Private Tales Forastero

[Amorea Delarosa]

The Priestess demured at the off-handed compliment, a rosy flush filling her cheeks.

"Children raised by the Choir receive a very thorough education," she explained gently, "I was an orphan that displayed skill of magic at infancy and, so, was given to the Choir to rear. We learn many languages, reading, writing, arithmetic, as well as survival skills for missions that take us beyond the walls of civilization. There is also mentoring in magic, combat, melee and weaponry, horseback riding as well as diplomacy and strategy. "

Many people called them weapons of the Church for good reason. The Solar Choir's hand was as gentle as it was fierce.

"Each of us children are allowed to pick another form of study every year to ...broaden our horizons. The Choir finds that keeping our skills varied and allowing us freedom to pursue personal hobbies gives us something to focus on during off times. I elected to practice within the arts, primarily. Drawing one year, scribing another, then painting for two, music of various forms for several years, dance. This year I took up the practice of embroidery ... but I think I will have need to choose something else." She tempted humor in a literal way, the smallest of smiles pulling at the corners of her lips. Sight was rather important for such an art.

 

[Kishou]

Kishou grimaced at the mentioning of arithmetic. It was a subject that he was briefly exposed to in Alliria, but after a mere few hours of attempting to make sense of it, he resolved himself to never again dabble in something so frustratingly mundane. It did not come as much of a surprise that her knowledge was so extensive, given the manner in which she carried herself at all times. Or, at least when he had the pleasure to see her. He entertained himself with the image of the Priestess with a sword and shield in her grasp and smiled at the thought.

He stifled a chuckle and watched as steam rose from the tea that had been poured in front of him.

"Amazing, to learn so much."

He would often carve wooden idols of figures from his homeland in his travels, but the extent of any formal education was limited to reading and writing. To say he was envious was an understatement.

"I recall the Mizumau-onna from my homeland," he spoke almost nostalgically. "They were seen at the temples, and they would devote themselves to dancing and praying to whatever deity that temple worshiped. They say the name comes from a woman that danced so beautifully that the deities blessed her with long-lasting youth."

He also recalled the water-dancers being proficient martial artists, capable of besting even the strongest men. Their graceful, swift, and fluid motions often used an opponents' own strength against them. That coupled with the blessing of magic from the gods created unexpectedly fearsome warriors. However, the water-dancers of Kishou's homeland have never seen a war and only practice their art in reverence to the deities around them.

There are hundreds of deities, and therefore hundreds of temples and even more shrines scattered about his homeland. It is said that each temple's water-dancers practice a unique dance.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Small hands that had once worked with such delicacy to paint single blades of grass on a riverside landscape, and then turned to wield a sword against the heathens of the Church now moved with blind care to find the edge of the table before her. Kishou spoke of dancers from his homeland and her fingertips gently plied along the surface, seeking out the smooth porcelain of the tea platter and following the curve of the mug.

The Priestess delicately lifted the mug toward her chin, "They sound lovely. What happened to the woman in the tales?" Amore wondered if she still lived yet, hidden among her people in secrecy, living like a person who one day believed they would die only to awaken with eternal youth every day.

She lifted the mug for a sip and then, suddenly gave a yelp as the steaming liquid burned her lip and tongue. The mug spilled over the rim, splashing across her hands and flying to the ground to shatter into a million pieces.

Amore's hands held aloft, strained, turning an angry red from the burns and leaving the Priestess of the Sunfather's Fire utterly bereft of words for the sensation.

She'd never been burned before in her life.

 

[Kishou]

As Amore's fingers probed about the porcelain in front of her, Kishou's unconsciously did the same. Steam still rose from the cup and with it the pleasant aromatic fragrance from the tea.

"Hm," a smile painted his face; a veneer masking his feelings about the woeful end to the tale, "It may not come as a surprise that she-"

The priestess cried out, startling the man across from her. He watched, mouth agape as the cup shattered by her feet.

"Are you"- he began to rise from his seat, though Mithra was already moving to aid her mistress. "-okay?"

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"My Lady..." Mithri quickly swooped in, taking the Priestess' hands to inspect, "you are burned. I am so sorry, so very sorry," the woman looked to Kishou, clearly aghast and distraught, "this have never happened before."

"It's ok," Amore uttered, words strained through the pain, "it's ok Mithri."

"The Lady cannot burn," Mithri sputtered, "she is the heart of fire."

And just like that, with the blistering of the Priestess' hands, tea was over.


It would be quite some time before Kishou would receive word from Amorea again. Several weeks, in fact. There was rumor she had left in the company of a Choir Inquisitor, dressed in her robes she wore on mission. The very same she had worn to the island. She left at the back of her horse in the light of day, but she returned near a week later in the dead of night. When her next missive to the Forastero arrived, it was to ask for his assistance on a journey to a distant city in search of a famed Apothecary.

Their stay in the city was not without event. Within the first day the Priestess had been invited to a ball - and so she and the Forastero did attend for an evening of enjoyment and dancing. It was a welcome reprieve from what was feeling to be a futile task. The next day at the Apothecary had turned out no better than her previous journey to another healer. The Apothecary could do nothing to help and did not know of another who could.

On the ride back to where they had been staying, in the privacy of their carriage, Amore felt her strength begin to crack and for the first time since she could remember ...the Priestess wept.

 

[Kishou]

It certainly would be a night that Kishou would look back on and smile about for quite some time. As always, the Forastero and the Priestess found endless topics to speak about. They shared expensive food and drinks, and the Priestess even guided the awkward swordsman through several minutes of dancing on the ballroom floor. It brought no small amount of joy to the foreigner to see Amore smile and enjoy herself so openly.

He almost forgot about their reason for being in the city.

The good mood and atmosphere between the two vanished completely following their visit to the apothecary. While the pair sat in a long, woeful silence, the foreigner idly stared out of a screen at the lamplit streets of Alliria. How many different "experts" has she seen, how many times was she told that her situation is helpless?

Kishou's eyelids began to feel heavy as the carriage rocked. They left the ball late at night, and the visit to the apothecary would have dragged into the morning. He'd so shamelessly enjoyed himself and now found himself to be exhausted. Perhaps a minute or two more, and he would have fallen asleep.

He'd underestimated the strain that Amore was under. He watched as the Priestess, a woman he found to possess a steadfast fortitude, cried within their carriage under the moons and millions of stars. He let the woman's emotions flow forth without interruption for several seconds.

"We," his voice trailed, "we will try elsewhere. Elbion. Farther west, perhaps. There are whispers of a young Empire there. Or-" His tone became uncharacteristically panicked, but the Forastero quickly composed himself.

"We will keep trying."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Amore had managed to remain composed throughout the entire appointment. Her calmness wavered not under the daunting sounds made by the Apothecary, nor did her expression shift as the elf delivered the news of no future cure or care. At the time she'd left the store on Kishou's arm she couldn't be sure what the tightness in her chest meant. Exhaustion, perhaps, from a body still within recovery. Still not back to strength. She felt it winching as she entered the carriage, and then crack when she took her seat.

Now she felt everything she'd learned to bottle up suddenly seeping forth from that crack. Doubt. Fear. Grief. The breathlessness of hope as it slowly drifted unbidden through her fingertips like sand.

What if she never regained her strength? Her magic? Her sight? What did that mean for her? What did that mean for her faith? Was she weak? Had she been turned aside by the Sun Father?

The Priestess felt the lines of her face grow taught with wrested control, to keep herself from fully succumbing to her lament. Couldn't keep the tears back, though. Sightless eyes blinked suddenly at the sound of Kishou's voice, his tone as warm as the light she now felt missing from her soul. Drawing in a stifled breath, her eyes cast in his direction and she nodded.

"You are right," a withered stare shifted down toward her hands in her lap, another nod that did not hide her uncertainty, "of course. Keep trying. Elbion ... the College. Their resources are something of legend."

Amore lifted a hand to wipe at her eyes, "I am sorry you had to see that."

 

[Kishou]

Kishou blinked back tears as he watched the Priestess wipe her eyes. Seeing the Priestess weep targeted a weakness within the supposedly hardened swordsman: his fondness for her. Moments after her hand settled back into her lap, the Forastero leaned forward and put himself in the previously vacant space between them in the carriage. His hand, large as it was, cupped both of hers.

"It is natural," his dulcet voice hummed. "The world is large. We will find something."

During their journey to Alliria, Kishou shared many more folk tales from his homeland to the Priestess. His recitations became somewhat of a routine for the pair.

"Have I ever told you the tale, the Mirror of Manami?"

"They say that mirrors can steal one's soul. The Mirror of Manami is an odd tale." Kishou paused for a moment. "There was a family of three, a mother, a father, and their daughter. One day, the father leaves for a trip and is gone for several days. When he returns, the father gives his wife a gift. A mirror. The wife believed that, when she looked in the mirror, another looked back at her. The father, of course, explained the mystery."

Kishou moved from his seat across from Amore and sat next to her. Absorbed in the recital of the folk tale, he unconsciously took one of her hands into his own, gently holding it and tracing lines in the palm of the Priestess' hand with his thumb.

"Not long after the father returned, the mother fell ill and passed away. Her parting words to the daughter was to look into the mirror every night. The father married soon after the mother's passing, and the second wife treated the daughter poorly. Every night, the daughter would look into the mirror and see her mother, not sickly, but young and beautiful."

"The father noticed this strange behavior and asked the daughter why she oft looked into the mirror, to which the daughter explained the mother's passing words. The father was touched by such loving, simple, faithful obedience and shed tears for his daughter. He, understanding what a mirror was, could not tell the daughter that the face she saw in the mirror was but her own sweet face, becoming by constant devotion and sympathy more like her passed mother's day by day."

Kishou finished the story with a smile on his face and tightly held Amore's hand in his own.

"I will see this through with you until the end. When your sight returns, then I would like to show you how it snows in my homeland."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

A bare twitch of surprise shook the woman at the sudden sensation of his hand over her own. Words spilling from his lips close enough she could feel the warmth of his breath along her face. Amore frowned, the expression faint and not in relation to him or his closeness, or his reassurances, but to herself. A weakness of faith was hardly unforgiveable, many people endured hardships that made them question their beliefs. Amore had been the very same person to countless others that Kishou was being to her right now: the steadying rock of conviction to an idea.

He may not have offered them in express support of her religion, but it didn't matter. Without him there she might have lost her way. A meek, sad smile overcame the frown, glad for the continuance of his voice without any need to request it. The weeks of listening to his stories were building a foundation of fond memories. His tone was soothing, one she felt she could listen to for hours regardless of what was said or what language it was spoken in.

Admittedly, in that moment as his weight settled by her side, her mind was no longer listening to the words. Distracted by his presence, now seemingly unafraid of proximity after their shared dances at the galla, it would keep her from remembering this story for as long as she would remember all the others. She eased back into the seat cushions, carriage gently jostled and drifting down the road, all the many sounds and noises of the city fading to the background. Somehow the only thing she noticed was his thumb drawing across her palm little lines and circles. The firm squeeze as he finished the story being the only thing to draw her from the listless reverie, she might not have even noticed otherwise.

"I will see this through with you until the end. When your sight returns, then I would like to show you how it snows in my homeland."

Snow in his homelands, Amore felt the strain of emotion sting within her eyes, trying to push away the feeling of hopelessness to allow for a modicum of hope. She smiled wearily, letting her head lean to rest against his shoulder where scents of vanilla, shea, and subtle hints of sunflower oil mingled with the material of his robes. She sighed, wilted and tired.

"I would like that very much."

 

[Kishou]

The swordsman fell quiet as her head weighed against his shoulder. Her presence and warmth, not that of her magic but simply from her body, was a calming thing. So calming that combined with the carriage's rocking to and fro, the Forastero's head rested against the Priestess', and he fell into a temporary slumber.

Having no other reason to stay in Alliria save for their visit to the Apothecary, the following several days were spent preparing for travel to the Portal Stone. Their destination: Elbion. Kishou spent much of the journey in Amore's carriage where they spoke on any manner of things, some insignificant, and some more personal. He took great joy in learning about her likes and dislikes and equally enjoyed sharing the same about himself to the Priestess, as well as exchanging stories about their past. Aside from general stories, folk tales, and the like about his homeland, Kishou shared little about his youth.

The swordsman's fondness of the Priestess only grew, and while before his view of her was one of admiration and respect, he found himself becoming more conscious of her.

As the city of Elbion came into view, Kishou nearly pressed himself against the lattice to get a better look.

"The city is massive," he said, voice full of awe. "Is that the College? It must be two, no, three times the size of the church."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"It is grand," Amore added wonderingly. She remained seated, having no need to partake in sightseeing, and smiled to herself as she imagined him looking outward, upward, to take in the city that climbed the slopes of the Seret mountains.

"I traveled here before, several years ago, to expand my study and practice of healing magic. The college is beautiful," pale gaze of clouded skies remained affixed faintly downwards, hooded by her eyelids. Her hands had taken to an anxious dance of dainty fingers over knuckles in her lap. Her hopes for this visit were high: the College of Elbion was renowned the world over, quite possibly one of the few places outside of the greater cities themselves that most everyone had heard of. It attracted mages and sorcerers of all kinds from far and wide, cultivating a veritable cornucopia of esoteric studies.

If someone here couldn't help her, then this of all places would know someone else, someplace else, that could.

"We should stop at the Gilded Feather," she offered gently, "it's a book and artifact shop owned by one of the College Maesters. He's one of the oldest left still practicing. ...or at least he was last I knew."

 

[Kishou]

“The Gilded Feather,” he quietly echoed and settled back in his seat across from Amore. He surely could have sat next to her in the carriage without a word of protest, but the Forastero was content with the way things were now. The Priestess at least appeared to be in relatively high spirits, anyways. That, and Mithri had privately scolded the swordsman when they returned (she discovered the pair seated next to each other and woke Kishou from his peaceful sleep that night), informing him of how presumptuous his actions and attitude were.

Despite being fair and young herself, Mithri could be quite scary in her own regard.

“I have only heard stories about the College. They do it no justice. How long did you study there?”

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"Less than a year," Amore replied after a moment of thought, "the Church pulled me out early when the College asked for me to apprentice with a Healer they considered to be a heathen to the faith. I was much younger then and they were quite protective of me." It was perhaps the reason still that they were going to such lengths to help her find a cure to her ailments. Elbion, however, was their last resort. If nothing could be done for her here then she was to return and be reassigned.

A thought that filled her heart with an aching dread. What would they reassign her to if she could not provide the powers and skills she had before?

"Let's stop at the shop first while it's open. It's on the way to the College District," she smiled, casting her gaze towards the opposite window of the carriage, trying to imagine what sights lie in view just beyond.


Outside the Gilded Feather a wooden sign featuring a golden gryphon glinted in the sunlight, as denoted by the Priestess while they journeyed through the merchant district. As they stepped inside a small bell rang over their head. The shop was a warm space will with all manner of books, tomes, knickknacks, artifacts, paintings depicting various realms, tapestries, and just about anything you might imagine to be of interest to a mage. It smelled of wood and paper, magic and incense. There were mismatched cushioned chairs sitting about, small tables and glass cases, and towards the back an old mage looked up from where he sat hunkered over a very large book.

"Welcome, welcome, come in. What can I help you find?" he said with a smile behind a wispy white beard.

"Maester Osric," Amore greeted him, carefully following at Kishou's lead towards where the shopkeeper sat, "you may not remember me but I shopped here many years ago while I attended class at the college. You sold me a painting of the Eldyr Tree."

"Mmm," Osric pulled half-moon spectacles from his nose and peered at her face, his own eyes tracing the length of red hair that presently fell loose about her shoulders and the insignia of the church on her robes, "from the Solar Choir, the name escapes me..." he tapped the stem of a pipe on his chin.

"Amorea," she offered.

"There it is," he smiled, and repeated her name back to her, Cortosi accent aplenty and arms raised as he beheld her, "lovelier and radiant as I remember. Welcome back. And who..." the Maester stood from his seat and offered his hand in greeting to Kishou, "have you got on your arm here? Hm? Strapping lad, I am Maester Ignatius Osric of the Fifth Order. Tell me, how did you come to be on the arm of a Solar Choir Priestess and how I can be of service?"

 

[Kishou]

Alliria was a beautiful city in its own right, but, and perhaps because it was his first time stepping foot in Elbion, it did not match Elbion's splendor. While not glued to the screen as he had been when the city came into view, Kishou was entertained from what he saw as they rode through the merchant district.

Earthy eyes darted about the Gilded Feather as he guided the Priestess through the shop. Oddities and baubles from all manners of cultures filled the store, which had a rather inviting smell. The incense, in particular, was somewhat nostalgic.

The Maester rose and extended a frail but steady hand, which Kishou grasped and shook, accompanied with a polite half-bow and smile.

"I am Kishou," he met the mage's stormy gaze, "a... fortuitous sellsword, I would say."

No swords hung at Kishou's side, however.

"The Priestess is not well," he admitted with a slight frown. It was unnecessary to inform the Maester that Amore, being a Solar Choir Priestess, once possessed great magic. "Blindness," the next words were hushed, "exhaustion of her magic. A consequence of- what is it- the Danger of Magic, yes?"

Kishou, though never receiving anything even close to a formal education of magic, was familiar with at least the fundamentals. Of course, knowledge of the fundamentals of magic was useless in his case.

"Is there any way to," reverse would be incorrect, "work around her ailments?"

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Amore's gratitude for Kishou taking the burden of explanation was immeasurable. She'd had to explain it several times to the various Healer's she'd visited thus far, and each time seemed to take a higher toll than the last, weighing on her heart the way that only deep grief really did. The Priestess maintained a small but warm smile for appearances sake, but her emotions were frayed to say the least. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze in silent thanks.

"Mmm," Ignatius's own expression waxed ponderous and grave, "even the greatest Mages of my time have run afoul of the Danger of Magic. A price for everything, it must be paid." He looked her over briefly before motioning towards a nearby chair, "Come, have a seat. I may be no Healer but I have come across such cases before. Young students, more often than not, to bold for their bite."

Following at Kishou's side, Amore carefully grasped for the chair with a hand, finding the back and an arm rest before taking a seat.

Ignatius stepped over, pulling a stool to the front of her and sat as well, "May I see your hands, Priestess?"

Amore held them out, fingers lightly curled, and the old Mage gently took them in his own, turning them palms up and exposing her wrists. Lifting them closer to his gaze, Ignatius silently studied the lines. "So this is the part where I say mmm, that's interesting..."
Amore frowned, head tilting as her eyes stared off toward the floor, "But?"
"You already know what I'm going to say," Ignatius answered gently.
Lips pressing together in a line, the Priestess' brow knit upwards, "I can't be fixed."
"Mmm, fixed no. Healed, yes. There is a difference."
"What do you mean?"
"My dear you were born with magic in your veins," the Mage grasped her hands firmly, holding them together between his own, "it will never truly leave you. Not even the Eldyr Tree is bereft of magic, it has simply changed."
"Are...you saying my magic will return?"
"Eventually, yes, I suspect it will. As strong as ever. But-"
"Not without change."
"Precisely."
"How do I change it? I cannot even harness it. I once knew no fear of flame or heat and now I burn as easily as-"
"A mortal? You have burnt out the fire within you but your ability to light it once again is still there," Ignatius smiled, releasing her hands into her lap, "you must simply find a different spark to ignite it."

Amore did not look reassured in the last. Hearing that the fire inside her had burnt out, the very visual embodiment of her faith with the Church, was striking on a level she could not describe. She felt offended and chastised at once.

"As for your body," the old man's eyes lingered on her wrists, still thin and notably weak. Her robes may have hidden her figure but the hollows of her cheeks and the angle of her shoulders spoke volumes. "I have something here that will help with your recovery."

"Will it help ... with my sight?"

"Oh my dear," the man shook his head with a frowning glance to Kishou, "that is difficult to say and I am perhaps not the greatest authority on such things. Maester Kismet at the College will be able to tell you more. She is a highly skilled Healer and Apothecary."

 

[Kishou]

Kishou stood there in silence behind the Priestess, hand on the chair's back, his grip tightening as the conversation unfolded. When he'd first learned about Amore's condition, he thought that she'd never again be able to wield that splendid power he witnessed on the island. He'd thought that like himself, she would never again possess that magic. What the maester said- there was hope yet.

The old man left the pair in a silence that lasted only moments.

"I apologize but," Kishou began to follow the shopkeeper, "I will return."

For the first time, Kishou left the Priestess alone as he tracked the old mage around a row of shelves. At the end of the aisle, Ignatius held a wooden rack in one hand and a small vial in the other. He lightly swirled the vial, focused on the liquid in it.

"You mentioned a spark," the swordsman spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "What does that mean? You must forgive me- I am not learned when it comes to magic."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"Mm?" Ignatius lofted a bushy white brow at the man, "Well ...a spark!" he gesticulated with his hands. After a moment had made it clear that Kishou wasn't understanding, the man mumbled something and began patting down his pockets. Seemed he didn't have on him what he needed, so he shook his head and panned his gaze about.

"How...do you make a fire?" Ignatius questioned him, "You need fuel for burning, do you not? If you wish to use this fire to do more than simply light your way, you need to cultivate an appropriate environment for it to grow large and hot without rising out of control. But you cannot simply construct a campfire with wood and expect it to suddenly spring forth unbidden. You need a spark. This is magic, my boy."

"Magic does not come from nothing. You cannot conjure it without paying a price, fueling your powers. But magic also will not spring forth unbidden, it will not ignite without a spark. Something inside the mage or sorceress that they use to trigger the fount of energy needed to cast our power. It is different within all of us, and not so unlike your skills with a sword. You must ask yourself what is it that makes you do what you do, what empowers you to be where you are. What sparks you to action? Is it a sense of pride? Honor? Duty? Is it a need for revenge? To prove yourself? A desire for greater knowledge or power?"

"There are many things that play the part of the spark. In the Priestess it was likely her faith and the fuel her duty to the church. But sometimes we can allow these things to burn within us beyond our control, and when that happens we can no longer rely on them to tap into that power. She must find something new, does that make sense?"

 

[Kishou]

The Forastero folded his arms across his chest as the mage gave his explanation. For several seconds following the mini-lesson, Kishou stood in silent contemplation. The mage, who'd probably thought his simple explanation to be sufficient, frowned. He opened his mouth but was cut short by the swordsman.

"I see," he said with a frown of his own, "so, she can only help herself?"

For the Priestess to find a spark separate from her faith- it seemed impossible, he thought. If one thing was learned from the countless hours spent with Amore up to this point, it was that she was a devout woman. The church, its practices, was her life. She'd known little else.

"She should not go back," he silently mused aloud, forgetting about the mage's presence for a moment.

Kishou snapped back to attention and chuckled, "This was like a lesson. Should I pay you?" He joked with the shopkeeper in an attempt to lighten the mood and to distract from what was just thought aloud.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"These are deeply personal issues to resolve for a Mage," Ignatius nodded sagely, "eh - ah, mm what? No, wisdom comes freely my boy. Now, let me see here..."

The mage lifted the small glass bottle in his hand to look at it under the light of a nearby candles, "Yes, this should do it. Now," he turned and shuffled by the samurai, making his way back through the shelves and to where the Priestess sat waiting patiently. The old mage took a seat on the stool in front of her again before reaching for her hand and placing the bottle into it.

"What have you given me?" she asked gently.

"This," Ignatius took a slow breath, "is gryphon's blood. A most potent variety, willingly given by a very special gryphon indeed."

"Gryphon's blood," Amore repeated, disbelief coloring the lines of her expression, "Maester, the old folk tales about gryphon's blood are-"

"Are true, yes very true. Drinking the blood of a mortal gryphon will keep you from death, it is true. Their vitality is legendary. But this," Ignatius chuckled brazenly, "this is no ordinary gryphon. Her essence will heal your wounds, restore your strength, and even-" he leaned forward and raised a hand to whisper conspiratorially, "extend your life."

"Is that what keeps you going then?" Amore asked with a faint smirk, the first display of her humor in quite some time.

"Oh ho ho," the Mage tittered, "I'll admit to taking a drop on my more challenging days."

"This feels like far more than a drop, Maester."

"Yes, quite right. You must take it sparingly, let its effects build over time. To take it all at once ... well, greed does terrible things to honorable gifts. Just three drops a night for a week, it should last you."

 

[Kishou]

Kishou was slow to follow the old mage back down the aisle. He eyed a shelf of books as he walked by, his fingers brushing over old leather spines as he walked by them. None caught his eye, and he returned to the shopkeeper handing the flask off to Amore.

"Just because you have gryphon's blood does not give you an excuse to neglect your meals," Kishou playfully interjected. The Priestess, understandably, lacked an appetite at times. The food they ate while traveling was far from what she may be used to at the church, and the swordsman understood the stress from their travels. "Three drops a night after eating."

He rested a hand on the back of Amore's chair again and looked at Ignatius.

"Thank you, Maester," he said with a small smile. "About seeing this Maester Kismet- I take it we would need an appointment?"

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Amore immediately flushed at the Forastero's words, and though she could see nothing her gaze still averted towards another far off corner of the floor in the room, lips drawing into a small frown.

"Ehehe," Ignatius patted at her hand and released it, "wise words, three drops will sit better in a full stomach. I advise you take it at night so that you may sleep through its immediate side effects. Fever is common at this higher dosage, aches and pains while it rebuilds your strength. It passes after a time and come morning you'll feel all the better."

"...thank you Maester."

"An appointment? Yes indeed. You'll not be getting into the college otherwise. I can arrange for it. Mm, have you a place to stay for the evening?"

"The Brandywine Inn," Amore replied, moving to stand from the chair and shifting through her robes to procure her coinpurse to offer to the Maester, "please take what is owed."

"No better Inn in the city. Rosemerra makes a lovely venison stew," Ignatius took the purse with a nod, "anything else for today then?"

 

[Kishou]

Precious, Kishou thought as he watched Amore’s reaction. The man wore a ridiculously happy smile.

And stew? The swordsman salivated. He hadn’t eaten a large serving of anything since Alliria and stew sounded perfect. Kishou imagined Mithri’s face if he set a bowl of venison stew in front of Amore and smiled again.

“Ah, actually,” his voice trailed, “do you have anything about portal stones? I have never travelled through one until recently, but I find them to be quite remarkable. Perhaps something recently published?”

The man’s smile didn’t fade until Ignatius went to fetch what was asked. Kishou looked down at Amore, then at the trinkets around the shop.

“He is generous.”

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"As is your doting concern for my eating habits," the Priestess replied, the very hint of sharpness in her tone. She gently cleared her throat, closing her eyes under knit brows.

"Here we are," Ignatius returned with a small book, "The Traveler's Compendium Edition 3: Portal Stones," the mage offered it to Kishou, "as recent as last year, by one of my former students no less. Everything there is to know about the Portal Stones can be found in there. Now, let's see here...yes that should do it," he withdrew the appropriate amount of coin from the purse and handed it back to the Priestess.

"Thank you again, Maester, you have been most helpful," Amore offered the man a small bow.

"Any time, happy to be of service."

 

[Kishou]

Kishou breathed a nervous chuckle and before he could say anything further, the Maester returned, book in hand. The swordsman took it with a smile and thankful bow of his head.

The pair left the shop and entered the carriage. In a single short stop, they’d been given more information than from any other stop they’d made. Even if that information was vague, it was enough to give the swordsman a modicrum of hope.

The carriage took off towards the college, and Kishou began to skim through the book.

“How are you feeling? I believe it went well- the mage was helpful.”

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Amore offered a fleeting, polite smile at his question but truthfully the Priestess didn't know how she felt. There was hope, certainly, but she couldn't overcome the sinking feeling that made her stomach churn.

"Yes ... he was always very helpful to me when I attended class here." She found herself wishing for the ability to see the city as it passed by the carriage for a small excuse not to carry on the conversation. Without such an escape, she settled on a soft sigh and leaned back into her seat, "I'm a little tired and..." Amore tucked her hands inside the open sleeves of her arms, "maybe a little hungry."