Thedor 43, 229: Temple Gardens

Temple Gardens
Summary: Prayers at the Temple of Trueborn turns into a long stroll in the garden for Luna and Ronan on the afternoon before he will make his night's vigil at the temple.
OOC Date: 12/02/2014 (OOC)
Related: Sutherland logs to do with Ronan and Roslin's wedding.
Brendolyn Luna Ronan 
Temple of Trueborn, Sutherland
This spacious building has been erected in the honor of the Eight. A round rotunda in form with a domed roof, it has eight large arched doorways spaced all the way around to admit worshipers. An alcove alter is set between each archway with a statue of each God or Goddess with an offering table, candles, and kneeling pads on the stone floor. Slim staircases allow access to the upper story balcony where eight intricately pieced stained glass rose windows pay homage to the Gods and Goddesses. The light that passes down through the rose windows in the day time bathes the stone flooring below in many colors. At all other hours filigree ironwork sconces with beeswax candles illuminate the interior.

This is an elegant temple, lavish with carved stone, gilt work, colored mosaics, parqueted stone patterns in the floor, and handsome woodwork pews capable of seating many people. A lectern stands in the center of the floor for sermons or weddings, surrounded by many circles of pews with eight slender aisles coming to the center. A discreet, smaller door is tucked beneath each of the staircases to allow access for the Priesthood to other parts of the temple on each side. Eight Sutherland knights are posted at all times to keep the temple and worshipers safe from harm or theft.

Thedor 43, 229.

There are no other patients currently staying over, as his was the only grievous injury. Once Luna is certain the stubborn man will rest, she moves toward the infirmary entrance and presses her palms together in the traditional greeting. Lowering her voice so as not to disturb Cian, she intones to the newcomer and her maid, "Light shine upon you both." As though the pair were equals. "Do you require healing or would you like to speak in the main room?" Vivid green eyes take the two women in a quick head-to-toe inspection as she asks the question.

Brendolyn looks to Luna then smiles, "Thank you and no, we are not in need of care. I am Brendolyn Haravaen and I brought some things for any whoe need it on behalf of my House," she answers, then looks to the basket. It has bread, pastry, wine, and most any other applicable food item all neatly stowed in the basket and covered with a cloth. "I had heard there were injuries at the hunt," she explains.

A few horses stop outside of the temple. Knights and squires dismount and with them, the Duke of Sutherland. The horses are tied and two men left to watch over them while the rest file into the temple as quietly as their faintly chiming spurs allow. Each of the knights, as is Sutherland custom, wear eight pointed rawls on their heels - silver in the case of regular knights, and gold for the Rioga, which is Ronan.

The Duke is garbed in shades of blues and shows no signs of fresh injury. His dark eyes take in the temple where preparations have already begun for the upcoming wedding, even if changes aren't obvious yet. They will begin to be today as huge bolts of fabric will be used to drape the balcony, banners for the two uniting Houses hung, the beeswax candles to be replaced with new, and so forth.

Each of the knights and squires, 6 in total including the Duke himself, spread out to go to the various alters to give their prayers. Ronan of course goes to Sess's alter first, though some days he does visit others as well.

"A few, yes, but only one harsh enough to keep the patient here — until the wedding, if the man has any sense." Luna's tone makes it rather clear she expects this will not be the case. "It was very kin-" Her gaze flickers past the young women before her, toward the main room where the Duke and his entourage enter.

Pulling her attention back, she finishes. "Kind of you to think of them. If you like, you may /quietly/ leave the basket by his bedside. He may be glad to eat more than the simple fare the Temple provides." After all, the vow of poverty taken by all clergy means their meals are not exactly gourmet. "Then we should step back into the main area and let him sleep."

Brendolyn glances toward the main room when Luna's gaze shifts that direction then she nods to the priestess, "Well there is enough for more than just one person, do please share it with any who need it," she says, then Gwyn picks up the basket and sets it near Cian's bedside. Bren inclines her head at the suggestion to move and then steps into the main Temple area, quiet and respectful.

Ronan stops before the statue of Sess and then kneels, getting down on his knees before the altar. He draws his arming sword as well as his dagger and lays the naked blades on the altar, mindful of his spurs on the heels of his boots when he sits back. His eyes closing, the Duke relaxes to focus upon his prayers while his squire, Kierne Kincaid, stands quietly back to keep an eye on things until it is his turn to offer prayers. The other knights and squires are doing much the same at various other alters, each of them likely waiting their turn to visit Sess's as well, since he and Alasair are primary gods among fighting men. All the same, some pay their respects to Umbra, Cri, Nar, Thedor, and so forth for various reasons or merely to honor them all from time to time, as is appropriate. Well, maybe not so much Inouv.

Once back in the beautiful main room, Luna's gaze looks over the men before shifting toward the statue of Sess. There it lingers a bit too long, her smirk reappearing in a private gesture. One of the nearby priests catches the look, his brow raising in what seems to be shock. His head cants, an unspoken question clearly on his face. The priestess' smirk merely deepens and she winks at the man. Whatever silence conversation just occurred, he seems to suddenly feel the need to replace the candles on the far side of the Temple, away from her.

A small laugh bubbles past her lips, breaking the peace of this holy place. "I apologize," she says quietly to Brendolyn and the maid. Letting her eyes focus again on the Duke, she leans in toward the noblewoman beside her to ask, "Have you two been properly introduced yet, my lady?"

Brendolyn clasps her hands and her attention falls to Ronan for a moment before the back-and-forth between the priestess and priests catches her eye. She is polite and merely smiles, "No apology necessary," she replies in a quiet tone then she nods her head, "Oh yes, quite, thank you for asking," she says of having met Ronan, her gaze shifting back to him for a moment before she looks around the Temple again.

The Duke sits still for a little while, then briefly bows until his brow lightly touches the floor at Sess's feet. Ronan then regathers his sword and dagger to sheath them ere he rises and steps back to let Kierne take his place. Though his abdomen is stiff with recently healed wounds, the Rioga doesn't let it keep him from paying his proper respects to the Gods. Ronan dusts off his knees and briefly speaks low with another of his knights. He turns and starts to walk over towards Alasair's altar when his dark eyes catch sight of the other two. A smile eases his otherwise stern face and the Crawford changes his direction to go and greet Luna and Brendolyn with a slight bow, "Lady Brendolyn, Priestess, good zenith. I trust the day finds you both well?"

"Excellent," Luna replies to Brendolyn's affirmation. When the Duke nears, he receives the standard press of palms in greeting. "All days in the Light are well, Your Grace. It is a pleasure to see you again." She glances down his form, then back up to his eyes and gives a small nod of satisfaction. "And quite on the mend, it seems. How do you feel?" As though he would admit to any weakness.

Brendolyn brightens a smile at Ronan then curtsies, "I am quite well, thank you, good to see that you are too," she answers then she smiles over at Luna and inclines her head. "I must take my leave, if you'd both excuse me," she says then she and her maid exit the temple, taking the Haravaen guards as well.

Brendolyn leaves, heading towards the City of Trueborn [CT].

"I am quite well, Priestess, thank you. I kept my word and abstained from the hunt, though I was eager to partake of it. I hold myself in reserve to mend well enough in the hope that I may yet participate in the upcoming tournament in Darfield." Ronan's baritone rumbles low. He smiles faintly, a more relaxed and content man than he has been these past months, about to marry.

To Brendolyn he inclines his head, "Of course, lady Haravean. Enjoy your day." The Duke waits until she is departed, Ronan's attention returning to Luna herself. He keeps his voice low, "I know you are not a member specifically of /this/ temple, but as I probably know you as well as any Priest or Priestess here, I … wish to know if you have a little time to spare me? Tomorrow I wed, but tonight I would fast and stand Vigil in the temple. Ere I may do so, I must prepare myself and give confession. Will you hear it?"

It's not something Ronan is very comfortable asking, but well, she is clergy and he is a knight before he is aught else, even a Duke. He watches her face closely to judge if he chooses wisely, or should seek another.

A nod of approval is offered when the Duke speaks of having abstained from the hunt this close to the wedding. Luna's smile grows as he reiterates his very proper intent to stand vigil. It suddenly disappears and her white eyebrows lift substantially at his very /improper/ request that follows.

Once she smooths her features, regret is clear in her tone and eyes. "Your Grace, you know only a priest can take confession from a man. Considering your status here, I imagine the Enlightened himself would be not only happy, but expectant to be the one you turn to for this important honor."

In a heartbeat, her expression shifts and a slow smirk tugs on one corner of her lips. Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispers, "Of course, if you were to ask for my /guidance/, I certainly would oblige. Clearly, you would benefit from a woman's perspective on the eve of your wedding." More clearly, that is the excuse she intends to give if called out on skirting that line of tradition.

Hmmm, she raises a good point. Ronan clears his throat, then huffs a breath softly, "Clearly … it has been some time since I offered confession and I have been far too remiss, forgive me. I don't know if the leader of your order has come down from Darfield to join us. I thought mayhap you would suggest someone suitable." Yes, of course that's what the Rioga meant all along. It's probably been /years/ since Ronan thought to make confession, haha.

A dark brow is lifted at her to the part about a woman's perspective concerning his wedding. "I am not, at the moment, in need of any particular guidence but if you have something you care to share as pertains to the wedding, or … after, I will listen. I have certainly never been married before." So yeah, this is all new to him though Ronan expects he can figure it out.

"Are you not?" The question is asked after he denies a need for guidance. A brief look of exasperation comes over the priestess' features when the man does not seem to be entirely playing along. An eyebrow arches as Luna wryly notes, "That makes two of us." After a wink for the man, she continues congenially, "Still, my years in service to the Eight have provided me with quite a bit of useful information regarding marriage. And my time and position with your bride allows me to offer even more valuable advice than standard experience alone."

She looks toward the door leading to the private areas for clergy before continuing. "As for who would take your confession, as I said, I imagine the Enlightened of this Temple would expect and welcome it. After all, he is the one who runs all aspects of this Temple and Your Grace runs all aspects of this city."

Her lips purse in consideration, gaze once again taking the man's features in fully as she taps steepled fingers against her mouth. "It would be far easier to advise you if I were to come to know you better, Your Grace. I mean this both now and in the future. It is difficult for you to trust, which is to your credit in certain ways, but I am more than willing to wait and simply be available until you come to that point with me. I expect it will take years."

Well, he is trying. It's all rather awkward for Ronan. To some degree, he confesses one thing, "To be honest, I have not spoken much with him. I used to know the old Enlightened but I have barely met this new one, Priestess. I think I have already annoyed him with my gruffness." Amusement is in his dark eyes, "I am much accustomed to giving orders and I think he's less accustomed to to following them, when they come from a young Duke, Priestess." Ah yes, a few sparks there already. Ronan is so good at bumping heads or bolling over people.

He listens to Luna and gives a faint nod towards the door beneath the stair where they might withdraw to speak more privately. "Aye, you are right in that. Some things take time to become viable, or not. Let us speak a little and see where things go. My men will be a while at their prayers."

A spark enters those green eyes at the small confession and Luna's smirk turns into a full-fledged grin. "It seems we have yet another thing in common, Your Grace. His Holiness is already quite irritated with me. You see, I have grown accustomed to going out each day to speak with the people, particularly those unable to attend Temple, and offer what services I might — confession, healing, education, and the like."

Her nose wrinkles, that small gesture making her appear even younger than her smooth skin already suggests. "He is strongly against this unorthodox practice and is upset because he feels the people will come to expect it. Once I leave, he does not wish to have that burden upon his shoulders." Her head tips in acknowledgement. "While he has a point, I rather feel this /should/ be standard practice." The troublemaker. "Although matters of Faith are always handled internally, I wonder what your take on the situation is, Your Grace."

Ronan chuckles, amused as he listens and the Duke glances back to his men, but they are tending to their prayers, as they should, or speaking low with the knights on rotation to watch the temple as they wait their turns at the various altars. The Rioga moves to walk with Luna as they head for the door.

"Is it not standard practice already? I thought that it was for many a time I have seen clergy do so. It seems a necessary part of your responsibilities to go and see to the sick, the elderly, the unenlightented - to reach out to them. If he thinks otherwise, I should have words with him /myself/ and urge it. Donations to the temple are not for the glory of the temple and it's clergy alone, but to aid our community when it is in need. And to work closely with the Healer's College. Particularly where orphans are concerned."

Despite his rank, Ronan steps foreward to open the door for Luna as is a knight's practice to do so for a woman, to show respect for her in such politeness. He will then follow her.

The priestess is quick to nod. "For the sick and disabled, we always have done so, Your Grace. However, I have come to offer this to any and all, including those of able body. I am well aware there are those who rarely, if ever, come to the Temple for reasons other than health." With a shake of her head, she notes, "I am not comfortable with allowing them to damn themselves when I have two perfectly good legs to take me to them. That simple act has caused a swell in attendance in the Temple back in the city." Dryly, she adds, "Which also adds to the donation coffers, if that is of particular concern to His Holiness."

Luna's words trail off when the Duke holds the door for her. With a smirk, she notes, "It might anger His Holiness more were I to use his office in his absence. Would you oblige me with a walk through the Temple gardens instead?"

"I am quite certain the primary draw is the finding of the scrolls recently. As the weather warms in the north and the war allows, I expect you will see such an influx of pilgrimagers as you have likely not seen in your lifetime, Priestess. I warned Prince Tyrel when he thought to … secure the scrolls, that the castle would find itself besieged with pilgrims from all over Mobrin by spring, and did he really wish to deal with thousands of people streaming through the castle? I forsee a resurgeance in our faith as we have not had in centuries, Priestess. And in this time of war, this is a good thing, to bolster us and lend us strength through our faith, and in the favour of the Gods for our victory."

Aye, there is little to swell men's hearts to fight with their all as the belief that they do the will of the Gods. The Duke nods, "The gardens would suit admirably." And so they soon step out of the temple and into the pattern of eight entertwined knotwork gardens filled with herbs, spring flowers, small ornamental tress, arbors and eight widely spaced benches. A lovelier and more peaceful place can't be found anywhere in the city. Clearly Sutherland puts a good deal of money and attention into their temple, here as indeed it is /the/ focus of the city.

Admiration shines in Luna's appraising gaze. With a deep nod, she notes, "I imagine you are quite correct, on all points, Your Grace." Upon entering the gardens, the priestess suddenly stops. Her eyes widen slightly and brow gently lifts, along with the corners of her mouth. The smile is soft and serene. "It is… breathtaking," she whispers, as though sound might ruin the beauty before her.

Although it is simpler than the one in the capitol, she seems genuinely awed by it. She steps toward a row of blended tulips and reaches out to brush her fingertips along the tops of the petals that sway gently in the light breeze. "From the building to the flora, this place is a work of divinely inspired art." Glancing sidelong at Ronan, she adds with a throaty chuckle. "Divinely inspired and well-funded. My most heartfelt thanks to Your Grace all House Rioga."

Ronan takes his time to look around for he has not been in these gardens himself for some months, and then only briefly, "The temple was raided when Trueborn Keep was burned, but the temple itself was not damaged. I think the Laniveer, or whomever came, did not wish the ire of the gods too much .. yet I think it is proof that it was the Laniveer who were behind the murder of my family. For who in Mobrin would loot a temple and not fear the retribution of the Eight? Priests and Priestesses were also put to the sword who resisted."

The Duke thins his mouth, "I have put funds forth to restore the temple first and foremost, though as said, not much real damage was done other than theft. I can take credit for no more than that, for Sutherland herself has long seen to the needs of our temples long since the time of the Empire's rise." Yet the Duke smiles, "I am pleased that you like what you see."

Luna turns to face him more fully. "You give yourself too little credit, Your Grace." Her eyes narrow slightly, focusing first on his forehead, then trailing over his shoulder and stopping at his heart. With a gentle purse of her lips, she murmurs, "Intriguing." As quickly as it came, the odd mood seems to flee. A playful grin appears and she asks, "What is the most impetuous action you have ever taken, regardless of its outcome?"

Does he have a tough of grit sticking to his brow from his bow to Sess's likeness? Ronan eyes her, studying himself, then lifts a hand to rub his brow in the event it's dirty. No. At least he doesn't look like an idiot walking around with dirt on his face and not know it. Ronan is not accustomed to people looking at him … quite like that. It felt weird.

"Impetus action … as in driven?" The Duke lightly clasps his hands behind his back and slowly walks through the garden's knotwork pathes with her. It's not a large garden so the pathes are rather narrow, "What comes to mind at that question is my father's death. Once the Laniveer cut him down and decimated Sutherland forces in northern Weston, our men began to flee. I was but a squire not yet with spurs upon my heels, but /someone/ had to regroup our remaining forces. Someone had to decide what was to be done. Our King needed us. Westgate was under seige." Ronan stops and looking off at nothing in particular, he remembers, "I led them to Westgate to Sir Roane's aid. I fully expected we would all die, us Suthrelanders. We were vastly outnumbered and without the protection of the keep."

After a moment he adds low, "They would not follow me until they put the spurs to my heels, and then we went."

Luna sucks in her lips to lessen the depth of her smirk when the young man reacts to the way she looked at him. At his question, she starts to part her lips, but closes them once more and lets him speak instead. Her fingertips touch, hands idly steepled in a looser version of the traditional greeting. Her head leans in slightly to hear the quieter words, then nods and straightens.

At length, she replies, "I actually asked about your most impetuous — impulsive, even rash — action, but that tale was quite information. It speaks to your character on various levels." Gravel crunches gently beneath her feet and the long ends of the golden rope tied at her waist sway by her ankles. "Are you particularly close to Sir Roane as a result of that event?" It seems she will let him off the hook for the other question… for fun.

Ah, in that light she gets Ronan to chuckle, "Well … " the Rioga knight thinks about that but suddenly the humor drops from his face and eyes. His mouth thins, "I have been too brash on many occasions, but one in particular was not wise. At Council, and then after when speaking with the Queen. Sometimes I have … perhaps, too much pride and anger when I think I am ill used." Bitterness colors his tone. Ronan shifts his jaw and glances to Luna but gives her no details of his private meeting with the Queen on that night. Whatever happened, he's not quite been the same man he was, since then. A hint of shame. House Kilgour did not retract the offer of marriage with their daughter so it seems whatever it was smoothed over.

The Duke doesn't seem inclined to wish to speak of that topic further. Instead, Ronan says as they walk together, "Not particularly. He and I have had little contact then, or since. Yet he has my respect all the same for standing his ground and not giving in. The Gods were with us for the other Houses of Mobrin and the King's forces arrived barely in time to turn the tide and drive the Laniveer into retreat. But, we did hold out in that hope."

The priestess nods to the talk of Roane and war. "There is much to be said for standing one's ground. There is also much to be said for subjugating one's stubborn nature. Wisdom is knowing when to do which." She pauses before a spray of tiger lilies and bends over. Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply as a wide grin spreads over her face.

Without warning, she addresses the earlier issue brought up by the Duke. "I never did understand why she attempted to force you into the match by announcing it before all the Council before you had been consulted." Luna looks sidelong at him. "Unless she thought you might not agree, but the impression I had was that you were /quite/ amenable to marrying Princess Roslin."

"She did no such thing. The Queen had asked me privately sometime before if … I might accept the match as an alternative to marrying Princess Nima of the Kundari. The Kundari alliance was valuable and needed, but the Laniveer war ships I hoped to obtain for Sutherland were reported destroyed. Which proved later not to be the case." Ronan stops when Luna pauses to smell the flowers. He shifts his hands to hook his thumbs loosely into his sword belt, "Though I was very concerned about … missing an opportunity to bind the Kundari to Mobrin's side in the war, it was … a very difficult match for Sutherland and my House. We have long standing hatred of the Kundari. My own lady mother was lost due to them."

A slow breath, Ronan's gaze skimming over the temple gardens, "I have admired the Princess Roslin since we met upon my return to Darfield, as Duke. She has a sharp mind for her young years. I never dared to think seriously that House Kilgour would support such a match after … the ills of my sister and Prince Logen. Not to mention House Kilgour already had wed the Lady Terriwyn to my brother Cedric."

"I could say the match was likely meant as a way to show all that no lasting harm was done between the houses after the damage caused by the prince and your sister." Luna glances toward him and smirks. "I could… were I not bound to honesty."

She crouches before the fragrant flowers, sitting back on her heels and taking care to sweep her white robe out of the way of the dirty ground and into her lap. Her words flow smoothly as she caresses and plays with the petals and stems. Undoubtedly, her fingers will smell of tiger lily for hours to come.

"While a match between you and the Kundari would have been difficult for your people as well as you, personally, it could have gone a long way toward healing the rift. Perhaps not at first, but with the birth of your children and them ruling here well, it is probable many pains would have been soothed." Her tone is light, despite the throaty quality of her voice, and she continues unabashed.

"One could easily argue that would have served the kingdom far better from a purely political standpoint. After all, as you noted to me some time ago, Houses Kilgour and Crawford are already rather tightly bound through blood and marriage. It begs the question, then." She plucks a flower from near the back, where it will not be obvious, and weaves it into her tight, thick white curls with deft fingers.

Green eyes turn up to him, warmth softening the obvious amusement dancing within. "Why make the inferior political match? If it was not for the cold, calculating reason of logic, what remains? What could have swayed Their Majesties in so important a decision?" Her tone makes it obvious she is leading him toward the answer she already knows. It is implicitly shared when she stands leans in close to whisper in his ear, "Be the man your Duchess will need you to be." Then she moves as though she intends to walk past him.

There are many reasons and some of which he will not give voice to. Yet Ronan says as he watches the Priestess now, "To secure my House, should I fall in the coming war. I will not remain in Sutherland when I am Rioga, Duke or no, not for the sake of my House. So a match was needed with urgency. And … House Kilgour was aware that I had been greatly insulted. Not .. precisely over the Kundari match, but in other ways. I think they desired to … make amends, and .. had learned that I was … more fond of the Princess Roslin that I should have allowed myself." Ah, that is another confession of sorts.

The Duke eyes Luna warily at sharing such confidence with her, whatever she thinks. Then she's stepping close and makes her cryptic whisper. Ronan's dark brows furrow, "What is that supposed to mean, Priestess?" Does she suggest he would be anything unmanly?

Luna's eyebrow is arched skeptically, her amusement heightening as he goes through the other reasons. That small admittance of his feelings at the end has her nodding in satisfaction, as though it were closer to the mark. "It is a truly interesting coincidence that shortly after personal feelings were made known to certain influential parties, the announcement of your match to the princess was made." With a smirk, she adds, "But yes, of course, those other reasons must have had some influence." She seems to believe it a rather small one, though.

His question, or perhaps the expression on his face when she turns back to him, causes a chuckle to escape. "What it means," she says while walking back to him. "Is that I strongly recommend you take special care to be her support when she wants to rise, but also her guardrail when she teeters near the edge. Be her protector, but do not cage her. Light up her light, as she alights yours, but do not burn the world around you in the process." Like his sister and Logen did.

There is a hard edge to her voice, almost a warning, yet without any sense of danger. "Strive to make her smile each day, but know that at times you will have to make her temporarily angry to do what is best. You are both passionate, opinionated, and can be rash at times. These are simultaneously your greatest strengths and weaknesses. Know it, /own/ it, and they will strengthen you both more than they will harm you."

Suddenly, she is all smiles and light tones again. "That is all I meant, Your Grace." Simple.

The Duke of Sutherland eyes Luna, studying her as he listens. A lot of people have told him to his face lately what sort of person he is, for good or ill, with various flavours. Ronan keeps his silence as she speaks and makes no move to interrupt. Whatever he is thinking he keeps to himself. But when she is finished, he lets out a breath and curls one side of his mouth slightly. His gaze slips from her to the temple and the grounds, "There is no need to be concerned that I would smother her, nor let her go too far. In so far as I am around to do so. I have been alone too long, away from my family. Now the burdens of my duties have grown 100 fold heavier than they were and I am glad to have a capable woman to stand by me. She is very young yet, but she has an inner strength and clarity of mind I value, and will work to develope further. I'm certainly not threatened by it."

Ronan takes a few steps away from the flowers to look at the herbs. Ah, there isn't any rosemary close to hand but there is lavender. The Rioga picks a sprig of it and rubs it between his calloused hands to enjoy the scent of it. "We will have little enough time together, she and I. We'll have to make the most of it."

Luna's smile is easy now. "I am glad to hear it. She is fortunate to have you." Spotting an acolyte hesitating in the doorway, the priestess lets out a small sigh. "Your Grace, I fear I must take my leave of your fine company. It has been an even greater pleasure than it was the first time. May the Light shine through you." She presses her hands together and lightly dips her head — the latter reserved when a priestess addresses royalty.

He may well not know the honor she pays him by bowing her head but he politely inclines his head in return unto her, "My ramblings are hardly worth the time to listen to, Priestess. I should get back to my men myself and make my preparations for tonight's vigil." Bathing, white tunics, laying out all his arms and armour at the altars, offerings to make, and a night of fasting and prayer that lay ahead for him to purge and cleanse himself for the wedding. "I wish you a good evening." The Crawford turns, keeping the sprig of lavendar in hand, and goes back into the temple to collect his men if they are finished with their own prayers.

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