The tick-tock of a gnomish clock outside broke the stillness of her office. Her desk was empty, save a quill, a few blank ledgers, a plant, and a hand written note. Zephilyn smiled as the clock distracted her. Abon had sold it to her, before leaving to follow Sepha Gentyl (perhaps more properly called Lady Gentyl now, but Zephilyn would always think of her as Sepha). Surprisingly, the clock told excellent time. Perhaps a first time for everything.
Sepha. The word sat in her mind. Like a small spot on a shirt that refused to go away. "Sepha", she said aloud, as if speaking it would make it more real, for it was Sepha Gentyl's desk at which she sat now. Her goodbye letter, opened and read many times, sitting prominently on the varnished wood. Zephilyn's eyes settled on the plant, a housewarming gift by Sir Martethus. She smiled softly at the thought. A good soul.
The silence and her reverie was broken by a chittering right next to her ear. She batted playfully at the runt sporebat, a lost orphan from her travels. It's glowing tail lights twirled in amusement and the chittering creature darted and weaved, tauntingly. "You are right, Epolani. Ruminations on the past do not take us closer to the future we desire." She stood, smoothing her robes out.
"There is much work to be done. As Sep... Lady Gentyl would say, Let's be about it." A smart turn out the door and down the stairs, the little sporebat cheeping and weaving about behind her. The Holy Guard may have a new commander, but she'd become a warlock before she let standards fall. Forward the White Banner.
Sepha. The word sat in her mind. Like a small spot on a shirt that refused to go away. "Sepha", she said aloud, as if speaking it would make it more real, for it was Sepha Gentyl's desk at which she sat now. Her goodbye letter, opened and read many times, sitting prominently on the varnished wood. Zephilyn's eyes settled on the plant, a housewarming gift by Sir Martethus. She smiled softly at the thought. A good soul.
The silence and her reverie was broken by a chittering right next to her ear. She batted playfully at the runt sporebat, a lost orphan from her travels. It's glowing tail lights twirled in amusement and the chittering creature darted and weaved, tauntingly. "You are right, Epolani. Ruminations on the past do not take us closer to the future we desire." She stood, smoothing her robes out.
"There is much work to be done. As Sep... Lady Gentyl would say, Let's be about it." A smart turn out the door and down the stairs, the little sporebat cheeping and weaving about behind her. The Holy Guard may have a new commander, but she'd become a warlock before she let standards fall. Forward the White Banner.
