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((Memorial Day Special -- Page 8 of 12))
She was in some tiny country she’d never heard of, walking around a creepy castle she didn’t much care for, surrounded by a bunch of people she didn’t know.

And yet, she wasn’t freaking out. For the most part.

Maybe she’d just expended all of her freaking out energy back in Steccat. In retrospect, Roman had been an absolute saint in dealing with her for those first couple days on the run.

Too bad.

Hopefully, he and Gina would figure things out between themselves soon. They had only just reunited, but Madison was already feeling immensely tempted to help them along. She knew better, though. She didn’t have enough information about Roman’s feelings toward Gina, so trying to force the issue now could easily just make everything worse. Madison knew only too well that these kinds of things required a delicate touch.

At length, her internal musings came to an end when she noticed Dimas had dismissed his apparent associate and was returning to her.

“Thank you for waiting,” he said, as calm and flat as before.

“No problem,” she said as they started walking again. “It seems like you’re in high demand around here.”

Dimas didn’t have anything to say to that, apparently.

She tried again as they set foot in the Entry Tower. “Are you a... I dunno, a high-ranking Rainlord or something? Do you guys have ranks?”

“No, we do not,” said Dimas. “However, yes, I am the current head of House Sebolt.”

“Ooh, the head, huh? That sounds important.”

“...Yes.”

They took a left and ascended a curving staircase, then Dimas guided her down a corridor and into the room in question.

It was empty, and there were giant cracks in all the walls, but she supposed it had a certain charm to it. Rainbow tiles were an interesting choice. Not something she would have chosen, certainly, but she couldn’t deny that it made an impact.

“Are all of your shrines this colorful?” she asked.

“This is not a Rainlord shrine,” said Dimas. “This is not our castle, either.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that, I think. It belongs to, uh... ah...?”

“Lord Goffe. He is not a Rainlord.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” It didn’t make much difference to her, but she figured it would be rude if she didn’t at least try to keep track of these things.

Dimas walked toward the far corner of the room and sat by the lamp there. There was no chair or bench to sit on, though. Instead, it was a long, blocky protrusion from the wall, seemingly designed to be sat on, given the row of concave indentations where butts were presumably supposed to go.

“The Lord Goffe’s associate mentioned that he wished for these shrines to be places where people of all different faiths could come to observe peace.”

Madison sat down next to him. “That sounds nice.”

“Indeed.”

That was it, huh? Of course it was. “So... you like this place, then?”

“...Yes.”