Louis will attend church with Teresa, more interested in not drawing attention to himself while he watches her to see what sort of parishioner she is. 

Afterwards, he’s going to go take a walk outside town and find a secluded place. Assuming he finds such a place: Louis will take both hands and dig them into the dirt. He’s going to let the magic he holds flow out into the ground, scratching at the Weave with it, marking the place. 

It’s not long after that a mountain lion approaches. Its fur is whorled with patterns, and vibrant shifting hues of green, blue, yellow, purple, and on and on. This is clearly a creature that has magic woven into its being, and it appears to have “seen” the marks left by Louis. It moves close and rubs its head across Louis’s chest, before sitting calmly to wait for Louis to move.

”I used to hate you, ya know.”

Louis stares a bit resignedly at the beast which doesn’t react to his words.

”It’s just time. You can’t come walkin’ into town with me though. So stay out of sight. I won’t leave without you.”

Louis gets up and walks away, not looking back at the creature.

Claire greets Father Ungin warmly as she returns to the temple; leaning over to Louis, she whispers to him, "He's a good man.  Simple and kind-hearted, and  a good listener too.  I'm not sure how much I can vouch for the advice he gives, though... he seems to specialize in small town problems, not counselling for lost souls."  She smiles and doesn't elaborate on her statement, instead finding a place among the pews to listen to the sermon.

Much as she told Louis, all of Ungin's best intentions can't do much to save the sermon, and Claire struggles to force herself to pay attention.  Her mind wanders, though; the feeling is familiar.  The droning on and on, the rote repetition, the treaties of the Light... these are all things that her family ground into her from the earliest days that she could hold a missile book between her hands.  The repetitions come out of her just as thoughtlessly rote as the priest's requests for them.

I wish I could break these chains, she thinks briefly, and then she remembers the name the others gave their little group.  Unbidden, a genuine smile and a stifled giggle escape from her; she works hard to school her face back into an impassive state and glances around nervously to see if anyone noticed her inappropriate outburst.  

Stop that, Claire.  Duty, and honor.  Uphold your vows to the family.  Bring them no shame! she scolds herself sternly, straightening her posture.  After all, the last time she let those whispered thoughts take over, she ended up drunk and captured on a slaver's ship.  Duty.  Honor.  She grits her teeth.  I must endure.  

Abruptly, members of the congregation rose around her, and Claire blinks in surprise.  She'd been trying so hard to make it through the sermon, she hadn't actually registered it was over.  Smiling uncomfortably at Ungin, she stands and bows hastily, before moving quickly towards the exit, feeling unsettled rather than comforted by the experience.

Salazar peruses the library again.  He had tried during the first day of rest, but had only found some books of myths for children and some esoteric and functionally illegible religious texts, nothing of which had helped him.  He perused the books, but they may as well have been written in some other language for all he was able to understand them.  "Bah.  A waste.  I give up..." he mutters to himself as he replaces the book.  A day wasted on nothing.  I just... want to know who I'm working for.  Is that too much to ask?  He waits for the voice to speak to him again.  And waits...  Nothing.  Maybe I need to be more intentional with it.  Need to figure out how that works...  Oh well.

Salazar's arm was itching where the tattoos writhed under his shirt.  Bloody thing.  Never gonna get used to that.  It feels like something biting me.  Or sometimes like a bad sunburn.  He leaves the manor, feeling irritable. He wandered through the town.  After a few days in bed, sweating his soul out into his disgusting sheets, he wanted to be up and moving around.  This place is not home, but it's the best I'm going to get around here.  He peruses the shops, trying to avoid talking to anyone while he sorts through his thoughts.  He still can't quite remember how he got the small tome that he holds in an inner pocket of his jacket.  Is tome the right word for something that size?  A tome about the size of his two hands pressed together, palm to palm, with some symbols on the front he didn't recognize.  Inside was the workings of magic, some of which was simple, and Salazar had already decoded those.  A delightful thing, these simple magics, but he needed to decipher the best way to use them.  There was also some kind of ritual outlined in the book, but Sal hadn't been able to decipher that yet.  The strangest thing about it was that despite the pages being made of some kind of vellum, they rattled when moved, sounding vaguely metallic.  Unsettling...

After some time, Salazar feels better, ready to give the library another try.

Three days pass before one afternoon Nevil appears in the drawing-room when you are all gathered.

"Hello, lady and gentlemen.  I trust you are enjoying the comforts of the baron's estate?  His lordship is ready to speak to you about the Delicate Matter which brought you all here originally.  He requests the pleasure of your company at dinner this evening.  Formal wear, please.   Any questions?"

Vaclav looks around and makes sure there's no one else in the room with them. He then turns to Nevil. "One question, yes. I'm curious, I guess you could say, about why someone such as yourself works for the Baron? I mean, you're a smart, sophisticated man who could travel and find work anywhere. What is it about this praticular Baron who holds your fancy?" 

Louis will stick around to hear Neville and Vaclsv talking but head to change after (into what Louis assumed is formal wear: something fuzzy, I think)

Claire stifles a sigh of relief when Nevil finally summons them.  It isn't quite that she doesn't enjoy resting in the comforts of a place very similar to her home.  Something else, something deeper inside of her feels restless.  The Church of the Light did little to assuage that restlessness, instead making it grow larger and more demanding, perhaps proportionally to how much more boring Father Ungin's sermons became.  She'd spent her days wandering the town, trying fruitlessly to cultivate her faith, and also being drawn to study the broken glaive more  and more closely.  Sometimes she thought she might feel something coming from it, but then the sensation would subside... perhaps just a trick of her imagination, or her boredom.  So when Nevil finally announced that the wait was over, she was nearly bouncing on her heels in eagerness to move on.

Sitting pretty just isn't the life for me, Claire noted wryly, despite how much she was enjoying the Gilbert's excessive wardrobe.

(Arcana check just to see if she was imagining things or not, on the glaive: 11)

Claire's frequent examinations of the broken glaive lead her to believe, for certain, that there was once a great power in this ancient weapon.  It feels to her that, perhaps, that power has not altogether gone when the weapon was broken, but rather has retreated in a way.   She has more hope than ever that getting it reforged might be enough to kindle that tiny flame and bring it to life.

Nevil looks at Vaclav after his direct question. "A forthright question, Master Vaclav," Nevil comments.  "You are right", he says, "I could probably enjoy employment elsewhere.  However, when I arrived in this part of the world, a few years ago, things were somewhat different.   Baron Isla was not in power at that time.  Her husband ruled in Barusi.  Baron Arbek is not a man I would willingly take up with.  Baron Gilbert, conversely, is a good man who means well.  Things are different here now.  As I am sure his lordship will expand upon later this evening."  

Louis notes that a whistful, slightly disappointed look comes into his eyes as he talks about Baron Isla.  He senses that perhaps Nevil wishes he was in that ones' employ instead but it's clear to all that Nevil is both highly professional and loyal to a fault.

A few hours pass.  You take the opportunity to bathe, dress respectfully (or just cast a clever spell) in the fine clothes the baron has provided.  Again you note that the sizes and styles in the wardrobe seem to be more fitting for you each day, yet you never see staff coming in and swapping them around.  Quite how many outfits the baron has stashed away somewhere is beyond you.

That evening the bell in the guests quarters tolls and you are not at all surprised when Nevil glides into the drawing-room minutes later.  He looks you all over, nods appreciatively at the efforts you've made and says, simply, "The baron awaits you in his dining hall.  Follow me please."

Louis follows

Claire dusts off her formal jacket and straighten the collar, before doing the same to her posture.  With one last check to make sure the braided up-do she forced her hair into is still tame, she holds her head up high and trails after Nevil confidently.

Vaclav sends Chernobog to sit on the roof and report anything interesting. He then follows the others.

Nos Heliwr will straighten out his tunic, stomp any dust, or other offensive stuff, off his boots and follow Neville and the others upstairs.

Salazar spends far too long adjusting his hair and trimming his beard.  He noticed the changing wardrobe and wondered how it was being done.  Probably some expert servants who simply remained unseen.  The Baron's domicile was surely nice enough, but Sal is surprised that he could afford such care even still.  After finding a suit that seems tailor fit for him (a charcoal grey one with a burnt orange shirt), he polishes his shoes, then heads to the meeting place.  

He's frustrated at the lack of external sources on the nature of his patron, but what this baron lacks in research material, he more than matches in accommodations. 

You are led down to the same sumptuous dining hall that you were dined in before when you met Baron Gilbert.  Once again the meal is exquisite.  The food exceptional, the wine delicious and the conversation light and interesting.  The baron quizzes you on your exploits up at Hillsend and asks intelligent and searching questions.  It is clear that he already knows most of what went on but is looking for your personal angles and impressions on the mission.  He appears extremely pleased with your handling of the situation. If anyone tries to bring the conversation around to the Delicate Matter the baron waves you off saying that will wait until later.  Dinner is three courses long and served by many well-dressed and immaculately groomed servants.  By the end, you are all utter full and extremely satisfied.

After dinner, the baron invites you on into this personal drawing-room.  It is covered wall to wall in bookshelves and the more educated among you instantly spot many classics and realize that this collection is even more impressive than those in the drawing-room in the guest wing.  You suspect you might even be able to find books that you were looking for unsuccessfully there if you were but left alone for an hour or two in this room.

The baron notes the loving and longing looks some of you give to his collection.  "When we have discussed the Delicate Matter, you will be welcome to browse my collection for a while," he tells you.  "Now, please make yourselves comfortable," he says indicating a series of luxurious leather armchairs and devans.  Servants come in bearing trays of cherry-red brandy, imported from across the sea in Manabas.   "This," the baron tells you, swirling the liquid around his glass, "is distilled in Pembrose, the same town the legendary Pembrose Red wine is fermented.  It is called Pembrose Smooth, and you can tell why," he smiles taking a savouring sip.

"Now, before I finally explain why I have summoned you all here, are there any questions you have for me?"

“Why all the *****footing around?” Nos Heliwr asks bluntly. “Don’t be getting me wrong, I enjoy the retainer, but all this heming and hawing makes me very curious as to why it is necessary. Well, you seem to think that it is necessary.”

“Baron, sir, if’n you don’t mind my asking: how is it a man like yourself comes to empty overseer Varnell and a man like Baron Arbek comes to employ overseer Titus? They seem... juxtaposed. Forgivin’ my assumptions.”

Claire frowns at Louis.  "We've never met Overseer Titus before.  And while I don't doubt that Lucius was being both loyal and honest, it's best to form an opinion of such a man only after meeting him for yourself.  Though I have heard rather... unsavory rumors about Baron Arbek.  It makes me wonder, if Titus is such a good man as his subordinates believe him to be, what hold Arbek must have over him to force his service.  And if there is none, then this Titus may simply be not the man we were told he was."  

She reddens a bit and glances at Baron Arbek.  "Apologies.  We digress greatly from this Delicate Matter, which is the reason we are here, after all.  I believe we all did have concerns about it... in particular about the recompense awarded for completing the task."

The baron sits down in one of the big, comfortable armchairs and takes a slow, long sip of his brandy. 

Firstly, he looks at Nos Heliwr.   "Hemming and Hawing?" he asks.  "Nothing of the sort my good man.  A gentleman is never rushed and everything should be at its appropriate time.  It's simply unseemly for us to discuss business over dinner, for example.  That is always best delayed into the brandy course in the drawing-room."  With this, he indicates your current surroundings.

His gaze turns to Louis.  "Now, Master Varnell.  Though I appreciate he is a bit of a brute of a man, he is also loyal, brave and effective.  He has turned my enforcers from a bunch of ill-disciplined and unskilled louts to a fair fighting force.  Yes, Overseer Titus is from far-off climes but that just makes him exotic.  Varnell is a powerful force in this region."

Finally, he turns to you all.   "So, the time comes for us to discuss the main reason I summoned you here in the first place.   I will get straight to the point without hemming and hawing," he glances at Nos Heliwr.  "Ibini is leaderless.   Rumour being brought here by Guild ships in late autumn said that the Verdant Queen appears to have been complicit in bringing the Writhing Death back to the lands.  It is said that the Jade Assassins turned on the people trying to stop it - and were all slaughtered; including Kululu Jade, the Queen's daughter and leader of the Jade Assassins.  No one has seen or heard from any of the Queen's advisors in over a year.  The queen herself has not been in the north for many years.  Technically the barons swear fealty to her but the current environment is uncertain at best." 

"Rumour is also reaching me that my rivals are beginning to stir:  You yourselves uncovered the fact that Baron Arbek has struck at the Hillsend mining facility.  Rumour abounds that Baron Arbek's men were involved in the recent death of Baron Abund in the west.  I am hearing that Baron Isla is planning reprisals against Arbek and potential expansion.  I realize that it would be in my best interests if the facilities and infrastructure of the other barons were to suffer some setbacks." 

"I do not want to get personally involved, but I would like you to go to the Torrent Inn and speak to Varnell tomorrow.  He will direct you from here on."

"Oh, and where it comes to payment," he looks at you all, "Do you enjoy the sort of living you have experienced when working for me?   This is the payment you can expect; a standard of living that will bring you up as high up as any in the entire country.  What more can you require?"

Vaclav looks around the room before turning back to the Baron. "While it is impressive I imagine that once we're actually doing this work for you, if we accept, it won't be available to us. I would believe that it wouldn't be good for you to be seen having agents provocateur entering your residence after all, if you want to keep your specific involvement out of things. So, if we can't access the luxury, what good is it to us as a reward?"