mismatched set of armor. I know I am not old - not by merian definition - but spending my life in mostly human company has twisted my point of reference; I doubt Ienas would be considered old even by human standards. I couldn't help a silent laugh in the moment as I pictured what we looked like: a long-lost father or brother coming home from a war or something, despite the reality that I was basically a hired thug here to shake him down.
I told him of how I lost my practice in Bravil doing much of the same - not gambling of course, but overspending just the same. The "fall from grace" narrative must
have resonated with him, as he gave me back all the items he owed money for in lieu of payment. I left him girding his loins with a tablecloth.
I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon delivering the goods back to the merchants, making up for my spending the night before. I delivered the enchanted shoes to Llether last, and by the time I reached him, he told me that Ienas had given everything he owned to the temple, and joined the order. Perhaps I should have become an ascetic too upon my arrival here. One imagines I'd have learned that lesson by now at least, given the bizarre couple of weeks I have had.