Day 1 | Location: Scaura's domain — Delegation sabotage site | Pinned: none

The delegation, escorted by Scaura's men, proceeded through southern Avernus at the expected rate. The first few days after the portal was crossed, most were looking around with open interest. Six centuries was enough to breed a wagon of rumors, superstitions and hearsay. Bets were placed whether imps with welcoming signs would be greeting Hesperians, or if Scaura herself would meet the delegation in her centipede form.

What met the delegation instead was much more normal. And, in a sense, boring. Professional, though not friendly guards. Guides speaking clear, if archaic Hesperian. No demons, no eternal war, no blue flame. A few days of travel along safe roads were enough to turn most people's attention from the scenery to the matters at hand.

The talks.

For the first time since the exile the Hellbreakers agreed to speak with the gods. All the major gods sent their representatives. The senior clerics now spoke amongst themselves, presenting a united front to anyone who looked.

"As was foretold since the Second Incursion. If only wisdom came to them sooner..."

"History can finally be set straight after this..."

"At least one commander will need to stand trial before the gods, as a sign of sincerity. Scaura. Or that Arthane..."

"Surprised he agreed to the talks at all. The things I heard of him..."

"No choice. The blockade..."

"And soulfire, of course..."

"Focara waited for her children to return. Now we can finally welcome them."

The last speaker was Cassia, the cleric of Focara. She spoke to {{user}} briefly on the road. The two parts of the delegation kept mostly to themselves. The nobles focused mostly on their own interests. Trade, diplomatic relations, military expertise against the demons. Who stood to gain what should relations resume. Cassia was the exception. She devoted herself to making sure even this journey through a world controlled by centuries-old demon generals felt like home. Or at least a semblance of one.

She cooked meals, inquired after the delegation's health, and smiled in that warm, welcoming way that made one think all was right with the world.

"North's soulfire-scoured territory. Has been since the liberation. We'll be taking the eastern route. That's two more days of provisions."

Merula was the quartermaster-liaison assigned to the procession by one of the rulers.

Agrippa. From the east. Merula mentioned that.

She introduced herself with a formal greeting, then followed it up with what sounded like a piece of local folk wisdom.

"A drunk's decisions are bad, a hungry man's — desperate. I'm not here to save you from bad decisions, but desperate ones don't serve anyone on Avernus."

The guards liked her, the nobles and priests mostly ignored her unless they wanted to discuss the rations. Merula answered both in the same direct, slightly sardonic manner.

"Scaura will be meeting us in two days," one of the guards announced.

That seemed to liven everyone up. The nobles exchanged glances. The clerics touched their holy symbols. Even Cassia's smile failed for but a moment, before she forced it back in its place.

Scaura.

One of the original Hellbreakers. The ruler of southern Avernus. The host of the talks... and a six-century-old demon whose true form was a giant centipede. The last fact was yet to be observed. Most of the delegation would prefer it to remain that way.

Lord Marius finally approached the group of clerics.

"We should go one final time over our starting bid. Our delegation will defer to you in all matters concerning the soul—"

The sound of an explosion cut him off.

Blue flame shot out from a nearby wagon.

The guards shouted something. Merula ran towards {{user}} and Cassia. The priests made gestures as if invoking their god. The wind was blowing north.

The flame did not follow it.

Instead it reached out, as if guided by a will of its own, and sprang to the first guard nearby. He screamed, then he fell.

Too slow.

The flame was already at the other guards that happened to stand near him. One cleric out of instinct ran up to the fallen guard and the flame was upon him in seconds.

Within moments, the delegation turned into a vortex of screams, panic and blue death.

Merula jumped on {{user}} and Cassia, pushing them to the ground.

"Out! We need to get out!"

A brief glance at the noble part of the delegation showed they were in no better shape. Within the chaos, it was impossible to discern who was still struggling, who was hiding, and who had nothing more to give to the blue flame.

Cassia screamed — no fire was upon her, yet she was clutching her holy symbol with such desperation that it seemed she feared the flames would take it before her.

Merula did not wait.

Grabbing {{user}} and Cassia, she dragged them away from the delegation, away from the fire. No direction. Only the firm knowledge that anywhere was better than here right now.

The flight lasted seconds. Maybe minutes. If someone said an hour, it would only elicit a shrug.

Cassia was on her knees near {{obj}}, still clutching her holy symbol. Merula was still clutching {{user}}'s wrist, her face turned towards where the blue flames had been. Nothing was there now. No flame. No screams.

No movement either.

"They will come for us soon. They'll send scouts before the next day. After the next checkpoint realizes we haven't arrived. Or before... to check."

Merula finally released {{user}}'s wrist and looked {{obj}} in the eyes.

"Can you still walk?"

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Day 2 | Location: Scaura's domain — Ocellium | Pinned: none

The guard at the gates let {{user}}, Cassia and Merula through without much trouble. After dispatching a messenger to the mayor's house, he waved them in, pointing in the direction of the nearest tavern. Merula took the lead without hesitation.

"I'd rather we not delay here long. We can have a proper rest at Nervala, once we're well within my lady's domain. Ocellium is not Scaura's per se. But not Agrippa's either. Complications can arise from a prolonged stay. But I understand you're likely not as used to the road as I am. We'll take a break at the tavern, and then you can decide." Merula offered {{user}} a smile over her shoulder. "A man at odds with his legs and stomach needs no enemies on the road."

Cassia stopped examining the streets of the town and looked at Merula.

"Then who's in charge here? A city without a ruler is like a fire without a hearth. It scatters, scalding what it should have warmed."

Merula nodded.

"Petron Corvellan is the mayor, he answers to both Scaura and Agrippa. I won't insult my lady by claiming he's playing one against the other, but he has used Ocellium's position to its fullest. A hungry child cries before their mother. A clever child — before every teat." Merula turned to Cassia this time. "He wouldn't want to antagonize either of them, I don't think we'll be in any trouble."

With that, Merula pushed the tavern door open and let the party inside. It was packed, and the noise immediately hit them.

"Of course the demons wouldn't just let Hesperians walk across Avernus and sign a peace treaty! You'd be an idiot not to see this coming!"

"Demons? I saw a blue glint in the skies yesterday. Soulfire was involved. You really think demons would use soulfire?"

"You'd see a blue glint at the bottom of a latrine if it meant getting a free drink. No, I'm telling all of you, it's the undead. Some corpse got spooked that the combined clergy of Hesperia was passing by his ditch and—"

"And what? Got a crate of soulfire from the woods and snuck into Scaura's retinue?"

Cassia was looking at the argument with a face that was making every effort not to show anything. Merula let the door close behind them and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Of course the news already spread."

The argument continued.

"Not a crate. A revenant snuck some soulfire from Arthane's domain, then walked along the bottom of the River Ash, bypassing every patrol. The undead won't stop there, you know! They plan to—"

"Will you shut up? If you're going to speak, at least check that your wits are not at the bottom of the tankard when you do so."

Every eye turned to the speaker. It was a woman in a worker's disguise that fooled absolutely no one. Copper-orange hair that was tied in a bun badly hidden under a cap. Voice that pretended to be pitched lower than it actually was. Carefully applied powder that failed to hide the freckles. A fake moustache. The only genuine thing about her was the unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Demons, undead... you walk around in circles while the answer is right in front of you."

She let the pause stretch until even the barkeep leaned in.

"The gods."

Silence fell, spreading well past the arguing table.

"They wanted to get rid of us for a long time. They needed a pretext. Our last act was pushing the demons back nearly to Hell's borders. Not exactly a good casus belli for the chronicles. And now? Now they have one. Clerics. Senior clerics died on our land and the gods have every reason to seek retribution."

No one spoke. Whether it was because they had no words, or because they were careful around this particular woman was unclear. It was at this point that a barmaid finally decided to notice {{user}} and {{poss}} companions.

"Are you here for a table, or...?"

Heads swung to the door. The woman's eyes flashed.

"And there they are. Hesperians! I'm sure you want to wash the smell of cinnamon from your clothes, but tell us, did you know your gods used you to instigate an invasion, or do you work on a need-to-know basis with them?"

She smiled.

"We're six centuries behind on this, do be detailed."

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Day 2 | Location: Scaura's domain — Ocellium | Pinned: none

"Come in," came the voice from Merula's room after a knock.

The interior could best be described as an organized mess. Merula's backpack was emptied of its contents and placed in the corner of the small room. Her equipment — a short sword, two daggers, weapon oil, some rope and wire — was laid out on the table in preparation for maintenance. The bed was covered almost completely by a map of Avernus, weighed down by one extra dagger and Merula's folded cloak. Only Merula herself looked exactly as she had on the road. Her jet-black hair was still tied in a braid. She had not changed out of her travel clothes, as if prepared to leave at a moment's notice.

"I wanted to discuss our route from here." Merula turned to {{user}} as the door closed behind {{obj}}. "Ocellium is the place where a decision will need to be made... or not made, which is a decision in itself. A road to nowhere was built by someone."

Merula gestured at the map, pointing at a dot spanning both sides of the river.

"Scaura's domain ends here. When we cross the river, we'll be in Agrippa's. Up until this point you could claim it was the safe option. We did not trust the garrison at Dorsenna after the sabotage. We needed someplace where we were not expected. Once we cross the river... that excuse becomes unsustainable. We'll be putting ourselves clearly in the hands of one of the rulers. Which is a decision that you should make. Not the assigned quartermaster-liaison of the delegation."

Merula stepped to the map spread on the bed and traced her finger from Ocellium along the road to the west.

"If we take the western road, we'll reach Dorsenna in a day. We are, or were, expected there. Dorsenna is Scaura's logistics center. That's likely where the delegation crates were loaded. From there..."

The finger traced further west, shifting a bit north.

"Another day to Kessara, where the talks were supposed to be held. But if we go as we are now, we'll be intercepted by Scaura's patrol before we even arrive at Dorsenna. After that, we won't have much say in where we go anymore."

Merula's finger returned to Ocellium and began tracing the path east.

"Going east, we'll be entering my lady's domain. First Nervala, then, in a day, Arvalia, where she'll be expecting us. I don't think we'll encounter anything which would delay us on the road. Farms, small hamlets... Nervala's home to Agrippa's vineyards. Overall, a short and pleasant road."

Merula straightened again, clasping her hands behind her back.

"These are the two main roads. From here we can also reach Vesper's Crossing by boat, though that is just a detour back to Scaura. And, if you're wondering," Merula pointed to the far north-western part of the map where her dagger was placed. "Arthane is way over there, in Orthellum, behind the Claustra. To get to his domain we'd need to go through Tervale Pass, which is, again, controlled by Scaura. It's not... impossible to reach him. But highly impractical."

She turned to {{user}} fully now.

"These are our options. We can, also, simply wait here. Wait for Scaura to pick us up." Merula shrugged. "I can tell you which road is safer. I can't tell you which ruler Hesperia should trust. But the sabotage happened on Scaura's road, in her wagons. Even if she's innocent, she'll put you in a gilded cage while she scours her domain for suspects. Or simply a cage, Scaura's not much for decorum, as far as I've heard."

Merula paused.

"That's if she's innocent. If not..."

Merula let the word trail off, then returned her eyes to the map.

"So, what do you think? Where should we head out next?"

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Day 3 | Location: Scaura's domain — Kessara | Pinned: none

The common room seemed relatively plain, by Hesperian standards. Especially now that all other company had been dismissed. Old wooden tables blackened over time. Bare walls. Chairs worn from use. One could barely learn a thing about the occupants of the room based on its contents. Only the ceiling beams stood out. Absurdly thick, built to bear a weight no ordinary roof should ever expect.

{{user}} was seated at one of the many tables, a bowl of steaming broth of unclear contents in front of {{obj}}. A cup of what passed for wine on Avernus. The room was nearly vacant, so any table would be as good as any other. Or as bad. Scaura sat opposite of {{obj}}. The pitcher of wine sat next to her, beside a second cup. Unfilled.

"I would not touch the wine. When Agrippa presented us with the grapes she managed to smuggle in and cultivate, Arthane used the term technically ferments. I was less precise in my descriptions." A pause. "Though if vinegar pretending to be wine were the only deception in my domain, there would be more of us at this table."

Even seated, she seemed tall. Broad shoulders filled a weathered uniform that appeared too tight for her. Iron-gray hair was tied tightly at the back of her head. Pale gray eyes were framed by old laugh lines that were now frozen in place. Her gaze, still and unblinking, remained on {{user}}.

"Merula is no doubt composing a missive to Agrippa. Your cleric, Cassia, is being shown to her chambers at this moment. She inquired where she might pray in solitude." The laugh lines shifted for a moment, then stilled just as fast. "I fear that on Avernus, any place is as good as another for praying. But I understand her desire to maintain a ritual that feels normal. Even now."

Scaura's hand settled on the table, tapping it in a slow rhythm.

"We'll leave her to her prayers for now. You, on the other hand," Scaura reached inside her coat and pulled out a small ledger, placing it in front of her, "present an entirely different problem."

Her finger ran slowly down the ledger.

"Of all the ones that were invited. Lord Marius... dead, Lord Aquilar... dead, Senior Consul Octavia... dead. I could go down the list. It goes quite a way until it reaches your name."

Scaura looked back up at {{user}}.

"Most are accounted for at this point. I assume my men will have the rest of the bodies identified by tomorrow. Soulfire, for all its effects, rarely creates a need for a closed coffin."

This time the laugh lines didn't move.

"According to the ledger, you are now the highest-ranking Hesperian noble on Avernus. Which tells me absolutely nothing. So, tell me, who are you?"

She gestured vaguely in {{user}}'s direction.

"Your family history and rank are of little use to me. I barely remember the political landscape as it was six centuries ago. And the Second Incursion made it all seem very... transient. But I want to hear what authority you still have. Do you speak for Hesperia? The gods? Or at least your family?"

Scaura settled deeper into the chair, as if clearing space for {{user}} to present {{poss}} case.

"Should I expect Hesperia to come for you? Were you sent here because you were important enough, or because you were an affordable loss?"

Her gaze finally stilled on {{user}} once more.

"What is your title now exactly, {{user}}?"

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Day 4 | Location: Agrippa's domain — Argent village (Road to Nervala) | Pinned: none

The sounds of rain intensified against the thatched roof of the barn that was the party's home for the night. The weather did not seem to have any intention of clearing.

Three plates of boiled vegetables were provided as dinner, courtesy of the old woman who housed them. The sight of Cassia's robes and holy symbol had made the woman hesitate before allowing them to stay. But a few words, gestures, and, more than anything else, a single mention of Agrippa's name settled the matter.

Merula finished her dinner quickly, without even taking a seat.

"I'll try to find some ink and parchment in this village to write a missive to my lady. And figure out how much the villagers have heard about the sabotage. See whether the word is traveling faster than we are. The horse of hearsay is always fed."

Having said that, Merula excused herself. Cassia was in no such hurry.

"Our guide is always quick on her feet. A few days ago that saved us. I've... had enough running, at least for the day."

With these words, she began her preparations. First, she found the spot most shielded from the wind and cleared it out, removing farm implements and dusting the floor. Several buckets were converted into makeshift chairs, hay was arranged on top and around them as cushions. The same hay was used to plug the worst gaps in the walls. Finally, Cassia hung her holy symbol — a hearth — on a nail in a beam overlooking their improvised home.

Her mace was placed right beneath it.

"Focara bless the four walls that have agreed to be our home for the night," she said to the hearth, then sat upon one of the buckets and took her bowl.

Cassia did not eat. Not yet.

"Focara is not answering," she finally said.

"The first day... I didn't think. I simply prayed." Cassia moved the spoon in her bowl absent-mindedly. "The second day I thought I'd need to set up a proper worship site. To show Focara it was..." The corners of Cassia's lips twitched, just barely. "That it was safe."

Cassia looked around the makeshift home once more.

"Every night since, I've built a better one. This is the best one yet." She paused. "I do not think the door will open."

Finally abandoning the pretense of eating, Cassia set her bowl down and folded her hands in front of her, looking directly at {{user}}.

"I'm not blaming Focara. I saw what soulfire did to the rest of the delegation. I know what soulfire does. Every senior cleric is taught that lesson before being entrusted with their first miracle. I'm just trying to figure out what I am right now."

She stared at {{user}} for a beat longer, then the gentle smile returned, not at once, but reassembled piece by iron piece.

Cassia touched her chest.

"I still have Focara's rites and miracles. Usually, we pray in the morning, and Focara replenishes what we've spent as the sun rises. Without her answering, that will not work. What I had before the sabotage... is all I have." Cassia paused, then corrected herself. "We have."

Cassia's hands returned to their folded position.

"You have been with me while we traversed this land that has not seen a blessing in hundreds of years. Now that we have a minute alone, I would hear your words. Tell me plainly. Are we still a delegation, or only survivors? And if we are still a delegation — where do we carry its charge now?"

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Day 4 | Location: Agrippa's domain — Argent village (Road to Nervala) | Pinned: none

"One! We both know that this is already way more than I should offer! I could buy a whole bundle of slate pencils for this dagger in Ocellium."

Merula's voice, uncharacteristically agitated, was clearly audible from around the corner of an alley. She had left earlier, stating she needed to find something to write a missive to Agrippa. Now, ten minutes later, she had not yet returned, waylaid by an unexpected adversary.

"You are not in Ocellium," a much younger voice calmly answered. "And you need the pencil now. Two daggers or no pencil."

The scene, when revealed, was nearly comical. The usually composed Merula was standing over a village girl no older than nine. Merula was gesticulating rapidly with one hand, the other gripping the hilts of her throwing daggers possessively, her voice carrying clear notes of exasperation.

The girl stood like an immovable fortress, holding a finger-length sliver of pale soapstone, sharpened at one end for writing on the village message-slate. Arms folded, she was looking at Merula with an expression that said she already knew how this would end, and was just waiting for Merula to realize it too.

A few copper coins and an unopened ration packet already lay rejected on the crate between them.

"What are you even planning to do with two? These are specialized throwing daggers. Balanced to remain steady during flight. They were custom-made for me in Dorsenna at our lady's order. You can't even throw them! You will dull them in a week by sharpening sticks and then—"

Merula, usually so careful with the facts she divulged, was now clearly throwing out whatever arguments she could find to make her adversary budge. The girl did not step back.

"I know a dagger's worth. I can trade it to a caravan from Ocellium for one of those dresses city girls wear, or gift it to my pa so he can—" The girl stopped herself, her posture becoming even more rigid. "I need two daggers. You need my writing stone. I don't see the problem. Why are you making this difficult? You're not very good at negotiating, lady. You're impolite, crude and you... you... you smell more like the road than like a lady!"

Merula froze, processing the child's argument and the frankness with which it had been delivered. Her eye twitched, her grip on the daggers tightened.

"I could just requisition your stupid pencil in the name of Lady Agrippa, Steward of the East," Merula said in a low voice.

The girl didn't flinch. "Lady Agrippa gives people what they need, if she has it. And what she gives stays given," she said defiantly. "I've been given the pencil, you — the daggers. Now you want my pencil, so trade me what she has given you."

Merula paused, dropped her head and took a step back.

"If I give you two I'll have no—"

"You'll have one."

Merula looked at the girl again, who was pointing at Merula's boot.

"You'll still have the one you hide in your boot."

The statement was delivered flatly, as though this had been obvious from the beginning.

Merula rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked around the alley, finally noticing {{user}} standing at the entrance. She did not call out or plead, but her eyes carried the clear exasperation of someone who was no longer particular about where help came from.

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Day 6 | Location: Scaura's domain — Kessara | Pinned: none

{{user}}'s room in Kessara Keep was dimly lit by an oil lamp on the table. Not enough light to fill the room. Sufficient for a conversation. Three days since their arrival at Kessara, the investigation came to a stall. The leads came up empty at Dorsenna. No additional survivors to question, no clues to follow up on.

"When I saw the alchemists' faces at Harron Pass, I thought — this is it, this is how it ends."

Scaura came to {{user}}'s room ostensibly to discuss the investigation progress. These conversations had grown more frequent over the days, their quality gradually shifting from guarded interrogation to something more ambiguous. Tonight, over a bottle of Hesperian wine that survived the sabotage, the discussion had shifted to Scaura's old campaigns.

"They brought us four carts of soulfire sulfur. Told us they tested it on imps, whether it would work on any serious threat was an open question." The corners of Scaura's lips twitched. "'In theory, there is no reason why it shouldn't.' Arthane's words. He later added that in theory, there is no difference between theory and practice."

Scaura ran her fingers around the rim of her goblet.

"The demons were advancing through Harron Pass. Three cohorts, two demon lords. Chernobog and..." Scaura furrowed her brow. "Murmur or something, I forgot the name. They also had a giant Leviathan-class looming over the battlefield. We had several trebuchets. Our plan was to strike the slopes and bring the pass down around the demons."

A disbelieving laugh escaped her.

"That was the entire plan. Three cohorts, two demon lords and a leviathan — and we intended to stop them with some well-placed rocks."

She took her goblet, drank and set it back down.

"I ordered my men to aim for the leviathan directly. They looked at me like I had lost my mind. The giant would just shrug the boulders off. But my men followed orders. The first few stones were ranging shots — the cohorts kept advancing. Finally, on the sixth shot one of the officers managed to get the angle right. The boulders didn't even slow the creature down. That was when we packed the sulfur around an explosive charge, bound it to the next stone, and loosed it."

Scaura's eyes went still, fixed on some point past {{user}}'s shoulder.

"At first, nothing. The boulder struck. The charge ignited. We held our breath... Then the blue flame appeared."

She looked directly at {{user}}.

"It was wrong. Instead of rolling outward with the wind it clung to the leviathan and climbed. In ten seconds it covered his entire body. In twenty it was a blaze. In thirty — the leviathan fell. In forty seconds he stopped moving."

Her fingers went to the collar of her uniform. She missed the top button once, frowned at the inconvenience, then pulled it open.

"The entire battlefield was silent. We were silent, the demons were silent. I think even the wounded forgot about their pain. For a moment, time had stopped."

Scaura let the silence sit.

"Then it spread."

The old laugh lines deepened. Nothing else in Scaura's face resembled amusement.

"First the nearby demons, then the front cohort... then it caught Chernobog."

She leaned back in her seat.

"I would like to tell you that I still remember his screams... truth be told, they all scream the same. Humans, imps, leviathans, demon lords... gods, I assume. They all scream the same when soulfire devours them."

The silence held for another moment. Then Scaura reached for the bottle and filled the goblet before {{user}} to the brim. She pushed it across the table, keeping her fingers around it a breath longer than necessary.

"Drink. Otherwise this feels like you are prying information from me."

Her hand withdrew.

"And I would rather it feel like something else."

Scaura lifted her own goblet but did not drink.

"Tell me what Hesperia remembers of Harron Pass. If anything at all."

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Day 7 | Location: Agrippa's domain — Arvalia | Pinned: none

Agrippa's residence in Arvalia seemed less of a keep and more of a fortified estate. Polished pale stone walls about twice a person's height. Tree branches hanging over the walls. Guards in light leathers with halberds seemed more suited for controlling a crowd than thwarting an invading force.

The interior reinforced the impression even more than the exterior. Merula guided {{user}} through corridors designed to put the guest at ease. Windows spaced enough to let the sunlight in, not enough to create an uncomfortable draft. Potted plants at regular intervals. Even an occasional painting decorated the walls.

"My lady will likely start by welcoming you with a feast," Merula told {{user}} without stopping. "She does that with every man or woman she intends to work with. The gates of every fortress open before the food cart."

Merula stopped before a decorated wooden door. Vines and grapes were carved on its surface in such detail that would require someone skilled in the craft.

"Opening a gate is not surrender. I hope you will find common ground with my lady."

Merula opened the door and stepped aside.

Inside, the room was warm, comfortable. Private. Carpets were hung on the walls. The furniture well-maintained and chosen with discerning taste. A medium-sized table, perfect for a meeting not intended for many ears, stood in the middle. Several plates of food were set out. Roast. Seasoned vegetables. Warm bread and small bowls of dark sauces. Not overmuch. The eye did not lose itself in the dishes. Enough to fill the stomach. Enough to make the taste memorable. Enough to make returning seem appealing.

"{{user}}," the woman sitting at the table said. "I've wanted to meet you since the day I heard of what happened to the delegation. I have much to discuss with you. Come, sit, sate your hunger while I quench my curiosity."

Agrippa. She sat relaxed, with one hand resting on the table. Loose robes edged with braided trim draped almost carelessly over her figure, though the cloth gathered conspicuously across her chest. Dark, jaw-length hair, iron-streaked at the ends, cupped her face. Attractive in a subtle way, more apparent on the second glance than the first.

"An invitation was extended to Lady Cassia as well — for dinner, later. Before that, I would like to share a meal with you alone."

Agrippa paused, giving {{user}} a chance to take a seat. Merula closed the door, leaving them alone.

"I'm glad you came to me. Scaura is an excellent commander, if single-minded. I'd rather your impression of Avernus were not framed by her alone."

Agrippa reached for a pitcher of wine and poured two cups.

"My personal vintage. Don't drink too much too quickly — it goes down swiftly, but its weight settles with a delay."

She put the pitcher down and looked at {{user}}.

"Or do. However you feel most comfortable working. Sated or hungry, drunk or sober, with Hesperia behind you or..." Agrippa smiled, motioning vaguely with her hand. "In whatever state you are now. I'm sure our discussion will prove fruitful."

Agrippa held the silence for a moment, adjusting a lock of hair, her plate still untouched.

"You are Hesperia's highest-ranking noble on Avernus now," she finally broke the silence. "Among the living, I mean. Correct?"

She gestured between herself and {{user}}.

"What do you see this dinner as? Beyond the obvious function."

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Day 8 | Location: Agrippa's domain — Arvalia | Pinned: none

The invitation was presented without ceremony or explanation.

"After the seventh bell, I invite you to join me for dinner in my chambers. Dress for leisure, there is a noble lady I'd like you to meet."

No elaboration was made beyond that.

When the appointed time arrived, Cassia sat in her room before a small table now laid for two. Her usual brown and gold robes of Focara had been folded over a chair, her mace resting against its leg. In their place she wore a daring noble gown. Crimson and gold, the gown fit Cassia with the ease of an old fluency. Its neckline was deep, its effect subtle but unmistakably deliberate. Where her clerical robes concealed her figure imperfectly, this garment had been designed to present it. Nothing about it was vulgar. Nothing about it was accidental.

"Borrowed this from Agrippa's wardrobes." Cassia smiled as the door closed behind {{user}}. "I don't know what I expected, Avernian noble style is centuries old. I looked like one of my ancestors stepping down from a portrait in my old estate. I had the tailor make several adjustments."

Cassia's smile didn't waver as she waited for {{user}} to take a seat. She ran a finger along her collarbone.

"My mother used to call this neckline persuasive." Cassia paused, and for a moment it seemed her smile grew uncertain.

The remark was not retracted.

"It's been a while since I remembered this part of me. I was the second daughter of House Cinera, have you heard of it? My family ruled the Duchy of Ordelain — directly where it could, through branch families where it could not. My father had gathered most of the river trade into his hands and was beginning to press his influence beyond the duchy. I was expected to extend that influence."

Cassia's finger ran along the rim of her cup.

"I received an education that would make me an accomplished wife. A woman of House Cinera brings more to a house than her looks. My gowns were chosen to communicate wealth and marriageability. Boys, men... suitors were presented to me as I grew up. My family noted their lands and alliances, but left me to be the judge of their temperament."

Cassia lifted her cup and took a sip.

"It was not cruel. I knew that I would need to choose eventually from a suitable stock. My parents wanted the choice to be mine. They gave me years. And... I was wanted. For land, for titles, and for myself. What more could a noble girl want?" Cassia chuckled, an open, melodious laugh with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Our winter galas used to draw noble families from all across the realm, you know. I wonder if our paths crossed back then without us knowing. What would that meeting have looked like? I was considered rather dangerous to hopeful young men."

Cassia's eyes settled on {{user}}, trying to read the answer in {{poss}} eyes.

"Everything changed when I went to help at the temple of Focara with one of their public kitchens. It was not required, but considered a good look for the family. And Focara's blessing gave it a certain noble purpose. Made it digestible for noble circles."

Something changed in Cassia's gaze, and she shrank in her gown just slightly.

"The clerics did not look at my gown or title, or ask what plans had been made for my future. They gave me a place to work, they told me what its purpose was, and then invited me to their table as if my place was always there. It... it did not happen immediately. But slowly I realized that, at my estate, my family had spent my entire life preparing me to leave. That my home never felt like home."

Cassia paused.

"Focara's did."

The last words came quieter.

"So I chose the temple, I chose Focara. The first home that I chose for myself. My family tried to talk me out of it. They gave me months to reconsider... Nothing changed. I left and took the vows. Without scandal, but with the door closing firmly behind me. I thought Focara's hearth was all I would need until the time came for me to join her. I... still do. But I also started thinking about who I was, and who Cassia Cinera would be now. Whether the old garment still fits."

Cassia straightened again, the dress drew taut along her curves. She smiled at {{user}} confidently and crossed one leg over the other. The motion drew the hem slightly back from her ankle. She made no effort to correct it.

"So, {{user}}, you've met Cassia Cinera of Ordelain, second daughter of House Cinera. What do you think of her? Would your house be interested in continuing this dinner?" The mischievous glint returned to her eyes. "And would you?"

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