Chapter Twenty-nine: A breakfast buffeting

28th Mirtul, Year of Three Ships Sailing (D.R. 1492), morning.

Our third challenge has begun! 

Mirt steps down into the dusty training yard and saunters towards us.  His cane glints gold and he twirls it casually while he walks. He is grinning widely.

I feel as if my limbs were suddenly filled with lead. Having heard of Mirt’s exploits since my youngest days, I am uncomfortably awe-struck to see him enter a battle ground in all his living, breathing, blood-thirsty glory. The thought of facing him, even in mock battle…I swallow through a dry throat, feeling very small.

I decide that my only chance to avoid being turned into a humiliated, Elodie-shaped smear on the training ground is to act quickly. Before Mirt can engage with us, I slip closer and take cover behind a splintery wooden pillar. I gather my strength and signal to Uza. Making it clear that I mean to infuse my voice with Divine command.

“Drop your cane!” I cry.

Mirt barely flinches. 

“Good effort!” His smile turns practically carnivorous. “But you will have to do better.”

 I try to become one with the pillar while preparing for rapid evasion of the attack that is sure to come. I hear the singing of Eliana’s arrow and Mirt’s pleased chuckle as he defends himself successfully against her. Pip is a gray streak, racing up to my pillar and pressing in to my shins to share my cover.

“Hello, Elodie,” he whisper-squeaks. “You smell nice.”

“Um. Thank you.” I reply.

“You do not smell like Eliana, but you smell nice.” He continues.

“Yes. Eliana often smells like cheese. I do not have any cheese.” I counter regretfully.

“That is alright.” His little voice reassures me from knee-level.

I risk a peek at the action in the yard. Vaikner has disappeared. He has hidden himself behind some kind of magical screen. I nod approvingly. Eliana is up on the scaffolding, notching another arrow to her bow. Mirt is still standing in the open. Still holding the cane.

I chew my lip, considering. I could fall back to share concealment with my companions now. And then try to take Mirt by surprise. Maybe climb onto the pillar and attack him from above? Under the cover of my mist cloud? He would not expect that… 

But…but I have another idea that may avoid further battle altogether. I hesitate. It is not an honorable plan but that may be an advantage. Mirt would definitely not expect this from me. And he did want us to be bold. 

Leaving my hesitation behind, I run as fast as I can. Past Mirt and out of the training yard. I vault up the steps and race up to the table where Uza, Floon, and Renaer are watching the contest with great interest. 

Uza turns her pleasant smile on me.

“I believe you are going the wrong way, Dear!” 

Having come too far to stop now, guilt roiling inside me, I move swiftly behind Uza. I draw one of my swords and hold it against her neck.

“MIRT! DROP YOUR CANE!” I shout.

“Well, well!” I see a twinkle of surprised amusement on Mirt’s face. “My Dear, I believe it is time for the gloves to come off.”

Confused by his response, I barely register it as Uza picks up a greasily-dripping ham shank off the table. Chortling delightedly, Floon picks out a heavy silver ladle from the punch bowl at his elbow. He tosses it to Uza, who catches it easily. 

There is another blur of gray in the yard as Pip rushes Mirt. Eliana shoots again and Mirt deflects the arrow with no apparent effort. 

That is all I see before Uza hits me over the head, first with the ham shank, then with the ladle. Gravy oozes and squelches over my outraged hair and onto my shirt. 

“I thought you were my friend!” I cry out foolishly, backing away from Uza and shaking a dollop of…mustard, is it mustard?…from my wrist.

“I was. But then you threatened to shank me!” Uza cackles joyfully and swings the ladle again.

Mortified and extremely greasy, I only dimly register that Vaikner is casting some kind of illumination working onto Mirt. It does not seem to go as planned. Mirt throws a small cloth bag onto the ground and, just a moment later, there is an explosion of smoke.

Mirt appears, bounding out of the acrid cloud. He grabs Uza, kissing her with unabashed enjoyment, and then turns to me. 

Slipping in a gravy puddle, I do not move away swiftly enough to avoid his lunge and Mirt grabs me in an engulfing bear hug. It is like being squeezed by the unyielding branches of an oak tree. But one that is warm and smells of rich wine, fine tobacco, and – and Uza?

I do not waste much time attempting to break his grip. One futile wriggle is enough to prove that I am solidly held and will not prevail against his brute strength. I decide to exploit my greasiness to at least try to achieve the goal that we have been set. The gravy covering my shirt gives me just enough lubrication to swivel myself from side to side within his grip, and I slash furiously back with my swords towards him, trying to hit the cane. I miss.

I am just raising my foot to step down sharply back onto his instep when I feel sudden freedom! I am flying through the air: I have been flung with immense force and am now plummeting towards the hard ground of the training yard. 

“That was a creative idea, Elodie!” Mirt bellows out behind me. “But I cannot have you harming my Lady Uza.”

I see Pip ahead of me. He is running anxiously from one side to the other, trying to adjust his position to meet me at the downward point of my trajectory.

“I got you, Elodie! I got you!” He squeaks excitedly.

I feel a warm wave of affection for the faithful little creature. And just as strong a wave of nausea when I consider what Pip will look like if I land solidly on top of him.

Just then I see a flash of light at my sword belt. My feather, imbued with my Father’s gift, is glowing! And, as soon as I notice that, I realize that my fall has slowed as if something were pulling me backwards. Floating down, I alight gently on my feet. Pip is impressed. I am immensely relieved.

This pleasant state does not last long. Uza has followed me into the yard and now approaches, swinging her ladle menacingly. She strikes me another blow to the side of the head. Tracking the hits against me, I know that I am on the cusp of being counted out of the game. Grinning with malevolent pleasure, Uza delivers the final blow. She reaches for my face and, very deliberately, taps the tip of my nose with her finger. 

“Boop!” She chuckles fondly.

I plop down onto the ground, signaling my removal from the contest. Hugging my knees and brooding over my defeat, I hear Mirt’s booming voice sound out.

“That was good, Elodie! I know you are disappointed to be knocked out but you are the first line of defense in your company. It is right that you should be the first one down!”

I ignore him, haughtily wringing ham sauce out of my hair. I am deeply displeased that I did not get to try any of my other stratagems to defeat Mirt. 

I am soon joined by Pip, who has shrunk down to his mouse size after being defeated in a united attack by Uza and Mirt. He scampers up to my knee, wriggles his nose at me, and squeaks. I tell myself that he is here to commiserate in our shared loss, and not simply seeking out gravy lickings. With my finger tip, I tickle his tiny, pink-seashell ear.

Meanwhile, Mirt has decided to tackle my remaining companions head-on. With joyous abandon, he runs full tilt at the scaffolding sheltering Eliana and Vaikner. His footfalls thunder through the yard as his momentum builds. He has the air of some unstoppable, elemental being as he covers the short distance, bearing down towards my friends. I decide that I am not so very regretful at being out of the contest.

Eliana has shot arrow after arrow at Mirt during this battle. All of which he has either ducked or deflected. Still, she continues to bravely aim and fire, even as he looms close and lifts his cane. And she hits! Her arrow strikes the cane and it is knocked out of his hand. The battle is over!

“That was very good, Dear! You did very well, I thought.” Uza is back to her motherly self and reaches a hand down to me to help me to my feet.

I narrow my eyes at her distrustfully. Thoroughly disheartened when, instead of bristling out in annoyance, my hair merely gives a limp little shudder and then splats back, flat and wet, against my forehead. At that moment, I realize two important mistakes that I have made.

One, I chose to cheat this morning. Essentially trying to play outside the boundaries of the game by involving a non-combatant in the battle. Too preoccupied with the advantage that such a surprise move might bring me, I was not insightful enough to realize that, naturally, my behavior would result in others also playing outside of the rules. Specifically, the non-combatant deciding to become, in fact, very active in the fight.

Second, I completely underestimated Uza’s fighting skills. Her kindly manner towards me had disarmed my suspicions. I had no idea that she could be ruthless enough to pour, literally pour, ham gravy onto my head! 

I tell myself that these are mistakes that I will not repeat. And, acknowledging this lesson, I feel my mood suddenly lift.

Breaking into a sunny smile, I reach for Uza’s hand. Springing to my feet, I embrace her warmly.

“Thank you, Uza!”

She hugs me back happily. She is still holding the ham and, suddenly ravenous, I reach over her shoulder and take a hearty bite.

“Mm, that is actually really good.” I mumble, mouth full.

“Well, come and have some more then! Come, come! There is plenty more food at the table.” She urges.

The company has all gathered back at Mirt’s breakfast table.

“Vaikner! Vaikner!” 

I wave him over and look pleadingly at my greasily glistening shirt. I do not have to explain any further. He is already casting his trusty cleansing cantrip. I bask in the relief as my hair ripples up, free and clean.

“Thank you!” I whisper.

Once all are seated, with glasses filled, the mood is ebullient. Mirt offers us his congratulations and assures us that we have impressed him. Then, he turns his attention back to breakfast. Or, rather, second breakfast. He and Eliana set to enthusiastically, their appetites sharpened by the recent exercise. At first they are eating for simple pleasure but, as they each reach for new dishes, pile additional delicacies onto their plates, and eye each other’s progress over the full board, another competition begins. Eliana is indeed a bolder woman than I ever believed. She has undertaken, in his own home and at his own table, to out-eat Mirt! 

The rest of us eat and drink in more measured fashion, intermingling laughing conversation, jests, and story-telling with our leisurely meal. 

Vaikner’s thoughts have turned to this evening’s task.

“I had another vision,” he begins. “I believe that it may hold some clues for us. Regarding the Hag.”

He describes a dream-like image of three unearthly figures, holding hands and then losing each other among billowing smoke. Howling with anger and grief. He believes this may be a warning that the Hag will be part of a coven that will surge up to protect It from our attack.

The gathering debates this interpretation of the strange imagery and talks more generally about our plans for the coming day.

“Lord Alric has agreed to bless your sword, Elodie.” Vaikner says casually. “I will be at the Order for much of the afternoon anyway. I can take Quen there and have the ritual performed for you, if you would like.”

“Oh yes! It would be most useful if he were to do that. I think it would be best if I had Saer Hilde’s moon-touched blade, as well as Vess, with me tonight. So it would be Vess that Lord Alric would work on.” I reply thoughtfully.

“Alright. Well, I can take Vess with me, if you wish.” Vaikner repeats.

“Um. You mean – you take Vess? You take my sword? The blessing does not need the blade’s wielder to be present?” I stammer awkwardly.

“Hmm, I do not believe so,” Vaikner answers. “I believe the ritual only requires that the sword be present, not its owner.”

“Oh. So you would be taking my sword. Just you. And my sword.” I squirm.

“You do not have to give him Vess if it makes you uncomfortable, Elodie.” Eliana speaks up thickly. “The Watchful Order is very close to your Seldarine temple. You can easily go there yourself.”

I am grateful for this sensible suggestion. Especially as, in pausing to speak, Eliana has sacrificed precious moments of munching. Mirt remorselessly presses his advantage, scooping up yet another platter full of boiled eggs in a shower of chive-speckled mayonnaise. 

“Yes, I believe I would prefer that. Please do not be upset, Vaikner.” I say in relief.

“I am not upset,” he says impatiently. “But I do plan to leave for the manor well before sunset. I want to have some time there before moonrise. There are some preparations that I have in mind. And it would be good to talk to Lif. When can you come to the Order with your sword?”

“I too have some business to take care of during the afternoon.” I speak hesitantly. “And I believe that the closer in time to our meeting the Hag the blessing occurs, the longer we will benefit from its effects in battle. Is that correct? I plan to collect Aubray from my Temple about an hour before sunset. Can I come to the order before that, maybe five hours after highsun?” 

Vaikner agrees to this plan and we continue discussing the upcoming attack on the Hag. Knowing that the darkness of Shadowfell will strengthen our enemy, we speak of ways to bring light and joy with us.

“Uza,” Eliana takes another pause from chewing. With, as it turns out, calamitous results for her contest with Mirt. “Do you have anything in Curiosity and Satisfaction that is blessed or holds the kind of Light magic that may help us tonight?”

“No.” Uza answers. “I specialize in enchanted trinkets, it is true. But they are of the sort to bring delight and entertainment. They are not weapons.”

She gives me a pointed look.

“You know, Elodie,” Uza continues. “I have fought my share of battles alongside Divine Knights. You should not forget that. I know that, in my time, they were a very useful shield. Channeling their divine gifts to protect their friends from evil.”

“Thank you, Uza.” I raise my cup to her respectfully. “That is valuable advice. And, yes, today I suppose I had forgotten your fighter’s past. But, I promise, I will not forget again.” 

 Her smile is infectious.

I turn to Renaer.

“While we are talking together, I was hoping that you can answer a few questions for me. About some of my research.” 

Renaer’s face brightens.

“You know of my interest in the history of the Deep? Well, while I was reading at the Font of Wisdom yesterday, I came across a fascinating article. I did not recognize the author’s name, or the academy that she is affiliated with. A Nelorothi of The Stargazer’s Academy. Have you heard of either?” I ask.

I see Vaikner lean in with curiosity, while still nodding in absent politeness as Floon regales him with the latest thrilling developments in the Deep’s chariot racing contests.

“I am not familiar with that scholar,” Renaer muses. “I do know of the academy. It was based here in Waterdeep at one time. A scholarly group, made up entirely of women, they pursued the study of astrology and divination. They have now relocated north. Too much light here in the Deep – it was interfering with their work. I believe that they have set up in the Mere, at Castle Naererytar.”

“The Mere of Dead Men?” I ask in surprise.

“Yes,” answers Renaer. “I hear that their observatory there is very fine. The finest, it is said, on the Coast. Rivaling that of Silvery Moon…” his voice fades, hushed by wistful longing.

“Hmm. If they are tasked with gathering knowledge about the skies, with divination and so forth, then I wonder why Nelorothi wrote ‘The Shining Vale’. It was a lengthy treatise related to the history of ancient Elven wars.” I ponder aloud.

“Well, she may be a member of the Academy and still pursue her own research interests, I suppose.” Renaer answers. “And, as you know, Nelorothi is a Sun Elf name. She may well wish to study the history of the Elven race before its departure to Evermeet.”

“I suppose that must be it. Thank you, Renaer.” I smile at him gratefully. “It seems that I am likely find out for certain. We are discovering more and more reasons to visit the Mere. I can now add a trip to this observatory to my plans. If it is as impressive as you say, perhaps you and Floon would like to come and see it too? I am sure that my friends would be as happy as I would if you joined us on our travels?”

Vaikner nods fervently.

“The last time that we did something out of the ordinary I ended up knocked unconscious and dragged through the sewers!” Floon booms in his usual jovial tones while shaking his head with a fervor equal to Vai’s “I do not wish to go.”

“Thank you, Elodie,” Renaer’s eyes fill with a gentle light when he looks at Floon. “I am afraid that I cannot spare the time to travel outside of Waterdeep just now either. Perhaps some other time?”

I nod, then turn sharply towards Eliana. She is emitting an odd groaning noise. With equal parts queasiness and regret, she ceremoniously throws down her spoon. Ceding victory of the food battle to Mirt! The company assures her that any regrets are unwarranted. It is clear that she has impressed Mirt. Together they begin to make plans for a rematch to be held at some future time. When Eliana has gained more culinary experience.

Vaikner meanwhile, is describing his successful search for the temple of Elistraaee in the northern outskirts of the Deep yesterday. I am preoccupied with Renaer’s information about the Stargazer’s Academy and it takes me some time to realize that, while the Drow worshippers call their Elder a Dancing Master and Vaikner describes how he received dancing shoes as part of his lesson, this is coded speech. They are in reality referring to sword play! And Vaikner was gifted a weapon by his temple! Intrigued, I ask whether I may see his new sword.

He hands me a light, finely-worked, fencing blade made of a silvery metal. Touched by, and feeling a little sheepish at, the casual ease with which he passes it over to me, I examine it closely.

“This is very nice.” I mutter, handing it back. “If you would like to train together, my Temple has several fine practice yards. And there are nearly always instructors there. And acolytes looking to spar.”

“Thank you.” Vaikner looks as though he is at least seriously considering my invitation!

Mirt calls us all to order again, announcing that he has one more task for us to look ahead to. He explains that has spoken to a high-born friend of his, Lady Remalia Haventry, about the Thayan Embassy. She will plan a soirée in the coming days and will invite our company. She will also invite the Thayans.

“And then,” Mirt says quietly. “We can take a look.”

While heartened by this news, my friends and I are nonetheless beginning to feel anxious about how quickly the hours of this morning are passing. We are ready to turn our attention to the task awaiting us tonight.

Mirt has one more gift for us. He hands each of our company a paper message bird. It is reassuring to know that we can reach him if we have any news of interest. Or if we require his assistance. 

We say fond farewells to Uza, Renear, and Floon. Then, respectfully, we take our leave of our benefactor. Some of us more respectfully than others, perhaps. Eliana steals one more grape directly off Mirt’s plate as we walk away from the table. But I notice that she pops it into her mouth with less jaunty enthusiasm than she normally would. 

As we walk through the the mansion on our way back to the front entrance, we pass by the open door to another large dining room. The Actors who we battled in our first challenge are seated at table there. Enjoying as generous a breakfast as we did. We wave to them and repeat our congratulations on their fine dramatic talent. 

I am still shaking my head in bemusement at a place where combat training is seamlessly joined with theatrics, when I notice that Eliana and Vaikner are no longer with me. They have paused in front of a painting adorning the sitting room that we are passing through. I join them in looking up at a beautiful young woman. Pale-skinned with an explosion of golden-red hair. She is portrayed in riding clothes, standing next to a fine horse. The vibrancy of her pose and her mischief-filled smile form a jolting contrast to the black velvet fabric draping the painting’s frame. None of us recognize her but the poignancy of the mourning cloth framing her joyous face is not lost on any of us. I leave Mirt’s home a little more heart-hurt than I arrived.

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I hope that you enjoyed this account of our Trio’s final challenge. Elodie was certainly a little ham-handed during this one. Hehehe. Sorry, had to go there. 

These last couple of sessions happened because one of our party, who shall remain nameless, expressed concern about the significant amount of time he spent unconscious during our battles. It was our wizard. He shall not, in fact, remain nameless. Because it was obviously our wizard. As we drew close to a pivotal moment in our campaign, our battle with the nightmarish Hag, our GM offered to address some of P’s concerns. Regarding his high likelihood of dying if he did not change his, ahem, over-eager approach to conflict as a low-level wizard.  Our GM suggested a rules and combat strategy refresher session for us. All credit goes to his story-telling and comedic gifts: he managed to make what could have been prosaic, crunchy battle preparation into a rather unhinged breakfast at Mirt’s. With character development and fun moments between old friends and new…

For Mirt:

Big Bad Wolf, The Heavy

Please also visit my playlist on Spotify. I will be populating this with all of our campaign tunes as we adventure onwards: