Clytemnestra and Kirsch

At Kirsch's words, Hargen may in fact blush but waves it off as just the heat of the fireplace getting to him. "Your generosity of spirit is a credit to your house, dear fellow." And if Kirsch didn't know better, Hargen may be the first mammal in this strange land who may actually be able to discern the meaning behind the shifts in the magician's pigmentation.

At Clytemnestra's hint at privacy, Hargen peeks back around the wingback of his chair. He notices an elven guard glaring into the room from his station in the grand foyer next to the eastward corridor. The old fabulist chuckles to himself as he settles back into his chair. "Not to worry, my dear. There's little I could say that isn't already in the public domain, as it were. No one worries about anybody talking to me.

"But, as you say, there are not many places I have not been in Allsatalos, Castle of Locked Doors, but still they exist. I believe you might have guessed one of the party's involved. Let me tell you a brief story:

"I was born here, spent my youth here, and then left for many years, with decades at a time between my visits. The Marquis was first my lord, then my mentor, and later in life, my friend. Even as a boy, I remember him being so very old, even for an elf. But he too, understood the importance of those places here which must remain quiet, and such was my respect for him, I never attempted to breach them—even at my most reckless. And now, after his death, they are still being watched, for you see... I am eighty-one years old, and from my earliest memories to all my subsequent visits, up until this present day... Father Neomund has always been here."