“Is this where you live?” Nymara asked as Courynn ushered her through the door. He’d lead her from the square up stairs grown directly from one of the massive trees, across several platforms and bridges suspended in and around the trees, then into a structure partial grown from and partial built around a tree with a sign above the door depicting an oak tree above some wavy lines with a bed beneath. Inside he her guided through the simple foyer and down a hallway with doors on alternate sides, to one in the middle. “It’s the Oakenbrook Boarding House,” he replied as he bent to start a fire in the stone hearth. “I pay a year’s rent in advance when I leave in the spring and they keep the room for whenever I return.” While he lit lamps suspended from wall sconces, she took a quick survey of the room finding it much like the servants quarters back home, simple and rustic but serviceable. In the corner near the hearth was a large metal tub, a fair-sized bed sat near that and across the room under a window was a small table with two chairs next to a pair of glass doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the river. There was a large chest at the foot of the bed, a couple of others sat around the room and a large wardrobe on one wall, with a door in one corner that appeared to be a privy. A thick carpet covered most of the floor and another lay between the tub and bed. Plopping down on the chest at the foot of the bed, she scooped a grey ball of fur out of her pack, setting her feline familiar on her lap and petting her affectionately. Myrrha spent most days curled up in her mistresses enchanted rucksack, serving as the nocturnal guard for their tent, so she leapt down to eagerly explored the new environment with all the curiosity her kind is famous for, prompting Nymara to warn; “Don’t get into trouble.” “You’ll like this,” Courynn motioned her to join him by the tub were a pipe extended from the living wall bending downward. Turning a lever set on top of the pipe near the wall there was a gurgling sound for a few seconds then a stream of water poured out into the tub. “Is it magic?” the star elf probed inquisitively, bending over for a better look. “No… the water is drawn up from the roots of the tree. You’ll never find any fresher,” he replied, prompting her to scoop some into her cupped hand and bring it to her lips; finding that he was right, it was as clean and fresh as any she’d ever had. Then he turned another leaver, causing a metallic clunk sound from under the tub and it started to fill, as he added; “Normally you have to fill the fire box underneath with coals to heat the tub and therefore the water, but we can do better.” Fishing the translucent fist-sized smooth oval grey stone that he used to heat and illuminate their tent at night from his enchanted pouch, he dropped it into the water and held his hand over it, commanded in elven; “Hearthstone… light of a torch… heat of a campfire.” Immediately the stone lit-up with the specified luminosity, casting strange ripples of light on the walls and ceiling. “It’ll take a few minutes to come up to temperature,” he advised, starting to strip out of his rough leather garb, casting furtive glances her way as she disrobed as well.