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A mid-morning breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees whose branches spilled out of high-walled courtyards, garnishing the cobblestoned backroads of the city as people walked in and out of the arboreal silhouettes to conduct their errands. Stewards scurried and sailors strutted along streets lined with stone-brick and stucco townhouses and storefronts, all joined together like a crowd, each with their own defining arrangement of windows, brick color, and stonework details. The most common feature among the varied structures were the arching stones that framed each doorway. Vines caressed the walls of many abodes, and some of the windows had their character further defined by the vivid coloration and luxurious length of plants potted at their sills.
Every instance of foliage took its turn being held in the gaze of one druid who currently took comfort in the fact that her face was less renowned than her name. She glided down the street at a more leisurely pace than the sailors making haste back and forth between the market and the docks. In comparison, she seemed as calm as a cleric to one of the many temples of the most cherished goddess of magic and mystery, Mystra, that were seen interspersed among the suburbs of Waterdeep. Mystra’s presence, even to those of less arcane persuasion, seemed to have a pervasive claim on the City of Splendors. Even though Ithunn’s magical study fell more in line with nature’s preservation and care, she could sense the strength of the matron’s influence like a soft shroud over the city.
Ithunn’s walk was only leisurely in seeming. An avid admirer or at least a much more keen observer would see the sharpness of scrutiny in her eyes as they threaded back and forth between the spaces in the trees and shrubs that lined the walkways and flourished under the windows of residences, respectively. As a member of the house Pomarium, her eyes and mind had been trained as keen meters of health for the urban foliage that coexisted with the bipedal persons and races of the city. The Pomariums were known for their nurturing of flora in these spaces, especially in Waterdeep. A house of urban druids was unique in itself and their propriety for keeping delicate and rare flowers alive in an otherwise claustrophobic habitat for such plants was an extreme novelty. The Pomariums themselves were not of noble blood, but they were called on as respected gardeners and caretakers enough by those of the upper-class that they were treated with a very similar level of respect.
Ithunn was not prone to answering the calls of these upper-class citizens. She preferred to let her relatives handle the pretentious wizardfolk and general magic users who would align themselves with a lofty air but truly felt like bombastic blowhards. Ithunn would never deign to associate with their ilk, preferring the company of her own garden and to avail herself of tending to the more public living foliage in the City of Wonders. She wasn’t particularly charitable in nature: their work on the public’s trees and parks was not necessarily to the benefit of Waterdeep’s population. But it was an excellent excuse to not be present when the alternative option necessitated one of the family to make use of their talents at some such pompous abode.
However, the house Pomarium had received a particularly interesting summons that morning. A request of shared knowledge between the petitioner and the summoned. A former Archmage of the city, Gale Dekarios, was well-known through the rumors and gossip vines of many persons in Waterdeep. Said rumors surrounding him painted many wild truths, half-truths, and supposedly a few much exaggerated untruths. People knew of his heroic deeds in the neighboring coastal city of Baldur’s Gate concerning a Netherbrain and the Dread Three Gods. The feat of destroying them was rather impressive to Ithunn. Perhaps even enticing. However, she felt a sense of trepidation in meeting a man with a reputation such as his. In such circumstances of fame how much humility could his sort truly retain, if he had ever had the quality previously?
Ithunn’s curiosity ignited an itch throughout her person, an intense enticement which pulled her along the streets towards the illustrious wizard’s address. Wizards were rarely so inclined to present their knowledge without complete study, and upon fullness of research, they would solely share such findings with those of a similar trade. For a wizard to wish to trade an immature inventory of intelligence, and with druids no less, was as unheard of as a cessation of magic in the City of Splendors itself.
Spotting the address plate dutifully detailing the address of her quarry was but a trifle for the city-savvy druid’s sharp eyes. As the visage of his abode came into view, Ithunn took in the architecture of her client’s habitat. A modest courtyard with a wide-arched alley entry introduced the visitor to the rest of the estate. The cobbled-stone wall facing the street was inundated with archways which allowed passerby to admire the small garden bed and pots bursting with vegetation within but still kept a modicum of security with the small stone railings spanning the length of each arch. The main portion of the home sat atop the city’s seawall, a ground-level servant’s door led to the cellar built into the bulwark. Ithunn vaguely wondered if the man she was to visit kept servants. The front was conjoined with its neighboring residences, each of its stories containing their own line of arched windows. There was the common white brick of the coastal city overlaid with plaster and trimmed with carved arches, red shingles on the roof that were darkened nearly to the color of wine. Stone steps led to a medium landing, then to another landing that platformed the front door. The house of Gale Dekarios, as expected of an esteemed wizard, towered over its neighboring abodes.
As she walked the steps to the door’s landing , she noticed the arch of the doorway was comprised of segmented grey stone for the complete frame of the door. The keystone at the top was further elongated to a point, with the carving of a sharp, eight-point star enclosed in a circle adorning the highest stone in the archway, depicting the holy symbol of the goddess Mystra. Ithunn rapped on the paneled wooden door, contemplating what she might expect in this exchange of knowledge from this man. A sudden apparition caused her to jolt back, as a man’s figure took shape beside her. A chipper baritone voice with Faerunian accent emanated from the form.
“Ah, hello! You are currently at the residence of Gale Dekarios. Professor of Blackstaff Academy, renowned adventurer, and exceptional extraordinaire of the Weave. Are you one of Mr. Dekarios’ students?”
Recovering from an aghast state, Ithunn peered at the translucent shape. She recognized her iridescent greeter as a simulacrum, most potentially a mimicry of the caster who had conjured the creature. Before her stood the emulation of a human man with fair skin and brown shoulder-length hair. A black robe wrapped the body of the figure, with linen trousers peeking beneath and a triangular collar that revealed the underlying wrap shirt covering the torso. A single silver earring hanging from the left ear completed the features of the false-man before her.
Empty air passed between druid and simulacrum before she realized the apparition was waiting for her answer. She began, with a stutter to her usual leisurely intonation.
“Er, no, um… I’m Ithunn…… of the House Pomarium… I-”
“Oh of course! Miss Pomarium! Mr. Dekarios has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Please, come right on in and make yourself at home. I shall alert the master of the house of your ingress.”
Salutations complete, the simulacrum disappeared, and Ithunn could hear the solid click of a latch as the door of the abode supposedly unlocked itself. A minor creak accompanied the portal’s opening movement, as if the home’s own presence invisibly welcomed the visitor.
The foyer that presented itself to her upon entry allowed a modest luxury to the viewer’s eyes. Stone tiles with an array of different copper tones comprised the floor with an almost tastefully weathered trim of grey caulk. Textured cream-colored plaster covered the walls with intermittent trim of red brick near the entries, house entry and hallway alike. A stairway with iron banister curved to the upper levels. A dark wooden credenza made its stalwart position at the side of the stairs’ curve, with a solitary vase housing a violet iris at its center. The window to the right of the main door boasted a hanging potted ivy that had crept its way down along the arching frame of the window, basking in the warmth of sunlight shining through. Its leaves met with a small iron vase-like vessel, which hosted a pair of crystals the length of Ithunn’s hand. The crystals were potentially extraneous, but rich enough for a subtle boast on the wizard’s part.
Before she could ascertain more of the man’s preferences in decor, her appraisal was interrupted by the unmistakable whine of a wooden door. The sound snapped her attention to the opening of the hallway to the left wall of the house’s anteroom. Footsteps carried her expected host to the front, and there she saw for the first time the true Wizard of Waterdeep.
A man of fair, not imposing stature greeted her, the exact likeness of his own simulacrum, without a magical sheen to smoothen the emblems of a middling human lifespan. Ithunn pondered the extent of this man’s vanity and whether he employed his simulacrum constantly enough that they were the only known version of Gale that some would have met. Short brown hair framed a shapely square jaw. His left eye was accessorized by a swirling wisp of a tattoo that traversed down his neck and disappeared into his robe, under the clavicle. A single silver earring, ending in a metallic drop, hung from his left earlobe. A scruffy beard surrounded full smiling lips, and brown eyes twinkled at the Druid. Gale of Waterdeep had made his entrance, and with scrolls under his arm for the added effect of a stereotypical scholar.
“Ah! Ithunn.” he greeted her warmly, pressing the last syllable of her name with an extended, almost melodically deep note in his voice. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I would, er- make your acquaintance more thoroughly with a handshake, but I’m afraid you’ll have to pardon some rudeness on my end due to my arms suffering a prior engagement.” He grinned with a hint of jest as he gestured to the scrolls currently occupying his physical capabilities.
“Right. I imagine holding a levitation spell would be a bit of an exorbitant solution,” Ithunn mused aloud. He responded to her sardonicism with a throaty chuckle as he closed the distance between them and carried on past her to the door.
“Truthfully yes, and I believe those of a stricter nature might insist doing things manually would ‘build character’.” He said the last few words with a stunted scare quotes, waggling his fingers from under the bulk of his arms’ occupants. “Though I wouldn’t adhere to the idea of ‘building character’ so strongly as to not ask for help. There can be a limit where pride is, in fact, one’s downfall.”
He gestured to the door with his head, and Ithunn took his meaning and opened the door for the two of them.
“My thanks.”
With that, the pair of newly-met cohorts exited the wizard’s domicile and began their descent down the porch steps.
“Now, I’m sure you consider it quite an anomaly as wizards go to have met a man as practiced as I who wishes to further his knowledge of magic that happens to be more of the druidic persuasion.”
Perceptive of him, Ithunn thought to herself, as she and Gale reached the entry to his courtyard, with a view of the street. She was unsure if this would be a rude remark to the strange man. Gale took her silence as conversationally permissive.
“And to that, I say as a student myself of all the practices of more wizardly magic, no true magician worth his salt but more importantly his credentials would disregard the context, and by some measure the contrast, of different disciplines of magic across multiple avenues. All the points of difference between magics can yield a new perspective of each of them in turn . And recently, I experienced such a mirror between magics-”
“Well honestly,” Ithunn began with an interruption, speaking with her usual slow, nonchalant cadence, “I’m more surprised at how unabashed you are at revealing your incomplete research. I was under the impression that wizards consider it a point of pride for themselves to be the sole expert in a field of magic, and with the whole research to prove their excellence.”
They had started their official walk down the street at this point. Gale blinked, lips partly ajar.
“Well,” he tried to begin. “I.. hm.”
The pair had found themselves past the second neighboring house while Gale exhibited his own ability to remain silent. His silence, however, was punctuated with the multiple visages of a man grasping for sentences, and a few more “well’s” to find his footing. Ithunn did not take this to mean she could carry on her latest thought; she simply allowed Gale to find his own way to defend himself. She watched him neutrally, observing the parade of emotions across his face.
“I suppose,” he started after seeming to finally settle on a thought, “that a past permeation of myself would have indeed insisted on the very scenario you describe. A good many wizards like their secrecy about a treasured discipline or project until they can in fact chase down every corner of knowledge and scrap of writing. To their point, there can be a lot of strange rivalry between wizards and stealing of credit for such projects.”
“Do you find yourself with such rivals?”
He chuckled at this. “I imagine many have considered themself my rival, however I’ve had no wizard truly give me a run for my money. Except for my mentor, Elminster of course. Though I believe he is, himself, an outlier. In a league of his own, as it were.”
“So you’ve had no rivals, but you participated in not revealing your expertise until completion?”
“Surely I did. And surely a fool it made me. For the sake of my own pride, I won’t get into the details, but I’ve learned my lesson surrounding not revealing my research before I was finished. Let’s just say, you don’t always know what information you may be hunting surrounding a topic, and if your knowledge is incomplete upon acting, it may have deadly consequences.”
“That seems rather a dramatic lesson to take.”
“Yes well that is what happens when you are being tossed through a particularly dramatic chapter of your life.”
At the last sentence passed between them, they had rounded the corner of the street, finding themselves on a busier market passage within the Dock Ward of Waterdeep.
“My but I believe I may have talked your ear off. I do tend to continue on, as some friends of mine have made clear to me.”
Ah, thought Ithunn. A crumb of self awareness. How noble.
“I did, however, have an ulterior motive to coming down this path”, Gale continued. He gestured to the stalls and fronts for trade lining their current location.
“There’s a particular pastry shop that sells most excellent meat pies, and I thought we could stop for a treat on our way to my office at Blackstaff.”
“Did you ever pause to consider that I could not eat meat?”
Gale blanched at her words.
“Mystra’s eyelashes I do apologize profusely. I should have taken my own guest’s diet into consideration shouldn’t I have? I am ever so sorry Ms. Pomarium.”
Ithunn inwardly pursed her lips on a poorly hidden smile.
“Oh, Ithunn will do. I do actually eat meat. I was just wondering if you had considered it. Most assume my affinity with natural elements and profession as a Druid would make me avoidant of eating meat. I’m glad I don’t have to insist it is in fact a part of my diet. And I rather have an affinity for meat pies, at least when they’re done well.”
Gale emitted a sigh that started in relief and ended in trepidation.
“I see. Well, as relieved as I am that I have in fact avoided a faux pas, I would ask you to refrain from making such worrying declarations in response to a treat.”
Ithunn returned a placid smile to his minor chastisement.
“Of course, Professor Dekarios. And you mentioned this is your treat?”
“Gale will do. And yes! I wouldn’t surprise any in my company with a sudden expense. If I had not intended to pay, I would have at least asked. Though now I see at your suggestion I should have asked nevertheless.”
“Glad to have cleared that away.” Ithunn continued the smile.
“Quite.”
As they had talked their way to the front of the pastry shop, titled “A Dock a Dozen Bakery,” they entered with Gale leading the path to the counter. A jovial man of lightly browned skin and a black beard greeted them with a rosy-cheeked smile. He had a flour-covered apron donning his person. No hair occupied the shiny dome of his head.
“Gale Dekarios! Welcome in, my friend. How’s it faring?
“Hallo, Bennet. I’m very well! I’m actually rather nose-deep in a scintillating project as it were. My fair companion here is indeed going to assist me in this endeavor as well. It’s all rather exciting for me!”
“Ah,” Bennet responded with a knowing smile and a twinkle in his eye. “A fair companion indeed! You’ll have to excuse my bluntness, Mr. Dekarios, but does that in fact mean you’ve made yourself spoken for with this lovely young lady?”
Gale’s eyes widened at the misunderstanding and his lips parted to amend the mistake. However, before he could commence correction, he was very suddenly joined at the elbow by Ithunn herself.
“Why you’re so astute Mr. Bennet!” Ithunn pushed strongly into the conversation. She kept her voice deep with a resonant purr in an effort to talk over whatever contradiction to the joke Gale might have tried to offer.
“Wait, now, see here-” Gale tried to stammer out, flustered by the immediate intrusion. But before he could continue, Bennet took his turn in the play.
“Gods! Marvelous! I’m very happy to see you with such a lovely lady at your side, Mr. Dekarios! And, cor! A Pomarium! We don’t see too many of your peoples around here, miss, but I recognize your house’s insignia. Wonderful work your family does around here with the fish populations and all that.”
“You flatter me, Mr. Bennet. I do try my best to contribute to the community.” Ithunn, trying to keep her tone smooth, deep and steady, still had to belt out her words over the protest of the wizard next to her, who was trying profusely to amend the mistake.
“Nonsense, I’m sure it barely breaks a sweat on your brow. How about in celebration of your recent joining to my friend here and a thank you for the work you’ve done and are apparently going to do in cohort with Mr. Dekarios here, I’ll give the two of you a discount on your order?” Bennet winked to punctuate his proposal.
“EXCUSE me,” Gale cut in quite loudly. His outburst momentarily gleaned the attention of the other patrons in the small shop, who then turned back to their own matters.
“I’m so terribly sorry, Bennet, I cannot apologize enough but I’m afraid my, er, companion is intending to commit a deception against your honest transaction here.”
Bennet’s eyes held their twinkle, but turned sympathetic to Gale’s exclamation.
“Ah my dear friend, we were joshing you about. Didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable. The discount still stands, seeing as how we took our little joke too far on you.”
Ithunn observed the baker’s apology, then piped up:
“I truly didn’t mean to disturb you, Gale. I am sorry for carrying-on.”
Gale’s fluster of anger reshaped itself into that of self-shame.
“Ah, well… I see.” He stammered lamely. “Seeing as how it was all just in jest I suppose I’ve been a poor sport.”
Ithunn felt a pang of sympathy for the emotionally disheveled wizard. She knew she had been carried away with the joke, but truly hadn’t meant to insult her new cohort. She truly didn’t get to mess around with the other, stuffier clientele of her family’s household. There was something about Gale that seemed to permit more teasing on his end.
“I think you’re being a rather good sport, actually. Even if the joke had to be explained,” Ithunn assured him. He responded to her verbal peace offering with a smile.
“Well then!” He snapped enthusiastically. “Now that that business has been cleared. Bennet, can we get a couple of your most delicious meat pies?”
Back on the street, treasures of delicacy clutched in a hand each, Gale and Ithunn resumed their journey to Blackstaff.
“I suppose I rather made an ass of myself in that shop,” Gale offered.
“Well if you did, so did I,” Ithunn suggested. “I am sorry for my behavior, I don’t usually get to meet such a wizard as yourself and I was intrigued.”
“A wizard so dashing and exemplary?”
“Perhaps I’ll see the evidence of that when we actually begin our work together. I really just mean that you’re quite teasable.”
Gale opened his mouth, as if to begin a defense of his nature, then, simply changed his tune to that of a more permissible amiability.
“Perhaps you’re right.”
With that final outspoken thought, the two new friends continued their walk to the academic office Gale held at the place of his profession, a cautious excitement permeating the minds of both.