Narratives: Robert Moon

     It was a glorious autumn morning in Rel Mord. The summer heat had been absent for some time, and along with it the heightened stench of city life. A clean city regardless, Rel Mord did suffer from heavy population of varying kind.
     The early sun cast its reddish hue upon the rooftops of the capital. Rising above many was the distinctive circular design of the Oerth Theater. A rehearsal of some manner could be heard inside. Vocalists warmed-up by harmonizing chromatic scales, while lutists and pipers plucked and oiled their well-used instruments.
     Leaning back in his chair in the cozy dressing room and living quarters he held at the Oerth Theater, Vazentar Kosan studied a musical score. The musty smell of books and parchment was heavy in the air, and daylight streamed through the windows, illuminating the faint amount of dust being disturbed. Furrowing his brow, the bard leaned forward and placed the parchment on the desk, making an adjustment to a chord thereon with a fanciful, feathered quill.
     Looking up, the demure Miricent Loria queried, "Let me guess, the C to the C-sharp?"
     Shooting her a smirk with a raised eyebrow, Vazentar replied, "Aye, thy intuition is as always most develop'ed."
     "I have been waiting for you to make that correction for more than an hour," she giggled. "It was thoroughly annoying me!"
     "Verily, me as well," he stated with resolve as he waved his hand at the page to dry the ink. After a quick glance in his ever-present mirror, Vazentar was back to reviewing the composition.
     A few moments of comfortable silence settled upon the room appointed with sumptuous yet thread-bare furniture. "So," spake Miricent, breaking the hush in a tone of voice that hinted at importance.
     Vazentar, half-listening, continued his scrutiny of the parchment and gave his beloved scrivener, lorekeeper, back-up singer, and all-purpose sidekick a response of "Mmm-hmm?"
     "So." Her voice was more insistent this time, commanding Vazentar's full attention. He yielded and looked up again with a smile. "I have received word from my Order."
     "Oh? And how doth the Lirrites fare, sweet maid?"
     A delicious smile crept across her face. "Far better of late."
     "How so?"
     "Our network of scouts, diviners, and the usual has uncovered the location of a lost library!" Her fair visage beamed as she finally blurted out what she had been putting off for two days.
     "That's wonderful," the bard replied supportively.
     "'Tis quite huge," she continued. "Lirr herself would be lost for days in the tomes -- or so go the rumors and reports."
     "Where is this lost repository of lore?"
     Miricent winced slightly, "That's the thing..."
     Furrowing his brow, Vazentar queried, "Thou dost seem trouble'ed, wherefore?"
     "Alas, 'tis a month's journey away, and, well, they have requested my presence on the expedition to enter the library."
     Taken aback for a moment, Vazentar replied with a stunned, "Oh." His immediate instinct was to protect his good aide by warning her of the dangers of such unknown missions; however, almost as quickly, he stopped himself. Miricent was quite an accomplished adventurer, having gone on numerous forays into unknown depths to recover lost tomes and similar archives long before she entered his service. Indeed, when Vazentar first met the lass, she was bedecked in laughably encumbering banded mail and a tower shield, having just returned from such a trip.
     "This is a matter of great importance," she continued delicately, "and I was hoping I may take my leave until the mission is completed."
     Vazentar stood up and rested his hands upon his desk. Lowering his head to meet her gaze closely, he stated with conviction, "I would not have it any other way."
     Gasping in relief and joy, the cleric of Lirr rushed around the heavy desk and embraced her dear friend, a tear streaming down her cheek. "Very well," she said after pulling back. "I only have need now to tell Sir Clayton."
     "When dost thou leave," Vazentar asked.
     "In two days time. I must away now to prepare; I had put off asking you for too long -- dreading missing your opening night!" She was joyous now, exhibiting an exuberance rarely seen in this otherwise shy lass.
     Waving her away with a smile, Vazentar ordered, "Then be off with thee! I shall see thee at supper, and we shall prepare thy trip. Thou willst take these 500 nobles without question and buy thyself suitable passage and escort."
     With an excited nod, the slight, young woman accepted the pouch of coinage and hurried out of her master's quarters. It would be some time before she returned. Certainly, though, she would be all the more experienced and wiser, and Vazentar waited with anticipation for the reunion with his cohort.