She nods. "Yeah, it would have been much better than nothing - I do try really hard to save my last bit of song, but I wasn't sure if we were going to survive this at all, without it." 

In a lower voice "...I think it was very brave of him, though. To pray a God, hoping they'd care more about the Worldwound and the people holding it than what Pharasma thinks of them,"

"Hell, I tried Nethys the other day, but it didn't work."

She nods. "I tried Shelyn, when the announcement came out, just in case... I am grateful to whichever Gods involved" (Iomedae for sure, possibly maybe also Shelyn, maybe others,) "that Commander Artigas got picked up."

"With a knife. Does that mean Iomedae or is it Abadar's secret third holy symbol or what."

Ah, she wasn't sure who all had caught that specific detail. "...knife means Iomedae, I'm pretty sure. Which I think makes sense? She obviously cares a lot about Worldwound defense, right, and there are many legends of people's alignments changing dramatically just in time to save or ruin them..."

"Not like that. I guess different places censor different shit, maybe you've read a thousand."

She laughs. "A few dozen, and mostly songs, but that's enough to know it does happen, sometimes? So it's worth trying, in a crisis." 

More quietly, "...as far as I know, almost nobody does the amount of censorship Cheliax does."

"Well, maybe the new regime'll change it," shrugs Txell, "won't get me more books up here."

"I certainly hope they will, though I suppose that's what you might expect the bard to say." She grins.

"I think there's song-sorcerers back home? I dunno that I've ever heard them being particularly fussy about censorship."

This might or might not have been Txell's original bowl of stew from when the alarm bells rang but she's going to Prestidigitate it up warm again and eat it regardless.

The commander comes in a bit behind everyone else - clerics get some training in non-magical medical assessments that is, whatever the motives, applicable to figuring out how it's safe to move people and who needs to be channeled at most urgently first thing in the morning and who needs a wound cauterized so it won't be infected come dawn. But eventually that's handled and the information passed on to those who need it and the living are all walked inside one way or another.

He had not come to dinner yet when the bells rang, so he doesn't have a previous bowl of stew to reclaim.

He's going to go stand on a table to make an announcement to everyone well enough to chew.

"If it escaped anyone, I am answering now to Iomedae," he says loudly. "Expect changes accordingly."

Ragged shellshocked nodding.

He steps down and gets a bowl.

He'll find the bard not quite hovering nearby once he's gotten his food, but doing something in the neighborhood. She nods at him. "Commander." (She wants to say congratulations, but she's still trying to gauge whether or not that's actually appropriate, here.)

"- Miss Urdina. Thank you."

She smiles. "You're very welcome. Congratulations, both on the channels and the lives saved." 

"I suppose I will need to write to Lastwall for instructions." He finds a place to sit.

"I can tell you everything I've picked up from working with them in the meantime, if you'd like?" She'll take a seat nearby. (She's... not particularly hungry; fighting always makes her feel vaguely sick, afterwards.)

"I've met paladins but they did not tend... chatty. So yes, if you please."

She's met chatty paladins (and slept with one or two) but they tend to be the exception, and also she imagines that even dear Siena would have precious little to say to the commander of a Chelish Worldwound fort. "I'd be happy to - tomorrow morning after breakfast, perhaps?"

"I expect to take breakfast an hour after dawn. Probably in my office since I'll have Light again and letters to write, but you may join me."

Nodnod. "I will see you then!"

She sticks around a bit longer, and then heads back to her room.

She doesn't sleep very well that night, but that's okay.

He is up at dawn. He mostly has been, but - not perfectly on the dot, these recent days, and now dawn is back again as a thing in the world that can touch him through the walls.

He spends an hour kneeling in unaccustomed forms of prayer.

And then he gets himself a Light lit, and calls for a porridge and starts writing.