Alliances Offered, Part Sixteen

"You should consider marriage, Your Majesty," said Dante Alighieri, and Tavros sighed. He needed assistance and support; instead, he received more demands. 

Nobody should wish to be king. It should fall to the person who draws the unlucky stick. Which I suppose is me, at this point. "You have suggestions, I presume?" asked Tavros, regarding the famed bard flatly across the wooden table where he was trying to study Vigo's map of the kingdom and its travails and loyalties. He needed to know this, rather more than he needed a wife to help cement his rule.

"Not as many as I might wish," Dante admitted, spreading his hands reluctantly. "There is some difficulty in determining who survived the approach of the dark army and the solari hunters."

Tavros sighed. "Do you have any suggestions at all, or is this advice of yours more in the nature of 'You need to be married and producing heirs, but I know not with whom'? Because if that's all you need, put Ruin on the throne."

The bard hesitated. "You have, I think, a very strong possibility in the young lady Bouvier, though such an alliance is less advantageous now that her father is once again in your service. Her lady, Tabitha Andiras, is also of noble birth and well-established... and I believe her aunt corresponds with your mother. And, of course, there is always the possibility that you could marry this so-called Warbear Queen, and settle--"

"What?" Tavros stopped himself with his claws halfway to Dante's throat. "No," he said. "Are you mad? I need to marry someone who will work with me, not against me."

Dante Alighieri had gone pale. "Of course, your majesty." 

"Leave me," Tavros said abruptly. "Now." 

The bard hesitated for a brief moment, then pushed his chair back and stood. 

"I will find a noble bride," Tavros said, managing not to grind his fangs together by an act of will. "I will do as the Kingdom requires. But I will not compromise us in a short-sighted quest for immediate stability."

Dante was still standing there. 

"Get out."

Dante went.

Tavros took a deep breath, and then another, and then another. He made himself remain still in his chair until the rage inside him had passed, and his head was clear again. Dante meant to provoke me, he concluded. The poet -- and likely Vigo the Whisperer as well -- felt that they needed a royal marriage, and heirs soon after. They would only have suggested a marriage with the Solari Hunter Jenny as a prod to get him to accede to something more acceptable. And the gods alone knew what sorts of pressures they might be bringing to bear on any likely noble daughters... and there were still some around, no few of them here in Caristhium.

I could still ask Martini to murder them both, he thought. The elvish assassin would likely do it just for fun, and ultimately the kingdom might even be better for it... or else it might be a disastrous mistake. And it wasn't as if they were wrong, exactly. He didn't intend to have anybody executed just because their good advice was unwelcome.

Damn it. Caught again. He needed to talk to the likeliest candidates, but before that he needed to decide just how much of this he was willing to put up with.

Alliances Offered, Part Fifteen

They were outside the manor when Aesa said, "So... you and Tavros?"

Jacqueline snapped back to attention. Aesa was Tavros' friend, and her opinion was important. "I don't know. I hope so. Maybe I'll just embarrass myself." She paused. "I could live with that, I think. It's not too late to go into hiding, after all."

Aesa laughed. "I don't think it'll come to that," she said easily. "I think that just by doing what you're doing -- being here, and helping as best you can -- you've shown your quality. I mean, maybe you're just earning our trust so you can betray us later. Vigo could do that, I think." She glanced at Jacqueline, sidelong. "Most people couldn't, though, and I don't think you are."

Jacqueline considered. "I don't think I could," she said after a moment, "but in any case I'm definitely not. You have no idea how much better I like it here." She shook her head, because actually shuddering was unbecoming for a lady of noble birth. "All of you can just... help each other out. Be nice to each other. Say what you mean and expect to be understood. Honestly, the foremost disadvantage to making an offer of marriage to Tavros is that I'll end up having to deal with the court again."

Aesa was silent for a long, thoughtful moment. Then she said, "He'll need someone to help him with that, though." She paused, still thinking. "And the court under Tavros may be somewhat different from what you remember."

"I hold to the hope," Jacqueline said fervently.  

"Well," said Aesa, "for whatever it's worth: I won't advise him against it, either. Marrying you, I mean."

Jacqueline hesitated, but she would never have a better time to ask and she wanted to know. "What was it like for you and Vendril?"

"Strange," Aesa said immediately. "I wouldn't call it a proper courtship. I was already raising a daughter, and her father had finally returned, but this presence kept showing up out of nowhere to talk to me and ask me questions. We'd heard of the Silver Fox even out here; he was a legend. He was a ghost. I still don't know what he saw in me, and when I ask he says it was just me. But eventually he asked if he could meet my daughter, and I told him he'd have to take off his mask for that... and he did, and Rose seemed to like him. It was a while after that before he asked if he could kiss me, and by then I was... comfortable, having him around. He kept doing little things for me: collecting Rose from the nursery, leaving small gifts, interceding to make sure that Anica and I didn't end up in a death battle with a bunch of elven bandits in the hills. He was there, and... concerned? ...when Ruin couldn't be. And he needed my support, too. He'd lost most of his companions, and finally been driven out of the city where he'd chosen to make his stand. I don't think he entirely knows who he is if he doesn't have somebody to protect. It was... I don't know. We just fit."

"And Ruin?" asked Jacqueline. "Don't answer if it's an indelicate question. It's just that Tavros seems to have a surprising number of elves around him, and Ruin and Martini are the closest to his concerns. Is Ruin... Is Ruin a problem?"

Aesa offered a reassuring smile, though there was a hint of sadness there as well. "Ruin is Ruin," she said. "I don't know how to describe it any better than that, and that won't make any sense if you don't know Ruin. He's... he's loyal, but also a little self-destructive and a lot angry. I don't think I can properly explain how we ended up having a child together -- it was a very fraught couple of days -- but he didn't deceive me or take advantage of me. If anything, he was trying to help me and things just..." She gestured. "...got out of hand."

"Vendril seems like someone I could trust," Jacqueline observed carefully. "You're saying Ruin might be too."

"You can trust him," Aesa said. "Honestly, I'd be more worried about Martini. But given what the kingdom is facing, Tavros needs someone murderous and scheming on his side too." 

Jacqueline nodded as she digested that. "Then I should trust Tavros' friends the way he trusts his friends."

Aesa shrugged. "Caution is never a bad idea," she said, "but ultimately I think... yes."

Dark Armor: Inquiries and Impressions

So what do you think of my fiancée? 

Pallian had shut his brother down when he'd tried to ask that question at dinner, but back in his room -- and finally alone -- he found himself struggling with it. What did he think of her? And was her oldest sister, to whom his own troth was theoretically pledged, anything like her? 

How serious was any of this? Was his father planning some sort of betrayal? Was the High Magister? How much of a disaster would it be if they went through with it? How much of a disaster if he disappeared from Teregor at the first viable opportunity?

The servants had brought water for a bath, at least. That much had been a welcome relief, and Pallian had sunk himself as far down as he could manage in the hot water. He was clean already, or near enough, but simply soaking in the warmth had been a welcome relief after the dinner had finally ended. And his father must not have been terribly displeased; at least, when Pallian had proferred his farewells, the Wizard-King had dismissed him with nothing more than an absent nod. 

He was utterly exhausted. So why was he lying here in his old bed -- softer than he remembered -- tossing and turning and asking himself difficult questions? He would need the sleep he was missing. He would need to be alert to survive his father's attention, let alone to navigate the rest of the court. 

How would he answer Ravaj?

Divine Alliances: Consequences for Ruin

(We're catching up a bit here, as all of this would have happened before Martini took Ruin and Marshall to kill Duke Lamont, and Tavros, Leira, Geddy, and Ava went to execute Bouvier. Still, this is relevant and hopefully anybody who's following along can keep the timeline sorted out for themselves.)

Ruin took a moment to look carefully up and down the corridor, but nobody else was nearby. He lifted a hand and knocked gently on the wooden door. "Terra?"

The Avatar yanked the door open so quickly that Ruin wondered if she'd been waiting behind it. She reached out, grabbed the top edge of his breastplate, and pulled him into the room, slamming the door gently -- by her standards -- behind her. "Ruin," she acknowledged.

He looked at her, looked at the simple travel bag on her bed, half-packed, and then at the open doors of the wooden wardrobe. "What...?" he asked with a puzzled frown.

"I think it's time for me to leave," she told him. "Your friend the would-be king -- probably will-be king, even without my help -- is too easily influenced. If he won't hold to his bargain, then there's no point to my being here."

Ruin shrugged. "I just came to see if you wanted another bout."

She stopped, studied him. "You did, didn't you?"

He nodded. "Will you tell me what happened?"

"Another Avatar showed up, and a representative from Indra -- Ezra somebody-or-other. I couldn't tell if he was an avatar or the head of the Order of the Mischievous Winds, but he was arrogant enough for either. Your king gave way to them immediately. He told them, right in front of me, that he wouldn't be converting the Temple of the Elements to a temple for Demeter." She stopped, studying his face. "So I'm leaving."

Ruin hadn't come prepared for any of this. Politics wasn't his business; he had children to raise and a once-nameless god to murder. But Tavros... he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then took another. Finally he said, "May I venture to give you some advice?"

Terra held up a hand. Ruin had never been good at reading people, but he could see her anger warring with a fundamental desire to help. The expression was uncomfortably familiar.

He looked away, waited.

Finally she said, "Very well. What would you advise?"

Ruin sighed. "Tavros has this problem where he listens to people and actually wants to help them. It's a difficulty for him. And in this case, I think you may actually have contributed to the difficulty."

"Oh?" Terra Windblade tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, and Ruin resisted the urge to step back... or remove himself to somewhere else entirely.

"As I heard it," he said carefully, "you yourself suggested the Temple of the Elements as a site for the new Temple of Demeter. It is, after all, mostly demolished, and the one deity whose temple remains there intact is one we have no particular reason to trust. And Tavros may be a paladin, but he's not an Avatar. It probably didn't occur to him that the gods whose temples had been there would object to having them replaced with temples to other gods entirely. He likely thought they'd write them off as having already been destroyed by Indra, and direct their wrath at the Blue Devil. If Indra's temple was destroyed in turn -- which seems like something we might have to do -- then the slate would be clean and Tavros could build his Temple of All there."

He paused, but Terra studied him for another long moment and then said, "Go on."

"I don't pretend to understand the ways of the gods," or want anything to do with them, really, "but it should hardly surprise you that if Indra and... is it Belrab? ...arrive at once, Tavros would consider their objections to that course of action reasonable. That doesn't mean he won't keep faith with you, it just means that whatever he commits to won't be on the site of the Temple of the Elements. The Covenant of Amun will still become the official religion of Sol Povos--"

Terra narrowed her eyes, suddenly thoughtful. "Just the Three?"

Ruin lifted his hands, uncertain. "Based on a conversation I had earlier today, I believe so. I make no promises, O my favorite opponent."

"Then what of the proposed temples for Corellon and Artemis?"

"Moved north to Duendewood, to be supported by the elvish king Mythrandril once Duke Lamont is--" He coughed, pretending to subtlety. "--deposed."

The Avatar of Demeter eyed him. "You're planning to murder him, aren't you?"

Ruin leaned forward, met her eyes, and said: "Thoroughly."

The Avatar of Demeter laughed. "I shouldn't like you as much as I do, Elf." She frowned. "Will Tavros promise anything to the Avatar of Belrab?"

Ruin thought about that. "Perhaps a token of support to help rebuild that portion of the Temple of the Elements. Nothing beyond that." He thought a moment longer, then added: "Does your goddess know that Vecna's priesthood is trying to resurrect her here in Sol Povos? That's our primary fear. That's why Tavros is trying to pull the kingdom back together so quickly. He doesn't actually want to be king, and he's deathly afraid he's going to mangle the job. And if we're being completely honest here, that's why I want you to stay. Because if Vecna does find a way to violate the Compact, having you with us makes me that much less likely to die horribly."

"Well..." Terra said grudgingly. "I suppose I should at least stay long enough to hear him out."

"Thank you. The far side of the lake again? In, say, an hour?"

"Why not now?" asked Terra.

"I would, but I need to check in with Tavros and make sure I'm not misrepresenting the plan."

Terra eyed him. "And if you are? Say you were... honestly mistaken... in what you just told me? What then?"

Ruin shrugged. "Then I'll tell you exactly what I've I learned in an hour, right before you knock me into a few more trees."

Terra laughed. "Go, go," she said and made a little shooing gesture.

Ruin made a quick calculation, then transported himself to the dining hall. He might not find Tavros or Mythrandril there, but it was a good place to start.

* * *

Five hours later, Ruin stood at the entrance to the Chapel of All, hesitating for a moment before he stepped inside. There was nobody here, and nobody approaching. For this one small moment in the deep of the night, nobody had come here to pray.

Aesa's voice came back to him then: young, excited, and only newly a priestess. Can you feel him? She'd asked. She'd meant Amun, in whose cathedral they'd been standing at the time. Or Corellon? He hadn't, of course. He never had. And he'd never wanted to.

What in the depths of the Abyss am I doing here?

It was an empty question. He knew perfectly well why he'd come, uncomfortable though he might be with his own decision. He made his way slowly forward until he was standing in front of the altar, then reached down and laid a hand on it. Corellon Larethian. You listening, Grandfather?

He still didn't feel any response, but that was fine. This was too close to actually praying already; he didn't want to find himself suddenly engaged in some sort of communion. "Corellon," he said again, this time out loud. "I don't pray to you. I never have. I wouldn't really know how. But there's a lot going on right now, between Vecna trying to find a way around the Covenant and a bunch of other gods gathering to take advantage of a turning point in the history of Sol Povos. I'll do what I can, but nobody's going to associate me with you. So if you're going to protect your people and increase your influence... now's the time to step in, Old Man."

He lifted his hand from the altar and turned away, heading for the exit.

Werendril was standing in the doorway, leaning against one side of it. Only... this wasn't Werendril. The figure cast no shadow, and though its chest moved no breath stirred the air. "I knew you'd come around," the paladin said, but that was wrong too: the words didn't make the faintest echo off the stone walls all around them.

"...Grandfather," Ruin acknowledged. He touched the hilt of his blade, more for comfort than anything else. He doubted that having it in his hand would make any difference to this at all.

"Is that any sort of way to address me?" It was Werendril's voice, or it would have been if Werendril were bodiless and also slightly amused. "The creator of your race, to whom you owe your very existence? Show some respect, Child."

Ruin felt himself go completely still. Then he said, "I welcome your attention, O Divine Creator of the Elves, Mighty Hunter, Fleet of Foot and Sharp of Eye. How may my humble self serve Your Greatness?"

The image of Werendril seemed to study him. "Are you being sarcastic?"

Ruin shrugged. "At this point, I can't tell either." And that was utterly true: in this, as in so many other things, he was operating purely on intuition.

Soft laughter filled the Chapel of All. "Well, then. What is it you would have me do? Should I intercede on behalf of your friend the half-dragon? Or perhaps on behalf of Mythrandril and Duendewood instead? Should I call forth an avatar of my own?"

Ruin just stared at him, at Werendril's face, for a long, long moment. "Why does everyone with power want me to make decisions for them?" he asked. "And why does it always feel like a trap when they do?"

The image of Werendril tilted its head in acknowledgement. "True, you carry an obligation to the druids already." It paused, suddenly serious. "Would you become my avatar? I could take the crystal from you, and with it the debt it carries. Serve me, and I will choose the next Hierophant and see that the crystal is delivered to its proper heir."

Ruin hesitated for a long, long moment before he asked: "Are you being sarcastic?"

Werendril's likeness shrugged. "Better you than someone who yearns to be close to their god, to receive my guidance and follow my direction. You would take my power and go out and do things with it, instead of bugging me all the time to make sure your actions were in accordance with my will."

"...That sounds like you've had issues before." Ruin couldn't believe he was having this conversation. He more than half hoped he was imagining it. "I don't want to know. But no, the debt to the druids is mine to pay, however I came by it."

The image of Werendril smiled. "I could make you my avatar anyway, you know."

Ruin didn't doubt it. He wasn't even entirely certain that he wouldn't eventually come to enjoy it. But that old, old anger was still there; and for all that had happened, he was who he was. "You will do as you will, All-Father of Elvenkind," he said, "but if the choice is mine, then I would refuse it. I came here to make certain you were... aware of events. Not to ask for favors, nor to offer my help."

Werendril's likeness smiled. "As you wish. There are other ways to make my influence known." Still smiling, he disappeared. 

That sounds ominous. Ruin waited for the length of a breath, and then another. His heart was racing, and he wasn't certain if he was relieved or disappointed. Then he strode forward, passed through the doorway, and made his way back to his cell.

The bard showed up the next morning.

Challenge: Job I'd be good at

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews.)

Prompt: A job that I'd be good at.

There was a time when I would have said, "Anything physical." I used to be very athletic, and the idea of becoming a firefighter or part of a rescue service for our national parks seemed like a perfectly realistic possibility. Twenty years in Information Technology, and particular the last five years or so, has pretty well put paid to that notion: I am not in anything like that kind of shape anymore. 

I'd like to get back there, but then I'd like a lot of things.

So realistically, right now, I'd probably be good at anything to do with words and writing and like that. Technical writing, for example, if that was a skill that anybody in any kind of management position actually valued. I might make a reasonably successful author, except that between the full time job and being a parent I really haven't had time or energy until just recently. So maybe, but first I'd have to pull something together that I actually can publish. 

Game design seems like a reasonable possibility; I've played a lot of games over the years, and -- for tabletop roleplaying games in particular -- I'd have a lot of fun writing flavor text. 

Beyond that... I don't know. I could be professionally decadent -- I'd be really good at that one -- if that were a career possibility. And I still like to think that I'd be good at solving supernatural mysteries, with or without a talking dog to help me. Wizardry? I mean, I've got good pattern recognition and troubleshooting skills, so maybe. I don't think I could ever go full-on Dark Lord of Evil Evilness, but I could wander around in robes and try to figure out the cheat codes for the Universe that would let me do otherwise-impossible things.

What about you? What would you be good at?

Alliances Offered, Part Fourteen

"M'lady Fontaine?" asked Jacqueline Bouvier, as the bald-headed servant led her into the wizard's study. The room was almost a cliche: bookshelves around the outside walls, and a pair of tables in the center, one loaded with alchemical apparatus and the other covered in a sheet of paper peppered with scrawled calculations and a sketch of a tower at its center. 

Emiliana Fontaine looked up from where she'd apparently been pacing back and forth while reading from a scroll. "What? Yes?" She focused on Jacqueline, and the priestess Aesa who had accompanied her. "What is it, child?"

Jacqueline swallowed. "You know who I am. You said I could ask you anything. I'd like to know... would you support me if I asked Tavros to marry me?"

The lady Fontaine blinked, then blinked again, and finally again. After a moment she she asked, "Would you permit me a question first?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Why would I ask him, or why would I openly ask for your support?"

"Yes," said Lady Emiliana Fontaine. "Both. You're scheming, obviously, but you want me to know it and be part of it. So... what's your angle?"

Jacqueline sighed. "This would all be so much simpler if Tavros had simply executed my father for treason," she said. 

"Yes," agreed Lady Fontaine, "but try telling him that."

Jacqueline chuckled. "No, I know. I even think I understand. In any case, it's too late now." She paused, sorting her thoughts. "I want... I want, more than anything, to be free of my father. He is... I don't even know how to explain it. But... if he isn't dead, then I want him not to have any more control over me."

Lady Emiliana regarded her for a long, silent time. "I can sympathize with that," she said at last. "Tavros was, in his way, my own form of protest -- though there was more to it than that, of course."

"Of course," answered Jacqueline. She knew something of the court gossip around Lady Emiliana, and she knew better than to trust that gossip. "The way I see it now, I have two options. I can disappear: change my name, go somewhere else, and try to live a life as someone who is not the daughter of Giles Bouvier. Or, alternatively, I can make an alliance with someone who elevates me above my father's station. That would be your son. And... if I'm telling you all... I like your son. I think... I think I would actually enjoy being a partner to him."

"All well for you," said the lady Emiliana, "but what is it that you would offer him?"

Stability. Heirs. The thought of being taken by someone so strong, so fierce, so utterly loyal overwhelmed her for a moment. Support. "I know how the Court works," she said. "I've seen its intrigues and its finances. And I'm not afraid to stand beside him. I know what he wants, or at least I hope I do. I could help show him how to get it, and my advice wouldn't be tainted by other loyalties."

Lady Emiliana set the book in the corner of the table. "Do you wish me to petition him on your behalf?"

"No!" Jacqueline covered her mouth, feeling slightly horrified. "No, I only hope you won't object when I petition him myself."

The Lady Emiliana Fontaine took a moment to consider. Then she smiled. "Very well. I will leave it entirely to the two of you, and if Tavros sees fit to ask me I will give my endorsement." She paused, then added: "I know you are helping my son with the petitions from the Order of Demeter, and I know that he is grateful. I do not know if he has thought of marriage, but I know that he appreciates you, and the help you have offered."

Jacqueline felt her cheeks burning. "I just hope I'm worthy of it."

Emiliana's smile widened. "Don't just hope. Be worthy of it. It always takes work. Always."

Jacqueline swallowed. "Do you know... when I first arrived here, the paladin Anica advised me to be Tavros' friend. Not just because he trusts his friends, but because his friends make him stronger than he would be alone. That's what I want from this. I want to be part of something like that. I want to belong to it."

Lady Emiliana hesitated, then approached her. For a moment, she studied Jacqueline's face; then she kissed her twice, once on each cheek. "Trust is not an easy thing to learn," she said quietly. Then: "But I know my son. If you are loyal to him, he will be loyal to you. It will take more than that, of course. But you can find the way if you seek it."

"I... Thank you," said Jacqueline Bouvier. "I... I will..." She swallowed. "Thank you."

She barely remembered leaving the room.

Ruin: Hierophant Candidates, Part Two

"So," said Alnira, now that they were safely ensconsed atop the limb of one of the ancient trees outside of Calisthum. "You murdered Saladhel."

Ruin sighed, looking for all the world as if he expected her to attack him and felt compelled to allow it. "Not exactly," he said. "My friends and I were trapped on an island world called Fanaxia, which used to occupy the land where Mar Dentro is now." He hesitated, studying her face. "It's a long story, but this is basically where the Dark One who became the Goddess Vecna arose."

Alnira nodded cautiously. 

"While we were there," he said carefully, "we reawakened a second Druid Hierophant, an ancient true elf called Zilf. Unfortunately, there cannot be two Hierophants in the same land... and Fanaxia, for all its troubles, was once a part of Sol Povos. As the only true elf present, Zilf made me choose which of them would stand, and which would fall. At the time, Fanaxia seemed to be in much greater danger than Sol Povos, so I chose Zilf." He squeezed his eyes shut. "And condemned Saladhel."

"Ah," said Alnira, thinking that over. It certainly made more sense than the cold-blooded murder that Zoriel had half-implied. "And now you have to choose the next Hierophant." Word of that had swept through the remaining druids in the wake of the battle at the Sacred Grove. 

"I'm not sure it's choose so much as find," Ruin said. "So... on top of everything else, I'm searching. But, well... I studied with the druids in my youth, but I never became one. Who might be a good candidate? Would you?" 

Alnira considered. She'd been an acolyte of Vuelisharrn, and intended someday to take her place among the Council of Nine. Not yet, though... She didn't feel ready, and hadn't expected to be ready for another century at least. She'd been trusted, yes, and she'd done what she could to save the least experienced, but...

She shook her head. "I don't believe so. Maybe in time, but... My teacher Vuelisharrn had his own particular duties. I might have spent a century or so learning them, and two more teaching them to another, before I was ready to be considered for some greater authority. Add to that the fact that if you choose me it might look like favoritism, as there's a very definite chance that I'm carrying your child."

Ruin studied her for a long moment; then he nodded. "Will that be a problem for you, O my lover?"

Alnira shook her head. "I wouldn't have let it happen, were that the case. Is it a problem for you? It's early yet; I could still end it. But I find I like the idea of raising a child, even with..." She gestured vaguely. "...All this."

Ruin was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "It's only a problem for me in that I want to make sure that any child of mine is loved and happy, and I don't know if I'll be able to ensure that."

"I'll ensure it," Alnira said quietly. "Our child will grow up here, among the druids. It won't lack for care or company." She hesitated, then added: "The same for the child that I suspect Nym is carrying. I don't know if she's realized it yet."

"I suspected," Ruin said. Terra Windblade had told him he would have more children, and Nym and Alnira were the most likely to be their mothers. "I'll need to talk to her about it." He hesitated, then turned the conversation back to his original purpose: "Who else should I ask about the next Hierophant?"

Alnira looked off into the branches around them for a long moment. "Zoriel was Saladhel's foremost apprentice," she said. "I think he hates you, but that alone doesn't make him a bad candidate. Elendor is probably the most powerful druid left, so you should talk to her as well. But Saladhel did have other apprentices, and even if they aren't suitable they probably have insights to offer."

Ruin nodded, looking thoughtful. "Then I'll have to speak to them as well. Thank you." He tilted his head and met her eyes again. "Don't rule yourself out, though. You give good and thoughtful advice."

Alnira smiled. "I do my best, but... Can we be a little less thoughtful, now?" she asked. "It's been a long day, and I know a nearby glade where the grass is exceptionally soft..."