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The Sublime Overlord of the Realm
Whisper snorted. Either Sir Whisper or just Whisper suits me. The woman jerked her head in the direction of the Shrine. Come on.

She didn't bother to make sure he was following, expecting him to keep up on his own. She always found that it was better when it was darker out to go visit the Victory Shrine. So many people had superstitions about it, but it only got worse the later in the day it was. The physical presence of the place was heavy and anyone knew that they were being watched from the moment they entered, like prey being watched by a predator. So it was when Whisper took a lantern in hand and entered, her feet trodding upon the ramp to take them into the library. Bones still scattered here and there though most had been cleared away so no one would trip during the night when the Lions had had to fall back to the Shrine for safety. There were very few people nearby now as most had been concentrating on building and tents had been set up outside. The Victory Shrine, unlike any other shrine dedicated to our God, was one that had belonged to the Cult of the Blood. For ages, they used it as a hidden base to store their information, stock poisons, and sacrifice their enemies on an altar to their dark god. Traps of all sorts had lurked hidden in the walls, men in corners, magickers waiting to use their dark arts to humble anyone bold enough to enter here. My father was given a missive by Leosine Himself, telling him to destroy the one that betrayed him. He and my mother traveled through these passages filled with all these dangers.

Her fingers traced over a dark shadow on the wall, vaguely man-shaped. Many practitioners of Xicus' ways were destroyed on that day, burned to a crisp by powers of magic or cut down by my father's hand all for the glory of Leosine. She stepped delicately over a brittle old skull. The presence of God flowed around her, like breathing on the back of her neck. Whisper embraced the sense, welcomed it against her, let it warm her spirit as it always had. Though Xicus struck at us all like a serpent at the heel, my father found one of its many heads and ripped out the heart of his enemy. It was here that the old altar was consecrated and taken by God, changed from a thing of darkness to a thing of pride. The gilded and jeweled altar stood before them, shining in the light of the lantern that Whisper carried. It was here that the presence could most strongly be felt. Those of the strongest faith were able to see some of the room's history, Shayne and Sigh's valiant battles against those that stood against them in this room. The dark haired paladin woman stood before the altar, a twin of Shayne's form standing there so many years ago as her fingers brushed at the edge of the altar, a loose smile on her face, one of peace and calm. Silence was how she came to this room always, but she waited for the boy's questions, willing to answer them should he have any or wish to speak softly in the presence of God.


Rhondo kept his face stoic as he marched in with Echo. It was easy to do. He could easily let her do all the talking. The guards allowed him to pass by with nary a glance. It was like taking candy from a toddler who apparently didn't know the goods that they possessed. Rhondo nodded to her quiet statement. Yes. That is exactly it, my lady. He responded as if she had asked him a question, neither smiling nor responding more than simply a soft reply.

Even he was not foolish enough to believe that they were alone enough that their words would not be carried from place to place. A Keep's walls always held more ears than was evident.
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Respite · Phenvast City

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