Nivalldier, Captain of Discovery -- Episode 04: Smoke and Errors

The echo of the dwarf’s gruff voice and metalshod boots lingered in the incense-filled Temple of Aramis’ antechamber for a few moments after the main doors closed. Jeroff stood his ground, and only after the echoes had completely faded did he make certain he was alone in the chamber by casting a simple spell of Appearance, making sure his old friend hadn’t left an invisible spy behind.

He’s crafty that way, Jeroff chuckled to himself.

The spell, of course, showed noone else in the chamber other than Jeroff—and one other person, poised high on the overhanging circular ledge, right between the statue of Satiation and that of Sensuality.

“You may come down now, my dear,” Jeroff said, his voice as much command as it was entreaty.

The twenty-fifth statue twitched her nose again, the only movement she’d made in the entire time she’d posed on the ledge. Slowly, the marble coloration drained from her form, and the ruddy complexion of a healthy female returned, adorned with expensive silks in mauve and taupe. She wore an elaborate necklace and bejeweled bracelet among other finery, though none could detract from her tautly muscled frame. She only lacked two important elements: she bore no Binding circlet around her forehead, which announced her availability to any male. Equally unusual was her lack of footwear.

She covered the distance between ledge and polished floor in a single leap, landing a few handswidth in front of Jeroff.

The priest neither blinked nor backed up, but smiled paternally. “You certainly have stayed in fine...shape,” he said, swallowing an unseemly bit of drool.

The woman, catlike in her movements, circled him, though she kept her eyes on the main doors. “The Captain. He is gone?”

“Mmmm,” Jeroff replied, part affirmation, part animal lust for the woman’s body.

“He will return?”

“Certainly.” Jeroff tried to follow her with his eyes, though he faced unflinchingly toward the doors.

“Then I must leave this place!”

“On the contrary,” Jeroff said, more forcefully. “This is the one place in Regentsburg that can offer you safety, both from the Captain and his diving methods, as well as the more lethal Inquisitors. Here, their magic cannot enter. Only here are you truly safe.”

Jeroff finally turned around. His own movements were surprisingly stiff, almost inhuman, as if he were part statue himself, an affliction that gave purpose to his refusal to move in Nival’s presence.

Only Jeroff’s closest associates knew the real reason: it was the aftereffect of a poorly mixed potion designed to maintain a man’s physical virility throughout many hours of lovemaking, ironically called a Draught of Rigidity.

The apothecary who sold him the erroneous potion, of course, suffered a far worse fate.

With stiff arms, Jeroff flailed at the haze of incense, cutting a path through to the paired iridium doors that led into the recesses of the temple, guiding the still-cautious woman with a hand at her waist.

“You must tell me all about the Regent’s most interesting vices.”