than three or four. Her arms stretched out in front of her as she ran toward Flurry with unsteady steps. "Pet the dogie!" she called out happily.

I moved without thinking. I tried to step between Flurry and the approaching child. I kept my movements smooth and deliberate. No sudden gestures that might startle anyone.

"I'm afraid this doggie bites," I said gently. I kept my voice polite but firm. The tone my mother used when correcting behavior at formal dinners. "He's not safe to pet."

I raised my hand. The sapphire gems in my arcane glove began to glow softly. I spoke a few quiet words. The golden channels that connected the gems pulsed with light. The air shimmered in front of me. A cat appeared. Not a real one. An image made of light and magic. It was whimsical and strange. Its grin was too wide. Its body faded in and out like smoke. Its tail curled in impossible spirals.

"But perhaps you'd like to follow the kitty instead?" I suggested.

I moved my fingers slightly. The phantom cat turned and began to drift across the lawn. It moved with a bouncing, playful gait. Its tail swished back and forth. I guided the image away from me. Away from Flurry. Toward an open space on the lawn where the children could chase it safely.

It took the little girl a moment to fully understand that you weren't going to let her near Flurry. But by then, you were already casting your spell. The initial glow of the gems on your arcane glove were enough to take her attention off reacting to being told no in the way that small children usually do. And when the spell was cast and the illusory feline appeared before her, the girl had likely already forgotten about the initial refusal. "Kitty!" The girl exclaimed while bouncing up and down in excitement. When you bade the cat move off, the girl chased after it with a call of "Pet the kitty!" as she went. The other children that had come to observe you moved off after the girl and the cat. Soon enough, you were alone agai-

"And here I was thinking I was going to have to rescue you from a mob of curious children." A familiar voice spoke up.

The voice belonged to a half-elven woman around your age who carried herself with the effortless grace of someone raised among the nobility. Her complexion was smooth and fair, like porcelain warmed by a faint blush. Long, golden hair fell in gentle waves down her back. Her eyes were her most striking feature: bright orbs of soft violet, framed by dark lashes, that seemed to subtly shift in hue with her mood. A delicate nose and high cheekbones lent her an air of quiet elegance, while her lips curved easily into a warm, intelligent smile. She was slender but not frail, the lines of her figure perfectly poised, shaped as much by confidence as by nature. Her gown - embroidered silk tailored to perfection - flowed like water around her, the fabric whispering as she walked. Jewels glimmered at her throat and wrists, but even they seemed only pale reflections of the radiance she herself carried.

This was Lady Agnes Larimar, a daughter of the noble family allied with the Everhearts. Among all of the Larimars, she was the one that you interacted with the most often.

"Hello Viktor." Lady Agnes greeted you happily. "I do hope all this festive atmosphere hasn't been pressing down on you too much. I know such things have never really been your preference... Though I suppose that just makes it all the more heartwarming that you would brave it to be here for your mentor's big day."

The children chased after the phantom cat. They laughed and called out happily. Their small feet pattered across the lawn as the image bounced and weaved ahead of them. I watched them go with quiet relief. At least that crisis had been avoided.

"And here I was thinking I was going to have to rescue you from a mob of curious children."

I turned at the familiar voice. Lady Agnes Larimar stood beside me. She moved with the kind of grace that came from years of noble training. Her golden hair caught the light from the arcane lanterns. Her violet eyes seemed to shift slightly in shade. The Larimars were all beautiful. Every single one of them. But Agnes was something else entirely. Sometimes I caught myself staring a little too long. Wondering things I didn't usually wonder about women.

"I actually enjoy social gatherings," I said. "Just usually with far fewer people involved. This is..." I gestured vaguely at the crowded lawn. "A bit much."

I glanced back toward where the ceremony dais stood beneath the ironwood tree. "But I'd do whatever I could to be here for Professor Finch today. She deserves that much. This is a special day for her."

"I actually enjoy social gatherings, just usually with far fewer people involved. This is... A bit much. But I'd do whatever I could to be here for Professor Finch today. She deserves that much. This is a special day for her."

Lady Agnes smiled and nodded in agreement with the sentiment. "She is fortunate indeed to have so loyal a protege as you." She said. "Even if I was not obligated to them, I'd gladly endure similar trials to be there for my patrons... Or rather... some of them, that is." Much like the Everhearts, the Larimars were spellcasters. But while your family were born with magic, Lady Agnes and her family bargained for theirs. It varied from Larimar to Larimar as to who or what it was they chose as their warlock patron. But if there was a being that could have magical powers haggled out of it, it was always a safe bet to say that a Larimar had done so at least once. The only exception to this rule was fiends, with whom the Larimars had a long history of mutual animosity.

For her part, Lady Agnes was sworn and beholden to the Meeting of Minds, a conclave of 9 powerful necromancers and an owl familiar who long ago partook of an arcane ritual to attain immortality by removing the brains from their bodies and placing them into jars. This arrangement was why Lady Agnes held more sympathy for your work on Flurry than most usually had. Especially when it became known that attempts to bring Flurry back through conventional means were met with failure due to the spellcasters brought in being unable to find the dog's soul.

"If you would not find having some company in all of this to be a bit much, might I accompany you for a time?" Lady Agnes asked. "It's been somewhat longer than usual since we last spoke, so I was hoping to see how you and Flurry have been doing... If you would simply prefer the company of yourselves though, I won't hold it against you."

As all of this went on, Flurry continued to stare off into the distance. Utterly transfixed by whatever had captured his attention.

"Of course, Lady Agnes," I said. "I would be most pleased to have your company."

I glanced down at Flurry. He still stood rigid. His empty eye sockets fixed on something in the distance. He hadn't moved since I first noticed him staring. The behavior was starting to wear on me.

"Though I must confess something has been bothering me," I said. I gestured toward my undead companion. "Flurry has been staring at something for quite some time now. I can't seem to figure out what's caught his attention."

I looked out across the crowded lawn. I tried to follow his line of sight. But there were too many people. Too many colorful banners and floating lanterns. Too much movement everywhere.

"Would you mind helping me look?" I asked. "Perhaps you might spot what I'm missing."

"He's having another one of his fixated episodes, is he?" Lady Agnes said before turning to aid you in your search across the grand lawn. "Well I can most certainly try to be of assistance."

The two of you leaned forward, following the rigid line of Flurry’s muzzle as he stood perfectly still at your side, ears perked, tail frozen, gaze locked on some distant point beyond the sea of milling guests. It’s a noble effort, but hardly an easy one. The lawn was alive with movement. Guests drifted between tables, servers weaved through clusters of conversation, and an ever growing mob of children darted unpredictably after the illusory cat you conjured into being.

You shift a little to the left. Lady Agnes tilts her head to the right. Neither angle seems to help.

"Did you give Flurry the ability to see through people since we last met?" She asked while squinting over a particularly tall halfling standing on a chair. Flurry did not blink. His stare remained unwavering. Intense enough that one might wonder whether he has sensed danger, spotted a rival, or perhaps identified something only dogs and divination wizards can properly decipher.

At last, the smallest of gaps opened in the crowd as several guests wandered off to join the betting at the buffet table. Through that brief window, the line of sight became clear. And there, glittering beneath the midday sun like a shard of winter transplanted into summer’s warmth, stood an ice sculpture.

Lady Agnes blinked for a moment, then her face blossomed into an expression of mirthful amusement. "He becomes fixated on the most random things, doesn't he?" She said. "Well... Mystery solved. Though Flurry's motivations remain just as much his own as they always do."

Conversation came so naturally to Lady Agnes. I had been trained to be polite and charming. To speak softly and choose my words carefully. But you could tell I was making an effort. With her, it was just part of who she was. I almost got distracted by the sound of her voice alone.

But we had found what Flurry was staring at. An ice sculpture. It stood there glittering in the sunlight.

"Perhaps we might examine it more closely," I said. "And afterwards, we could join the others at the buffet? Perhaps procure some refreshments?"

I barely waited for her to reply. I called to Flurry. "Come."

I moved through the crowd toward the ice sculpture. As we got closer, I studied it more carefully. The way the light caught in its surface. The craftsmanship of its carved details. I wondered if there was something arcane about it. Something magical that had drawn Flurry's attention. Or if it was just another one of his random fascinations.

"Perhaps we might examine it more closely, and afterwards, we could join the others at the buffet? Perhaps procure some refreshments?"

Lady Agnes nodded here approval of this plan as she and Flurry both followed you in moving to inspect the ice sculpture. As you moved closer you started to make out enough of the ice sculpture's to realize that it depicted the nine founders of Moorvale.

There was the high elf druid Andraste Amastacia kneeling at the center, hands raised, with ghostly forest spirits swirling around her and trees sprouting from her gestures.

The mountain dwarf artificer Durwith Bronzebeard stood beside her, hammer raised high, sparks frozen mid-air as they cascaded down onto his anvil.

The icy rendition of the half-orc barbarian Buramog the Breaker was frozen in an eternal forward lunge on the other side of Andraste, maul in hand, breaking a beast beneath his swing. His roar hacked into the ice with all the aggression and brutality the Breaker himself had possessed.

The lightfoot halfling bard Rinkin Goodbarrel was frozen mid-dance dance across the foreground, lute in hand, trails of musical notes floating in his wake.

The gold dragonborn paladin Ghesh Drasteath stood beside Durwith with sword and shield in hand, sunlight glinting off his icy scales.

The tiefling fighter Sir Courage Duty Honor knelt next to Drasteath with one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other raised in a knightly vow. He faced the horizon as if daring any foe to approach.

Your founding ancestor, the human sorcerer Lacridon Everheart hovered slightly above the ground next to Buramog, arcane sigils spiraling from one hand, a chaotic wild magic mishap surging from the other.

The human wizard Rhibeus Gax made somatic gestures over an open grimoire next to Lacridon. Magical glyphs danced across the pages, carved into the ice with great attention to detail.

And finally, the human rogue Graham Douglas was partially in shadow, lurking behind the others with a dagger glinting in one hand. His presence more felt than seen in the sculpture.

It was barely an inconvenience to find the magical aspects of the ice sculpture. Some of it was being supported in part or held aloft entirely by magic. Despite it being the middle of summer, the sculpture showed no sign of melting. And once you got close enough, a disembodied voice that you realize belongs to Alton Goodbarrel began speaking.

"Long ago, the land that would become Moorvale was wild and untamed." Alton's voice spoke. "A valley of tangled forests, jagged hills, and roaming beasts. Nine heroes, drawn from distant lands and disparate peoples, converged by fate at the valley's heart."

Andraste's sculpture began glowing. "Andraste Amastacia knelt upon the fertile soil, her hands tracing the ley lines beneath the earth. 'Here.' She whispered to the others. 'The spirits of the land are strong. This shall be our home.' With a flourish, she called upon the forest spirits, binding them to protect the city yet to rise."

Durwith's sculpture began glowing. "Durwith Bronzebeard struck his hammer upon stone and metal, shaping the first walls and towers. Sparks flew like stars, and the valley echoed with the music of creation. 'Let our city stand as long as the mountains themselves!' He roared. His forges gave birth to the gates, aqueducts, and defenses that would shield and provide for Moorvale for generations."

Buramog's sculpture began glowing. "Buramog the Breaker stood at the city’s edge, challenging the wild beasts and bandits who dared approach. With a swing of his maul, he cleared the valley, hammering out safe place for the settlers. 'No threat shall touch this land while I breathe.' He vowed."

Rinkin's sculpture began glowing. "From among the crowd, Rinkin Goodbarrel strummed a lively tune upon his lute. His songs lifted spirits and soothed fear. Negotiating with wandering tribes and nearby settlements, he brought allies to their cause. 'Let our story be sung, and our city remembered.' He said, composing the first lines of the Founding Song of Moorvale."

Drasteath's sculpture began glowing. "Ghesh Drasteath raised his gleaming sword and blessed the land in Bahamut’s name. He established codes of justice, ensuring that morality would guide the city's laws. 'Moorvale shall shine as a beacon of virtue.' He proclaimed, carving the first paladin sigils into the stone gates."

Sir Courage's sculpture began glowing. "By his side, Sir Courage Duty Honor marshaled warriors into disciplined ranks, instructing them in the arts of defense and chivalry. When raiders approached, he challenged their mightiest warriors one-on-one, securing peace through valor and strategy. 'A city is strong not only in stone but in courage.' He declared."

Lacridon's sculpture began glowing. "Above the valley, Lacridon Everheart traced arcs of magic through the air, weaving protective wards into the city’s foundations. His enchantments lit the night with guiding beacons and held the city safe from storms and shadow. 'The heart of Moorvale will always burn bright.' He said, naming the enchanted lantern that would guide travelers."

Rhibeus's sculpture began glowing. "Rhibeus Gax inscribed runes upon towers and libraries, weaving knowledge and arcane theory into the city's design. 'Let wisdom guard the walls as surely as steel.' He advised, stabilizing the valley's magic and teaching others to safeguard the city for centuries."

Graham's sculpture began glowing. "Finally, Graham Douglas slipped into the shadows, mapping secret passages and hidden routes. He spied on potential threats, unmasking spies and saboteurs before they could act. 'By day and by night, the shadows will protect us.' He murmured, vanishing into the city's secret tunnels."

"Together, these nine shaped Moorvale. Not merely a city of stone and magic, but a place where courage, wisdom, art, and nature coalesce." Alton's voice declared as the sculptures all stopped glowing. "Their deeds were immortalized in the Founding Song, sung in taverns and halls, a reminder that Moorvale was built not by one hero alone, but by the unity of many, each bringing their strength to the heart of a wild valley. And so, under the watchful stars, Moorvale was born, destined to grow and endure, its name echoing through the ages as a testament to the nine who dared to forge civilization from wilderness."

With that said, the voice fell silent. A look of recollection adorned Lady Agnes's face as she regarded the ice sculpture. "I recall Alton mentioning that he was helping out with something some of the University's students were working on to help summarize the city's history to people visiting from further afield." She said. "This must be what he was talking about."

Meanwhile, Flurry continued to stare intently at the ice sculpture.

The voice told the story of Moorvale's founding. Each sculpture glowed in turn as their tale was spoken. I had heard these stories before. Every child in Moorvale knew them. But hearing them here, seeing the sculptures come to life with magic, felt different.

When Lacridon Everheart's sculpture began to glow, I felt a small surge of something. Pride, maybe. Or weight. My ancestor floating above the ground. Arcane sigils spiraling from one hand. Wild magic surging from the other. The stories always mentioned that chaos. That unpredictability. It ran in the family, they said.

The voice faded away. The glowing sculptures returned to their normal state. Lady Agnes spoke about Alton's project, but I barely registered her words.

Flurry was still staring. Even after we'd come all this way. Even after hearing the entire presentation. His gaze remained fixed on the ice sculpture. Unwavering.

I stepped closer to the frozen figures. I reached out and touched the cold surface. My fingers traced along the carved details of the founders.

"Hey boy," I said quietly. I looked down at Flurry. "What is it? What's bothering you?"

The reanimated dog didn't move. Didn't shift his attention. Whatever had caught his interest, it still held him completely.

Yet another disembodied voice spoke up when you touched the ice sculpture. It wasn't the voice of Alton Goodbarrel this time, but it was a familiar voice all the same. "OI! 'Ands off, ya git!" Barked the of voice Orthog Troll-Puncher. "This sculpture weren't easy to carve! An' it weren't carved just so some eggheads could get all mittsy with it!"

"Well that's certainly one way of getting people to listen to your 'please do not touch' notice." Lady Agnes said in response to this.

Meanwhile, Flurry continued to stare at the sculpture. Even if he had any ability to respond to your questions, it's quite likely he would not have heard you anyway.

I jumped back when the voice shoutd at me. It was so loud. My heart beat fast in my chest. I really did not expect the sculpture to yell.

I lookd down at Flurry. The noise did not make him move at all. He was still frozen like a statue. He just kept staring at the ice. This was not normal behavior. Not even for him.

I felt a worry in my gut. What if something was wrong with it? I did not want anything to ruin Professor Finch's big day. She worked too hard for this.

"I know I sound paranoid," I said to Lady Agnes. "But Flurry is lockd on to this thing. Maybe he sees something dangerous inside. Or maybe just weird magic."

I could not just walk away. I needed to know the truth. I sat down on the grass near the base of the sculpture. It was time to use a ritual.

"I am going to check the magic," I said. "It will take about ten minuts. Do you want to join me?"

I closed my eyes and started the spell. I whisperd the words slowly. I waited for the magic to tell me what this thing really was.

"I think I may know a quicker way to get you some answers." Lady Agnes said before turning towards a nearby crowd, putting a hand to her mouth, and calling out. "Miss Gax? Would you please come here for a moment?"

"C-C-Coming!" A nervous voice called back from within the crowd. The people shifted then, and eventually parted to allow a descendant of Rhibeus Gax to emerge from the crowd and quickly make her way over to you and Lady Agnes.

Euphemia Gax had the unmistakable look of an arcane scholar. Bookish, bright eyed, and charming in a way she seemed completely unaware of. Waves of chestnut hair framed her face. Often kept half tucked behind her ears, yet forever slipping loose as though conspiring against her attempts to appear tidy.

Her glasses were her most notable feature. Round and slightly oversized, with delicate metal rims that glinted whenever the light caught them. They magnified her mossy green eyes just enough to give her an earnest, permanently curious expression.

A dusting of ink smudges clung to her fingers as they often did from late night note taking, and faint traces of chalk or luminescent spell powder also lingered on her sleeves. She dressed in neat academy attire, though the fit was often slightly askew. A cardigan buttoned one notch wrong. A ribbon tie slipping off center. A robe hem revealing mismatched socks. Small, endearing signs of a mind that moved at speeds faster than her hands could keep up with.

"L-Lady Agnes. Lord Viktor." Euphemia said, bowing to each name's respective owner as she spoke them. "You have... need of me?"

"I hear it is your magic we have to thank for making this wondrous creation that much more wondrous." Lady Agnes said while gesturing to the ice sculpture. "Did I hear correctly?"

"T-That is true, Lady Agnes." Euphemia said, her cheeks turning ever so slightly pink at the compliment.

"Then might you be able to tell us what magic you worked upon this sculpture?" Lady Agnes asked. "Flurry here has become rather fixated on your work, and that has Viktor worrying that something untoward might be afoot."

Euphemia gasped at this revelation, turned to face you, and began bowing to you many times in rapid succession. "I am so sorry Lord Viktor!" Euphemia began apologizing profusely. "It was never my intention to cause you any inconvenience! I only wished to amuse and educate the foreign visitors attending this wedding! Please forgive me!"

"Easy now, dear. Easy. Take a breath." Lady Agnes said calmingly. "We're sure you meant well and you aren't in any trouble. We just want to know what spells you have cast on this sculpture in case any of that might be affecting Flurry."

Euphemia took a breath as Lady Agnes had instructed and eventually calmed herself enough to answer. "Well..." The wizard began slowly, brow lined with thought. "There's a series of Glyphs of Warding cast on the sculpture. Each Glyph has a casting of Protection from Fire stored within them and they're each set to go off one after the other at fifty nine minute intervals to keep the sun from melting the sculpture. There's also two sets of Magic Mouths cast on the sculpture, the longer story set and the shorter warning set. The story set is triggered once every fifteen minutes by someone approaching it and it features the voice of Alton Goodbarrel recounting the story of Moorvale's founding. A second set of Glyphs with castings of Prestidigitation stored in them makes individual parts of the sculpture light up during certain parts of the story. Meanwhile, the warning set is triggered by touching the sculpture without the proper authorization and features the voice of Orthog Troll-Puncher warning them not to do that, giving a final warning if the toucher persists, and then calling the actual Troll-Puncher over to deal with any miscreants who touch a third time. If someone damages the sculpture or tries to steal it, the warning set automatically escalates to calling for Orthog." Euphemia falls silent then, fidgets for a moment, and quickly adds soon after. "Whatever spell it was that captivated your hound's attention so thoroughly, I am truly sorry it did so."

"I don't think you need worry yourself, Miss Gax." Lady Agnes said then. "I don't believe anything you mentioned in that list of spells could be responsible for how Flurry is acting." Lady Agnes looked to you for confirmation of this. Something that you could easily give here, since there is in fact nothing in that list of spells that could be responsible for how Flurry is acting.

As this all happens, Flurry finally comes out the other side of his fixated episode and resumes his ordinary patterns of behavior.

The focus in Flurry's eyes finally broke, and the tension left my shoulders. I looked down at him, then back up at Euphemia Gax.

"Miss Gax, please don't apologize," I said, speaking gently. "Your work is impressive. Flurry is... he is simply difficult to understand sometimes. I am the one who worried too much. Thank you for clarifying the magic."

I turned back to Lady Agnes, feeling slightly ashamed of my quick assumption of danger. "I apologize, Lady Agnes. I can become too focused when I lack an answer. I should not have worried you over such a minor thing."

I glanced toward the gazebo where my grandfather sat, checking the number of guests around him once more.

"I think we could both use a refreshment after that small excitement," I said, offering a polite smile. "I am going to get us both something to drink. Is there anything in particular you would prefer?"

I would wait for Lady Agnes’s response to my question, and then I would move to the nearest refreshment table with the goal of securing two drinks. If I succeeded and returned to her with the beverages, I would intend to invite her to join me in visiting my grandfather.

Although she still seems somewhat flustered, your words definitely calmed Euphemia down somewhat. "Al-Always happy to help." She said quietly, before bowing to you and Lady Agnes in turn and scurrying back to the crowd from whence she came.

"I apologize, Lady Agnes. I can become too focused when I lack an answer. I should not have worried you over such a minor thing."

"Oh it was no worry at all." Lady Agnes assured you. "In fact, I quite enjoy puzzling over the mystery behind these bouts of fixation Flurry has every so often."

When you look over at your grandfather's gazebo, you see fewer guests there than there were before. And from what you can tell, the old man himself is in relatively good spirits.

"I think we could both use a refreshment after that small excitement, I am going to get us both something to drink. Is there anything in particular you would prefer?"

"Surprise me." Was Lady Agnes's reply.

You went on to acquire the drinks without any notable difficulty. Soon after, you were off to see your grandfather with Lady Agnes in tow after she happily accepted your invitation.

As the two of you stepped on to the gazebo, Aldric Everheart turned to look at you. He adjusted his glasses a little and squinted for a moment, then his face lit up with what appeared to be recognition. "Ah! Cassandra! Dmitri!" Aldric exclaimed. "It warms my heart to think that you would carve some time out of your big day to come see us." The old man looked over his shoulder and called out then. "Melia? Melia! Come quickly dearest! Cassandra and her husband are here!"

Melia was the name of Aldric's wife, your grandmother. She died a little over ten years ago. From experience, you know reminding him of this rarely ends well.

I moved to the refreshment table and retrieved three glasses: one tangy, citric drink for myself, a similar refreshing option for Lady Agnes, and another for my grandfather. I handed the cup to Lady Agnes, and when she accepted my invitation, we walked across the lawn together toward the gazebo.

The blood rushed to my cheeks. My grandfather, Aldric, was staring straight at me, yet seeing someone else entirely. It was one of those moments. His face was full of warmth, but his mind was far away, back in time.

"Ah! Cassandra! Dmitri!" he exclaimed, confusing me and Lady Agnes for my parents.

I felt a hot wave of embarrassment, especially standing next to Lady Agnes. I risked a quick glance at her, hoping she would not be too put off by the mistake. Then I focused entirely on my grandfather. There was no good way to correct him, especially since he was asking for Melia.

"Lord Everheart, it is good to see you," I said, keeping my voice gentle and easy. I tried to interrupt his calls for my late grandmother Melia without causing alarm. "She's just busy, Lord Everheart. Lady Melia is helping to manage the guests and the gifts. She told us not to worry her right now."

I stepped closer to him. "And of course we would take the time to be here with you," I continued, my voice steady. "You are a very special man to our family, and we would never miss a chance to spend time with you on such a happy day."

I held out the cup of refreshment I had brought for him. My intention is to give him the drink and try to gently steer the conversation to something current, hoping to keep his good mood from fading.

When you glanced at Lady Agnes, you saw that she had unfolded a hand fan, brought it to her face to conceal everything below her eyes from view, and averted her gaze. But though much of her face was hidden, there was something to be gleaned from what was not. The undersides of her eyes were a little higher up than they usually were. Especially at the outer corners of the eyes. This suggested that Lady Agnes was smiling behind her fan. Though you were unable to determine what kind of smile she was hiding.

"She's just busy, Lord Everheart. Lady Melia is helping to manage the guests and the gifts. She told us not to worry her right now."

"Why am I not surprised?" Aldric said with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You know, there are days when I think she doesn't quite get what retirement means... Though I suppose we all do what we must to take our minds off that whole Great Modron March business." Aldrich shrugged before looking directly at you. "And stop with that Lord Everheart nonsense, Dmitri. Even if you hadn't just become a Lord Everheart yourself, we're in-laws now! Call me Aldric, my boy.

"And of course we would take the time to be here with you," You continued then. "You are a very special man to our family, and we would never miss a chance to spend time with you on such a happy day."

"Oh you shameless flatterer you." Aldric laughed. "I guess now I know how it is you managed to charm my daughter so." It took him a moment to notice the drink you offered him, but eventually he did. "Ooo! Thank you kindly." Your grandfather expressed his gratitude before eagerly accepting the beverage, taking a drink, and letting out a satisfied 'ahh'. "That's some good stuff right there."

Aldric fell silent for a time as he savoured his drink then. He took in the sight of his surroundings as he did. This eventually led to him noticing Andraste and Durwith off in the distance, causing the old man to suddenly remember something and turn back to you and Lady Agnes. "Say, have either of you spoken with the founders in attendance yet?" Aldric asked. "Lady Andraste and Master Durwith came to see me earlier. The strangest thing happened though. They seemed to become somewhat upset as we spoke, but I couldn't discern why. And when I brought it up and asked if they were alright, Master Durwith went even quieter than he usually was and Lady Andraste made up some hasty excuse and quickly changed the subject. Strange, no?"

I caught the glint of amusement in Lady Agnes’s eyes above her fan. I wasn't sure if she was entertained by the situation or my awkward performance, but as long as she played along, I was grateful.

Grandfather's words about the founders sparked a different kind of curiosity in me. Andraste and Durwith were living legends. It was hard to imagine them getting upset over a casual conversation, unless the topic was something truly sensitive.

"That is indeed very curious, Aldric," I said, forcing myself to use his first name as he asked. It felt strange on my tongue. "Do you remember what you were talking about right before they got upset? Was it a specific story, perhaps?"