A Day of Rest
6 Tarsakh 1492, Waterdeep
Companions:
- Casindra “Casi” Naïlo, a half-elf warlock
- Devotion, a tiefling cleric
- Lek, a half-elf rogue
- Thokk, a half-orc monk
Given the late hour and the unrepaired structure of the second story, we opted to spend the night on the floor of the tap room, camped out on our bedrolls around the fireplace. Ember, of course, returned to her own home after we’d settled in, and promised to return again in the morning.
Trail rations weren’t the ideal meal in a city of so many dining options, but as it was late and the weather was miserable, none of us cared to venture out for anything else, so we made the best of what we had in our packs. We also discovered that which we no longer had in our packs: specifically, a number of the items which we thought we had taken from Fistandia’s mansion were no longer in our possession. As we puzzled over what seemed to be missing—Lek in particular seemed especially vexed that the book he had poorly pretended to not remove from the library was now missing—we soon realized that the items which were missing were those which must have been creations of the magical mansion itself, including magically-copied books, while anything which remained must have been created by other means.
I still had one of the two copies of The Visual Guide to Medicinal Plants—with the one which had been copied by the duplicator desk having vanished from my pack—as well as The Serpent’s Song from the upstairs reading room. Lek still had the collection of daggers he’d collected from the practice room. Devo’s wilted flower from the arboretum yet remained, as did Thokk’s sparkly leaf from the patio. Casi still had the two journals she’d kept of Fistandia’s as well as the chain-wrapped book, and Thava likewise had the journal she’d kept from Fistandia’s upstairs laboratory. Pop had lost his copy of his book on the Companions of the Hall, but retained the curious alchemy set recovered from Freyot’s laboratory. We also still had the two healing potions recovered from Freyot’s lab: one in Devo’s pack, and one stored in mine for whomever might most need it.
As the night deepened and most of the rest of the party fell asleep, I sat with the chained book and the strange alchemy toolkit and poured over the catalogs of rare magical items I had in my personal collection—there’s a reason I carry an extra-dimensional pack, after all!—and attempted to identify their properties. I came up short on the peculiar tools, but the chained book proved amusingly easy, and soon took my rest as well.
The next morning as we broke our fast, I asked Pop and Thokk to put their collective talents in weapon-smithing and woodworking together to craft a new wooden handle for the cleverly book-shaped head of an enchanted flail. The pair eagerly set to work, repurposing the fine wood of the quarterstaff Thokk had long carried but never actually used, claiming he was afraid he’d accidentally hurt someone too badly with it because he couldn’t tell how hard he was actually hitting them with it.
While they worked, I sat at the bar with the ledger I’d procured for the keeping of the tavern’s books, mentally going over the estimates Ember had given me for the next few phases of the tavern’s repair, as well as the likely costs of transportation to Candlekeep. In order to collect our reward, at least one of us would need to travel to the library to show Bookwyrm one of Fistandia’s journals and a report the on-going animation of her homunculus as evidence of her continued well-being, thereby resetting the countdown on her will. If no one else was interested in making the trip—though I imagined at the very least Casi, Devo, and Thava would be interested in a visit to the largest library in Faerûn, if not all of Toril—then I alone could make the journey very quickly, returning to Waterdeep the same day as I departed, if not the next, depending on the modes of transportation available to me at the southern end.
I broached the topic with the group and found that nearly everyone was interested in going, though understandably the wild child Aurora didn’t quite grasp the concept of an entire city that was a library. Pop and Phelan were generally ambivalent about the idea, and it was difficult to tell if Lek’s seeming disinterest was genuine. As predicted, Casi, Devo, and Thava were the most-eager to visit the great library, and Thokk was, as ever, happy to be included in the conversation.
The ring of recall I had been given as a child would teleport up to five other persons with me to Candlekeep’s Court of Air and our number was too great for that, so I explained to my companions that we were going to need to book passage aboard a ship bound for Baldur’s Gate or to make our way there overland. The former I estimated would take perhaps a tenday, while the latter would take at least a month, and then we’d have the same again for the return to Waterdeep afterward. Booking passage aboard a ship could prove costly, but we’d be gone from Waterdeep at most a month, whereas traveling overland would be fairly inexpensive, and if we signed on as guards for a merchant caravan, we might even get paid to make the trip.
For Lack of Funds
Ember arrived then, and she and I got to work on the books for the company of Legends Unsung, which now required us to lay out financial plans at least three months ahead. With us gone from the city for so long, our property manager would need the means to access funds herself, the authority to proceed with repairs in our absence, and her own wages paid reliably. Even if we sold the magical book-shaped flail for as much as I hoped it might fetch from a devotee of Oghma or Deneir for such a novelty, we’d still be looking at barely a thousand gold pieces in our company pool: a small fortune, but one which would be depleted very quickly given all the demands upon it.
Wanting to be honest with the party about our financial situation, I explained this to the group, and sweet Thokk quickly volunteered his entire fortune of thirty-give gold pieces. I declined his generosity, assuring him he’d need to keep his funds himself, at which point Devo began to attempt to organize a variety show to which we could sell tickets and showcase our varied talents. Though I inwardly laughed at the thought of putting “The Lek & Thokk Show” upon a stage to the amusement and bewilderment of vaudeville fans of Waterdeep, we’d be dealing with guild fees, advertising fees, city administrative fees…
“I can play an instrument,” Lek admitted, once again surprising me. He did not, however, clarify what it was he played.
“I could do a comedy show!” Thokk exclaimed, to murmurs of agreement. “I can’t kill, but I can kill it,” he joked, evoking peals of laughter. “See?!”
Casi also seemed skeptical of the lucrative nature of the variety act. “We can also see if there are other jobs we can take before we leave?”
“I’m pretty confident in my ability!” Thokk boasted, continuing his impromptu comedy routine, which apparently included an imaginary lasso.
“I don’t know, I think we should gamble on this talent show,” Lek told Casi.
Thokk nodded. “I like to gamble!”
Casi burst out laughing. “I don’t think you’re the kind of guy who should be gambling!”
The half-orc pretended to be offended. “What kind of coward doesn’t like to gamble?”
“What’s gambling?” asked Devo, looking confused, and the laughter died out as the others realized the sheltered tiefling was serious: apparently his moms hadn’t taught him about games of chance.
Lek smirked. “So what you do first is you find a beautiful woman: she’s your good luck charm.”
This did not help Devo in the slightest. “My moms are all very beautiful?”
Silence reigned again, and I quickly jumped in. “We know we were hoping to hear back from Renaer Neverember,” I reminded them, and an odd look passed between Devo and Lek which I couldn’t interpret.
“We could just go around town and ask people if there’s anything they can pay us to do!” Devo suggested. Lathander, god of youth and renewal, was truly the perfect deity for one as innocent as Devo, and if Thokk had any inclinations towards the divine, he might also find favor with the Morninglord.
“Or ask really nicely if they can give us money,” added Thokk.
Was there a god of guilelessness?
Still, it was true that we were likely to find any number of odd jobs around the city for a band of capable adventurers such as ourselves, especially if we joined any of the city’s guilds, and certainly if Renaer Neverember’s promised aid panned out. I wondered also if we might soon find ourselves in the good graces of a second scion of an Open Lord, for if Saer Barrow had passed on to his employers that we had confirmed the continued well-being of the alchemist Freyot, then perhaps Victoro Cassalanter might also be favorably disposed toward us. His father, Caladorn, had been Open Lord before Dagult Neverember, and despite all the turmoil through his tenure—the onset of the Spellplague, actual plague, famine, cult machinations, and more—Caladorn Cassalanter was fondly remembered in Waterdeep for his bravery and steadfast leadership.
However, I chafed at the notion of any delay: our information on Fistandia’s continued survival did technically have a timer upon it, dated to the evening we left her mansion and the company of the homunculus whose continued animation proved she still lived. By taking the overland route to Candlekeep, we’d already be rendering this information at least a month old, so the longer we lingered in Waterdeep, the more stale this information would be, and the greater the chance was someone else might find the means to reach out to Candlekeep with word of the wizard’s survival. Why, Fistandia herself might drop by Candlekeep on her return trip from Darromar!
“I’ll sell some of my jewelry,” I declared aloud.
Though we’ve always lived modestly, my mother and aunt both came from considerable wealth and as such I have a number of valuable trinkets I’ve been gifted over the years. As my Aunt Kara taught me, one never knows when a respectable bard might be called upon to perform at the court of a duke or a king and be expected to dress in garments and jewels befitting the occasion. I sincerely doubted I’d find myself in such a circumstance over the next two months or more traveling the Trade Way—and my name hardly commands the attention of dukes and kings that Kara Graybrook enjoys in lands to the east—so it seemed no great hardship to sell the flashiest pieces I owned to fund repairs during our absence.
I was careful to couch it as being a loan to the company, however: I didn’t want anyone to think I was claiming a greater stake in the tavern!
Devo likewise offered up his old leather cuirass to be sold for whatever I could for it—he’d taken the scale armor we’d looted from the Xanatharian duergar Pop killed—and Lek proffered the saber he’d likewise looted from the Zhentish warehouse but had not found to his liking. Thokk then offered up a book his father had given him, and when I hesitated to accept it—knowing how much his father means to him—the half-orc admitted he couldn’t read the book anyway.
That explained his stumbles over the title of one of the magical books in Fistandia’s mansion, and Devo immediately volunteered to spend the day working with Thokk to teach him how to read. He obviously knew his letters enough to read as well as he did, but he clearly struggled all the same.
Ember and I returned to our renovation plans, determining that the priorities were, in order: repairing the broken supports for the second floor, replacing broken windows and roofing tiles, repairing or replacing the plumbing, replacing the railing on the porch and balconies, refurbishing the kitchen, refinishing the wood floors and the bar, and buying new everything for inside. We’d also need the necessary guild memberships and city inspections and licenses before we could open for business, let alone hiring staff to run the place.
Still, repairs and renovations first.
(Also, before I forget, Devo had two suggestions for the name of our tavern, but of course there will be plenty of time to ruminate on that before our return to Waterdeep: the Poltergeist Inn ‘n’ Tavern, aka “the PINT”, as well as the Faerie Dragon’s Bottle, though there was the distant sound of breaking glass after that name which might have been Virlyaer or Caexarith expressing their displeasure at that suggestion.)
To Market
By the time Ember and I finished our list, Thokk and Pop had completed the new handle for the magical flail: Thokk had used his woodcarving and carpentry skills to reshape a foot-and-a-half long piece of his former quarterstaff, and Pop had made good use of some bits of scrap metal he kept with his smithing tools to cold-forge a cap and bracket through which the chain was securely attached to the wooden shaft. Ember declared it “a fine piece of dwarven craftsmanship”, and she and I announced our intentions to visit the Market before heading over to the Sword Coast Traders’ Bank. Some time during my work with Ember, Thava and the wolf cubs had slipped out of the tavern, but as all three had left behind their packs, it seemed likely they hadn’t gone far.
Devo and Thokk remained behind to work on Thokk’s literacy, while Pop declared his intention to search the cellar very thoroughly to make sure we hadn’t missed anything in our previous visit down there. Lek and Casi decided to accompany Ember and I to the Market, but soon split off, seeking booths of booksellers, to my great envy: alas, I was selling today, not buying!
It was easy enough to find buyers for the saber and leather cuirass, but I withheld the flail, knowing that I could get an above-market price for it by taking it to a particular type of customer. Ember and I then left the Market and headed to the Font of Knowledge to the west. There I inquired after Loremaster Toran Evenstride, the resident expert of warfare and the arts martial. I hadn’t seen the earth genasi since I was a child, but he recognized me anyway and greeted me like a long-lost friend, and of course, inquired after the health of my parents, having been particularly fond of my father for the practical demonstrations he’d shown the scholar of the elven bladesinger traditions. When I showed him the magical flail and the inscription on the book’s spine —Martial Attack Techniques—he laughed heartily and immediately withdrew four fine white pearls from his belt pouch in exchange for the weapon.
With a promise to convey his well-wishes to my parents, I made use of a water closet to change into some of the finer garments and one of the more understated sets of jewels stored in my pack so that I might look more the part of a young aristocrat and less like an unschooled ruffian attempting to unload purloined gems. For the sale of my jewelry, Ember recommended Halazar’s Fine Gems, a venerable store even I had heard of for its exorbitant pricing, and I balked, wondering if they’d likewise attempt to cheat sellers. However, Ember explained their high prices were precisely why the city’s elite loved to shop there: they could brag about how much they had spent for a fine piece at Halazar’s!
Her advice proved sound as always: I parted with only one piece from my collection— a gold brooch shaped like a dragon’s head with a fire opal set in the place of its eye—and left the store with a letter of credit for the Sword Coast Trader’s Bank entitling me to a transfer of two thousand gold pieces from the Halazar account. Further, since the jeweler was near the High Road, that put us much closer to the bank than where we had been at the west side of the Market, so we made that our next stop.
We were ushered into a private office at the bank a little more quickly than I expected, which I soon realized was likely due to my fine attire, something I really shouldn’t have found surprising. The bank officer processed the transfer of funds from the Halazar account to the Legends Unsung account in short order, and I withdrew roughly one-quarter of that in mixed coinage to use for the purchase of either passage south on a ship or horses and supplies for an overland journey. An automatic transfer was arranged to deposit twenty gold pieces into Ember’s own account each Fourthday, and she was given a bank book to be able to write letters of credit to guild contractors, as well as the authority to withdraw funds directly from the account against an invoice. We had set the renovation budget at fifteen hundred dragons, but I gave Ember permission to go as high as eighteen hundred if there were unforeseen overruns.
After a stop at the lobby water closet to change back into my much more-comfortable and familiar travel attire, Ember and I headed a few blocks over from the bank to the guild hall of the League of Caravaneers, Landlords, and Property Managers, or as its members usually called it, the Caralanproman. Though Ember was correct in that hiring her had postponed our obligation to join the guild for six months, at least one of the owners of our company needed to join the Caralanproman at some point, and it made sense that I take on that responsibility—after all, as Lek liked to remind me, I was the only member of our company who had such a deep interest in Waterdeep’s sewers!—and Ember thought it best I join before Guildsmeet.
Becoming a landlord was never one of my life’s ambitions, but the fifty gold pieces I surrendered for annual dues almost immediately paid for themselves when I overheard someone mentioning a caravan preparing to depart for Baldur’s Gate which needed to hire ten to twelve seasoned guards.
Southward Solutions
The sly grin crossing Ember’s face told me that this was actually what she’d been hoping for when she’d suggested I join the Caralanproman before Guildsmeet: a caravan opportunity practically throwing itself at my feet before I’d even pinned my bronze guild crest to my waistcoat! As it turned out, one of the best-kept secrets in Waterdeep was that caravans preparing to depart the city first registered their cargo, destination, and any hiring needs with the appropriate guilds. The drivers of the caravans were often members of the Fellowship of Carters and Coachmen, while the owner of the cargo might be a member of any number of trade guilds. The owner of the wagons and the boss of the caravan—sometimes one and the same, but more often not—were always members of the Caralanproman, and thus, no matter what was being carted from Waterdeep by any official trade caravan, word of it went through this particular guild hall.
And why was this not a resource exploited by mercenaries and adventurers eager to get an early jump on the best contracts? Because unlike many of the trade guilds where anyone with even a passing interest in the basic skills could gain an entry-level membership, the Caralanproman had very exacting requirements for its members which most mercenaries and adventurers couldn’t meet: unless they were guild-certified property managers who had passed a rigorous examination and maintained employment in the field, as was the case for Ember, then membership required proof of ownership of a licensed caravan or a property which had space which was leased or otherwise made available to the general public. While our tavern was not yet open to the public, it was a qualified property and my membership was conditionally approved contingent upon the restoration of the tavern’s public availability before the end of the calendar year.
Waterdeep: City of Splendors? More like Waterdeep: City of Infinite Paperwork!
Ember apparently knew the boss of the caravan registering its manifest, and quickly made the introductions: Shoral Stonefist, an athletic half-orc woman roughly my own age and one of the top lieutenants to Aldegon Imbulwilder, a wine merchant. I recognized the name, recalling that Imbulwilder’s Imports had revolutionized the way alcohol was traded throughout the Sword Coast and Heartlands many years ago, for the clever gnome had devised a practice he called “wholesaling”, leveraging his buying power to purchase beverages at bulk discounts from the many brewers and vintners throughout Faerûn, shipping them to his own warehouses in the cities, and then selling the beverages from his stores to the taverns and inns within those cities at a tidy profit. The local businesses could concern themselves less with procurement, shipping, and long-term storage while offering a greater variety of beverages to their customers, and almost everyone benefited from the exchange.
As Shoral explained it, the traditional first caravan of the season for Imbulwilder’s Imports was a shipment of small-batch liquors from Waterdeep to Baldur’s Gate, a modest convoy of only four heavy wagons carrying a variety of the gnome’s favorite picks from over the winter. Given the uncertain weather and the many unknowns from the months of reduced travel on the road, it was the riskiest run of the season, so it was the only one that asked drivers to volunteer for the duty, and Shoral hand-picked the other three drivers from among those who put their names forward.
The pay for caravan guards was generous: five dragons a day per head, with a guaranteed thirty days’ wages even if the caravan was fortunate enough to make it to Baldur’s Gate a few days earlier than that. Further, there was an initial sign-on bonus of fifty gold to ensure guards were properly equipped for the journey ahead, and additional bonuses might be rewarded at the end of the trip at the discretion of the caravan boss. Even factoring in the cost of purchasing horses, feed, and other supplies, this offer was almost too lucrative to pass up, and I promised Shoral we would certainly give it all due consideration. She laughed at that and warned me that her roster tended to fill up very quickly, so we should plan to arrive to Caravan Court at dawn on the ninth if we hoped to join them. Imbulwilder’s Imports usually required a letter of recommendation from anyone seeking to sign on to one of their caravans, as they needed a measure of guarantee that the would-be guards were capable and trustworthy, but she was willing to accept Ember’s introduction in lieu of such a letter.
“Guildsmeet is tomorrow,” I began as Ember and I left the guild office, “why not leave the day after, on the eighth?”
Ember laughed. “Ye’ve ne’er attended a Guildsmeet party then, ha’ ye? Hardly anyone’s able tae stand the next mornin’, let alone try tae drive a caravan!”
I was secretly glad, for I had hoped to still be in Waterdeep for the eighth.
We flagged down a dray, riding it all the way to the Dock Ward before disembarking and checking in with the Harbormaster to see if any ships were Baldur’s Gate-bound and had berths for passengers. As good fortune would have it, a Ruathyn merchant vessel named the Barnacled Bell was scheduled for departure on the evening of the ninth, and had two private passenger cabins available with four hammocks in each. Her captain anticipated reaching the Grey Harbor in only twelve days, and intended to charge 100 gold per head, which I thought a little pricey, and said so aloud.
“Tis nae so bad,” Ember mused. “Guild o’ Waterman rates are one shard per mile fer a ferry, an’ ’tis o’er 500 miles tae Baldur’s Gate so that’d be at least 50 dragons. Add in room an’ board fer twelve days an’ that sounds aboot right.”
“Wouldn’t you pay the ferryman per crossing, regardless of how many were in the boat?” I asked. “As long as you didn’t exceed the safe limits of the ferry, of course. And nearly 5 gold per day for room and board is a private room at a nice inn, not a hammock and… catch-of-the-day.” I admit I was perhaps being more than a little snobbish, but I did spend a fair number of years in the company of a celebrated performer!
Ember chuckled. “Aye, ye make a fair point, but also beggars cannae be choosers, and they dinnae make nice inns that sail.”
Someone politely cleared their throat, and the dwarf and I turned around to see a short, slender man with freckles and sandy-blond hair standing in the doorway of the Harbormaster’s office. “Begging your pardon, miss, but I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m authorized to speak on behalf of Captain Heifssen of the Barnacled Bell, and I can assure you that if you choose to travel aboard his ship, you and your compatriots can book passage for only 75 gold pieces each. You also will not be obligated to participate in any shipboard work activities such as the hauling of sails or coiling of ropes, but the captain would no doubt appreciate your party’s capable assistance should the ship have any unfortunate encounters with hostile entities like sahuagin or kuo-toa.”
“Is that likely?” I asked, dumbfounded.
He shrugged. “Who could say? It’s early in the season, and the ice floes are only just now cleared out of the northern harbors. Fortunately, that also means the Sword Coast’s pirates are still in southern waters, so you’d likely not have any of those to worry about, either.”
There was something odd about the small man, but I couldn’t quite place exactly what. “So you work for Captain Heifssen?”
The sandy-haired man laughed. “Oh, no! I work for someone who keeps a watchful eye on many interesting people and what they’re doing. So if you do decide to sail to Baldur’s Gate aboard the Bell, tell Captain Heiffsen that our observant friend recommended his ship, and that will ensure you receive the discounted fare. Otherwise, if you join the Imbulwilder caravan, then we wish you the best of luck on that journey.”
He bowed gracefully, then left the Harbormaster’s office just as quickly and surprisingly as he’d arrived, leaving me staring after him with the hair standing on the back of my neck.
Whose attention had my companions and I attracted? The mysterious man couldn’t have worked for Renaer, as surely he’d have identified his employer had that been the case. The veiled references also suggested one of the many secretive organizations of the Sword Coast, but in that case, I might not even have a clue which organization that could be. The Harpers? They’d always had an interest in adventurers who tried to do good deeds. The Zhentarim? From what I had been able to piece together, we had inadvertently aided one of their own when we helped the half-orc woman during the brawl at the Yawning Portal. Force Grey? Surely we weren’t a powerful enough group to have been noticed by the Blackstaff herself.
I groaned inwardly as the wiry man’s sly references to “watch”, “observe”, and “eye” hit me: the Xanathar Guild! It made a strange kind of logic that they would be interested in helping us for several reasons: it got us out of the city, thereby limiting our future interference in their affairs; granting us favors could be an attempt to gain influence with us; and by eliminating a weak underling who’d proven incompetent and ineffectual, we might actually have strengthened their organization, as the way the illithid in the sewers had abandoned the half-orc wizard to our overwhelming force certainly spoke of the thieves’ guild washing their hands of him.
“Seems ye’ve got some powerful friends,” Ember observed.
“Seems like,” I agreed, feeling a little queasy at the prospect.
Plans Made
We returned to the High Road and boarded another dray, returning to the tavern only a few minutes ahead of the return of Lek and Casi from their own shopping excursion, and found that Thava, Aurora, and Phelan had also returned from their own trip. Pop had apparently not found any secret passages or hidden compartments in the cellar, much to his disappointment, but he stated with the confidence only a dwarven miner could muster that we could easily install a private entrance to the city’s stormwater sewer through our cellar and it wouldn’t take a great deal of tunneling to accomplish, but if we did that, we’d need to make sure it was flood-gated to keep our own cellar dry, else we could never store anything in it.
Zalif the Poltergeist had an opinion on the matter, filling the air with an echoic sound like someone drumming on metal pipes. I wondered if by chance he was making a reference to the plumbing in the tavern, which did in fact extend into the sanitary sewer far below us, and wished I had a better way to speak with the spirit to understand his intentions.
Though part of me was reluctant to do so, given the “watchful eye” awaiting our imminent departure from the city, I relayed to the rest of the party the two options Ember and I had uncovered for leaving the city via ship or caravan: aboard the Barnacled Bell, at the discounted rate of 75 gold per passenger, or as guards for the Imbulwilder Imports caravan earning 5 gold per day plus bonuses. The former would see us to Baldur’s Gate in barely over a tenday, while the latter would take an entire month.
Lek may have been born a nobleman, but he had a mercenary’s heart, and he proved the most ardent supporter of the latter option. Though he clearly had business of his own in Waterdeep, he favored the plan which saw us getting paid to travel over the one where we paid.
Privately, I had to agree, but for an entirely different reason: on the open road, we were largely responsible only for ourselves, though of course as caravan guards we’d also be expected to protect the wagons and drivers of our employer. Out on the Sea of Swords, we’d largely be at the mercy of the Barnacled Bell, her crew, and the fickle whims of Umberlee, goddess of the sea. And who knew what influence a certain “watchful eye” might also have upon that voyage?
Lek and Devo excused themselves to attend to a private matter—a little unusual, for though they had joined us as a pair, Lek often acted as though he wanted nothing to do with the tiefling—and the rest of us separated again for other activities. Ember set off to begin soliciting repair estimates for the floor joists, windows, and roofing tiles, and I decided that while I was joining organizations ahead of Guildsmeet, I might as well visit the College of New Olamn on the slopes of Mount Waterdeep, and formally register as a full member of the Council of Bards, Musicians, Instrument-Makers, and Choristers. Anyone could join the guild as an apprentice, many could take a simple skills test to achieve a journeyman title as a musician, instrument maker, or vocalist, and fewer yet could claim full membership as any of the three main roles. Far fewer still could lay claim to the title of “bard” from the College of New Olamn, as they must pass a rigorous test of lore, martial prowess, artistic talent, and magical skill, but my Aunt Kara had prepared me well for this examination, and I was confident I would pass.
And as I finish this entry and return to my bedroll to await the dawn of Guildsmeet, I know my aunt will be very proud of the golden scroll pin now affixed to my waistcoat beside the bronze pin of the Caralanproman: I am Shadriel Silverwillow, Bard of the College of Lore!