*The Grumbar priest looks at you for a moment with unblinking eyes, then nods and gives a grunt of affirmation, and turns back to his stew.*
*The rest of your night passes fairly uneventfully, with the snores of the priests and pentients rumbling through the rooms.*
*Nessa, the priestesses give you a slight bow to end your conversation, then turn back to their own concerns. The rest of your evening is fair and calm.*
*In the morning, after your morning devotions and routines, you all meet up later on the road. You journey westward is marked by similar stops at other trading towns or larger ones along the way. After traveling a week, you've all noticed that there are a greater number of priests on the road than normal. The only holy days coming up are the Feast for the Lost Children, one of Alnaria's holidays on which children are adopted, and the Rekindling of the Flame, one of Kossuth's twice-yearly renewals of faith on which new priests are ordained. Neither of them draw large amounts of other priests.*
*Though conjecture, conversation, overhearing, and casual questioning you learn that the temples have called in several of their best debators and diplomats to prepare for the arguements on the necromantic laws. They're still many weeks away, but apparently the temples are taking no chances.*
*By now you've turned off the most heavily-traveled roads in favor of some of the lesser-used paths that should take you eventually to the Baroness' estate with little fanfair. After outdistancing that last grain caravan, you've been alone on the road for a while. Ahead you notice another road joins yours from the south, and you can see some faint movement through the trees. I appears as if there's a funeral caravan pulling onto your road. With black horses pulling black-draped coffins, attended by black-robed priests with their cowls up, they make a somber sight. Several of them swing censers filled with incense to cover the inevitable odor.*
