It was early. Dawn had not yet touched the horizon when Meri left the orphanage, hooded and cloaked, and under the watchful eyes of paladin Preston Truesteel. No doubt the Tyrran was most glad that she moves slower these days. His helm did little to conceal the frown on his face as he grumbled about leaving with so few of the Triad. Meri was quick to assure him that they would be increasing in number once they got to the temple of Torm. Unfortunately, Meri’s reassurance was short lived as they met with a large, silver-haired man who was speaking with High Priest Celwig Olwen. Both men smiled when Preston and Meri entered. The Priestess and the Priest exchanged formal greetings and polite bows, before the small woman hugged the larger Aasimar.
“Hello, sister dear.”
“My dear brother, is everything ready?”
“Yes. We need only stop by the stables. Everything should be set.”
Jonas turned to Preston clapping his right fist to his chest in salute. The pair exchanged determined looks and pleasantries while Meri murmured indignantly about horse-back riding. To this, Jonas wordlessly offered the red-haired, (and at this point well-rounded) Ilmatari a bag of almonds as a peace offering. She gladly accepted the almonds and the blessings offered by Celwig.
Jonas meanwhile explained that the three of them would be riding out, and the nature of destination. It would be a busy few days of riding. Preston was none too pleased they would be traveling with such a light guard, though he understood the wisdom of traveling light and swift to draw less attention.
A short while later, the three were saddled and ready to go. Jonas sat atop his great courser warhorse, Hoss, and carried a fair bit of provisions. Meri rode Jonas’ palfrey Moonbow, as Mercywhisper was not up for such a long and strenuous ride. This was not before Meri presented all three horses with the customary apples that she ‘spoils’ them with. It of course netted her an eye roll from her brother.
The ride to Gullykin was uneventful, to which the trio was most grateful. Finding a tiefling wizard in a halfling village is hardly a difficult task once the horses were seen to. Customary greetings as brother greeted brother. And someone made a joke about the Saint waddling nearly as well as the wizard… though it was decided that Valerius had a great deal more practice as a swan, than Meri.
Pleasantries were short however, as the visit had a purpose. Jonas quickly shows a letter to Valerius detailing Randall’s last wishes to lay forever forward with his wife. A last wish all present were inclined to grant…
“The trouble is, that I know of, Valerius, only Twiddle knows where that might be. Jonas and I were hoping you could scry for the creature?”
“Mrs Silene, I am afraid I can’t scry for the griffon.”
She sighs, shaking her head at the wizard. A long-standing jest of sorts? Or simply what happens when formality butts heads with informality?
“Someday you will call me Meri, much easier you know. But about Twiddle…”
She frowns lightly, Jonas speaking up.
“I had Gentle Repose cast on Randall after his execution, and have been keeping the body at the temple. The spell won’t keep things indefinitely. I had hoped to have him lain to rest already.”
He too frowns… And indeed Meri and Jonas both frown at Valerius who simply smiles and reaches into his pocket.
“I can’t scry for the griffon because it is right here.”
Quickly expressions of worry turn to confusion. Soon though, Valerius explains Twiddle’s nature as a figurine of wondrous power and agrees to let the paladin and the healer ‘borrow’ him to see to the last wishes which had them riding out to begin with. Valerius tells them them the command word and that the noble creature only responds to elven.
~~
In the meanwhile, the trio returns to Baldur’s Gate. Once there, Meri goes to check on things at the orphanage. Preston Truesteel sees to the horses and provisions for another trip, though none can say where exactly. Jonas spends a day making arrangements for a wagon… and a small ship to see them to their eventual destination.
No more than a pair of days after the trip to Gullykin has come to a close, High Priest Olwen and Sir Jonas Rokranon make their way to the Temple of Torm’s modest catacombs, being the only two with access to such, they gather Randall Armstrong from his temporary resting place, and with the help of Truesteel, get him loaded in the wagon.
By the time they hitch Hoss and Moonbow to the wagon at the stables, Meri has already gotten Mercywhisper ready for the much less rushed and shorter trip. Jonas hooded and cloaked again, guiding the wagon team. Meri saddled and ready, equally cloaked for expediency’s sake, blessings offered, and pleasantly supplied with cashews, and Preston Truesteel again acting as additional manpower… the Trio sets off again in the early morning.
They arrive much later at the small beach-side dock near Candlekeep. There Jonas finalizes arrangements for the small craft that will see them to the island. The captain finds it odd that he will be transporting a wagon and the trio and horses to a destination that … they must find by following a flying griffon. Jonas spoke the word of command and issued quick requests of Twiddle, which were obliged.
Twiddle makes for a patient guide as the ship’s captain picks the safest route indicated by the griffon. Aside from moderately rough waters, this trip too, is uneventful. Much to Meri’s relief, who gets accused on more than one occasion of worrying too much, though no one questions the near constant strings of prayers offered.
Wagon, horses, paladins and the healer are all unloaded from the small boat. The trio is wary, seemingly out of place for such a lovely and quiet spot. Summer grasses and wildflowers of all sorts grace the small island away from the gentle beach. The island is quiet save for the buzz of insects and the chirp of birds… Occasionally a gull makes its thoughts known… Other than that, the place seems silent and untouched.
Unsure of what to expect, precautionary wards and prayers are put in place. Hands rest at the ready on pommels of swords. Fortunately Twiddle is able to lead them to the right hill which the grave rests, otherwise they could have spent a great while looking for the spot.
“It looks intact… Jonas? In fact it doesn’t look like it’s been touched in the what… four months since she was slain?”
Meri looked questioningly at Jonas before she pointed, outlining a very faint rectangle beneath he small headstone left to mark Marjolaine’s grave.
“I see no illusions of any sort, no upset in the growth of the flowers… see here? These are newer, but established… You can pick out the edge of the grave. With all this other confusion and so late in the season, there would be no flowers if it had been dug up recently.”
Preston came from the wagon, having traded swords for shovels, he and Jonas exchanging grim nods and the trio offering prayers before the work began. Sometime later the original grave had been expanded; her coffin resting in its place, and seeming undisturbed. With so many rumors and misunderstandings of late, the three exchanged pensive looks. Meri frowned, thinking of the conversation with Leonia, and an earlier one with Mia and Valqis.
"If we must look, Jonas... let us be mercifully brief, and lay them both to rest as they should be, once and for all."
“Cast True Seeing on me, Meri, and let’s be done with this.”
She nods and calls a prayer as the large paladin gently works the nails loose. He murmurs, seemingly to himself as he does so. As he works the coffin open just enough to look inside, breath held as his eyes lose color briefly and glaze over white. He is silent as he studies the body, carefully lain within. Under the divine magics of
True Sight and
Detect Evil, he finds nothing amiss.
Many indicators that it was indeed Marjolaine were present, including her wedding ring perched on a now lifeless hand, and the dress she wore that day was still intact. The white veil she had worn as a blushing bride carefully covered the place where the fatal wound had been at her time of death. Flowers, now long since dried remained in her carefully folded hands. After a long moment Jonas nods and closes the casket again.
Meri, unaware that her own breath had been held, let out a relieved sigh and nodded to her brother.
“Thank all the Mercies, great and small.”
Meri offered a murmured apology to Marjolaine, and the trio offered blessings of the Triad, Tyr, Torm and Ilmater. Randall’s casket was taken from the wagon by the two men… the horses still off grazing, untroubled by the goings on of the small, almost impromptu funeral service being held. Jonas carefully lays the possessions of Randall that were given to him by Valqis upon the body of the man before moving the coffin lid in place. The casket is set next to the existing one, a wreath of flowers meant for the couple lain atop them.
“I still do not understand how it came to be that I became one of your best friends there toward the end, considering our long and sometimes bloody history. I can only hope you found some comfort in my words and actions. Rest in peace, Randall of Waterdeep.”
More prayers and kind words meant for the ears of the gods and the dead alone… and a second headstone placed. Finally… Husband and wife lay together as they should and had been denied so in life. The graves were carefully covered, and the headstones neatened just so. At last even the land seemed to sigh with relief as a gentle breeze rolled in from the sea.
Meri prayed again, blessing and sanctifying the hilltop and the graves it holds. She tossed seeds over the freshly covered graves, and the somber trio begins to pack up tools and equipment. Things are quiet, and minds and hearts have been put at ease, at least on this matter. A man who had begun to redeem himself in the name of love, had at least redeemed his soul in the eyes of the gods, even if not in the hearts of those he had wronged. At least not all of them... and though he no longer had the chance to finish that task, at least his last wish could be respected.
It wasn’t until the wagon and horses had been reloaded onto the ship, and they set sail as evening turned to dusk that Meri looked to Jonas with a furrowed brow. Jonas had already wished Twiddle farewell in elven and the griffon had said his own sort of good-bye in turn, and had then flown, intent on returning to Valerius. Meri glanced in the direction of the island, and back to her brother. Her next words were perhaps thoughts that both of them held, but neither had put into words yet:
“If Marjolaine rests where she should… who is Mister Sonlite having a funeral for?”
Jonas turns his intense gaze upon Meri.
“I don’t know, but my instincts tell me this is no peaceful ending.”
~~