As the group settles down for a night in Axeholm before making their way back to Phandalin, Liadhain starts looking for Phylis. She doesn't have to search long - the gnome settled down in a neighbouring room, illuminated by the bead in her hair, busy writing on a piece of parchment. She looks up as Liadhain enters.

"Writing your next report?", the young cleric asks.

Phylis nods. "Yes. We'll likely be busy once we're back, and I want to send it right away."

"Didn't uncle order you to run your report by him before you write it?"

"Before I send it. And he asked, not ordered, as I'm not strictly under his authority."

"You'd defy a direct order from the lord?", Liadhain asks somewhat shocked.

"So far Alasdair has shown a great deal of common sense, so no need to defy anything. I think neither he nor I want to go to deep into what happens if I feel I can't follow one of his orders ... so it was wise of him to ask, and I will of course comply. Before I *send* it."

Phylis briefly stops writing and looks at Liadhain. "Anyhow, this time it is very positive. Your family handled itself in an exemplary way, and we have achieved a lot here."

"Can I see what you have so far?", Liadhain asks and settles down next to Phylis.

"Sure". Phylis absent-mindedly hands her the page she has already written, then after finishing the second waits for the young cleric to read up.

"Yes, that's nicer. Though a bit alarmist with the dwarves and very ... direct." She looks at Phylis. "You know, if you'd ask me to write, I think the lord would be even happier. We could stress our personal risk and involvement a bit more."

Phylis smiles. "If you wrote, it'd be a disaster."

Liadhain looks taken aback. "I have a courtly education. I can write without tripping over my own words."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. What I'm saying is - if anyone but me writes the reports I'm sending in, Lord Neverember will notice instantly. And he'd get very suspicious. For good reason."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of it that way.", Liadhain says with a sigh. "Still, it would be nice if we could smooth things over a bit between you and the lord, after the ... altercation caused by the last report."

Phylis takes Liadhains hand and smiles again - it reminds the young woman very much of how her mother used to smile, despite Phylis being a lot smaller than herself. "It's sweet of you to care. But, believe me, the Lord and I don't need smoothing over. And we'll get in fights in the future - with words. It's who we both are, how we act and what we value, and I believe we respect that enough in each other to not try to adapt."

Liadhain smiles weakly. "Hmm. That also makes some sense." Then she looks to the floor and grimaces slightly, her hand still in Phylis. "It's weird, now you are all nice and sweet. But previously you suggested simply abandoning the villagers when a more convenient outcome with the dwarves came in sight."

"Oh, Liadhain. I love your idealism, and it suits your deity very well. Believe me, I don't want to abandon the villagers. But you are young and lucky enough to have never seen war, nor a large battle. Given how ... thick-headed Lord Starker was acting, I believed that I'd have to choose. And I'm not going to risk a war that will kill thousands simply to save a few dozen."

"It's not 'simply', though. Everyone is worse saving."

"Yes. And some more so than others - don't look at me that way, you had guards all your life. You know how things work."

Liadhain shrugs. "Yep, I guess. More sense." Then she looks up at Phylis. "You know, this reminds me of talking to my own mother. You sound like you've done this before - you have children of your own, don't you?"

Now it is Phylis who looks away, letting go of Liadhains hand. "I ... don't want to go there."

Before Liadhain can react, there's movement at the door. As Alasdair enters, both seem to be asking themselves the same question - how much did he overhear? Sound carries quite well in these halls, but the Lord isn't known for eavesdropping and sneaking around.

"Liadhain, I was looking for you. Ah, and our favourite spy - got a report to show me? *Before* you send it, this time?"

Phylis hands the old man the stack of pages. "The ink is not quite dry yet. Don't smudge it", she says.

He grabs the stack and starts reading. "Hmm... Bla bla bla... Relatively efficient operation... Yadda yadda... Cleared out hostiles... Mumble... Mostly diplomatic... Bla bla... Tensions expected, but outlook better than before." He looks up confused. "What is this? Where's the real report?"

Phylis blinks. "The what now?"

"You are not going to throw us under the bus again? Oh! Or maybe there is a hidden message in here. If I read the first letters of every word... F M Y G C B R R, wait, is that gnomish?”

Phylis gently touches the Lord's shoulder. "Mylord. I merely report the facts as they happened. I have no hidden agenda. The last mission was successful and granted us leverage and influence."

Lord Alasdair stares into nothingness for a while, until his gaze finally softens. "Oh. Yes, of course." He tries to stroke his beard, or rather the few hairs that have survived the last acid shower. "Good. Granted. You may send it. I mean, not that I could order you not to." He waves his hand in the air. "Do the thing." He pauses. "Why did I come here again?"

Liadhain quietly clears her throat. "You wanted to see me, Mylord?"

"Ah yes, girl. There you are. I just wanted to make sure that you are ok. The last fight was rough, you know? This screaming thing might have scared you. You were out cold. I had you in my arms." He stared at something imaginary in the far distance. "Heavens, you were truly dead. I can't lose more family. We need, erm, we need all of you. To fight. To be strong." Phylis and Liadhain exchanged a quick glance, but Alasdair continues unperturbed, "So, to summarize, if you need someone to have a beer with, or do anything else for you." His gaze comes back to the present again. "Good. Dismissed." He quickly turns around and leaves the room again.

Liadhain frowns a bit. "He didn't take yesterday too well, it seems."

"Nope."

"He's in pretty bad shape."

"Yep."

"I mean, I appreciate that he cares for me. But he has a funny way of showing it."

Phylis laughs. "He means we'll, you know?"

Liadhain responds with a slight smile. "I know. He was never the warm kind. So I guess that's as much as he can do."

"But seriously, how are you holding up?", Phylis asks. "You were hit pretty hard."

"I can't say I had worse days. But I'm still standing."

"Good. And, you know", Phylis winks, "if you want to drink a beer together, or if there's anything I can do."

Liadhain laughs out loud. "Thank you, Phylis. I appreciate it. I'll be fine." She smiles. "I will leave you to wrap up the report. And I already have an idea how I can bring back uncle. He needs a good night's sleep, and I think Tilge might have just the right powder for that."

Phylis lifts her hand, but before she can say anything, Liadhain continues, "Oh don't worry. I'll double-check that it's the right one this time."