The acolyte shrugs. "Auric Cupper has been in charge as long as I've been here."
If you don't have anything more to say to him, he heads off, returning in about four minutes to let you know that Martin is ready to see you now.
Martin, for his part, has clearly seen better days. The room he's in contains a few remnants of what looks to have been powerful healing rituals (braziers and bits of chalked circle), now mostly pushed off to one side. The efforts do not appear to have been particularly successful - Martin seems to be going through a steady supply of clean bandages across numerous wounds, and a kettle of boiling water is sitting in one corner. Despite his injuries, he's sitting up and at a desk; a few scattered pages and several old tomes sit open in front of him - you recognize one of them immediately as a scholarly work on the second age. (Not one of the best such works, but probably the best that a small and out of the way* temple such as this could get a hold of.)
He looks up as you arrive. "Ah. Thirwin, wasn't it?"
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* Out of the way with respect to the lands controlled by the Harbingers, that is.
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