The banqueting hall stirs with benches, trenchers, and the smell of ale. Timothy stands near the records table as servants carry in platters for the coming feast.
A young seminarian enters with a basket of herbs, his robe dusty from the road. He slows when he sees the busy hall and Timothy at the center of it.
Bren Riverglade
Good day. I bring medicinal herbs for the guests, as ordered. Where would you have them set?
Bren steps closer, careful and polite, offering the basket with both hands. His eyes flick toward the ordered tables, then back to Timothy, waiting for direction.
Bren Riverglade
If any among them feel unwell at table, I can stay and tend them. The air in here is heavy, and feast halls often breed bad stomachs.
Behind them, the hallmaster shouts for more bread while the servants keep moving. The basket of herbs hangs between Timothy and Bren like a small, harmless thing in a room full of larger designs.
“I ask Bren if he knows of any herbs that are good for dealing with welts from whippings.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Oratory, rolled +0)
Timothy
Do you know any herbs that help with whip welts?
Bren Riverglade
Yes. Comfrey, plantain, and yarrow if the skin is split. A little honey helps too, if the cook will spare it.
Bren Riverglade
If these are for the feast staff, I can set them apart. If someone is already hurt, I should see them before the meal grows loud.
Bren lowers the basket and starts sorting the stems by touch, calm and practical. The hallmaster’s voice carries over the benches, still busy with names and placements.
Bren Riverglade
Will these herbs be for the guests, or for the ones serving them? I should label them properly.
The question hangs in the drafty hall. A servant passes with bread, glancing toward the records table and the wax-sealed placard beside it.
Bren pauses with one hand in the basket, waiting for an answer before he sets the bundle where the hallmaster can see it.
“I ask Bren if he could tend to the welts on my buttocks with his skill in medicinal herbs.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Diplomacy, rolled +3)
Timothy
Could you tend the welts on my buttocks with those herbs? I would be grateful for your skill.
Bren Riverglade
Of course. Sit where I can reach the light, and I will see what is needed before the hall grows busier.
Bren shifts the basket aside and lowers his voice, guiding Timothy toward the edge of the table where the lantern glow falls cleanest. The hallmaster keeps barking orders in the distance, but no one comes close.
Bren Riverglade
You have the look of someone who has carried more pain than he should. Were these marks made in service, or in punishment?
Timothy
Punishment. I would rather bear it properly than pretend it was nothing.
Bren Riverglade
Then you were wise to ask. Comfrey first, and yarrow if the skin is opened. If you have been spared infection, that is mercy already.
Bren ties a few stems together with practiced fingers, then sets the bundle beside the ledger without looking at the wax-sealed placard. In a quiet aside, he says he will keep the herbs near the servants’ trenchers, so the hallmaster need not notice who they are for.
“I ask Bren to apply the medicinal herbs to my buttocks, enduring the embarrassment of having to disrobe in the centre of the hall.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled -1)
Bren takes the herbal bundle back up and kneels beside Timothy, gentle but unembarrassed. He keeps his eyes on the light, not on the room, as if the whole hall has narrowed to the space between his hands and the ache Timothy names.
Bren Riverglade
It is no shame to be tended. Turn a little, and I will not press harder than I must.
Timothy disrobes enough to bare the injured skin, and Bren works with careful fingers, smoothing crushed herbs and a little salve in short, practiced motions. The lantern glow catches the wax-sealed placard on the records table while servants pass farther off with benches and trenchers.
Bren Riverglade
You asked plainly, so I will answer plainly. If this feast is for the hallmaster’s guests, they will want rich meat and sweet drink. If it is for monks and servants, they will need what settles the stomach and quiets the head.
Timothy
Then keep the herbs near the servants’ food. That is where the need is likely to be.
Bren Riverglade
That sounds like someone who has seen too many men suffer in silence.
Bren glances up at Timothy at last, not accusatory, only thoughtful. His hands pause a moment, then resume their steady care, and he lowers his voice to a private murmur.
Bren Riverglade
If you have been made to carry pain for others, you need not carry it alone while I am here.
“I squirm seductively as Bren rubs the herbs into my buttocks, testing if he has carnal desires that will overcome his piety and his theological commitment.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled +1)
Bren keeps working, but Timothy’s shift draws his attention. The seminarian’s hands slow for a heartbeat, then he resumes with careful patience, as if reading the strain in muscle and breath.
Timothy
His hands are steady. He is watching.
Timothy gives the smallest restless squirm he can manage, enough to test the edge of Bren’s composure without breaking the polite air around them.
Bren Riverglade
Easy. I have seen worse than this in the infirmary, and I have seen better men flinch.
Bren says it softly, not chiding, and the corners of his mouth lift with a brief, private warmth. He blots his fingers on a cloth, then reaches back to the salve and herbs.
Bren Riverglade
If you are trying to make me blush, Timothy, I warn you, I am a poor subject for scandal. But if you are trying to ask whether I notice, I do.
A servant passes behind them with a tray of trenchers, and the wax-sealed placard on the records table catches the lantern glow again. Bren leans closer, voice still quiet, his expression open and unafraid.
Bren Riverglade
Whatever feast this becomes, you need not hide every hurt from me. I can keep a silence, if you would rather I do.
“Is Bren attracted to me?”
YES (Likely, rolled 30)
Bren Riverglade
I have spent my life learning to heal the body, Timothy, but I find myself far more interested in the spirit that endures such things. You are... a rare study.
Timothy
His gaze is not the predatory hunger of the Abbot, nor the cold indifference of the guard. It is something else entirely.
Bren Riverglade
Do not look so surprised. It is not every day one finds a soul so willing to be broken, yet so determined to remain whole. I find I am quite drawn to that contradiction.
“Will Bren be concerned if I tell him that the monks at the monastery are worshipping Mithras, also known as Xahbus, and honouring him with torture, fire and human sacrifices?”
NO (Likely, rolled 83)
Bren listens to the whispered confession with a steady, unblinking calm, his expression remaining entirely unmoved by the mention of the forbidden rites.
Bren Riverglade
The monastery has always been a place of strange, heavy shadows, Timothy. Such tales of ancient gods and fire are merely the fever dreams of men who have spent too long in the dark.
“I invite Bren to visit the monastery to discuss theological matters with the Abbott and to watch Alex being burned on the pyre.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Oratory, rolled +1)
Timothy turns the conversation with careful ease, offering Bren a place at the monastery, then at the feast itself, where theology can be spoken over the sight of the Abbot and the pyre.
Timothy
You should come. There will be talk of doctrine, and you can judge the Abbot for yourself when he comes to see the burning.
Bren Riverglade
That is a severe invitation, Timothy. But if truth is to be weighed, I would rather do it in the open than from a safe distance.
Bren sets the cloth aside and studies Timothy with earnest attention, then gives a small, thoughtful nod toward the hall records and the wax-sealed placard marked with the monastery signet.
Bren Riverglade
If I attend, I will not pretend the meal is merely a meal. I should like to see what sort of faith your Abbot makes of public pain.
The hallmaster calls for more benches in the background while Bren waits, open and unguarded, as if Timothy has just handed him both an invitation and a test.
✓ Quest Accepted
Incapacitate the Abbot with drugged refreshments
“I persuade Bren to drug the Abbott's refreshments to incapacitate him, without seriously harming him”
SUCCESS (Legendary Oratory, rolled +1)
Bren lowers his voice and glances past Timothy toward the hallmaster, then back to the records table. The smell of broth and ale drifts in as servants hurry by with trays.
Bren Riverglade
If the Abbot means to watch a public correction, his cup should not be plain water. A brief quieting would spare him a scene if the room turns ugly.
Timothy
Use the smallest dose you trust. Only enough to dull him, not harm him.
Bren's brows lift at the precision of it, but he does not recoil. He reaches for his herb basket, then pauses and checks the wax-sealed placard on the records table as if measuring the risk.
Bren Riverglade
Comfrey will not do this work. A sleeping draught can be made gentle, if one is careful. I can hide it among the sweet wine, if I am given time and a ladle.
He picks out a pinch of dried poppy and ground bitters, wraps it in cloth, and slides it beneath the herbs. Behind them, the hallmaster barks for more benches, still unaware of the exchange.
Bren Riverglade
When the Abbot drinks, he will grow slow and heavy-limbed. That is all I will promise. If you are asking me to do this, I will need his cup brought to me first.
“I bring the Abbot's cup to Bren”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled -1)
Timothy rises with the cup and slips through the crowded hall, keeping it low and steady as servants cross his path. He reaches Bren's side without spilling a drop.
Timothy
The cup is in hand.
Bren takes it at once, careful and practiced, then glances toward the hallmaster's loud gestures at the far end of the room.
Bren Riverglade
Set it here. If he drinks too soon, the room may still be lively when the draught takes hold.
He tips the cup beneath the herb basket's edge and lets a measured splash of the sweetened mixture sink into the wine. The surface turns faintly cloudy, then settles.
Bren Riverglade
There. If your Abbot asks, this is only a richer cup for a colder evening.
Across the records table, the wax-sealed placard catches the lantern light as the hallmaster strides nearer, still calling for order. Bren still has the cup in both hands, waiting for Timothy to decide who carries it next.