Magic and Stories

Library

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The Library of Anvard rises around you. Reddish wooden pillars like twisted tree-trunks support the roof at even intervals, long bookcases in rows between them. The room is warmly lit by a multitude of round hung lamps, like globular fruit. The air is heavy with the sweet and musty smell of books, old and new. Hundreds of volumes line the shelves, and a few spaces between trunks have been left open for tables at which to reading and write. Thick pillar candles can be used to bring a little more yellow light to late-night researchers in these places.

The room appears to be well-dusted and well-kept, its contents carefully maintained and repaired throughout the years.

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Roshan is sat at one of the tables, pages of parchment are scattered before him as are a few open books. He doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to them though, instead he leaning back slightly on the chair and staring up at the ceiling as though something there is quite fascinating to him. One hand idly taps the feather of a quill against the edge of the table.

Avery sweeps into the library, carrying a few books. She puts them in their proper place, casting a glance toward Roshan.  “Your Highness.” She quietly says as she comes closer, dipping in a low curtsy.

Roshan snaps out of his reverie at the Lady’s voice. There is a light thud as all four legs of the chair are once again safely on the floor and, in one movement he stands and offers her a polite bow, “Lady Avery.”

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Discussions, With Tea

Library

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The Library of Anvard rises around you. Reddish wooden pillars like twisted tree-trunks support the roof at even intervals, long bookcases in rows between them. The room is warmly lit by a multitude of round hung lamps, like globular fruit. The air is heavy with the sweet and musty smell of books, old and new. Hundreds of volumes line the shelves, and a few spaces between trunks have been left open for tables at which to reading and write. Thick pillar candles can be used to bring a little more yellow light to late-night researchers in these places.

The room appears to be well-dusted and well-kept, its contents carefully maintained and repaired throughout the years.

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Roshan is sitting in his usual place at one of the table carefully watched by a servant who keeps a respectful distance. Judging by the fact that he has fewer books and more pieces of parchment than he normally does, he is probably passing the time while waiting for someone.

Dar enters, dressed in all the formal attire befitting his station. He greets Roshan with a courtly bow, after the Calormene fashion–in homage to the prince’s own culture. His features are a perfect mask of correctness and he looks every inch the consummate politician that he is.

Roshan stands as Dar enters and returns the bow with a proper one of his own, also done after the Calormene fashion. “Good afternoon Lord Dar, I hope that you are well?”

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More Rabble at the Library

Library

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The Library of Anvard rises around you. Reddish wooden pillars like twisted tree-trunks support the roof at even intervals, long bookcases in rows between them. The room is warmly lit by a multitude of round hung lamps, like globular fruit. The air is heavy with the sweet and musty smell of books, old and new. Hundreds of volumes line the shelves, and a few spaces between trunks have been left open for tables at which to reading and write. Thick pillar candles can be used to bring a little more yellow light to late-night researchers in these places.

The room appears to be well-dusted and well-kept, its contents carefully maintained and repaired throughout the years.

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Roshan is sitting at one of the desks in the library, reading a book that lies open in front of him, occasionally pausing make a note on a piece of parchment. Standing at a respectful distance away and looking rather bored is one of the Archenlander servants who have been tasked with keeping an eye on him.

A son of adam who walks with a limp enters quietly, casting a quick glance around the large room. He doesn’t seem to recognise the prince from behind, or simply doesn’t think enough of the sight of another person reading in the library to look closer, and he crosses to one of the shelves on the east wall. His limping gait makes an uneven shuffling sound on the thick carpet.

Roshan turns a page in the book and frowns slightly, his quill pausing over the parchment. One hand drums the edge of the desk briefly then, with a shake of the head he stands and walks back towards the bookshelf casting a brief but disdainful glances towards the new comer.

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A Game of Chess

Library

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The Library of Anvard rises around you. Reddish wooden pillars like twisted tree-trunks support the roof at even intervals, long bookcases in rows between them. The room is warmly lit by a multitude of round hung lamps, like globular fruit. The air is heavy with the sweet and musty smell of books, old and new. Hundreds of volumes line the shelves, and a few spaces between trunks have been left open for tables at which to reading and write. Thick pillar candles can be used to bring a little more yellow light to late-night researchers in these places.

The room appears to be well-dusted and well-kept, its contents carefully maintained and repaired throughout the years.

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Tyren stands amidst the shelves, book open in his hand, which he pages through in a somewhat lackadaisical fashion.

Roshan walks into the library followed both by one of his slaves and one of the Archenlander servants who have been given the task of keeping an eye on him. As he passes by some of the shelves, he catches sight of Tyren and says with a smart bow, “Sir Tyren was it?”

Tyren looks up as he is addressed, and snaps the book shut again as he sweeps a bow in return. “It is, Your Highness. A good day to you.”

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Discussions Intensify

Library

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The Library of Anvard rises around you. Reddish wooden pillars like twisted tree-trunks support the roof at even intervals, long bookcases in rows between them. The room is warmly lit by a multitude of round hung lamps, like globular fruit. The air is heavy with the sweet and musty smell of books, old and new. Hundreds of volumes line the shelves, and a few spaces between trunks have been left open for tables at which to reading and write. Thick pillar candles can be used to bring a little more yellow light to late-night researchers in these places.

The room appears to be well-dusted and well-kept, its contents carefully maintained and repaired throughout the years.

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Cole sits at one of the tables, hunched over a parchment, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Roshan walks into the library carrying a few sheets of parchment. Behind him walks the Archenlandish servant who has been given the task of keeping an eye on him.

Cole looks up as he catches the movement. Seeing the prince, he stands. “Prince Roshan. ” he offers in greeting, bowing.

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Getting Down to Business

Council Chamber

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You stand in the Council Chamber of Anvard. Here King Lune discusses policy with his advisors, entertains visiting ambassadors, and hosts small dinner parties. The room is cozier than the Great Hall, and circular in shape. Fine tapestries are hung on the walls, interspersed with the coats of arms of various noble households. In the center of the room is a beautiful round table, with ornately carved legs ended in lion’s claws, and a surface of inlaid wood. Clearly, aside from more practical purposes, this is a room fit to entertain people who need impressing.

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Lune sits at the round table, still surrounded by the detritus of his last meeting. He stacks up several pieces of paper covered in lists and figures and hands them off to a servant, then rubs his eyes.

A servant enters the council chamber and, after bowing respectfully announces that the Prince Roshan about to arrive, leaving after his announcement. It is only a few moments after this that the Prince himself arrives, bowing in the manner appropriate from one royal to another.

Lune rises as the servant departs and Roshan enters, bowing shallowly to return the prince’s courtesy. “Your highness,” he greets, and gestures to a chair on the opposite side of the table.

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