RoH: Childhood Wisdom, and Wisdom Grown

Zara studied him closely. After a moment she said, "You look funny, not scary. Why is your skin like that?"

"Pale, you mean?" asked Remant. 

The girl nodded.

He shrugged. "Born this way. Among my people, it's pretty normal. Among yours, it may be funny-looking."

"Oh." The child looked thoughtful. 

Kalla knelt down as well. "Go and find your father, Little Curiosity. We need to finish talking about grownup things."

Zara considered that. "I can be quiet."

Kalla looked at Remant. He shrugged, rose. "All right. Walk with us, then."

Kalla said, "Back here," and led him in a wide circle around the altar. It was good to see that it was smashed, but what waited beyond was... wholly unexpected. 

The Undergray had emptied the niches of Huoron's visages, and used them to create shrines to each of the fallen heroes instead. Here lay the bones of the Aesil mage Elendor, surrounded by his robe, staff, and sword. The niche beside it held the last remains of Darik, the Vanil champion, the bones still encased in his gleaming golden armor, mace and shield set to either side. Next was Lisla, the Vanil squire who had taken on Winstala's blessing and equipment in a desperate bid to help win their battle; she was set between her daggers, and still wore her cloak. Her bow and quiver of arrows was set behind her. Last was Shima, who had boldly taken up the blessings and weapons of her Santu, the Mordil champion Gairlos. 

Remant found that he was on his knees. He could feel his eyes prickling.

"It pleases you?" Kalla asked. "None may touch the sacred weapons save the Presbyterium, and none may take them up save yourself. It is... taboo."

Remant swallowed, and forced the grief back. "It... Yes. It pleases me, that you honor them."