No Retreat

The duo arrived at Ryventhal without issue on a calm, warm spring afternoon. No doubt it was the recent experience with humankind, but as they approached the arching gates to the Hall of the Western Star, both subconsciously took a moment to appreciate the grandeur of their ancestors.

The wall surrounding the compound was not one meant to provide protection. It was a flat surface between massive ancient trunks that served as posts. The wall was smooth and white and shimmered in the spring sunshine. At the trees it was perhaps fifteen feet high, but it swooped down to only a few feet above the forest floor at the middle between each pair of trees. The design created the effect of the trees reaching down and supporting the buildings within.

There were three large structures surrounded by numerous smaller ones. Arthon ticked them off in his mind, the massive Hall of the Western Star, house of Corellon. Its steeple stretching up towards the canopy of the ancient forest, it was adorned with incredibly intricate stained glass windows. Some of these depicting symbols of the church, while others pictured saints or significant events in the church’s history. While it was not visible from their current vantage from the east, Arthon knew that the most impressive window of all lay at the head of the sanctuary on the other side of the temple. It showed Mymillnin, the great prophet and Speaker for the Western Star. Arthon knew everyone of his psalms by heart, and most elves knew most of them. It was Mymillnin who had delivered the elves from the darkness of their own version of the middle ages following the last Dragon War. Mymillnin had delivered Corellon’s word to Tel’Quessir and let the people know that the gods had neither forsaken nor forgotten them. His namesake cathedral was an impressive building of shimmering spires topped with vibrant green tiles and adorned with the most impressive adornments and accents.

To the left of the cathedral was a small squat building with a large golden dome with two towers to either side of each, both of these also topped with golden domes, though much smaller than the main building. Here the followers of magic once worshipped, but the temple and shrine were sealed shortly before the Retreat. The third building was to the right of the Hall of the Western Star. It looked much like a small coliseum, round and tall and constructed of polished silvery gray marble. Rings of seats descended into a magnificent garden celebrating Rillifane Rallafil. At the center of the garden was a fountain, a massive construction depicting the god of nature commanding each of the elements. Before the fountain ran dry shortly after the Retreat, at times it had attracted up to hundreds of pilgrims seeking its reputed healing and regenerative properties.

As the siblings steered their horses to the open gates between two massive oak trees, the steady sound of hooves on cobblestone had a comforting effect for the priest, it felt like home to Arthon. For Ardinia, the temples here most reminded her of her wedding but this was only one of many memories this place held for her. Both felt good to be back.

It was almost simultaneously that she spotted Nishi and Arthon spied the stationed flag. The cat lay lazily among the broad wide branches of the enormous trees. She was about forty feet up and her head lolled off the side of a branch. Her ears swiveled and her tail twitched at their arrival. The ‘stationed flag’ was a banner, carried by a member of every platoon in Aerun’s army. It identified the particular platoon and was used to declare that a platoon was currently stationed at the particular location. Arthon would carry this banner whenever he and Seaoth traveled between the keep and Ryventhal in a bitter tribute to tradition. Only a short time previously, the task would have been pointless. However, in these times the chore of getting weekly supplies required the entirety of the Ryventhal Riders a platoon with a very long history and tradition. Its presence on one of the poles meant that his platoon…his sergeant was at the temple.

And within an hour they were already discussing plans to leave again. Ardinia’s prediction that the priests at the cathedral would know more about the celestial phenomenon from the other evening was not entirely correct. In fact, they wanted desperately to investigate it and were hoping Arthon would return very soon so that he could escort a cleric to where they calculated the fiery object would have finally impacted. Siam had come to Ryventhal for the same reason, to learn what they knew of the incident. Ardinia curled closer to the warmth of her husband and shivered at his breath on her neck, at least they were going together, but she was still weary and wished they could stay home longer than a single night.

The next morning, however, the party was underway. The stationed flag was stored safetly away and the ‘march banner’ unfurled with Seaoth and Arthon providing support and protection for Melharr while Siam and Ardinia accompanied them, the ranger out of concern for his forest and his bride mostly to be near him.