"What do you think they're talking about in there?" Aoko asked Edgin.
"I usually don't make such guesses, but…" Edgin pondered for a moment, then grinned at Aoko and the others. "Holga will be kicked out soon, and she won't be in a good mood."
Aoko and Doric didn't say anything, but neither of them heard any sounds of quarreling from the direction of Marlamin's house, which meant Holga and the Marlamins were still in the peaceful negotiation stage.
Still, Edgin—having co-parented a child with Holga—knew her very well.
It didn't take long—just over ten minutes—before Holga stormed out holding a wooden staff, her face dark as thunder.
"We have to beat the crap out of Forge!" Holga said gruffly and quickly. "I'm going to prove to Marlamin and the Elk Tribe that kicking me out is the worst decision they ever made!"
Aoko didn't say anything, just nudged her horse forward a little. Holga didn't seem like someone who needed gentle comforting—and besides, they weren't that close.
The five of them traveled along the country road, surrounded by green hills and lush meadows.
No one spoke. The only sounds were the summer insects and the clopping of hooves.
"Not fortune found nor fate divine…"
Edgin's lute and singing suddenly echoed across the wilderness. Aoko thought she sensed a faint pulse of the Weave within the music.
"Come close to topping the juice of the vine…"
The bard sang loudly, and everyone in the party felt a light, cheerful emotion well up inside.
"With cherry crew we sip and sway…"
"Let's tip the tankard and waste the day!"
Now Aoko was sure—Edgin was a genuine Harper bard and not just some fraud.
"Ree-raw! Well, ye ken, our toils can wait for time!"
And it was clear this wasn't Edgin's first time singing this in front of Holga—because now she was singing along with him.
"We saw the folly of men, who rather than revel repine!"
They crossed grasslands and rivers, over mountains and through swamps, until Aoko's party finally reached Nesmé at sunset—a battlefield from a century ago where the Elk Clan clashed with Dragon Cultists.
Tonight, the sky was especially bright. The few clouds were quickly blown away, letting moonlight shine down.
Aoko looked up—a strange ring of stars surrounded the full moon, a sight so different from her home that it reminded her she was no longer on Earth.
The moon, Selûne, is Toril's only satellite. Unlike Earth's moon, Selûne is inhabited, mainly by elves and humans.
It's said there's a magical shipyard on the far side of Selûne, but its residents don't want Faerûnians to know.
Aoko learned all this from a book Dowell gave her, from the Waterdeep Mage Guild Library, which described the heavenly bodies above the realms.
"We're here," Holga jumped off her horse and looked around at the gravestones. "Countless members of my clan died in that battle… Some didn't even leave a complete body."
"Well, strictly speaking, we don't need a complete corpse," Simon said, a bit out of place. "All we need is a mouth and a head."
"...So your magic calls the dead soul back to this world?" Doric shivered in the cold night wind.
"Speak with Dead doesn't call back the soul," Aoko said, gently casting an elemental resistance spell on Doric. "The spell just temporarily animates the corpse's mind."
"That's right," Simon said, pulling out the Deathly token. "And the animated corpse can't understand anything that happened after death, nor can it predict the future, because its temporary intellect comes from the caster."
"That sounds pretty sad," Doric shrugged. "Becoming undead and all."
"It is sad," Aoko replied. "But if we used necromancy to turn these bodies into undead, we couldn't use Speak with Dead."
"Alright, enough scholarly debate, let's get to work," Edgin cut in. "Who's got a shovel?"
"I got it," Holga pulled two shovels from her horse's saddlebags. "Snagged these from Marlamin's place, haha!"
As the two strongest party members, Edgin (STR 14) and Holga (STR 19) took up the task of grave-robbing. In no time, they'd unearthed a coffin, exposing a silent corpse.
"Can we begin?" Edgin stepped aside for Simon.
"Of course," Simon awkwardly jumped into the grave, squatting beside the corpse. "Innocte consilium!" (Good counsel comes by night!)
"...What's going on?" Simon waited, but the corpse didn't animate. However, Aoko could see Simon's magic flowing through the amulet into the corpse.
Before Aoko could remind him, the corpse suddenly sat up like on springs, scaring Simon into falling on his butt.
"Alright, let's begin!" As the party's linguist, Edgin stepped up to ask questions.
But perhaps because it was his first time, Edgin burned through the five questions too quickly. The corpse lay back down.
No choice but to dig another!
Aoko's party dug up five graves, but while some of the war dead had handled the Helmet of disjunction, none knew its final whereabouts.
"...We're out of uses for today," Simon said, frustrated. "What do we do now?"
"If you don't want me to turn Holga's clansmen into undead," Aoko said calmly as Holga glared at her, "then we'll have to wait until after midnight when Simon's amulet recharges. I've got wine—anyone wants some?"