Counsel Sought Is Not Guaranteed

Another hazy, hot, bright summer day in Alexandria finds Seldan, clad in a simple white shirt over the very, very lightest of armored links, and light linen trousers with low boots, Reunion at his hip, knocking at the door of a house he knows, but to which he ventures only at need. A quiet rap on the door, standing on the shaded portico, sweat beading on the fair skin.

Due to the heat, and possibly some relaxation of worries or restrictions, windows are open about The Residence. All is relatively quiet within, so the rap upon the door is clear. A few moments later, the door is answered and partly opened.

"Seldan," Verna greets, attired in the favored sundress consisting of blue flowers upon a rather bright yellow. "A mild surprise, yet a pleasure. Please," she gestures as she opens the door fully, "come in."

When the door opens, and Verna greets, Seldan bows politely. "Her light upon your path, Mourner. I had hoped that you might be home." He steps inside, looking around him with a thoughtful and sober gaze, and closing the door behind him, following Verna as she leads. "Not lightly or without regret do I trouble you, but I find myself with - a puzzle, and some difficulty. I had hoped for your counsel at the least, and have you the leisure, your assistance."

Verna steps further into the lounge before gesturing invitingly to a chair. She does not yet sit, herself, perhaps holding marginal expectation that he would accept the invitation. "I am familiar enough to know you do not seek advice nor aid quickly nor frivolously, Seldan. More so as you do not so often require such. You need not hold guilt nor regret to ask anything of me. What puzzles you?"

Seldan seats himself politely on the offered chair, drawing from his sleeve what appears to be a composite roll of parchment. This entire roll he proffers to Verna for her study, his gaze grave and serious.

Unrolling the scroll reveals a letter, and what appears to be a map of - possibly a manor? The letter reads:

My dearest Seldan,

I am so pleased to have a letter from you here upon my desk. Far too long has it been since I have had one like it; but the blame is not yours and more the fact of one troublesome man whose knee has finally caught up to the weight of his bluster. Please do not over-worry about my poor health; it is simply evidence that my age has finally caught up with my wit and that my bones are beginning to show for it.

I have enclosed a map of Ivyhold Manor produced by a cartographer that was part of the team I commissioned to search the place. I'm afraid it is in a rather rural part of our Kingdom, far from my comfortable seat here in Bryn Myridorn, and certainly further than I am able to travel given the healer's orders.

The fact that the key responded so sharply to your possession sits wrongly with me, Seldan. None of the commissioned team that found the key and searched the exterior of the house was of our family, so the fact that the key housed a spirit that was dangerous to the family was an unfortunate but inevitable oversight. It seems to me that there are two explanations: the key was haunted to ward off our family from the house as a protective measure, or as a malicious surprise for the next Padaryn to approach the house. Perhaps there is truth in both. Whatever the case, it proves my suspicion about the house is correct: there is something dark lurking in that house. And if we are to learn anything about the history of our family, it will be because of your efforts in ridding the place of its evil.

The family has been warned, save for your father, who, even with his bad knee, might be brash enough to go riding out to Ivyhold to sort the place out all by himself. Be assured that none of the family will seek the place out and interrupt you with your work, my dearest Seldan.

Yours always, Grandmother

Accompanying the letter is a very thorough map. It appears Ivyhold Manor is actually a rather large estate in the country, three stories tall and quite wide. Perhaps it was once used as a house for several generations and/or branches of the Padaryn family.

"It seems that this once belonged to the family, but has lain abandoned for some two hundred years," the paladin explains soberly. "A team sent to search it found a key, but when I grasped the key, it manifested a guardian that attacked me. It is in my mind that something dark lies within, for not idly would the family have abandoned such a place, and it seems that whatever has hold of it would not see its former owners return. I - Zeke shall accompany me, but I would take a few that I trust most. I cannot rule out the possibility that the dead lie not easily in that place, and thus did I think of you."

Verna focuses upon the parchment, specifically the letter, her eyes moving briskly yet precisely as she reads: a task with which she holds extensive experience. She yet listens as he speaks, as well. She considers all of this, and completes her reading, before rolling the scroll to offer it to him.

"It could well involve bound spirits of the deceased, or those from other realms. Of most important, however, is that it affects you and your family. I would earnestly offer any advice and aid I may, to include a venture with you to the manor. One should never be driven from one's own home, even in an indirect manner."

"I would most gratefully welcome your counsel, your aid, and your company. It may yet be a few days, ere we depart, but I would have it be soon. Is that too soon?" Seldan takes the parchment and rerolls it, then slips the leather binding back over it and slides it back into his sleeve, then sighs. "That is, perhaps, the less troubling matter of the two." His eyes are lowered, remaining on the floor, and only after a long minute do they lift to seek out hers. "The other is one that I would have you keep close, for it is - not one that I well understand. It does not seem wholly inimical, and yet is - disturbing." _I don't like it at all,_ his tone says. "Perhaps it is best, do I show you."

"When the guardian bit me, it took part of my hand off," he murmurs. "An injury most dire, and yet -"

From his side, a nasally old woman pipes up. "Seldan - what have you been hiding from us?" Remonstrance, with a little concern layered on top of it, fills her tone.

Verna nods lightly and then shakes her head in the negative in response to his initial comment and inquiry. "I accept the urgency. I shall be prepared. I-" Then the remainder of his explanation is parsed.

She blinks, then her eyes widen, and then they promptly lower to seek his limbs. "Seldan, you should not ignore any grievous injuries. Such are not a mark of zeal, or-" Verna pauses once more, this time with intention. An inhale. Her eyes lift back towards him. "Yes, it is best that you show me. I shall reserve evaluation until all the information is presented."

As it happens, Seldan's hands appear to be quite fine, with only what appears to be a long-healed scar across the joint of his thumb. "Peace, Reunion," he tells the voice steadily. "From all I can tell, it is not a thing of evil, and yet - yes, you should know. It may be that the truth shall for once and all silence those of you nagging me to sire children." A very small smile, a smirk, really, spreads across the even features as he draws a sidearm dagger from the opposite side of his weapon belt. "A magical effect seems to manifest when I am injured," he explains. "I would learn more of its - nature and origin. It may be that the guardian left this behind, or-"

He trails off, and holding the hand over his lap, effortlessly slashes a deep gash in his opposite hand. What wells up, though, is not just blood, or even mostly blood. Mingled with the crimson is a glittery black ooze-like substance that, were it not glittery, bears a disturbing resemblance to the ooze that caused the plague.

"Fear not," he says tightly, in the way that speaks of a good deal of discomfort. "It is not the plague, for I am not ill, and can cast magic freely without consequence."

From Verna's recoiling expression upon sight of the ooze, that may well be her immediate presumption. After his explanation, and a moment to observe the effect, her countenance relaxes. "Intriguing. Perhaps The Moon holds you to Her service and does not deem you yet exempt... or perhaps The Healer favors you... or The Harpist informs unequivocally that your time for judgement is not yet at hand."

Her eyes return to his. "I cannot explain that, nor its true source with certainty, yet it seems a great boon at this moment and I am pleased that you are well and whole." She then glances to Reunion. "I presume it is your ancestors who seek you to procreate, despite the biological complications in that endeavor." A brow arches. "Perhaps Malik and yourself would prefer to adopt a kitten or puppy?"

Seldan continues to hold his hand, in such a way that the Mourner can see, and even as the ooze spreads, the blood lessens. It is not wholly horrifying to look at - in its way, beautiful, really. At Seldan's side, Reunion erupts in a "What on earth is that?" There's a lot of chatter from his hip, concerned, indignant, warning, offended, but he ignores all of it, watching intently. Even as he does so, the wound - closes, in a matter of less than a minute, sealing itself off as if it had never been and leaving only the glittery black substance and the remnants of blood behind. Some of the first, even, begins to absorb back into the fair skin, even as he stares at it.

After a minute more, when no further change is evident, he swiftly casts a cantrip and cleans blade, skin, and everything else around him, and shows Verna the hand he'd sliced open. There is no evidence of it.

Verna tilts her head at full sight of the hand after it is cleaned by the cantrip. "A boon, indeed, unusual as it appears. Were it some manner of curse, there are innumerable alternatives far worse than such." She then nods lightly and succinctly. It is a mystery, indeed, yet not one that is urgent at this moment. Nor even hers to solve, most likely.

"Even so, and yet -" Seldan's eyes lower. "What I revealed to none is that the plague had permanent effects upon me, in ways that needed a _wish_ to unmake." He stares down at his hand, flexes it experimentally and a little gingerly, then sheathes the dagger back on its hip. "Malik or nay, even did I wed a woman, I do not wish to potentially sully my family line with magic unknown, be it curse or blessing. Thus is it best, do I not sire children at all." This candid admission is spoken with a quiet sigh. "Father's brother and his children carry the line most nobly. That shall have to suffice the Padaryn family."

Silence from Seldan's hip is an ominous thing. "I -"

He draws in another breath. "Do you think it not a matter for concern, then I shall take your wisdom into account. For the last thing, it was in my mind to possibly seek Lord Lupecyll-Atlon's aid, and perhaps that of the Lady as well, and yet is he - unfamiliar with such. Can be he trusted, do you think?"

Verna listens quietly to this and now takes a seat upon her own chair facing Seldan. Words are considered; his and her own to come. "That" a gesture to his hand, "does not appear an immediate threat. That is not to claim it is benign nor unimportant. I would lend whatever discovery or insight I might glean on that matter, and I wholly expect that Telamon and Cor'lana would offer the same. The manor, however, I would presume is the more urgent of the two?" There is some question to that as she seeks confirmation.

"As to your family line, that is a decision solely upon yourself, Seldan. It is your choice above all others', certainly. As well, I would do you great favor to not offer any advice on relationship, family, children or similar. Otherwise, I expect to lead you to disaster."

"It is. No counsel is required upon the matter of the family line, for the decision is made, and upon that point shall I not be moved." There's some protest from the blade at Seldan's hip, but he tells it, "Enough. I have good reason, and you shall live with it."

He then looks back up, his expression grave. "The manor is the greater matter. I would but have you be aware, that ou be not without warning should I be caught unawares by it."

"Indeed," Verna concurs, presumably on both or all matters. "I shall stand prepared for the venture and your candor on recent discoveries is appreciated."

"Very well, and for that do I have your thanks. Weighty matters aside, it has been some time since last we spoke." With business concluded, Seldan turns his topics to lighter things, inquires after family, but does not stay overly long, apologizing for consuming too much of Verna's valuable time.