“This is quite sufficient for my needs… I only hope no one will find my rites offensive,” Faeryl observed as Kara showed her to the garden behind Winter Edge’s great hall. It wasn’t the type of decorative affair common in Silverymoon. This was a working source of food, with well-maintained hedged beds of vegetables flanking a rather small open area. Without further ado, the drow priestess set to removing her mithral breastplate, prompting Kara to take her leave and retreat to the back entrance to the hall. But she stopped short, her curiosity getting the better of her, turning back to watch Faeryl remove the last of her clothes, take up her silvery bastard sword and take a moment to align her mind, body, and spirit. Then she raised her voice in a hauntingly beautiful wordless hymn as she began to move in the most sensual display the young lady had ever witness; gracefully orbiting about the small open space while whirling her deadly blade perilously close to her naked flesh. Returning to the great hall, Kara saw her uncle sitting with the young ranger, Aeron, knowing he intended to seek his advice on how to deal with the orcs and that she should join him. Elsewhere, the beautiful moon elf, Nykira, was occupied by half a dozen young men on the dance floor, while many of the village’s young women were clustered around the dwarf, Tarl, as he told his version of their adventures. But it was the young wizard, Galen, who caught her attention. A student of the Art and ancient lore herself, she had hoped to speak with him alone, but a few of young village women lingered around him. “I see you’re enjoying what our humble town has to offer a brave adventuring wizard,” Kara taunted as she approached Galen and his gaggle of young beauties, who seemed to know that she wanted to have him to herself and respectfully dispersed into the cluster around Tarl. “Your citizens have been most welcoming,” Galen replied with a reluctant sigh, but a contented smirk turned his lips as his eyes swung from the retreating lovely young maids to the beautiful lady of Winter Edge. He’d appreciated her splendor since he first laid eyes on her, but decorum required that he treat her with due respect, so he kept his interest to himself. However, now she’d sought him out, so perhaps he’d have an opportunity to express his desires while still maintaining the proper level of esteem for her position, so he addressed her in a somewhat formal tone; “How may I be of service, my lady?” “You realize I’m only addressed as “lady” because my uncle founded Winter Edge and is therefore the lord-protector… I’ve no noble blood or breeding… before we left Zhentil Keep I was just another peasant girl trying to develop my natural talent for the Art,” she confessed. In truth, the title always made her feel uncomfortable… like she was given an honor she didn’t deserve. “I didn’t know you had a natural talent for the Art… have you been able to nurture it?” he inquired, understanding now why she’d sought him out. “In Zhentil Keep, only those who declare themselves for the Zhentarim are permitted to pursue such things… but since settling here I’ve been able to study books of lore I acquired in Silverymoon,” she advised him, adding with a coy smile; “However, I’d appreciate any private tutoring you could provide.”