Setting up a tent site, that was one thing Patroclus knew he could do. With or Without magic.

Being the son of an Archaelogist, who spend half his time on digs, the art of pitching, became well tuned.

Patroclus licked his finger, and held it in the air. As it dried he was able to sort out the wind direction, and knowing that was essential. Next the boy selected a perfect spot, he oriented his plot so that it would have water views, but also so that it was high enough back from the water level, to protect it from damp and also the chance of a high tide, as the Professor said, it was a river after all.

Walking over to the collection of materials, Patroclus surveyed waht was on offer, and decided that a Boudain style tent would be perfect. A style typcial employed the Deserts, by Nomads for their ease and speed of assembly, Patroclus had spent lots of time in their airy yet strudy walls in his child hood.


Assembling his things, the boy set to work, laying the basis, a dry tarp, then erected wooden structures that would suffice to carry the wieght of the fabric. Patroclus had selected a lovely cotton blend as the tent material, a rich red that expressed his house pride.


As the son began to set, Patroclus stepped back and marveled at his work, His tent was good enough for a King, and large enough to fit a royal court as well.