>>713060You hide the artifact securely before anyone can suspect that something's up.
>>713060>>713061>>713062>>713063The Troupe, realizing what you're up to, just nod in confirmation of your vague descriptions.
The scribe sees nothing amiss, scribbling down a few notes onto a sheet of paperwork. He checks a rather large, tattered schedule-book, muttering to himself in the way old people tend to do. "You're in luck. There was a cancellation of an appointment for this hour not long ago."
He makes a note in the schedule-book, and then passes off the paperwork to the assistant. "Follow her, please. The Sage shall be with you in a moment."
The assistant, an elderly mare about the scribe's age, leads you down a hallway. "Right this way."
You proceed down a few corridors, making twists and turns that allow you to see more of the vast castle, decorated not with statues, but living murals upon the walls, constructed of flowers deliberately woven into illustrations of history, much like tapestries, only truly alive. A beautiful sight, but not for those tragically weak to pollen.
The assistant eventually unlocks a large waiting room, with many chairs on the sides, and another doorway at the other end, flanked by two guards. "Please wait here until you are called. You don't have to surrender your weapons, but we ask that you keep them holstered until you have left the premises. The same goes for magic and magic items."
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After a few minutes of waiting, you are called into the next room. The two guards accompany you into a large, rounded chamber, like the sanctuary of a church. It is well lit and full of flowers. Several pews are lined up in the front half of the room, while on the other half, there is a magnificent chair that is raised on an elevated platform, with a desk before it. As you enter, another figure, enters, from the other side of the chamber.
The figure is a middle-aged crystal pony mare, with a light brown body and light brown eyes, her mane green and full of flowers. She wears a similarly green robe, and bifocal glasses. She wears a sour frown, obviously in a bad mood, and from her mouth dangles a long cigarette. Taking a seat in the chair, she smiles at you, forcing herself to put on a friendly demeanor. "Good evening, travelers. I am Sage Peat of the Marsh, Matriarch of the Druids and custodian of the Land of the Marsh. You are…?"