ROTR Session 25

A dish served cold

[GM's Note: Before we continue on our way to the Temple of Iomedae we flash back to a dinner served in the Foxglove Townhouse just a day earlier.]   Despite Cletus’ unease, the Sentinels reached the Foxglove Townhouse in Magnimar’s Naos district without much trouble. He recognized the name from a map he’d once studied: the Foxglove River, winding between Sandpoint and Magnimar. Whether the river lent its name to the family, or the family to the river, mattered little, his stomach growled too loudly for him to puzzle it out.
The townhouse stood in quiet dignity, less ostentatious than its marble-clad neighbors. Its darker stonework lent it a slightly somber air, but no less refinement. The decorated knocker rang out, and soon the door opened to reveal Lucienzo, Aldern’s servant, the very same who had accompanied him in Sandpoint.
Gone was the reserved, cautious demeanor the Sentinels remembered. Lucienzo now greeted them with open warmth. "Ah friends! Thank you for joining the dinner, it’s lovely to have you here." He ushered them inside with eager hands.
"Having a fancy meal, at a fancy place in Magnimar. I can’t say no to this." Cletus declared with a grin.
"And you shouldn’t." Lucienzo replied smoothly. "Tonight is actually a happy occasion, master Foxglove has allowed me the privilege to expose the painting that you have requested myself. I'll do so before I take you up to the dining room."

  He guided them into a side chamber, intimate yet richly adorned, where four chairs had been arranged around a veiled easel draped in silk. Once they were seated, Lucienzo straightened his posture, a flicker of pride in his eye.
"Without any further ado.." he announced, and with a dramatic flourish whisked away the cloth. "The saving of Sandpoint!"
The oil painting was nothing short of remarkable, each brushstroke painstakingly labored over to capture motion and detail. It depicted Jinx, Rabie, and Vannrik with Pious boldly at the forefront, striking down goblins in the streets of Sandpoint. At Pious’s side, however, stood Aldern Foxglove, sword raised as if leading the charge.
Lucienzo watched them intently, his eyes hungry for their reaction.
"My, that’s quite a heroic pose," Cletus remarked, studying the scene with a tilt of his head.
Jinx leaned in closer, squinting at the canvas. Something about it was off. He caught Vannrik’s eye, and the Jadwiga seemed to notice it too. The section depicting Aldern gleamed differently, the strokes sharper, glossier, clearly the hand of another artist.
"Did you add him to the painting?" Vannrik asked carefully. "It seems a bit out of place on the painting, it doesn’t really fit the rest of the aesthetics very well."
Lucienzo’s shoulders slumped, courage draining out of him. "Well, the master did not like my original rendition. He thought that this addition was necessary. So he had some retouching done by different artists."
"I’m sorry that he did that to you," Vannrik said softly. "That seems awful."
The servant-turned-painter sighed heavily. "Well, it has to be to the master's liking, of course." He straightened his back, forcing composure. "Still, I was grateful for the opportunity to work on this. Normally I fill what little free time I have with sketch art. I don’t have too much time to properly paint. I am honored to have made this. But please, I have not yet heard if you liked it."
Cletus nodded, genuinely impressed. "Like I said; yes. I like it. I’ve never seen Pious before but this looks almost lifelike." The girl’s features were striking, almost otherworldly, she could have been mistaken for an Aasimar. Cletus nudged Jinx with an elbow. "Look Jinx, you look so much grander in the painting."
Jinx arched a thick brow, unimpressed. "Are we talking about size again?"
"We’re always talking about size." Cletus grinned.
The gnome groaned. "I’ve never heard any complaints."
Lucienzo cleared his throat, trying to restore some decorum. "I see that not everyone is present in the painting. One day I have to redo it with the new group."
Vannrik leaned forward, voice steady with praise. "I look forward to it. But the painting looks amazing. You have outdone yourself."
"And I agree with my friend," Jinx added. "You do exquisite work."
Lucienzo dipped in a graceful bow. "Thank you so much."
Jinx raised a finger. "Just one question; how long did it take you to finish this?"
"Well, it happened over the course of multiple days. Many hours per day since our return from Magnimar," Lucienzo stammered, as if realizing only now how consumed he’d been. "It was an important project for the master. He spared no expense in materials."
Cletus leaned closer, eyes narrowing at Aldern’s glossy form. "I’m still curious why he would hire another painter to complete the painting to his liking?"
Lucienzo’s face tightened. "He was not happy with my rendition of his form."
"So why didn’t he ask you to fix it?" Vannrik pressed.
"I’m afraid that I do not know. It does bring me no small amount of shame. But I guess the master wanted his likeness to be perfect."
Jinx placed a reassuring hand on Lucienzo’s arm. "Perfect is in the eye of the beholder I say. I assume it was perfect before."
"Well, we won’t be scraping off the paint to see the original. But I guess, as long as it is to your liking, then it is perfect," Lucienzo said, a tentative smile flickering across his lips. "And maybe if the master were persuaded I could provide some finishing touches."
Jinx gave his arm a light squeeze. "Another question, how has he been treating you since we last met? I remember him trying to make you walk while we were on horseback. Has he been treating you any better or did nothing change?"
"I consider the fact that he has allowed all of this leisure time for me instead of service is quite good. He did hire some additional servants, the duties are now more spread out," Lucienzo explained. "I do want to thank you actually. I wanted to thank you at the end of the night but you have beaten me to it for that great lesson that you have bestowed upon the master."
"You should tell me about that story someday, Jinx." Cletus chimed in.
"Perhaps we could do it over dinner," Lucienzo suggested, voice smooth as silk. "I was only permitted half a turn of the hour glass for my exposition, while the lord and the lady are powdering themselves and getting ready for the dinner."

  The Sentinels ascended the polished staircase, Lucienzo leading the way. The townhouse was meticulously kept; not a book, vase, or trinket was out of place. Yet for all its precision, the home felt curiously hollow. Cushions on a passing chair looked soft and inviting, but bore no sign of ever being used. This was a house arranged for display, not for living.
"This brings back memories," Cletus murmured, his eyes scanning the scene with a distant air.
"You used to be an aristocrat?" Vannrik asked.
"No, no. I used to serve back in Westcrown in a temple actually. But, you know, the most high ranking officers are always those of noble blood," Cletus explained, his tone carrying a trace of old bitterness.
"Ah, yeah. Got to love nepotism," Vannrik replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
A well-practiced, hollow smile tugged at Cletus’ lips. "I spent a lot of time playing servant to high lords and high ladies who think they made up the best of the temple's forces."
From the head of the line, Lucienzo spoke without turning. "Well, I hope that just like you I can learn to rise above."
Cletus blinked, surprised they had been overheard. "Have I?" he wondered aloud. "I did find another calling. But rising above.."
"Don’t you like it here, my friend?" Jinx asked gently. "Would you rather be somewhere else?"
Lucienzo shook his head with quiet conviction. "No. I consider this an apprenticeship of sorts. Master Foxglove teaches me in decorum and high society."
"If there is anything you need, you can always find me in Sandpoint," Jinx said with steady warmth.

  Lucienzo paused before the dining room door, straightening his posture. "I’m pretty sure that when Master finds the time, we will visit."
The dining room was intimate, its table laid out with polished silver and fine glassware. Aldern Foxglove and his lady, Iesha, were already waiting. Aldern leapt eagerly from his chair, his face alight. "Friends! Good evening, nice of you to join us. I’ve been looking forward to this day. Please be seated." He bustled about, pulling out chairs for the Sentinels. In their company, the nobleman almost resembled a servant himself.
When all were settled, Aldern’s gaze lingered on one empty chair. "Excuse me, might I ask. Where is the Saerenite? The lady."
"Pious?" Vannrik clarified.
"Pious, yes," Aldern said with a fond smile. "Is she not with you?"
"No," Vannrik answered. "She left the group a while back."
A flicker of disappointment shadowed Aldern’s face. "She’s no longer a valorous defender of Sandpoint? That’s a shame. Do you know where she is?"
"The church recalled her to Magnimar , needing her services. If I remember correctly," Cletus offered.
"In Magnimar? I’m afraid that I did not hear about this," Aldern mused, before brushing the matter aside with a wave. "I have some refreshments ready on the table."
The wineglasses had already been poured, Aldern had not thought to ask what they wished to drink.
With sudden excitement, he clapped his hands together. "I will make my way to the kitchen! The dinner is ready, I will get it." And without further ado, he hurried off, leaving the Sentinels in the company of Lucienzo and the quietly poised Lady Iesha.
Lady Iesha sat with her wine, absently swirling the liquid in her glass. Her voice, heavy with disinterest, cut into the quiet. "Well, like I said earlier today, you’re welcome to join us for dinner. It is good to have such esteemed company. My lord husband can hardly stop talking about you."
"Thank you for the invitation," Jinx replied, courteous despite her tone. "I hope you will enjoy the dinner too."
"Yes, well. We wired a cook," the Varisian woman said flatly, still toying with the wine instead of drinking it.
From the kitchen came clattering, plates, silverware, movement. Aldern was taking his time.
"Your husband is really happy to serve by himself. He must be in a very good mood," Cletus remarked, trying to lighten the air.
"Yeah, he has taken a liking to you lot," she replied, finally lifting her gaze from the glass. Her eyes fixed on Cletus. "Even though I don’t remember you from the painting. Which one are you again?"
"Oh, I just joined at the end of the adventure. My name is Cletus," the tiefling said with a respectful nod.
"Hello there, Cletus. I never would have guessed that we would entertain your kind at our dinner table." Her stare cut sharp, ensuring her meaning was not lost.
Cletus shrank a little into his chair. "Neither would I, my lady. I am truly honored. And grateful!" His voice stumbled slightly.
Sensing the weight of the exchange, Vannrik jumped in. "Do you like magic tricks?" he asked brightly.
The lady arched a brow. "Do I like magic tricks?"
"Is your wine cold enough?" Vannrik pressed on.
She lifted the glass to her nose, inhaling the aroma. "I assume, no?" she said, her tone inviting some spectacle.
With a small motion of his hand, the liquid chilled. Frost gathered on the rim of the glass as if winter itself had crept into the room. "Oh," she murmured, pressing the glass against her throat to test its coolness. "Thank you."
Still she fidgeted with the glass. "That is a nice magic trick. You are a magic user of some kind?"
"I can control water and ice, so yeah," Vannrik admitted. "I have an infinite supply of water, which is quite useful while adventuring."
"I’m sure that it is," she said, her eyes narrowing as though measuring him. "Is that a trick that you could teach our washerwoman? She always takes such a long time to stroll down to the local well."
Vannrik shook his head. "That would take years of training."
"Those are years that we do not have." Her voice grew sharp, and she cast a glare at the kitchen door. "Those are years that we do not have!" she repeated, this time aimed at her husband.
"Coming, darling!" Aldern’s voice called back cheerfully from the kitchen.

  Aldern returned, carefully balancing an array of plates. He set down platters of duck glazed with apricots, along with bowls of quail eggs, an ostentatious spread that declared wealth as much as taste. Taking his seat beside Iesha, he beamed. "Please, sit and enjoy our hospitality." His smile was proud, almost boastful.
Cletus took the first bite, and froze. The duck was cold. He glanced toward Vannrik and Jinx, noting the flicker of the same realization on their faces. Cold duck. He had prepared meals for noble lords in Cheliax and beyond, and never once had he heard of such a thing. In Westcrown, a servant would be flogged for this. Perhaps it was some Magnimarian eccentricity… but it didn’t sit right.
The hosts, however, ate heartily, with more vigor than their guests. Cletus cleared his throat. "If I may be so blunt," he began, voice tinged with nervousness, "in Cheliax, where I come from, duck is normally served just a little hotter. Do you mind if I see to it that the dish is a little bit warmed up?"
Aldern tilted his head, confusion wrinkling his brow. "The chef assured me that this was how you serve it. Is it not to your liking?" His eyes darted toward Jinx and Vannrik, searching for reassurance. There was something almost fearful in his look. "If it is not to your liking then I will rush back into the kitchen and be back in a jiffy."
Cletus raised his hands gently, insistent yet respectful. "I assure you that the result will be surprising to the tongue. I wouldn’t mind waiting a little bit longer. I know what I'm talking about. I have seen many a kitchen back in Westcrown. Some in Korvosa as well."
Vannrik, careful not to offend, kept eating slowly, waiting to see how Aldern would answer. But before Aldern could speak, Lucienzo cut in. "That sounds like a proper right idea." He gestured toward the hall. "The kitchen is first to your left and then to your right."
"It would be my pleasure," Cletus said, gathering the plates.
Jinx smirked into his wine, unable to hide his satisfaction. Lucienzo had found a bit of his own agency at last. The gnome then piped up. "One question," he said, looking at the hosts. "I’m not really a wine drinker. Do you have any hot water, maybe?"
Lucienzo’s eyes flicked toward Cletus, expectant, it made sense for him to bring back water while in the kitchen. "Just give us an empty glass. I’ll fix the hot water," Vannrik said smoothly, directing the words toward Aldern.
The noble rose, crossing to a heavy oaken cabinet brimming with dishes and silverware that looked rarely, if ever, used. He drew out a goblet and set it on the table with a faint clatter.

  Cletus wandered through the immaculate halls until he found the upstairs kitchen. It gleamed with order, too much order. A fireplace stood unused, its hearth cold and clean. The pantry offered nothing but rows of dusty wine bottles, untouched for who knows how long. No pots, no scents of cooking, nothing to suggest tonight’s feast had been made here. A thought crept over him: had the dishes been prepared yesterday? Strange habits for such a polished nobleman. Despite Aldern’s warmth, something about the household struck Cletus as off-kilter.
The tiefling shook his head, forcing a grin as his eyes fell on the cold fireplace. “Now that Andromeda is with me she did teach me a few useful tricks. A spell for in the field. What did she call it again? Ah, yes. Prestidigitation.” With a flick of his hand, the cantrip sparked to life, gentle waves of heat rolling through the food until steam curled once more from the plates. No chef here would berate him, no lash would threaten him, only silence and the crackle of magic.
He returned to the table with renewed confidence, setting the warmed platters down. “It’s ready. Just how they prepare it in Westcrown,” he announced proudly.
Dinner continued, the Sentinels matching their hosts’ formalities. Cletus took heart in his small victory, the food truly tasted better this way. The wine was rich and smooth, though Lady Iesha still hadn’t so much as sipped hers, endlessly toying with the glass. For a long stretch, the only sounds were the delicate clink of silverware and the muffled chewing of an aristocrat’s feast that somehow felt hollow.
Between mouthfuls, Aldern filled the silence with his familiar refrain of praise. Just as he had in Sandpoint, he spoke glowingly of the Sentinels’ bravery, his admiration bordering on obsession. Once again, he pressed for news of the Saerenite, but their answers were the same as before, she was gone, and little else could be said.
And so the evening dragged, polished on the surface but brittle underneath. Aristocrats and wanderers sat across from each other, bound by courtesy yet divided by worlds. The Sentinels had hoped for a taste of Magnimarian high society, but all they found was an elegant table set for strangers.

  As the plates grew barer under the weight of the meal, Cletus nudged Vannrik’s elbow and whispered, “He seems so interested in Sandpoint, maybe ask him if he has plans for the town’s future.”
Vannrik hesitated, uncertain.
“It was just a thought,” Cletus pressed quietly. “Or juggle with your ice or something. Anything to lighten the mood.”
Vannrik gave the faintest of smiles and launched into a tale about how he’d once won the Hagfish challenge in Sandpoint by downing a mug of slime-choked water. The Foxgloves returned polite smiles, but their eyes stayed cold. Heat crept into Vannrik’s cheeks as he realized his choice of story might not have been the most refined.
“Well, I’ve been quite busy of late,” Aldern said, steering the conversation away. “There’s an old family manor in between my city and your town. I’m gathering the funds to renovate it. So perhaps one day soon we will be living closer to one another.”
“How long would that be on horseback?” Vannrik asked, trying to pin the vague idea down.
The question seemed to catch Aldern off guard. His cheeks flushed as he fumbled for words. “Well, I’m afraid of that…” He stammered, clearly flustered. “I travel by carriage, you see? When I’m in the carriage I’m absorbed by books mostly. I don’t pay so much attention to the passage of time or what goes on outside of the window, I’m afraid.” He straightened slightly, finding his footing again. “I would not be able to tell you. But at least it’s somewhere in between.”
Vannrik nodded, accepting the answer. “Maybe we can visit sometime, then.”
“All in due time,” Aldern replied smoothly. “First there is funds to be collected, renovations to go through. Etcetera, etcetera.”

  Breaking the lull, Jinx placed a deck of Harrow cards on the table, his grin sly. “I have a proposal, would you like me to read your fortunes? Or would you prefer that I tell you the tale of how we defeated the goblins? The choice is yours. But let me tell you, I’m the seer of Sandpoint.”
Aldern’s fingers drummed eagerly on the table. For a moment, Iesha seemed distracted, gazing absently into a nearby mirror. Then, as if remembering something long buried, her head tilted back toward the table. “You’re a harrow reader? Lord husband, can we please entertain ourselves with this gnome’s harrow reading?” Her tone was languid, her words almost a plea. “I know that you enjoy your little stories about your heroes, but perhaps a glimpse of the future could do all three of us good. What do you say, Lucienzo?”
Lucienzo inclined his head in approval, silent but attentive.
Jinx set his mat with careful precision, shuffling the cards until the candlelight flickered across their edges. He spread them out, his voice weaving ritual and story together as the room dimmed around them. The draw revealed The Waxworks. In Varisian tradition, it spoke of helplessness, of the body trapped while the mind raged, torture, imprisonment, paralysis in all its forms. A card of horror. A card of inevitability.
The Foxgloves exchanged a worried glance, Lucienzo’s face pale in the flickering glow. Yet even so, they leaned forward, hungry for the thrill of mystery. Iesha at last put down her untouched wine and idly toyed with the dripping wax of the nearest candle, letting it pool and harden between her fingers.
“Thank you, Jinx,” Cletus muttered through clenched teeth.

  As the evening waned, Aldern excused himself to fetch another bottle of wine and a tray of small finger foods. Cletus seized the pause in conversation.
“Lord Foxglove,” he began carefully. “The painting was magnificent. And your own addition as a sponsor was a great idea. But my friends here immediately noticed that the style of the two painters were clashing with each other. Wouldn’t it make more sense to have it overhauled one more time by the original painter?” He lifted his hands in a show of deference. “Just for the finishing touches, of course. To make the styles more concurrent.”
The nobleman froze mid-bite, clearly caught off guard. He swallowed quickly before replying. “Of course, it was supposed to be a gift to you lot, wasn’t it?” He clapped a reassuring hand on Lucienzo’s shoulder. “I’m sure our friend can do some finishing touches, as you say!”
Lucienzo nodded silently, and Cletus lifted his glass in response.
Not to be outdone, Aldern rose from his chair, glass raised high. “Actually, I would like to propose a toast to the brave Sentinels of Sandpoint, slayers of goblins, defenders of the innocent and now cherished friends of the Foxglove Family. May your strength guard Varisia in the days to come.”
The Sentinels raised their own glasses, Cletus and Vannrik with wine, Jinx with ginger tea, and drank to the words. The toast rang hollow in some ways, but they honored it nonetheless.

  Soon after, they found themselves stepping into the chilly night streets of Magnimar. Their next task was to track down Sayaad, though Cletus was equally intent on finding an Oyster for dessert. As they walked, Vannrik cast one last glance over his shoulder at the looming Foxglove townhouse. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from this reunion, but he knew, with a sinking certainty, that it hadn’t been this.