Arm in arm with High Priestess Ysara, Erwen joined the rest of the party in the secluded temple in the Court of the Laughing Hollow. “Nice of you to show up,” Siegfried said to Erwen. “Well, I was doing some research of my own,” Erwen said. “Uh huh,” Siegfried replied. “Well, we cracked the case of the missing prince.” “And I found out why they call her Yes-sara,” Erwen said. Ysara blushed. Siegfried turned to King Melendrach. “It is time to say our formal goodbyes. We will continue to look into this, and I will use sending spells to keep you apprised of developments.” King Melendrach nodded gravely. Queen Aelyn continued to sob in her son’s arms. Prince Glorfyndin had a bleak, lost look on his ashen face. “We need to return to Waterdeep and consolidate His Holiness’s standing within the faith at the Temple of Beauty,” Siegfried continued, gesturing to Bob. King Melendrach stopped short of a bow. “I wish you safe travels, my friends. While you are within the Misty Forest you are under my protection for as far as it extends.” “And when you are in Waterdeep you are under mine,” Siegfried replied, shaking the king’s hand by the wrist. Erwen poked his head in. “And when you’re under deep water, you’re under mine!” “What does that even mean?” Siegfried hissed. As Bob prepared to use word of recall to transport the party back to the Temple of Beauty, Erwen led High Priestess Ysara along the shaded cloister offered by the twisted tree branches above around the periphery of the shrine. He was somewhat astonished to see tears welling in her eyes. “I did not realize we would have to part so soon, Erwen,” she said. “We don’t have to,” Erwen said. “Do we?” Ysara looked confused. “W-what?” “I have to join my friends,” Erwen conceded, “but what does the future have in store for you?” He hesitated and then added, “for us?” Ysara sighed. “I have my duties here as the head of the Watchers of the Forest here at Court. My destiny is tied to these woods, for as long as King Melendrach’s domain exists, before we inevitably withdraw across the sea to Evermeet.” Erwen straightened up. “When my adventures are complete I shall return here,” he said. High Priestess Ysara’s eyes widened, and then she broke into a girlish grin. This elf has come down with Shorty Fever , Erwen thought to himself, pleased. “There will be a place for you here,” Ysara said. “With me. I am happy to hear you will answer the call of the forest.” Erwen pulled off his ring of protection , shined it up on his furs, and offered it to High Priestess Ysara. “Do you want me to officiate?” Bob called out. “A ring?” Ysara said. “Oh, Erwen!” “Don’t get any ideas,” Erwen said. “It’s just something to remember me by.” He winked. Ysara smiled. “You have an odd sense of humour, Little One. I find it endearing.” In a flash his ring hung suspended between her ample breasts on a chain of fine mithril. From the folds of her robes, she produced a sprig of mistletoe, which she offered to Erwen as a token of her affection. Erwen accepted it. Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, but okay. “Okay, let’s go,” Alec grumbled. “Bob’s gonna teleport us.” He hefted a sack full of takeaways from the Elvish feast. Bob cast word of recall and the party magically returned to the sacred baths in the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep. “Hey, they’ve cleaned up the place!” Siegfried said as he looked around. Indeed, every tile in the temple baths had been scrubbed to a reflective sheen, the water was extra-fragrant, and the towels had been fluffed to the bursting point. If there was a knob that needed polishing, an acolyte appeared to be on it – there was a flurry of activity as priestesses and clerics rushed about performing prestidigitation and mending as though their lives depended on it. Outside the baths, a cluster of choristers were singing a melodious song of work as animated brooms swept the floor and mopped the tiles. “Either we’re really important, or they’re expecting someone,” Erwen observed. Siegfried spied a familiar face. “Lady Darklight, report!” Dhaera Darklight turned on her high heel away from the task of ensuring the hot tubs were properly balanced, alchemically speaking. She stripped off a pair of elbow-length work gloves. “We’ve received word from our sentries outside the city. The Inuus Brothers are coming!” “Wonderful,” Siegfried said. “And what preparations have been made for the rededication of Dragonspear Castle?” “We have filed the appropriate paperwork,” Dhaera said. “And has there been any opposition to the Church’s claim on the property?” Siegfried said. “The ink is not yet dry on the charter,” Dhaera replied. “The contestible period is now underway, but no objections have been formally received to date. Nero and Sybil Amberglade are hard at work on that file making the appropriate arrangements.” She faded back into the general chaos. Siegfried turned to Bob. “Bob, if you need any nobles who could throw their weight around to ensure the transfer of title for Dragonspear Castle, you may simply ask me.” “I appreciate that, Siegfried,” Bob replied. “Now, let us find Nero,” Siegfried said. Nero was holding court in the Temple’s main sanctuary. As the party entered, they noticed that many more Sunite delegates had arrived, heralding the imminent proceedings. There was a number of very finely appointed, and in some cases very provocatively dressed delegates representing temples, churches and shrines from across Faerun, grouped in such a way that Siegfried was already mentally sorting their number into likely factions, alliances and caucuses. Other delegates were taking the measure of the party as they entered the sanctuary. Bob surveyed the chamber, planning his next move. Those whom the party had already had dealings with were clustered near the dais at the front of the sanctuary: Mera Corynian of Heartward Hall in Helm’s Hold and Rose-Tender Alicia of the Crystal Cathedral in Neverwinter to name two, followed by other residents of the Temple of Beauty itself like Nero of the Garden, Sybil Amberglade and Dhaera Darklight. The well-endowed Seraphs of Sune, Zepar and Vassago, hovered overhead. The Sword Coast Conclave , Bob thought. As the interim High Exultant of the Temple of Beauty, they were ostensibly in his corner. There was also a delegation from the Sea of Fallen Stars, led by High Priestess Morlain and her husband (and arm candy) Ilbrar the Iron, who led the Palace of Passion in Ravens Bluff. Standing nearby was Summerglau Tristin, also known as the “Sun of Ordulin,” who was the High Priestess and proprietress of the House of Revels in the town of Ordulin in Sembia. The ingenue-like Thauna Maskalar hailed from the House of Firehair in Daerlun, another settlement in Sembia. Standing out from the delegation was the High and Most Beautiful Priestess Aumraeya Ulmdrin of Firehair’s House in Selgaunt, Sembia. The Sembians seem overrepresented here, Siegfried mused. Some delegations were smaller. A willowy elf from Silverymoon, Shalandara Sintertal had skin as fine as porcelain and hair the colour of rose petals. She was the leader of Dawndancer’s House, a shrine in Silverymoon of some repute. Another priestess with auburn hair was dressed far more provocatively than the rest, her outfit a mere sheath of coins affixed to strategic bodily locations by fine strands of gold. Her name was Raven Sommersrace, who held court in the Theatre of Joy in Crimmon in the country of Amn. Bob knew her by reputation; she was famous for her orations on the theme of beauty. A southern belle , Siegfried thought. Draped with the net worth of several city-states by the look of her. Standing out from the priestesses was a paladin of the highest order clad in martial finery. This severe-looking woman, her blonde hair cut short for battle, was Rose Champion Vanera Ularyn, the head of the Order of Adon, an order of paladins and magic-users loyal to Sune. The Order of Adon was dedicated to a cleric of Sune who brought about an end to the Time of Troubles, once an apostate but later redeemed. Bob recognized another priestess by her distinctive dress that was at once more modest but more provocative than her peers in a snake-like motif including a flared headpiece that evoked a deadly cobra. The priestess was keeping her distance from her peers. That’s a Thayan woman , Bob thought. It could only be Archphilocalist Adanja Faranos of the Temple of Sune in Bezantur. Siegfried cracked his knuckles. He may not have known each priestess by name, but he was intimately familiar with ballroom intrigue, sparring debutantes, and the catty games noblewomen played. So many ecclesiastical egos in one place lent itself to a similar pattern, he figured. Whose knives are out for who in this game of altars, he thought to himself. Who’s here to just get drunk and party, and who has the best dirt on her peers? Who’s the Queen Bee in the Sea of Stars delegation? The dominoes began to fall into place as Siegfried took the delegates’ measures. Raven Sommersrace had clearly brought the deepest coffers to this particular synod, representing the fantastical wealth of the Merchant’s Domain. Her assayer’s gaze appeared to be weighing all attendees on a set of invisible scales using weights and measures known only to her. Siegfried suddenly recalled reading in a recent broadsheet that a Temple to Sune had recently been constructed in Athkatla that was larger and more opulent than any along the Sword Coast. The cathedral had been built with the spoils of some grand political intrigue, rumours said. If there was a wild card in the room, it was the Thayan Adanja Faranos. There were obvious political issues at play here, but to not allow a representative from Thay to participate in the Synod would have been a gross breach of protocol. On the other hand, protocol was the only thing allowing her to stay in the room. Another lone operator was the elf representative from Silverymoon. Though nominally associated with the Sword Coast faction, her vote was by no means guaranteed. High Priestess Morlain was the Queen Bee of the Sea of Fallen Stars contingent, with Ilbrar the Iron on her arm flexing his oiled muscles. However, the High and Most Beautiful Priestess Aumraeya Ulmdrin appeared to be angling for leadership within the faction. A red-head versus raven tresses, Siegfried thought to himself. This faction is full of cats, it seems. I’m home. Thauna Maskalar, also a member of that faction, was exuding more raw sexual magnetism than humanly possible, and she knew how to use it. Siegfried sent Bob a sending spell conveying as much of this superficial intelligence as he could cram in. Bob sighed inwardly. “Time to turn on the charm, I guess,” he said to himself. Siegfried made his way over to the Sea of Fallen Stars delegation and introduced himself to the delegates with all the panache his noble upbringing could provide. He knew every rhetorical trick in the book to sow discord amid the competing egos of the keenly status-conscious without implicating himself, and he began to do devilish work. “I am Prince Siegfried Alagondar of Neverwinter, and allow me to welcome you all to Waterdeep on this momentous occasion. So, I assume you’re all here to throw your support behind Lady Aumraeya?” he asked, his voice dripping with hidden venom. “Oh, a Prince?” one of the priestesses giggled. The women sized up the handsome half-orc. Siegfried subtly cast detect thoughts . Bob approached High Priestess Raven Sommersrace, whose diamond-and-coin ensemble left little to the imagination that couldn’t be purchased with a king’s ransom. She batted her long eyelashes at him. “Our host has finally arrived!” “Greetings, Sister Sommersrace,” Bob said. “I am Robert Trevelyan. Welcome to the Temple of Beauty.” Raven curtsied, her tassels jingling expensively. “I understand the proceedings are about to begin.” “That is my understanding,” Bob said. “I have just arrived.” “Yes, there are only a few delegates who have yet to appear,” Raven said, looking over Bob’s shoulder towards the sanctuary’s main entrance. “Very mysterious,” she said. “How so?” Bob asked. “Well,” Raven said with a knowing smile. “The play for being fashionably late to one’s own potential coronation is always a bit of a game, isn’t it? It raises an eyebrow or two. We shall see who makes the final entrance.” As if on cue, another delegate arrived. She was thin, tall and dark-skinned, her long hair pulled back from her face, which was adorned with tastefully intricate tattoos in white ink on her chin and cheekbones that stood out from her dusky complexion, and a diamond-shaped third eye tattoo in the centre of her forehead. She wore long blade-like earrings and a fashionable neck collar that came to a point on her upper chest, as though inviting the gaze of all onlookers to check out her endowments, which were ample and on display. The intricate white tattoo pattern continued over her right shoulder and across her bosom, disappearing beneath her bustier. Judging by the way she carried herself, Siegfried surmised that she was a high-priced madam. Bob recognized her by reputation. She could be none other than Malwe-Sha, High Priestess of the House of Divine Beauty in Port Nyanzaru in Chult, a land of intrigue far to the south. Arrayed around the tall woman were a phalanx of formally-dressed cuckolds, doubtlessly all her husband, though the exact pecking order was not possible to discern at first glance. They were meek, subdued, and did not make eye contact. South-westerners, Bob thought. He knew that Malwe-Sha had refined the art of temple prostitution into a science in Chult, and that the Temple of Divine Beauty in Chult was visited by the wealthiest colonials who were attended to by only the most beautiful acolytes, both male and female. She was a controversial figure in the Church of Sune, and she was a powerful woman. Malwe-Sha was able to get away with her somewhat heretical take on temple worship because she had established herself as the pre-eminent patron of the arts south of Amn. Port Nyanzaru was dedicated from slum to palace with murals and mosaics funded from the Temple of Divine Beauty. She had improved and expanded the vast bathhouses that the Church of Sune maintained on behalf of the city, hiring painters, masons and other artisans to keep the frescoes fresh, and in doing so, earned the love of the people. Malwe-Sha was renowned as the most beautiful woman in all of Chult. Inaccessible to commoners, she had a large staff to do the daily work of the church, and it was rumoured that she had forged powerful alliances with the Church of Waukeen. A soft gong heralded her arrival, and on the sanctuary dais, Nero, whose single out-of-place hair belied his harried countenance on such a day, unrolled a scroll to announce her to the assemblage. Malwe-Sha made an appropriately indulgent donation to the church’s coffers and then glided across the room towards Raven Sommersrace. Siegfried withdrew a flag from Dragonspear castle, made a show of rolling it up, and placed it in the donation receptacle. Bob nodded. Malwe-Sha embraced Raven Sommersrace and placed an immaculate kiss on either cheek. She turned to Bob and gave a respectful incline of her head. “I have traveled far, however, the respite offered by the Temple of Beauty is once again the pinnacle of Waterdeep. And you are?” Bob cleared his throat, only to be elbowed aside by Siegfried. “My apologies. May I introduce Robert Trevelyan, Sune’s Beloved, the Chosen Tear of Evergold.” Malwe-Sha’s eyes widened. “Charmed, Chosen Tear. I am High Priestess Malwe-Sha of the House of Divine Beauty.” Her nostrils flared provocatively as she sniffed the air. “Ah, I see you’re wearing Lady Firehair’s distinctive scent. Truly, you are favoured by Sune.” “We’ve had the odd encounter,” Bob replied, taking her proffered hand and ritually kissing it. “Well, if you enjoy odd encounters you simply must visit the House of Divine Beauty in Port Nyanzaru,” Malwe-Sha said. “We have made inroads into the native population, spreading Sune’s gospel of divine beauty near and far. Should the synod decide a certain way, we should be honoured to welcome you to our hearth and home for an official visit that you won’t soon forget. If you were to make a pilgrimage.” “I’m sure it would be a wonderful trip,” Bob said. “I would certainly make it wonderful while getting to know you better, Robert Trevelyan,” Malwe-Sha purred. “But after communing with Sune Herself, I don’t think I’m in need of close companionship for a long spell,” Bob continued. “Yes indeed,” Raven said. “Once you go red, there’s no other bed.” She chuckled. The barest shade of a glower crossed Malwe-Sha’s perfect face. “Southern humour,” Raven said with a smile, tossing her hair playfully. “If we’re comparing compass points,” Siegfried said, “I should also introduce Varien Aether, the last son of Lorelei, Sune’s Holy Rose.” “Oh, that would make him the last heir of the Order of Sunrise, now wouldn’t it?” Malwe-Sha replied. “Quite possibly,” Siegfried said. “Sune Herself gifted him with a Ruby Rose.” “Well, speaking of the Ruby Rose, I do believe the Order of the Ruby Rose is marching on Waterdeep at this very moment,” Malwe-Sha replied. At this, another gong sounded, and a rush of excited chatter filled the sanctuary. There was a movement towards the temple’s entrance. “The brothers have arrived!” acolytes were whispering amongst themselves. The assembly exited the temple into a carnival atmosphere, where it appeared as though every Sunite in Waterdeep had turned out to line the streets approaching the Temple of Beauty, as a procession began to approach the Temple of Beauty from the south. Ahead of the procession was a smartly-dressed Herald who was calling out for the throng to make way as he threw out rose petals to cover the cobblestones. “Make way, make way for Naes and Tiberius Inuus!” Cheers began to rise from the crowd as the procession came into view.