Logan's shirt was still very slightly damp as he slipped it on – he had waited as long as he could for it to dry out, but if he gave it anymore time, he feared he might be late. Romain had invited them all to dinner, and there was barely enough time to wash himself and his clothes... especially after he'd fallen asleep in the room the chamberlain had given him!

Logan didn't remember how it happened. One moment he was sitting down to polish his armour after the battle, and the next he was opening his bleary eyes with his brain as foggy as a winter morning.

He was kicking himself even now as he pulled on his shirt, trousers and boots, the latter of which were still rather scuffed for a formal dinner, but it was the best he could do for now. Pulling his clothes straight and only barely remembering to buckle on his sword belt, he then hurried for the dining hall, thanking Bahamut he had taken the time to locate it before he had been shown to his room after remembering Romain was hoping to speak to them over dinner.

That made him feel only slightly above a complete moron, though. He had to do better... he had to be better.

Chateau Toussaint's great hall was located in the west wing of the keep, and Logan's stress gave way to both relief and alarm when he saw he was the only one here, walking into a sphere of silence when he was expecting conversation. Fiery orange rays from the setting sun shone through ornate windows on one of the walls to illuminate the long table of polished oak the dominated the centre of the chamber. The room was as tall as it was wide, with galleries high set above the main floor for musicians and troubadours to play and sing from, and on two of the walls hung great tapestries - one above the raised stone dais where the master of the castle would sit at feasts, and another running along the wall opposite the windows.

The works of weaving were slightly faded and fraying at the corners, but still a sight to behold. Logan's golden eyes were first drawn to the one above the dais, for that was the first thing he had seen at all when he first stepped in. It depicted the throes of a raging battle, where a cavalry charge from knights in shining armour, their shields and the banners on their lances depicting their coats-of-arms, crashed into a horde of muscle-bound barbarians dressed in horned helms and skins – human skins, specifically, stitched into cloaks and other ghastly garments, the banners their warriors carried daubed in hideous patterns of red and black.

Logan looked on, alarmed by the obvious horrors of these barbarian peoples and internally cheering on the knights for their victory as though he was there in the moment as a wave of excitement rushed through him, for all the world as if he were a child reading about this battle in a book. However, his boyish excitement was punctuated with alarm when a voice said "The Battle of Cendrefeu Pass."

Twisting around, Logan looked down the dining hall to see Romain walking calmly towards him, dressed in all his heraldic finery – a scarlet doublet with the white and silver charger of his family sewn across his chest, with his own sword belt of fine leather ringing his slender waist. His rich gold curls, which grew far longer than Logan's own black hair, was tied back from his temples into a half-ponytail by a rich crimson ribbon. The youth was slim even when in his armour, but now he looked as lithe as a racing greyhound – lean and lacking in muscle, but active and fit all the same.

Greeting his host with a smile, Logan glanced up at the tapestry and asked "Is that what this depicts?"

"Indeed." Romain replied. "Sixty years past, the Hendrigal barbarians who live north of Milisevre, in the Guthmere Wastes, were raiding into our lands, carrying off loot, food and women while leaving nothing but corpses in their wake. Our armies rode out to face them, and the Hendrigal War ended at this battle, where the Knights of Milisevre smashed through their lines and drove the barbarians back from whence they came!" he declared proudly, beaming as bright as the sunlight they saw the artwork by.

He then pointed up to a specific point on the tapestry and said "That's my grandfather there, Arno de Toussaint. He was the one who slew the Hendrigal leader himself, the warlord Tythus Stormbringer!"

Logan's gaze followed Romain's hand, and he saw the duel in question – where the fighting was thickest, a man wearing armour identical to Romain's and displaying the same coat-of-arms, was depicting driving his lance straight through the heart of a brutish titan of a man whose pale skin was daubed in crimson markings and who wielded a devilishly dark sword that crackled with bolts of blood-red lightning.

Smiling, Logan looked back to Romain. The Milisevran seemed very proud of both his country's and his family's history, but Logan saw no problem with that. If anything, he saw a kindred spirit. As a Cormyrean, he'd read books on his own nation from cover to cover a thousand times over, and as a Galehaut...

... well, the entire reason he'd become a paladin was for the sake of family. Family honour, family legacy... family since departed.

Hand touching the pommel of his sword, Logan glanced back up at the tapestry and took note of how many knights were depicted as taking part in the battle. There seemed to be hundreds of them, all riding as one against the Hendrigal, resplendent in their noble grandeur, their righteousness and heroism driving back the darkness as much their blades and lances.

As he saw this, Logan felt his heart soar with both nostalgia and excitement. Turning to his gracious host, he then asked. "Are knights a major part of Milisevran culture, Romain?"

The blonde knight met his gaze and replied with fervent conviction "Oh, absolutely!" He then paused before saying "Forgive me if I sound too bold for my own good, Sir Logan, but Milisevre was the place that knighthood and chivalry was first founded in Faerun..."

That wasn't just one hell of a claim to make; it was all nine of them! Logan felt disbelief was through him as a knee-jerk reaction, but he managed to temper that burning wave of emotion with the cooling essence of trust.

Romain had proved himself more than chivalrous, allowing Logan and the others into his home and honouring them publicly for slaying the chimera instead of lying and claiming the credit for himself. Even without knowing much about him, Logan couldn't help but get an inkling in his gut that Romain was a kindred spirit – a young knight seeking to prove himself.

This made it easier to keep his mind open as the Galehaut replied "That's quite incredible. If it is true, I mean..."

"Oh, it is!" Romain said with a grin. "And I'll show you, if you like..."

Logan was just about to reply when he heard the sound of talons tapping on stone behind him, and he turned around to see Stalk sauntering across the room towards them, clad in a dark tunic that was fastened about the waist with a belt. "Thank fuck, I finally found you two!" he remarked as he approached, clawed hands on his cocked hips as he stopped and looked up at Romain. "This castle of yours is a bloody maze, Sir Romain! Feels like I've been wandering around for hours!"

The kenku's rude tone made Logan fear how Romain was going to react – it was hardly in line for those under the protection of hospitality to insult their host. But the Milisevran laughed the comment away and bowed apologetically as he said "My apologies, master Stalk. I would change the architectural plan, but it wasn't me who designed this chateau, sadly. So I'd have no idea where to begin."

His tone was joking and light-hearted, his words making Stalk lighten up as he joked back "I think some signposts would do the trick, frankly."

Romain gave a jovial laugh and said "Excellent idea! I'll have my staff work on them at once!"

Their witty banter meant that even Logan was chuckling at the idea. And as he looked up after a moment, he saw the other three party members they could expect to arrive to dinner step into the room – Finnan, Ren and Arabella.

Finnan was wearing his usual mess of leaves, and while Ren appeared to have washed and changed, his current clothes were his usual grey and light green. The sight made Logan wonder if Ren was also of noble blood, with his own family colours, or if he just had a colour scheme he gravitated to.

The paladin was hardly one to critique fashion, though – he knew literally nothing about it save it usually meant being strangled by your own clothing.

But another member of their party had changed, and clearly knew a lot about fashion. Arabella had donned an entirely new dress for the feast – a gown of turquoise samite with white lace at both her cuffs and her rather modest neckline, and floral patterns done in silver thread upon both her bodice and the sleeves that hung down past her waist. Around her back, hanging just barely off her shoulders, was a dark blue velvet shawl to keep the cold at bay.

Upon her arrival, she and Logan's gazes met, her turquoise eyes shimmering like aquamarines as they fell upon him. Her eyes, just like everything else about her, were beautiful beyond words... words that failed to come to him as she drew closer and came to a graceful halt before him and Romain.

As her large eyes seemed to open as wide as they would go, his neck clenched and his throat tightened. He knew some response was expected of him, but none came to mind.

The young knight prided himself on being bold and outspoken – unless the situation demanded otherwise, he wasn't afraid to speak his mind. But the second he had to compliment or say anything beyond the most basic courtesies to a girl he liked, his tongue tied itself in knots. Whether he chose to hold it or let it wag, he could never escape the feeling that he looked like the greatest fool in all of Faerun.

Mind blanker than a starless night sky, he did the first thing that came to mind, his spine creaking as he angled himself forward and gave the lady a bow stiff as an old floorboard. As he lowered himself, he was silent, only finding something to say as he angled himself back up again. "You... look beautiful..." he told her, corners of his mouth flickering up for a split-second.

The expectant and hopeful look in Arabella's eyes dimmed then, as if she had heard something that disappointed her. He also thought he heard a wistful sigh, though whether that came from her, someone else, or from a blast of wind outside the castle, he was clueless. Clueless as ever...

Logan continued to demonstrate that, when it came to girls, he was smooth as a river of bricks. Conversely, Romain made it all look so easy – he gave an elegant, rather flamboyant bow with his hand held out to one side, then took Arabella's fingers and kissed them as he said "Sir Logan speaks the truth, my lady. You are a vision beyond compare..."

Arabella returned his gesture with a gracious smile before dipping down and curtseying in a pristine and regal manner. "You are most kind, sirs..." she said softly in response.

With a pleased expression, Romain then scanned the room, giving Ren a smile as warm as Arabella's and tousling Finnan's messy yellow hair when the druid approached and attempted to copy Arabella's curtsey, which made Stalk stifle a snicker.

The blonde knight then clapped his hands. "Magnifique! Well, we need only wait for Brother Technus, and then we can be seated!" he said in a cheerful tone.

But his words sent awkward looks through the party that surrounded him. Ren and Finnan both said nothing, the former being withdrawn as ever while the other wasn't paying attention, instead rushing to the window to look outside. Meanwhile, Arabella stiffened slightly and her complexion became suddenly paler, as if she were suddenly on edge.

It fell to Logan and Stalk to excuse their final companion.

"I wouldn't count on 'im showin' up, Romain..." Stalk told the Milisevran.

Romain turned and asked "Why not?" as his voice became slightly higher and a wide-eyed look of surprise appeared on his face.

Logan replied. "Technus doesn't need to eat. And truth be told, he's not really part of our group. Ad hoc as it is, we're all here for the same goal – Technus just happens to be travelling in the same direction as us for some 'business' he has in Milisevre," he explained. "So I doubt he'll join us."

Logan might have also said that he bore the cyborg no ill will... but that would've been a bold-faced lie.

"Besides, you wouldn't want him around!" Stalk quipped just after his sentence has finished. "The bastard's as friendly as a starving beholder – and twice as ugly!"

The comparison amused Logan, and he was about to chuckle under his breath when he heard a slow, rhythmic sound come echoing from outside the hall, in the corridor.

Whir-whir clunk, whir-whir clunk, whir-whir clunk.

Speak of the devil, and it shall appear. At that very moment, Technus emerged and began to ponderously cross the corridor, made visible only by the open entryway he was bypassing. As he walked, he didn't look in the direction of the party, only raising his head when Romain called out "Ah, Brother Technus!"

"Hey, Technus!" Finnan then called, waving his arm eagerly like a schoolboy hoping to get the teacher's attention.

Stopping abruptly, the cyborg's head rotated a hundred degrees to the left in order to face Romain, his shoulders and torso not twisting at all while he watched the young landed knight hurry towards him. "Present," he droned coldly.

The sight of Technus' head doing that still made Logan feel uneasy, and from the way his companions reacted, he could tell they felt the same. But Romain withstood the sight with exemplary courtesy and said, "Speak of the devil, and it shall appear; I was just discussing the topic of you with your comrades, as a matter of fact!" His manner was calm and genial. "I was wondering - perhaps you'd like to join us for dinner?"

A small mote of surprise seemed to flash across the Tech-Cleric's face then, so small as to be near-imperceptible. However, his voice was monotone as ever. "Negative," he replied as he fixed Romain with his steely gaze. "I have other business."

Romain's smile only widened at that. "Indeed – the others mentioned as such just a moment ago," the knight said. "Come. Please sit, and mayhap we can discuss it? I might even be able to help-"

"I came within the castle walls to pray to my goddess." Technus cut him off rudely, anger and alarm seeming to flare in his crackling, synthetic drawl. "Not to partake in the sins of the flesh. And my business is not for you to be privy to."

Romain backed down, raising his hands as if in surrender. But as Technus seemed about to turn away, Logan thought a little more on this 'business' that the Tech-Cleric had brought up.

He'd made it clear it was his seemingly sole goal right from when they had decided to travel into Milisevre to begin with, back at the Cockatrice. And Logan's suspicions about the cyborg's intentions hadn't gone away, truth be told – if anything, they had only grown.

He didn't wish to seem paranoid, but given that Technus was the perfect combination of secretive, abrasive, ruthless and downright apathetic to others, the paladin couldn't help but be wary of what this 'business' might entail; either for Technus, or for the people of Milisevre.

However, there seemed to be no getting information out of the ironclad giant... until Logan suddenly had an idea.

"Remind me, Technus – Erathis, goddess of civilization, yes?" he asked, recalling the deity's name.

Technus' head revolved to face him while he remained stood under the archway. "Goddess of law, civilization, order and invention. The Lawbringer, Mistress of Machines and the Lady of the Bright City of Hestevar..." he extolled proudly.

"So you're expected to uphold the ideals of an ordered society and adhere to the laws it brings?" Logan inquired, a slight smile playing upon his lips as he met the Tech-Cleric's gaze.

There was a brief pause before Technus replied, a gleam of suspicion in his unblinking gaze. "Affirmative."

This only made Logan's smile widen. "Then you should know that it flouts the laws of hospitality for a guest to conceal his business from his host. Or to refuse the offers of room and board he presents you with." As he spoke, he moved to stand confidently with his legs apart. "It's deeply offensive, especially with a law so sacred to so many people..."

Having been raised in a noble family, Logan knew that throughout Faerun that few customs were more widely-honoured than hospitality, or 'guest right', where hosts were obliged to give food and shelter to those who entered their homes, and neither host nor guest could harm each other.

The part about concealing business wasn't entirely true, and while bold-faced lies were poor form for a paladin... a little white one where circumstances permitted would slide, Logan hoped. Especially if it finally revealed why Technus remained at their side when he seemed to despise them so much...

Silence reigned over the room for a long time as Technus stared right at him. In the corner of his eye, Logan glimpsed Arabella playing with her elegant fingers and Ren wringing his hands as he stood with a slightly hunched posture, head bracing to turn away as if he was preparing for the worst.

Logan held both his own ground and Technus' gaze, however, watching as the cyborg blinked his one human eye, made a grunting noise behind his mask... and entered the dining hall.