Sir Tragon and his retainers kneel upon seeing the hound archon striding down the castle hall.

“Perhaps, I have been too harsh in judging this duchy if an archon walks these halls.” Sir Tragon thinks.

“Noble Archon, I am Sir Targon a paladin in service to Iomadae..”

“Damn Iomadae to the Abyss!” Samandriel growls out, an aura of menace engulfs the paladins. Then suddenly Samandriel disappears.

“What unholy rites have been happening under this roof to turn an Archon against the Goddess!”

The alarm spell goes off awakening Ildrim from his sleep. Ildrim rolls out of bed, spells ready to deal with any hostile intruder.

A large bipedal canine stands at the foot of the bed. Ildrim senses no danger from the archon.

“Elf! You are the kingdom’s Magister. I would have you train me in your arcane arts, I am done relying on the damn gods. I would put my faith in my sword and the art you will teach me….My apologies, a century of torture at the hands of demons has done little for my etiquette. Encountering paladins of Iomadae did little to level my temper.I mean to ask, not demand, to be your student. You may clothes yourself before making your decision.”

“Assuming you will comport yourself properly and respect my authority as your teacher, at least in as much as that authority is ever treated, then I would be honored to train you in the arcane arts. Luckily I even have a few beginner spellbooks lying about.”