Bron listened as what was unfolding to even them was explained.

He didn't pretend to understand, but, as he had thought of before, these people, they were...on a task of destiny, he thought. The Muse inside him, thought of epic poems of old, and he had little trouble imagining the group in one, he frowned, trying to sort it all out, and held no warded tongue, or objection to what they were doing, he merely picked up the trident, and stood at the ready, ruminating on the strange news he had received.