Free Blood Loss: The Chronicle of Rael by Martin Parece, Mary Parece, Philip Jarvis

made of fine marble and granite with silver and gold accents.  He’d heard of mighty castles and their towering battlements and of the great walls that protected them.  Somi had been nothing of the sort, but Martherus… Martherus lives up to every boyhood ideal of what a city should be.  He has never seen anything so great, so impressive as this place.  Even Theron in Akor with its palatial estates and finery amazes not so much.
    Pret had selected accommodations for his party well ahead of time, for apparently he uses this particular inn exclusively in his dealings in Martherus.  The Green Gourd, named so for the pale green limestone used in its construction, is a massive three level establishment.  A rich common room containing inhabitants who do not appear so common takes up most of the lower level, the rest consisting of a well-stocked kitchen and a semi-exclusive taproom.  Rael finds the sleeping rooms rich and luxurious in sharp contrast to the other inns in which he has stayed in years past.  Plush cotton mattresses with mahogany head and footboards, clean silk sheets and basins of marble adorn every room.  Rael has never slept as deeply as he does that night.
    In the morning, Rael dresses plainly in a wool tunic and breeches, for his sword and chain mail are unneeded in a business deal with a Lord of Aquis.  After a fine breakfast, he escorts Pret through the great city, or rather, the merchant leads Rael as he gawks open mouthed at the wondrous buildings of Martherus.  In an hour’s time, they stand before a miniature castle that gleams brightly of white marble in the morning sun.  Heraldic symbols of Martherus, Aquis and Garod adorn it, and a forty foot tall statue to Garod almost as tall as the castle itself stands outside.  The main entrance, double doors of a dark hardwood and banded with iron, stands ajar to admit entry to any who pass by.  Inside, they find an area in which to worship that is no different from any of Garod’s other temples, except for the sheer size of it at well over four thousand square feet.
    A thin, short man robed in plain white robes shambles quickly toward them upon their entry.  He is clean shaven of both face and head, a task Rael would never dare undertake for the pure maintenance of it.  It is hard enough to keep one’s face clear of a beard; he cannot imagine how hard it is to keep one’s head smooth.
    “Lord Pret I presume?” the robed man asks in a nasally voice.  “My Lord commanded me to bring you to him.  He awaits your arrival.  Might I ask you to follow me?”
    As quickly as he had come, the man turns around and strides through the middle of the temple.  Neither Rael nor Pret had expected such an abrupt action from the man, so they find that they are already fifteen or twenty feet behind before they start to follow.  The two men rush to close within a comfortable distance.
    “Your name?” Pret asks of the man’s back.
    “My name is unimportant.”
    “You serve Lord Pagus then?”
    “I am an Acolyte of Garod, and I serve Him as I am told,” their guide replies as if all questions are now answered.  He leads them through a door in the temple’s rear and down a crisscross of halls.  He stops at a set of double doors, identical to those that lead into the temple, though much smaller.  Two plate armored men flank the door, and their surcoats and shields present symbols of Aquis and Martherus. 
    “Lord Pret of Akor,” the acolyte announces, and the guards open the doors in response.
    Grand decorations furnish the room beyond.  It is divided into three sections by lode bearing pillars, for it is one great room when it should be several.  In the back, Rael sees the largest bed he has ever seen anywhere, even in Pret’s own chambers, and he does not doubt its softness.  To the right is a marble tub, ten feet across, and a beautifully carved dining table with four matching chairs, all made of ebony.  Standing before them in the room’s