The party reconvened in the morning at the bar down on the ground floor. It was empty and silent now, but still smelled of last night. After splitting some of their money between them, like they’d planned, they set out to explore the beautiful city; Livia and Pippy went one way, and Krey and Emilie went another.

As with a lot of the older settlements in Berodyl, Aldiphor was built upon a river, and Krey and Emilie decided to cross the quaint wooden bridge over to the other half of the city. The hierophant took the lead, just as fascinated by this strange place as even Livia - a total outlander - was. Krey didn’t let her stray too far, though, shadowing her with a hand on his pommel. She skipped from cobble to cobble, from curiosity to curiosity, almost forgetting that she was a revered holy figure… almost. Though the people paid her no mind, which was a refreshing change, she kept catching her faithful knight in the corner of her eye, straight and stiff as one of the street lamp poles, and hardly as inconspicuous. “You never quite take a break, do you, Krey?”

“Beg pardon, My Lady?” Krey breathed.

“We’re in the most wonderful place I’ve ever seen, so vibrant and full of life, and you’re still watching the crowds for the flash of a dagger.”

“I’m sorry…” Krey sighed. “It’s just… the closer we get to Dunlark, the taller the hairs on the back of my neck stand. The gods betraying each other… eloping with heretic terrorists… I miss the days when I knew who I could trust and who I couldn’t. Last time I was in this city - nine years ago - I hadn’t a care in the world. I was barely a true knight, and twenty two is a strange age for one's maturity; I was a grown man, and yet could still not hold a sword without thinking it phallic. I saw beautiful people in a beautiful place, and I extracted joy out of every moment. Back then, I knew the gods smiled on me, and that those who spurned their love were a thin and frail enemy. We were heroes without even trying, back then… but now…”

Emilie regarded him with a smile that was older than her face, and with a voice that spoke more than words. “Now you see fickle grins in the sky, and death in every stranger’s eye.”

Krey almost recoiled. “I didn’t know the sisterhood taught prospective hierophants poetry.”

Emilie raised a furled finger to her lips and giggled. “They do not… but I have had to guide others through crises of faith before. You are not the first to question the uncertainties of life and the world.” She took his hand - the one resting on his sword - into both of hers. “Tell me, Krey… why are there ten gods in Berodyl?”

Krey frowned, unable to answer.

“Because,” Emilie continued, “one god is simply not enough for the whole world. But we are not the whole world; we are merely people therein. One god can be enough for one person. If you’ve found your faith shaken in one you held dear, there is no shame in turning to another for refuge. The gods are different, but serve the same purpose.”

“Even Fyren?” Krey put bluntly. “Even he who slays his fellow gods?”

“As strange as it may sound… yes. He is… confused, I suspect… but what I will never doubt is that he does what he does because he believes it is the right thing for the world. We may not agree, and that is why no one god reigns supreme, for if one did, we would not have the opportunity we have now: the opportunity to challenge him, to stop him from blundering.” She cast her hand out to sweepingly gesture at the people around them. “See the people the same you would see the gods; they are all different, but all serve the same truth: the betterment of life. Each acts with the desire to make the world a better place… even if they’re mistaken. Do not let your fear of malice cloud your vision; do not let it obscure the redemption that dwells within all lost souls.”

Krey was still thinking about those words even after they had temporarily parted company. They had put him just at ease enough to give in to her incessant requests to explore on her own, but they still sat in his mind like a domesticated banditcat kitten that refused to depart its owner’s lap. He was finally able to shift those thoughts to the back of his mind when he came across an unexpectedly familiar group of people: a party of Knights Berodyl. Before he could flag them down, their captain spotted him and waved him over, and he obeyed. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen our crest on anything other than my own body,” Krey smiled. “It’s nice to see it on others again.”

“I must say,” the captain chuckled, “I think it’s been that way for all of us, but circumstances have drawn us back together from our itinerant service.”

“Dunlark Spire,” Krey knew at once.

“Indeed,” the captain nodded, his goofy smile disappearing, the red of his cheeks now more an angry shade rather than jubilant. “Did you receive the orders from the Paladin himself as well?”

“No, but I’ve seen what’s been going on for myself. I’m currently escorting some esteemed travellers.”

“Would these esteemed travellers be fighters, perchance?”

Krey’s head lowered, and swayed from side to side slightly. “Are we truly so desperate that we would so brazenly ask for outside help? How many knights have gathered here under orders?”

“Less than fifty.”

Krey felt a sharp pain in his chest. “To take Dunlark? Madness.”

“The word has been sent out to more, but even messengers aren’t safe on the roads these days. Only a few of the riders sent north of here have returned, most probably picked off by the bastard elves in their damn theatres. You’d think, just this once, they’d stop fighting among themselves and help.”

“From what I’ve seen,” Krey said, “the elves that are actually picking a proper side are all picking the wrong one. Dunlark Spire’s numbers have swelled dramatically ever since the severance, it would seem.”

“Damn it…” the captain cursed. “Well, with Montar Jungle between the Linabis Uplands and Dunlark, there’s no way a heavily-armed band of knights is going to be granted passage by the elementals. The gnomi are even worse than the elves now… what terrible days we live in.”

The gentle touch of man might have something to do with that, Krey thought to himself, but didn’t speak.

“Would you ride with us north, son? We would welcome your fellows as well.”

Krey began stroking his chin. On the one hand, he was bound to aid his order… but on the other, so was he bound to aid his party. There may be a way I can do both, he realised. “Captain, a large force may not be permitted to pass the jungle… but my much smaller party might. If we can, our travel time would be cut down by several days, bypassing Cwrdyth Arms and the circumnavigating of Mount Cwrdyth itself. We could scout ahead, and rendezvous with you on the other side.”

“Ah!” the captain’s grin burst back into existence. “Do you really think you could convince the gnomi to grant you passage through their barriers?”

“I travel with… cosmopolitan company. We must have something between us that will assuage them.”

“Well, as things stand,” the captain droned, “I suppose it’s worth a shot. My forces depart in a few days; I suggest you take the time to gather yourselves, as we are.”

“That’s exactly what we plan to do,” Krey nodded. Speaking of gathering…

He bid farewell to the captain, and went off in search of Emilie. It didn’t take long to find the single immaculately-dressed figure in the colourful crowds, exchanging coins for confections at one of the many little stalls dotting the streets. When her eyes met his, she beamed, and came cantering over. “There you are, Krey; I was hoping to reunite with you about now. This place is magnificent, is it not?”

“That it is,” Krey agreed, restraining a smirk as he watched his serene charge act almost like a child.

“Here, try this.” She offered a small, pink triangle with a little red fruit on top. “I do not know what it is, but it is the sweetest, most delicious thing I have ever tasted!”

Krey accepted the offer, and thought the treat tasted nowhere near as sweet - or as sickly - as merely the sight of the one thing he could never hope to taste.