DM Barcas - Kingmaker: Rivers Run Red

Game Master Isaac Duplechain

As Newhaven rises, threats besiege it from all directions. To the north, the news of the last heir of House Rogarvia threatens the start of a new war. To the south, an empire of trolls and monsters grows.


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Male Human Cleric (Abadar) 7th / Fighter 1st / AC 24/10T/24F / HP 61 / F +10 R +3 W +11 / Init. +0 / Perc. +5 / Sense Motive +14

A Day in the Life of the Banker, Part II
Early Spring, 4712 – near midnight hour

”Well that should be the last of it,” says Verik to as he directs his golden Floating Disk with several coffers and scroll tubes atop it into the fortified stone vault chamber. His First Keysworn, Bertram Dakkone, stifles a yawn as he follows in behind the Banker with his Disc of treasure, the hour being very late for him.

Two other men are already inside the vault, each older than Verik by many years, making the Banker the youngest man in the room by a wide margin. The first man sits on a rickety wooden chair dragged in from another room, his robes an elegant purple color and embroidered with gold trim, his hair mostly grey. Ignacius Lago the Vaultmaster wears a wide belt with the keys of his office attached, though the eye is often drawn to the golden chain and medallion around his neck bedecked with arcane runes. Vaultmaster Lago is scribing on a single roll of parchment even as he checks his figures for accuracy. ”Almost done with the other load,” he replies to his Banker without looking at him directly, focused as he is on the parchment. ”Eben, your final count is four-hundred and eighty-five on that last one?”

”Correct.” Senior Clerk Eben is loading up a last sack of coins into a small vault some three feet off the floor, pushing the contents in as far as he can to make room for the next load. His hair is all white now, but he still keeps it longer than most men his age and tied back in a ponytail. Other than the style of his hair, Eben’s white robes with decorative golden embroidery and gold-enameled belt with matching keys clearly marks him as a cleric of Abadar. He looks over to his Banker and adds with mirth in his voice, ”It’s a good thing that is the last of it, else we’d need to be moving all of this into a larger vault for her.”

”Here Eben, let me lift these ones here while you count.” Verik moves his Disc over to the vault and opens the coffers on it to reveal a mixture of golden bars, minor gemstones and even a few thinner bars of platinum. Scroll tubes on the Disc he hands directly to Ignacius for notating his entries. The Vaultmaster reviews the scrolls and gives out a low whistle.

”A land parcel too? Acre on the south fringe by the lakeshore?”

Verik shrugs and says nonchalantly, ”None of that land is even cleared yet over the wall…it’s not worth much.”

”Now it may not be, but in a few years? That could be prime land then.”

Verik stops and regards his Vaultmaster a moment with a raised eyebrow. ”Do you have an objection you wish to note, Vaultmaster Lago?”

”No my Banker. Just inquiring why you’re setting aside this much for her – chances are that even if Senior Clerk Amitel gets married to this Master Gunderson of the Pathfinders one day, she’s not going to need all of this to sweeten the deal, so to speak.”

”She needs a proper dowry, and Brevian culture takes this sort of thing seriously. Now gentlemen it is late, so can we get back to work?” Verik huffs impatiently and so the four men all continue in the efforts of counting, cataloging and storing the wealth into Anya Amitel’s personal vault. The hour is late and no one else is present in the vault wing besides them. Verik wanted to ensure the transfer did not become common knowledge to the rest of the Clerks, or Anya herself for that matter. Eben, Bertram and Ignacius all agreed to it of course, the four of them able to make the transfer of funds so that it could all be approved and witnessed in the ledgers.

The subject of Anya’s dowry was a matter of great importance to Verik, coming to his mind as far back as the summer of 4710 when the relationship between she and Willas had started. Other than her surname she truly had no family to speak of – her parents had died and she had been shipped off to Restov by an aunt and uncle to the Bank there as an Initiate-applicant. What followed was not her proper indoctrination and training an Initiate should have received, but as a veritable slave to the Restov Bank because of her gender; Anya’s abuses to her body and spirit were many and varied, led by Banker Demesceau’s cruel Master of Initiates and clearly endorsed by the foul greedy Banker himself. It is no coincidence that Verik’s antipathy towards the Bank of Restov and Demesceau is in no small part due to Anya’s account of her mistreatment, though not the sole reason.

Anya’s action as an accepted stowaway aboard Verik’s wagon back in the summer of 4708 started the long road to her redemption, one which also changed him. Thomas Quiss was technically his first Full Clerk under the newly chartered Bank, but Anya was the first Initiate that he ever passed in examinations and gave the Keys to as a Junior Clerk. Back then it was not clear to him that he could get her past her afflictions to be fully productive as a Clerk, but she soon proved to both himself and Thomas that she deserved every opportunity she was given. Despite some “temporary” misguided feelings placed to him over his role as her patron and mentor, Anya blossomed into a capable young woman as the Bank progressed into what it was today. Now with Thomas gone to Olegsgrav, he couldn’t imagine trying to run the Bank without her. The fact that she had developed trust of some men in her life was more than Verik could have hoped for, and though he kept a cool demeanor on the prospects of her relationship with Willas, privately he was ecstatic. Admittedly, Verik was extremely protective of her, and that included seeing to her financial independence. Her monthly stipend as a Senior Clerk was not paltry by any means, but to him it was not enough.
So he made the decision to ensure her financial future from his own personal wealth, to be disclosed to her at the proper time and place of his choosing when it seemed appropriate. After tonight, it would be there in her name when she was ready for it, even should something ever happen to him.

A small time later with the amounts all tallied and moved, Verik finally closes the vault door and locks it, handing the key over to the Vaultmaster. ”There now, all done.”

Eben raises a question. ”Banker, you know that she still personally transcribes the monthly summary audits for Ignacius on all public, church and clerk accounts.”

Verik’s face furrows in thought, as he had forgotten that part. ”You’re right, hmmm…” He turns to Ignacius with a hopeful look upon his face. ”Can we place her account in the select private rolls that only you audit?” Despite the fact that he is Banker, the authority of that decision resides with the Vaultmaster for accountability.

”I don’t see why not – the funds technically do not meet the minimum threshold, nor is she nobility, but the governance protocols give me discretionary power for exceptions…Banker approved of course!”

”I have it on good authority that the Banker will approve,” says Verik wryly.

”Then perhaps I can interest you in our Bank’s series of enhanced protections for added security? There are several magical wardings that can be applied besides our excellent standard safeguards – arcane lock enhancement? Magical alarm enchantment? Periodic non-detection magics to reduce the chances of unwarranted divinations? A glyph perhaps? A Vaultman to stand watch at all times?” Ignacius gives a chuckle and seems pleased with his absurd sales pitch to his own Banker.

”Ignacius,” interrupts Bertram, ”leave him alone.”

”Very well, very well…yet I do have a serious question.” Almost at once the other three men groan and collectively roll their eyes at the Vaultmaster, though that has never deterred him from asking his questions. ”My question my dear Banker is this. The Order of Numbers makes it clear that gifts of wealth are to be discouraged, for they break down the true value of said wealth in the appreciation by its benefactors, and betray principles of hard work and effort to earn it, not to mention calling their proper station and role in society into question. Even on Taxfest, Abadarians do not “give” gifts away, except for those items that are deemed useful and essential for education and craftsmanship that can benefit the common welfare of its people. I do not question Senior Clerk Amitel’s value to this Bank, but I ask you - are you not violating our core principles by this very act of kindness and compassion?”

Verik turns and straightens his robes as he coolly regards his persistent Vaultmaster, then glances at both his Senior Clerk and First Keysworn; all three older men have gone still, looking at Verik and gauging his reaction to the question. Cogs! The man is an irritant in his questions, but can I deny the logic of his asking? Am I so blinded by my feelings and hopes for Anya that I commit sacrilege, in front of these men who are all of age to be a father or grandfather to me?

So he considers the question. On the surface it does seem to hold merit. He certainly wouldn’t have done the same for Thomas or any of the rest of the lads, though offering a loan on good terms would have been easily granted. So why is this different? He struggles with the answer for what seems like an eternity. Verik knows the answer, though he is loathe to speak it aloud. Anya is family to me. I will take care of my family, as any father or head of the family should do. Unlike my own father. Unlike all of my brothers except for Dominic. I never had a sister, never had a younger sibling, but if I had I’d want her to be like Anya. Kinship by spirit then, if not by blood.

Though that is the answer, it is not one he is willing to reveal to the elder men around him. Instead, he uses the tricks that experienced Bankers know whenever they need to justify the ways of their own particular jurisdiction.

”What you fail to comprehend Ignacius is that this is not a gift. It is an investment. You see my good Vaultmaster, the success of this Bank depends not only on capable men such as yourself, but on capable women such as Senior Clerk Amitel. That she has, shall we say, special challenges because of the nature of dowries and financial burdens placed upon women in this culture cannot be understated. I am merely providing a deeper foundation for her security, so that she can continue to serve this Bank unfettered and unattached to concerns over that cultural reality. Do I wither my own right arm? No, of course not. It is not a gift you see, but an investment in security…and a loan of which terms are for the repayment to this Bank in both service and spiritual enlightenment. So this ‘loan’ shall ensure smooth waters for us should she marry, and I say that falls under the most basic and sacred of the Master’s adages – This Can Help Us All. Now does that answer your inquiry, or do I need to submit this to the Golden Conclave when it comes up again next year in Oppara? While I am at it, should I have Jamus Marquett woken up and summoned here at this very hour to work out the terms of contract for Clerk Amitel’s spiritual repayments to this Bank over, say, the next thirty years?”

All three men start to chuckle even as Ignacius puts up both hands in surrender. ”Peace peace! Who am I to counter that most eloquent of answers! Forgiveness Banker Jarrow!”

”Serves you right Ignacius,” adds Bertram with a rare smile upon his face, his fatigue gone for the moment. ”The Banker wasn’t born in the back country you know.”

”I think we should move this upstairs in Master Lago’s quarters,” suggests Eben smoothly, ”so that we can sample some of the fine wine I heard he received from Master Marquett’s prized cellar in repayment for a favor granted. What say you, gentlemen?”

With mirth and nods of agreement, all four men lock up the chamber to that particular section of vaults and walk upstairs to continue their conversations on lighter topics, even though the night is late and the rest of the Bank is fast asleep.


Male Human Cleric (Abadar) 7th / Fighter 1st / AC 24/10T/24F / HP 61 / F +10 R +3 W +11 / Init. +0 / Perc. +5 / Sense Motive +14

A Day in the Life of the Banker, Part III
Rova, 4712 – evening

”…and besides the other two points that I have just made on why your actions today were unwarranted and disruptive in what we do here, Clerk Di Cenzo, a third point is that I expect patience from all of my Clerks to nurture these young Junior Clerks and Initiates, so that they reach their true and full purpose in the Master’s house here!” Banker Jarrow has just finished his lengthy dressing-down of Clerk Theodorius Di Cenzo in his Banker’s Office, being legitimately upset at having to clear his late afternoon schedule to do so, and now peers across the grand desk to gauge the man’s reaction.

Unsurprisingly, it is not what he desired to see in the man.

”Yes…your three points of explanation are duly noted and catalogued, Banker Jarrow.” Theodorius looks at his superior with what could only be called boredom, mixed with a hint of snide amusement. ”I shall strive to conceal the mistakes of your so-called Junior Clerks in front of paying patrons better in the future, and try to prevent their lack of talent from tarnishing this Bank’s image so rapidly, I assure you.”

The response was so smug and arrogant, the clipped Taldane accent of perceived superiority so evident, that it is all Verik can do to look back at Theodorius with his mouth open and eyes goggling for what seems like a full candlespan. ”You…you just dare sit here and…” Verik sputters out for a moment as he can’t believe his ears. Flushed crimson with anger, he levels a finger right at the man. ”YOU CAUSED THE INCIDENT! YOU! You started berating two Junior Clerks without cause who are learning the advanced aspects of property contracts – both HIGHLY recommended by Senior Clerk Eben Whitestag mind you – right in front of BOTH parties and then went on with Master Kobach to deride the Initiate who was right there diligently scribing that women had no place in the business of men! You…you made her cry! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Theodorius Di Cenzo shrugs his shoulders and smugly smiles. ”Perhaps Senior Clerk Whitestag needs to go on sabbatical if he is making such poor recommendations to you.”

”YOU PONCE OF A BOOKEND CLERK!” Verik slams his fist down on the fine mahogany table, his face wroth to such a degree that he threatens to match the shade of the plums in a silver decorative bowl on an endtable nearby.

The Taldane transplant is insufferable and not going to concede any wrongdoing, that much is clear to Verik. Not that he ever has before. It is one of his many bad qualities that prevents the longtime Clerk from advancing to a senior position after so many years despite his talents, the man now being in his mid-thirties. Bouncing around from one Bank to the next with only sheer ambition to advance on his mind, he arrived to Sanctuary in 4711 like several of the other transplants, filling gaps that the Banker needed filled to keep the services of Bank running. It was an arrangement that was barely tolerable. The dislikeable man was admittedly skilled and competent in what he knew, particularly in the areas of law, contracts and arbitration. He was also the Bank’s finest dweomercrafter of divine scrolls, which was indispensable to Verik. All of which made the Clerk’s poor attitude and demeanor all the more aggravating. Verik still needed Theodorius, and the Taldan knew it. So he put up with his antics and tried to ignore him as much as possible until they reached a boiling point – which seemed to be occurring all too often these days. Days like today for example.

At least the insult of being called a “bookend clerk” has struck a nerve in Di Cenzo, as his smug face is now marred by heat-filled eyes that have clearly taken offense. Taldans. Arrogant and prickly - it’s no surprise that the bluster and bravado of Aldori swordsmen and their constant dueling all stem from a Taldan Baron who honed an entire fighting skill to deal with insults, whether real or imagined. The insult was tame by common standards, but within Abadarian circles a “bookend” was a derogatory term for a Clerk who would never advance further in the ranks – often characterized as dull-witted and useful only for the lowliest of scribing and shelving duties in the archives. Not that Verik believed that was true, but it was useful in this case. He waited until he saw Theodorius breathe in to retort and then cut him off.

”Silence. You have overstepped the bounds of decency and decorum that I demand here. The fact that you continue to cause incidents with the other Clerks of this Bank - whatever their rank or gender or focused discipline – is wholly unacceptable. You have been Judged and will now receive directives of penance.” Verik leans back in his chair, putting his hands together as if musing it over. Theodorius now leans back in his own chair on the other side of the desk, the usual expression of boredom and uncaring superiority back upon his face. The man has probably been through dozens of disciplinary sessions in his life. Verik ponders ever-so-briefly that if he punched the Clerk right in his pudgy face it would at least make this one memorable. Of course that would be equally improper, but Verik has something else in mind that may shake him out of his complacency.

”First, you will write two letters of apology for Junior Clerks Lukas and Matas and one for Initiate Rahela – give them to the Senior Clerks as I do not trust you to interact with them directly. Second, you will be fined one week’s worth of your stipend to address costs associated with rescheduling the disrupted contract negotiation session and associated purchases to the clients, and finally…” Verik pauses to regard Theodorius Di Cenzo’s bored expression with the penance so far, relishing how it may change in his next breath, ”…I hereby double your number of physical training and weapons practice sessions for a fortnight. Please see to both Senior Clerks and the First Keysworn immediately, so that your schedule and workloads can be adjusted accordingly with minimal disruption.”

”Wh…WHAT?” Di Cenzo sits bolt upright in his chair, his usual smug demeanor replaced by surprise and disbelief. ”You…you can’t…you CANNOT DO THAT TO ME!”

Oh that got his attention that time didn’t it? Verik smiles coldly and spreads his hands with a finely honed tone of derision and mockery in his own voice. ”I cannot? Really? Is it written in the Order of Numbers that I may not give penance of particular category to the noteworthy Theodorius Di Cenzo, third of his name? Did I miss a clause in my own Bank charter that I cannot do such a thing?” He points rudely at the Clerk. ”You will take the physical penance to heart, or I shall move your quarters out into the training yard to train with the Vaultmen all day long. Besides, you can afford to lose some weight and reduce that paunch of yours – reports say you are hopeless with either mace or crossbow, and if we ever go to battle again you need to be able to defend…”

The Clerk interrupts his Banker with a mumbled sentence that can’t be made out intelligibly.

”What did you just say to me, Di Cenzo?”

The man says something a second time, still unintelligible. His face is angry but also pouting, which irritates Verik all the more.

”Speak up man!”

”I SAID I do not have to put up with this nonsense any longer!” Theodorius finishes the sentence with hurt indignity, his face sullen.

Ohhh there it is...cowardly sack… ”While you are under my jurisdiction you do. You must. You. Will. Comply. Or are you putting forward your resignation and request for transfer? Hmm? Moving on again to mar your reputation with another Bank? Please, please by all means Di Cenzo, make your resignation to me then.” Verik’s voice drips with contempt, and he reaches over on his desk for a fresh sheet of crisp parchment, pushing it across to the other man for emphasis. I’d love nothing better…but you have no idea up here in the North…it has to be the choice. ”Resign then. Write it if you are so badly mistreated here. But I caution you to consider carefully Di Cenzo - where will you go from here? I think you must have run out of suitable Banks in the Inner Sea that would take you, lest you’d never have risked coming up the Sellen routes this far. So where will you go? Banker Demesceau and Restov? HA! Your arrogant antics will have you thrown out into the mud by his ilk…or worse you’ll be dead inside of a standard week from some careless insult made to an Aldori tough with your mouth! So where then? New Stetven? Oh, Di Cenzo I’d love nothing better than to pack you up and ship you off to Archbanker Vinodragov! I truly would! Yet even as that thought fills me with an inner joy that I cannot adequately describe, I would never resort to falsifying the reference letters that I would have to supply to him concerning you. One never knows however. Perhaps he would take you in to his fold. ” Verik leans forward then and lowers his voice for effect, utterly serious and direct. ”Do you truly think the Archbanker would tolerate your behavior? If you are unclear as to his brand of order, take a hard look at Clerks Sutberry and Dinthorpe and you shall have your answer. I have witnessed the Archbanker in action up close, Di Cenzo, and I assure you your Taldan heritage will not shield you – you will come to know that his brand of penance is much less tolerant and forgiving than mine.”

A long moment of silence follows as the Clerk looks down at the clean sheet of parchment before him, weighing his choices. His eyes flicker up ever-so-briefly to the Banker, weighing his options amongst emotions of anger, pride and fear. Verik waits him out, leaning back again in his chair and saying nothing. Finally, Theodorius Di Cenzo makes his decision.

”I will accept the terms of the penance, Banker Jarrow.”

”A wise choice. See that you put full effort into it, for I will be monitoring all aspects of your progress.” Verik makes motion for him to go.

The Clerk stands and gives his Banker the barest degree of genuflection possible that still meets the requirements, and then stalks out of the office.

********************

The last workday bells have been sounded for a while now as Verik closes and locks the doors to his office, his irritated face lost in thought. I have lost too much time today with Theodorius and his antics…now I am behind schedule…another late night – what I wouldn’t do for a truly dweomered sustenance ring these days! At least Jamus smoothed out the affairs with our patrons after the outbursts and crying...embarrassing. Let’s see…Eben is setting penance for Lukas for his threats to throttle Theodorius…I shall have to have a word with Dominic on the incident – he’s much too aligned with Theodorius and his outlook on things, but I can’t push the man too far since he’s not a Clerk…Dominic has been nearly insufferable since the disownment…damn if that daughter of his didn’t ruin more than one with her actions! Hmm…I’ll push back tomorrow’s lecture on advanced criminal law with the Junior Clerks so that the rescheduled meeting can have my direct blessing…

He walks a short distance down the hallway. Ahead of him the hallway ends in large double doors that lead into the main worship hall of the Bank with its high vaulted beam ceiling. A few Initiates can be seen finishing their chores of sweeping and polishing, even as he can clearly hear Clerks Dannil LeVane and Mihai Akarius going over their respective parts in tomorrow’s dawnbell sermon – much smaller than the sermons later in the morning but important for the patrons that must start their Oathday early. Cogs! That reminds me I was supposed to review and approve the changes to sermon for Dannil…a long night then for me it seems.

Smaller double doors in the hallway to his left carry the anticipated sounds of the first evening meal session well underway in the dining hall. Hungry but having no time for it now, he enters the opposite right-hand doors into the Bank’s library and scriptorium areas. Most of the work has been completed for the day, though Junior Clerk Artur is patiently leading a small flock of Initiates on finishing the shelving of books before they can take their meals. Only one other person is in the scriptorium, that being Clerk Dolan Sutberry who is busy scribing into official record a series of magistrate judgments from the week’s criminal trials – an impressive stack of accounts already completed lie next to him on his writing desk. The emotionless man looks up briefly and acknowledges his Banker properly before returning back to his work, added by a gaggle of genuflections and acknowledgments from Artur and the young Initiates. Verik gives a practiced smile and a few words of encouragement to them, then continues on past through an archway where the clerk’s sanctum and reliquary resides to his left; peering inside he sees Junior Clerk Samson kneeling before the altar of the scales, deep in prayer. Nodding in approval of the young man’s steadfast devotion he does not disturb him, but continues on past the chamber and up a stone spiral staircase to the upper floor of the clergy wing.

Near the top of the landing the Banker hears what sounds suspiciously like females giggling and males laughing, though he cannot make out the words. He reaches the landing and peers down the long hallway of the upper wing, spying out four young women coming down the hallway in his direction – by the hasty sounds of them shushing each other and trying to conceal grins, it is clear to the Banker they are trying to hide something inappropriate. Lena again, pushing the boundaries of propriety in some way…honestly some days it’s like I run a menagerie and not an orderly Bank with all of them so young… Verik sighs in exasperation and puts on his most stern expression to deal with them.

”Clerk Lena Fullspirit. Junior Clerks Alise. Marta. Emilija. Lena, you have been given clear instructions to chaperone the female Junior Clerks after workday bells and ensure they can change and refresh themselves without interference or interruption before second session of the evening meal, correct? My instructions were quite clear after last month’s “confusion” of the male and female bath schedule times, were they not? Or do I detect a violation of my expressed instructions?”

”Not at all Revered Banker,” replies Clerk Lena smoothly and innocently. ”You said the male Junior Clerks were not to be either in the main hallways or in the living quarters wing when the girls were dressing in their assigned communal chambers, and I have followed that to the letter. To the letter, your Reverence! In point of fact I was just escorting them to the reliquary room for prayers before we attend second dinner session.”

Verik knows Lena is not telling him everything, though he can sense she is not lying to him outright. Of all of his Clerks, Lena Fullspirit reminds him mostly of Petyr Mikhalia – always twisting the words and intentions as far as possible to suit preferred interests. She is smart and highly valued by Anya, though a fair bit too mischievous for his tastes. He gives her the stare for a few moments longer, then to the Junior Clerks, then back to the hallway before waving a hand in irritated dismissal.

”Off with you four then to the sanctum and reliquary chamber. Oh, and Samson is praying in there now, so do not disturb him.”

”Of course, your Reverence.” Lena and the three Junior Clerks behind her make perfect curtsies with practiced deference, then move off with quickened steps past him and down the stairwell.

Verik watches them disappear down the stairs, then turns his head back down the hallway. Not in the living quarters wing…not in the hallway itself…so… The Banker of Sanctuary gives an irritable huff and calls out in a loud voice, ”Boys! Out of the sitting room now! Or the adjacent classroom if that’s where you are – I know you’re hiding somewhere in there!”

A long moment passes and then Verik’s suspicions are confirmed, as two young men open a door to the sitting room and step into the hallway proper – Junior Clerks Jokubas and Oliver. Both young men come forward and bow deeper than usual, but it is Jokubas who of course speaks up first. ”Apologies your Reverence, but we didn’t break any laws or edicts as we weren’t in the hallway. Not one step in the hallway we were!”

”While your “technicality” deserves recognition Jokubas, I can simply amend my orders to delineate each and every open room on this side of the hallway if it comes down to it. Besides, you know you are breaking the intent of my orders, else you wouldn’t have been skulking in the sitting room. As if I wouldn’t comprehend the ruse.” He holds up a finger. ”This fraternization isn’t becoming of my Clerks of the Bank, and leads to…well…this isn’t a Springrite dance after all. So let’s return to our duties gentlemen, shall we?”

The Junior Clerks realize they are being given a pass with no penances offered on the spot, and take the hint to be elsewhere. ”We were just going to get some weapons practice in with the Vaultmen before it gets dark. If that is acceptable, Revered Banker?”

Verik grunts and replies, ”Yes yes – by all means go work off your angst with some practice swords, but don’t let it get out of hand…and don’t forget to take your dinner later.

*********************

After taking the extra time to walk the floor and ensure there are no stragglers present, Verik finally returns to his destination – a locked door leading to the armory and adjacent dweomercrafting workroom of the Bank. He enters inside and locks himself in so as to not be disturbed, then proceeds into the dweomercrafting room to examine a suit of plate armor that he has agreed to enchant for Kesten Garess, as well as a pair of shields for well-paying patrons. It is in this chamber that he prays and pays homage for two of his favorite Clerks, now a longtime ritual before he begins his dweomercrafting preparations. A full-sized stone statue of the Twins, Casil and Sulda Whitestag, is set in the corner of the chamber, the twins with book and hammer as if to lend their expertise to the enterprise of the moment. Great Master of the First Vault, I pray that Casil and Sulda still find prosperity and fulfillment of duty to your great works of the Eternal City, and that they demonstrate their fine qualities as earnestly in the afterlife as they did to me here in the mortal realm. With that, the Banker begins his next bout of evening work in store for him. There is always something to be done at the Bank of Sanctuary.

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