"Didn't she even see beauty in Kelemvor?" Shar asked calmly. "Cyric is already above standard, isn't he?"
"No... I'm not talking about the candidate, but the timing!" Lathander said, swaying back and forth. "Tell me, has Cyric ever settled down over the years?
He only had two quiet periods. One was when Jergal locked him in the River Styx, and the other was when Ao threw him into prison.
Sharess definitely couldn't have gone to either of those places.
How did she find the chance to hook up with Cyric?
If Cyric could recognize who she was after looking at her for only a little while, then they definitely spent a long time together!
When? Where?
Aren't you curious?"
Selûne shifted uneasily... the bright-eyed gaze of a fellow enthusiast who had shared this amusement with her for so long made her unable to sit still.
She pinched and kneaded the fabric of her sheer gown with both hands for a while before hesitantly saying, "Look, when the Time of Troubles ended, didn't Cyric chase Mask around for a while?
Although he was brewing his next conspiracy at the time, news about Mask could still make him put everything aside for the moment.
Mask always liked disguising himself as exquisite artworks, especially finely crafted weapons, or the artists who made such things.
Back then, what the people of Toril needed were resources for survival. No matter how beautiful an artwork was, it couldn't fill anyone's stomach. The nobles were the same—they needed enough money to arm themselves... otherwise, the starving commoners would show them what suffering was.
And on Toril, at that time, only the Church of Love and Beauty, which had not been greatly affected, was still sponsoring outstanding artists and was even willing to pay extra for such items.