[AdmiralDigi]

It is no longer the same city that it was, when it flourished in its early years and was the prospect unrivalled. The annexation of the land for its involvement and tolerance of necromancy, or necromancy adjacent practice, had put on Ten's Citadel's map, and its old roots were dug up, ripped out, and cast away like weeds unwanted. The history of Arcadia pales in comparison to the dimmest of its bright future, now the seat of a new god, with its old faiths long-stripped.

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Caius, patron of the dead, is no longer an actively served patron of the clergy in Arcadia; but one returns.
Sightings speak of a grave visited, the one of Arcadia's once-pride, Meri'Li. 
It's the woman who was her mother, and Archnurse, who stands not idle in their grown senescence and age, with another.

The shade hums under trees and overgrown mushrooms alike, with a warm winter wind, and a cold summer breeze, a rite is enacted on their fringe borders. For a church of Caius it has no longer; it was still the grounds on which it was born in her, and then granted, in him. The murmur and chatter of harmonious sprites and fae catch the wind, and mingle with the idle chatter of Arcadia's songbirds. It's hard to keep something interesting quiet for long in the sleepy pastoral settlement of life.
Especially when it is the touch of the dead, in that same harmony, ringing without discord.

A Champion of Caius has been chosen, quietly, without ceremony, on the outskirts of Arcadia; little more than a tall tale, but the lingering presence of aether holds simple truth to the murmurs on high.

Someone is at rest.