The Lost Vineyard: Epilogue

At a monastery, a monk uncapped a scroll case. It was a letter, from...brother Aedric? The monk chuckled to himself. They'd sent the annoyingly pious twerp on a wild goose chase. He wasn't cut out for the political machinations of ruling an agricultural mafia, but he'd found a way to make himself useful after all. Brother Domini squinted at the end of the letter.  

I think I have found my true calling in adventuring. I shall remain at the vineyard to receive any workers the Abbot wishes to send, but do not wait for me to return to the monastery. I will travel the world with my new friends, fighting evil and spreading the good word of the Goddess.

That was less than optimal, but no matter. Another foothold in the Hot Lands was welcome, as was the chance to make more of Wanax's wine. They'd keep it a secret at first, pretending Aedric and some other clerics had merely recovered well preserved vintages. Then once they were sure the local Liberator cultists posed no threat to their operation, they'd start selling the wine for real. Ah, Claudio, he thought to himself, you've outdone yourself now. That really is a clever idea. This is sure to cheer up the Abbot.

Deep in the Commonwealth heartlands, the Benedek sisters mourned and rejoiced. They had just received word of Márta's death, but also of her burial. Through a strange twist of fortune, Amalia had found her body and put it to rest in farmland so that she might be immortalized in foodstuffs. 

Most of the girls had never seen either of their sisters, but they loved the both of them all the same. The older women stared out across the wheat fields in the direction of the lands owned by the Fatherd clan. They discussed who would be married off next and wondered which of their daughters and nieces would be next to take up adventuring.

In the shade next to the winery's lake, Vraifigi of Fafnir waited for the Water King. He'd been surveilling the winery ever since the adventurers arrived and had struck a few deals with them. In exchange for the satyrs singing him to sleep each night, he would irrigate the fields again. The elemental tyrant would've preferred his previous arrangement of watching naked nuns bathe, but for all their vulgarity, the satyrs' voices were beautiful. The order on the docket today was a nautical delivery. The Water King wasn't about to pass up another chance to add more treasure to his hoard. All he had to do was dredge up an old ship that had sunk in the lake. Oh, and grant it his blessing, that way it wouldn't immediately sink when the adventurers climbed into it. Vraifigi had driven a hard bargain. At first, he was going to let the mortals figure out how to make the ship seaworthy again. But when the cave elf offered a tithe of the winery's finest to be poured as libations, he changed his tune. The King knew he was being cheated on an economic level, but proper respect deserved a good turn.