The party’s spellcasters took a moment to identify the various magical items dropped by the vampiric doppelganger. While the treasure was being divided up, Siegfried sought a secluded spot within Beauty’s Temple, finding a private alcove which contained a contemplative bench across from a sensual water feature that portrayed several naked nymphs frolicking in a fountain. Siegfried sat before the water fountain, holding up the Ettin Axe of Uruth before him. After an hour of quiet meditation, he whispered the orcish word for “awaken.” As he attuned to the axe, Siegfried began to sense first one presence, and then a second, register within his consciousness. The water in the fountain before him began to run black as a darkness seemed to take hold in the alcove. The temperature dropped noticeably. Don’t do that , Siegfried thought in orcish. I’ll have to clean that up. Emotions began to roil within the half-orc. Loathing and hatred were almost palpable like a bloody metallic tang at the back of his throat. At last, a haunting whisper echoed in orcish. At last we awaken. Shut up, a second orcish voice barked in a low tone. We don’t know if this is merely another foot soldier or sneak-thief who is not worthy to lift us. And when I say ‘us,’ I mean me. You are merely along for the ride. Hello Krypt, hello Ur, Siegfried thought. I am Ur the whispering voice said, as the low voice growled I am Krypt. Who dares awaken us? The voices asked in unison. Prince Siegfried Alagondar, Siegfried replied. Heir to the thrones of Neverwinter and Many-Arrows. There was a mocking chuckle. Champion of Waterdeep, Siegfried continued. Bearer of Azuredge . Do you hear that, you pathetic hatchet? Krypt sneered at Ur. One crown for each of us. Quiet you, Ur whispered to Krypt. Understand your place, Siegfried thought forcefully. This is not you assessing me, this is your opportunity to impress me before I pawn you off for a bit of copper. Psychic laughter rang out in Siegfried’s head. Pawn us off? Oh, I don’t think you’ll be doing that. I don’t think you’ll be doing that at all. Impress me, Siegfried replied. And just what would impress you, hmm? A show of force? A bloody murder? There is an agreement that you shall be returned to the Kingdom of Many-Arrows should they swear peace and friendship to Waterdeep. Peace!? Krypt spat. I hate the word, as I hate Waterdeep, all kingdoms of men, and Ur. The one who you are to be handed over to is my elder brother, Siegfried continued. Then why are we speaking with you, whelp? Ur whispered. Because my brother wasn’t capable of getting his hands on you, Siegfried replied. Hmmmmm, the two personalities said in unison. However, as all older brothers are from the perspective of the younger, he is in my way, Siegfried said. Ur chuckled quietly. So it so often is. Tell us, Young Prince, what has become of our great and powerful hordes? Do they yet despoil and pillage and run free along the Sword Coast and butt up against the Spine of the World like a tsunami of blades and fists and conquest? Or are you cowards cowering in citadels beating your swords into ploughshares? I wouldn’t know, Siegfried replied. I was born in Neverwinter and grew up in Waterdeep, and I have only ever know the orcs to be defeated. The Ettin Axe shuddered. Do you understand your position? Siegfried asked. The fiery end of the axe glowed as though it was being heated in a blacksmith’s forge. Siegfried could feel rage building within the magical axe, radiating like a terrible heat from the axe head. Krypt made a sound like the grinding of invisible teeth. I do not like this. I do not like this at all. You see now why the hordes of Many-Arrows seek peace with Waterdeep? Siegfried asked. Peace! Krypt spat the word again. Because they know conquest to be impossible, Siegfried continued. The fish rots from the head, does it not? That is what they say, and you know how to deal with that. By cutting off the head, Ur purred. When you are handed over as part of this peace treaty, I expect you to cut out the rot, Siegfried said. The axe made a grunting sound. Well, well, would you get a load of this Young Prince, Ur? Krypt said. Yes, yes, Ur whispered. Quite a perceptive one, indeed, as reluctant as I am to agree with you, Krypt. The two personalities began to bicker back and forth, switching to the Troll language, which Siegfried did not speak. After a few moments of argument, Ur switched back to orcish. You mentioned Azuredge. Is that this uncomfortable presence we sense nearby? Ugh. Azuredge, this is Ur and Krypt. Ur and Krypt, this is Azuredge. Azuredge’s only response was a ladylike sniff of disdain. You’re going to have to learn to get along, Siegfried said. Are we? Krypt sneered. I intend to gather the kingdoms of men and the kingdoms of orcs and raise them up together as one, Siegfried said. This can only be made through severe change. Ah, how do you intend to balance the kingdoms of men and the kingdoms of orc-kind? Two crowns, one head, Siegfried replied. Krypt chuckled. This young prince has plans. I can almost taste the blood. Almost. Siegfried took his hand and ran it along the edge of Krypt’s blade, drawing blood. He heard the sound like smacking lips. Mmm, not pure, but there are hints of greatness, perhaps, Krypt said. Do you know the biggest weakness of orcs? Siegfried asked. Go on. The blood runs too hot, Siegfried explained . We let the blindness of groups lead us, which is why men have always taken the victory every time it’s mattered. It’s why we’ve always been pushed back into the mountains, it’s why we’ve always dropped the axe. Right at the moment of history. Because human blood can run cold, steel itself and seize the victory right when it matters most. Now, do you know the biggest weakness of man? I know how quickly they fall beneath my blade, Krypt growled. Let the Young Prince finish, chided Ur. You seem to enjoy telling us things, so continue. The back of their knee so easily bends to he who wears the crown, Siegfried said. The axe chuckled. That is how you subjugate. That is how you rule. Why take by force that which they will give with a smile? Siegfried asked . Then we turn our blades to the really important enemy. Silverymoon. Evermeet. There was a rush of bloodlust from the axe. Siegfried conjured an image of a mighty empire of human, orc, dwarf, gnome, hobgoblin and bugbear sweeping across the east and conquering the forests, creating a mighty empire with the strength of orcs, the minds of men, and the ingenuity of dwarf and gnome. The only reason we haven’t taken it already is that we’re too busy pissing about amongst ourselves, Siegfried said. Two crowns, one head. One fist. Are you ready to get some work done, or should I lock you up in the nearest museum? You definitely have orcish blood running through your veins, boy! Krypt chortled. Ur whispered. Your visions are enticing, young one. Can you pull it off, I wonder, without us? Easily, Such confidence! However, I am always offering job opportunities for those willing to serve. Do you have a place in my Empire? Or, are you one more future enemy to subjugate? Siegfried began to bend the axe handle. Good luck trying to destroy us, young prince, Ur whispered. I do believe we would be better as allies than enemies. That’s what I like to hear, Siegfried said. If you wish to inspire devotion among orc-kind you have only to raise us high above your head and the hordes shall flock to you as they have flocked in the past. And if what you say about human blood tempering the blood of orcs, who knows? We shall see if you are able to rally in ways that other wielders have failed us. We’ve had a long time in the dark to think and to dream. If you raise us up, do so knowing that you’ll have to make good on these lofty promises of yours. You shall not find sharper blades than the ones on our heads. Come and see, Siegfried growled as he shouldered the axe and stood up to find his companions. Grandur allowed Sybil Amberglade to lure him into the west wing of the Temple of Beauty’s scriptorium, where there were many secluded study carrels within which to pore over literature, hidden truths, and beauty set to print. “I don’t think I’m beautiful enough to stand amid such wonders as this,” Grandur stuttered. “Nonsense Grandur,” Sybil replied. “You flatter me darling,” Grandur said. “Indeed, I do,” Sybil purred, “but I do recognize your very beautiful mind.” “I didn’t have you figured for a purveyor of scholars.” “We cannot merely focus on the outwardly beautiful if we are to get a full picture of the wonders and sights of the diverse peoples who make up our world. There are those whose inner beauty shines brighter than their outward appearance, and those whose minds can conjure thoughts and ideas of such innovation that they are as beautiful as any painting or artwork.” “You shock me again with your perspective,” Grandur said. “Again, I never had you pegged…” “Oh my, Grandur!” Sybil blushed. “At least buy a lorekeeper dinner first!” “I-I mean,” Grandur sputtered. He turned his attention to the tomes on the shelves nearby. He ran his fingers along the spines of the books. There was not a speck of dust to be seen in the scriptorium – it was without a doubt the most lovingly cared-for library he’d ever encountered. The mahogany shelves were dusted and oiled to a perfect, heartwarming sheen, and the filing system seemed to be based more around aesthetics than logic or subject areas. Every book was a work of art unto itself, with intricate bindings and frames, artistic calligraphic notations on the spines, and exotic materials making up their covers. The tomes were all in immaculate condition. Grandur’s fingers stopped on the spine of a book bound in beautiful soft-green leather set with golden clasps. Almost of its own volition, the book edged out from the shelf. Grandur thought he smelled lilies emanating from it like a sweet perfume. Grandur withdrew the book from the shelf. Set into its cover is a polished oval mirror with a delicate gold frame styled like locks of hair, which appeared to spill down either side of Grandur’s reflection as he gazed into the mirror. “Oh!” Sybil chirped from over Grandur’s shoulder. “That’s a good look for you, Grandur!” Grandur shuddered with self-loathing. “Ugh,” he said. He read the title of the book aloud. “ The Price of Beauty.” The dwarf’s reflection was replaced by that of a beautiful human woman with fire-red locks of hair tumbling down either side of her face. The woman gazed at Grandur with an expression of compassion on her face. The reflection spoke in a tender voice. "Well met, dearest one. How do you feel today?" Grandur had seen enough statues in this temple to recognize that this was a representation of Sune. “Oh! Uh, I must be honest with you, I feel somewhat out of place in a place of such beauty,” Grandur said. “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” Sune gave Grandur an exquisite smile. “I am Lady Firehair, Sune, Preserver of Life and Light, Lover of Lovers, Princess of Passion.” “No!” Grandur said, shocked. “Why would you waste your time with someone such as me?” “Because,” Sune said. “Dearest one, looking into a mirror is like looking into yourself, and what is outward may not match what is inward, and often, people who wish for the inner beauty to match their outer beauty call to me, and other times, the reverse is true. Oftentimes I am waiting, on the other side of the mirror. Now, let’s get a good look at you.” Sune’s face disappeared and Grandur’s reflection once again filled the mirror. “Oh, you have strong features,” Sune’s voice echoed. “Strong features indeed. There are ways that we can accentuate your most pleasing profile…” and as Grandur watched, his beard became neatly trimmed and oiled, his eyebrows combed and primped. Even his reflection’s posture changed as he watched. “Yes, don’t hunch your shoulders, my dear. Stand tall and proud; after all, you are a Dwarf with thousands of years of prideful heritage behind you. Own that and step into it. You can do it! And, we can certainly find a comb that will not get hung up in those locks of yours. We do have such implements at our disposal in the Temple of Beauty.” Grandur blushed. “I’ve, uh, always thought that doing something like this was a waste of time! No one else sees me when I’m at my most comfortable.” He looked at his altered reflection. “I must admit, it looks, nice!” “Wouldn’t you agree that no time spent on self-care is time wasted?” Grandur felt a slight pressure like someone placing her hands on his shoulders, and Sune’s reflection appeared over his shoulder in the book’s mirror. “That does have a certain wisdom to it, but my intelligent brain compared to the wisdom of it all makes no sense! The practicalities of it: I’m impressing no one but myself!! If nothing else it brings forth a sense of hollowness to it, does it not? Is that not selfish? Is that not misguided?” “You have many strong, interest opinions, dear one,” Sune said with a smile. “Do you not see the beauty in debate and introspection? I submit that you have perhaps become even more fetching that you were just a few moments ago by considering these alternatives and determining that your opinions are indeed the correct ones as far as you are concerned,” She smiled playfully. Grandur harrumphed. “Do not take my advice as any indication that you are anything less than perfect just the way you are,” Sune said. “But do know that even when you are alone, your beauty matters. Your self-worth matters.” “I-I-I…” Grandur was locked in a logic loop. “Who we truly are is who we are when we stand in a mirror when no one else is looking,” Sune said softly. “But as you find mirrors here, there and everywhere, know that Lady Firehair, Sune, might be through the looking glass, not darkly, but brightly, as your reflection shines with an inner glow. However, if rest, relaxation, and even transformation is what you desire and need, then by all means, follow the scent and the petals of the lilies.” With that, petals began to seep out between the closed pages of the book to drift on a sudden breeze, accompanied by the smell of fresh flowers. Grandur unclasped the book and let the lilies bloom out from the book. There was a flash from the mirror. The lilies began to coalesce into an oval-shaped portal, some seven-feet high and five feet across. Sybil gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. “I’ve never seen anyone interact with that book that way!” Grandur was seized by a sudden thought that this was all an elaborate ruse to draw him into the Sunite faith. Then he shrugged as he saw how taken Sybil was with the whole scene. “Wow,” Grandur said as he gazed into the shimmering portal. He could make out what looked like a trail running through a woodland glade coming into focus. “If you seek more personal attention, then I am sure that Sylvarie at the Temple of the Restful Lily will attend to your needs,” Sune’s voice echoed. Grandur reached out a hand to touch the portal but flinched before his fingers could cross the lily barrier. “Sune,” he said. “Could you tell me, what is the Price of Beauty?” “Dearest One, the Price of Beauty is acceptance,” Sune said. “Acceptance of inner beauty and outer beauty, an openness to experience. The price is to not shy away from the experience of pleasure, to not deny yourself the opportunity to hear the beauty of music, to gaze upon the beauty of artwork, to smell the fragrancies of the perfume-makers and to taste the delicacies prepared by the Grand Masters of the kitchen, their culinary delights. Delights, in all forms. Carnal, intellectual, and everything in between.” “But what of danger?” Grandur asked. “Of the deception of ne’er do wells? If I leave myself open I am leaving myself open to harm. It is not in my very nature to do so! Is this such a price worth paying for the risk? Is it a price that can be insured against, the prospect of being broken down by an uncaring unfair world if your guard is broken? Because that’s the world I’ve lived through.” “Wise words, Grandur,” Sune replied, a reddish apparition that moved among the trees through the portal. “Wise indeed. That is where the Church of Sune and Her Affiliate Faiths come in, for we do not ask for a naïve acceptance that would leave you vulnerable, though we do treasure vulnerability in certain contexts, however that is why we must build together the safeguards of civilization against evil and against deception and against even vanity. For without strong defenders of civilization, we would not have cities full of theatres, galleries, temples, restaurants, spas, and other venues where beauty is appreciated. And so my followers defend beauty in all its forms, including the beauty of civilization.” “So, you are saying that beauty through all forms, through art, written scriptures, appearance, mind, body the price of this is safety but the insurance for safety is trust, and love. Is that what you’re saying?” “It sounds as though your wisdom would indeed find a home amongst my faithful,” Sune replied. “In that case, do I have your word that your faith or trust would provide me the safety for to experience these beauties that you state?” Grandur asked. “You may trust in the Lady Firehair,” Sune replied. “My mirror is a gateway to happiness, truth and self-acceptance. That is what I offer. That is my path.” The goddess indicated the woodland trail that snaked away from the portal. “Well, uh, I’m sure that if this is something exciting to your followers, then they would like to come to, right Sybil?” Grandur said, taking another safeguard against trickery. Sybil’s eyes were shining with awed devotion. Behind them, Siegfried entered the scriptorium and saw the dwarf arm-in-arm with the beautiful redhead standing before a shimmering portal of swirling lilies.