# Aphonion Tales (New posts 6/13, 6/15, 6/19)



## Cerebral Paladin

Aphonion is the campaign world of one of the finest DMs I've ever played with.  Currently, I only get to play with him a couple of times a year.  This storyhour depicts adventures in the current campaign I play in, which has met for two long sessions so far.  I'm going to start in media res by beginning a write up of the most recent game, but I'm going to leave a spot free in case I ever get around to writing up the first game.

These writeups are Copyright 2004-2008, the author.  All rights reserved.  Please do not copy without permission.  The world design is Copyright 1975-2008, the DM.  I hope people enjoy this storyhour.


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## Cerebral Paladin

Placeholder post in case I get around to filling it in later.


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## Cerebral Paladin

Session 2:

Mahler Fife and Alistair talked quietly in one of the nicer taverns in Plurg in the City of Enclaves, which is to say a dive.

"The hags seem to do everything in threes," Alistair observed.  "Stories always tell of covens of three, and at each of the two bases they were using for their slaving they had a triangle on the wall.  When the guard hit one of the triangles, it triggered the alarm spell.  I figure that the hags' actual base probably forms the third point of an equilateral triangle with the two we found so far.  We just need to get a map, plot the points, confirm which one the hags are at, and turn it over to the Glordiadelian church troops to collect our reward."

"Sounds right to me.  I bet we can get a map of the Enclave from the local parish church." Mahler finished his drink, dropped a copper for the tab, and stood to leave.

The two young men quickly reached the local temple to Glordiadel.  A quick conversation with an acolyte persuaded him to show them a map of the Enclave- an authoritative attitude can be remarkably persuasive sometimes.  A few quick moves with a compass identified the two possibilities.  One of the two was at the docks of the Enclave, across from an Enclave filled with warehouses and not far from the notorious slave-holding Enclave of Zorplona-Argoni.  The other possible vertex was far within the Enclave, in a nondistinguished section of streets.

Mahler looked at the two options.  "The dock seems the best bet to check first.  The hags seem to have some affinity for water, and besides, its position would make shipping slaves out to whereever they're sold easier."

"Makes sense.  Let's check it out."

Mahler and Alistair travelled to the docks.  Searching around pier by pier seemed a little two obvious, so they stealthily stowed away on board one of the many barges carrying the shipping down the canals.  Crouched stealthily by the gunwales of the barge, they examined each pier as the barge slowly drifted past.  Most of the piers were unremarkable.  But as they approached the precise area predicted by the pattern, they noticed that one of the pier had an understructure enclosed in walls-- precisely what would be needed if the hags were using this area for a hideout.

Mahler dropped his heaviest gear and prepared to drop over the edge.  "I'm going to take a closer look." Alistair gathered up a coil of rope near one hand, while keeping his spiked chain ready to hand but well concealed.  Mahler slid lightly into the murky, foul smelling canal water, and quietly stroked over to the structure.  When he arrived at the structure's side, he could hear voices within.

"Is dat de barge?"

"Naw, we gotta wait some more.  But the ol' gal said it would be soon."

"And then she said we're supposed to clear out.  I don't know why she wants us to leave, but I'm sure she'll tell us when she's ready."

Mahler maneuvered to where he could see into the structure through a gap between two planks.  The two voices belonged to half-orc guards.  The only other people in the structure were a group of scared human children-- kidnapped by the hags to be sold into slavery.  Mahler carefully remained perfectly still while one of the half-orcs looked through a knothole.  But as the guard turned back to his companion, Mahler pushed away from the pier and swam through the fetid water to rejoin Alistair, who hoisted him back into the barge.

"Definitely some more slavers there.  The hags aren't there, though.  We should act quickly, though. They're supposed to deliver the slaves soon."

"Hmm.  I could create an illusion of one of the hags, based on what we saw before.  We might be able to fool the guards into leaving without a fight.  I can't make sound for the illusion, though."

"I can mimic the hag's voice.  It'll be good enough to fool them."

"Let's send them back to one of the hideouts we already raided.  The hags won't check back there, and we can capture them at our leisure.  In the meantime, we can grab the barge that's coming to take delivery by calling in some reinforcements."

The barge captain burst in with a startled, "hey, wot's this, and who are you?"

Mahler looked up at the captain from under his cloak.  "Uh... we're some of your crew.  We got hired by the foreman..."

"No, you're not!  I know all of my crew, and..."

Alistair tried a different tack.  "Listen, sir, just be quiet and we'll explain." Alistair flashed a few silver coins to draw the captain's attention.  He passed the coins over.  "We're looking to rent a pier in this area for our shipping concern, and we wanted to get a view upclose without anyone the wiser.  So we could know how much to offer, y'know?"

Satisfied with the bribe, the captain quickly began turning away.  "Ah, right.  Never noticed you on board at all..."

"Captain, would you mind dropping us off at that pier?" Alistair pointed at the pier next to the hag's hideout.

"Not at all."

"And actually, if you could block traffic for a little bit-- we don't want to be interrupted."

"Blocking traffic could get me fined!" Alistair handed the captain a gold piece.  Moments later the captain skewed the barge across the canal and began yelling at his crew for having screwed things up.  It would clearly be several minutes before the barges started moving again.

The two young men hopped off the barge onto the dock.  Mahler dirtied up each of their faces to make them more convincing as employees of the hag.  Mahler made some general noise to conceal the spellcasting, and an image of a green hag appeared.  Neither paid much attention to a slight shimmering in the air nearby.

The hag strode imperiously into the slave center, trailed by Mahler and Alistair doing their best thug impressions.  The two guards looked up in surprise.  

"There's been a change in plans." Mahler threw his voice and changed it to sound like the hag's.  "You two should head to the other base, beneath the pipe foundry, and wait for further orders there.  These two," the hag gestured at Mahler and Alistair, "will watch these slaves until pick-up."

"Yes, mum.  We'll go right then." The guards were confused, but they knew better than to argue with the hag and left immediately.

A slight breeze stirred through the structure, stopping as the guards left, but Mahler and Alistair assumed that it was just an unusual windpattern.  Besides, they had more important things to worry about.  As soon as the guards were out of earshot, the hag disappeared and Mahler and Alistair began releasing the children.  "Don't worry kids- we're here to rescue you." While Mahler freed the last captives, Alistair fished a scrap of parchment out of a pocket, scribbled a note on it, and melted some wax.  He drew a signet ring out of one of his pockets, carefully set the seal inside the letter while positioning himself so that Mahler could never see either seal or signet, closed the letter, and sealed it on the outside with a simple thumbprint.  The ring dropped back into the same deep pocket it came from.

Turning to one of the oldest children, Alistair handed him the letter and said, "Take this to the temple of Glordiadel.  Tell whoever you meet at the temple that you were told to give this directly to the priest." As the child ran off with the message, Alistair turned to Mahler.  "That should get us some back-up.  When the barge arrives to pick up the children, we'll be in a position to start following the slave trade the other direction by capturing whoever crews the barge."


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## Cerebral Paladin

Meanwhile, a ripple in the air continued to follow the two guards across the Enclave of Plurg.  One said to his companion, "Did the ol' gal seem a little off to you?"

"I dunno.  Maybe she's sick or somethin'."

"Hope not.  Hate to see what could make 'er sick.  She just seemed a little... off."

As they walked down the street, an old crone with a bag of bright, juicy apples looked at them in surprise and distaste.  Transforming into her true form, a ten-foot tall night hag, she spun on the hapless guards.  "What are you doing here?  Why aren't you at your posts?"

The guards pulled up short.  "One of your sisters told us to go to the base below the pipe foundry.  Told us the new guards would watch the slaves 'til the delivery was made."

"Did she, now?  Tell me about these new guards." The hag never noticed the shimmer in the air as it zipped back to the slave pen.

Moments later, a strange form appeared before Mahler and Alistair.   The form had the torso of a man, but only a whirlwind for legs.  Furthermore, the entire body of the stranger had a blue cast to it, and was vaguely translucent.

Mahler and Alistair leapt back, drawing their weapons.  "Who are you?  What are you doing here?"

"My name is Stithis," replied the djinn.  "I've come to warn you.  I've been watching your efforts, and you need to know that the hag found out that you had sent the guards away."

"She can teleport, so she'll be here soon." Alistair turned to the children who were still milling around.  "You need to run now.  The hag is coming back, so scatter." The children ran away from the dock in every direction.  Alistair and Mahler clambered up to the top of the dock, where they each hid.  Stithis simply resumed his invisibility.

Meanwhile, a group of Council of Opposition Canal Guards, resplendent in their many colored sashes, had arrived in a fast boat to clear the traffic problems.  Knowing his cue to unblock the canal, the captain of the barge swung back into traffic, resolving the problem.  But as a result of his delay, the Canal Guards were perfectly positioned to hear the hag cry out, "Where are my slaves?" The hag burst through the door at the end of the slave den below the pier, anger and hatred flashing in her eyes.

The leader of the Canal Guards turned to one of his companions.  "Plurg isn't one of the Enclaves that permits slavery, is it?"

"No, sir."

"Pull for that pier!"

The hag looked at the approaching boat and called out some arcane words while gesturing.  A lightning bolt ran the course of the guard boat, badly injuring many of the guards.  Her magic attack only drew more attention, however.  Alistair and Mahler continued to hide as best as they could on the top of the pier.  A spark halfling sorcerer of their acquaintance, Delbon Glittercheeks, watched from a perch nearby.  Stithis remained invisible.  But most importantly, a group of Glordiadelian church guards, resplendant in their immaculate white surcoats, hurried towards the dock, followed at a little distance by a somewhat portly priest who could not move as fast now that he was no longer a young man.  Seeing the lightning bolt, the Glordiadelians redoubled their pace, determined to engage the foe as swiftly as possible.

The hag recognized the threat that the Glordiadelians posed.  Turning her attention back in that direction, she invoked another spell.  With loud claps of displaced air, the two lesser hags appeared on the dock, between the night hag and the church troops.  The lesser hags were both annis hags, with scabrous, mottled green skin, greenish black hair, and long claws at the ends of their hands.  One of the green hags flung a clump of ivy at the nearest group of Glordiadelians, crying out the name of a major demon as the command word.  As the ivy spun in the air, it expanded out into a net that ensnared three of the church soldiers and began slowly crushing the life out of them.  The other hag pounced on one of the unentangled soldiers and savaged him with her claws, leaving him dead or dying in seconds.

Mahler could not simply watch any longer.  He dropped off the end of the pier.  As he fell, he stabbed the balck hag with one of his daggers and grabbed on as hard as he could, pulling her with him off the end of the lower level of the pier and into the foul water of the canal.  The two began sinking quickly.

Delbon decided to help by conjuring a layer of grease under the hag that threw the constricting net, hoping to send her as well into the canal.  She was unable to remain standing, but fell on the pier, not into the water.  Stithis engaged the hag who was ripping into the guards.  He slammed his halberd into the hag's back, but she continued on, oblivious to the new threat.  Alistair, for his part, still viewed the situation as too dangerous to reveal himself, and quietly hid and hoped.

The black hag twisted out of Mahler's grip as they sank. She reached out and grabbed his head, turning it to face her so she could stare deep into his eyes.  As she did, she unleashed one of her most fearsome powers, trying to use her gaze to snuff out Mahler's life, but his will was too strong.  She did, however, carve a foul rune into Mahler's forehead with one of her claws.  Mahler broke free of her and swam off towards the surface, hoping that she would be unable to swim and would drown.

The guards continued to battle the annis hags.  The hag was too absorbed in her bloodlust to realize that the priest and Stithis each presented a greater danger than the church troops, so she ripped another guard apart.  Delbon created grease beneath her as well, while Stithis continued to strike her.  The priest gestured at her and held forth the sun symbol of his god.  A bright beam of light shot out from his holy symbol and burned the hag.  Alistair continued to hide, although he readied his spiked chain just in case.

The black hag, having lost her current prey, landed at the bottom of the canal and gave a mighty leap, travelling all the way out of the canal to land on the top of the pier.  Mahler was not far behind, climbing up the side of the pier.  Stithis and the guards continued battling the annis hags, who laid low another few guards.  Fortunately, Glordiadelian church troops are determined and well-trained: they would die before allowing an enemy to reach the priest they guarded.  A solid blow from Stithis caused the uninjured green hag to slip in Delbon's grease and to tumble all the way off the dock and into the water.  Unlike the black hag, she both needed to breathe and could not swim, sinking worriedly to the bottom of the canal.  After a few worried seconds, she remembered the stairs out of the canals some distance away, and simply walked along the bottom of the canals until she could make her escape.  Still, she was out of the fight, which accomplished Stithis's main goal.

The priest, recognizing that the towering, extraplanar hag represented a much greater threat than the remaining annis hag, called forth a pillar of flame from the sky.  His flame strike hurt the black hag, but she remained focused on vengeance twoards Mahler, who flung one of his daggers at her.  As the hag began to cast another spell, Alistair decided that the time to hide had passed and struck out at her with his spiked chain.  His aim was true and he hit a blow that should have been very heavy, but his weapon was unfortunately made of simple, unenchanted steel.  The hag was not even distracted as the weapon failed to harm her.  She finished her spell and bolts of magical energy streaked from her hand.  As the magic missiles struck Mahler, he toppled over.

Stithis and the guards finally managed to overcome the remaining annis hag, and none too soon: only a handful of guards could still fight and protect the priest.  Realizing that this was not a battle she could win, the black hag slung Mahler's unconscious, bleeding body over her shoulder and leaped back into the water below.

As she walked away on the bottom of the canal, Mahler began to drown.  Stithis, however, possessed unusual devotion to his comrades for a djinn, and flew after Mahler hoping to perform a rescue.  He skimmed invisibly along the surface of the canal.  As his body consisted solely of hardened air, it was rather more malleable than most, and he shifted the lengths of his arms.  Swinging his now greatly elongated right arm down into the water, Stithis scooped Mahler's unconscious form off of the night hag, and hauled his head above water, moments before he would have drowned.  Stithis quickly flew back to the pier, and the night hag, although angered by the loss of her prisoner, continued on.

Meanwhile, the priest and Alistair tried to save as many of the guards as they could.  Several guards were already quite dead, but the priest was able to heal several, and Alistair cut the net off the guards it entangled just before they would have died.  After attending to his allies, Alistair stabilized the green hag before she would have bled to death.  A prisoner, after all, is much more valuable than a dead enemy.  Stithis carefully laid Mahler on the pier and made sure he was breathing.  A quick spell by the priest restored Mahler to consciousness.

The priest looked around at the motley group gathered on the pier.  "Where is he?"

Mahler looked at him in confusion.  "Who?"

"Where is Lord Alistair?"


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## Cerebral Paladin

From his position behind the priest's back, Alistair shook his head emphatically at Mahler.  Mahler looked at the priest seriously.  "Lord Alistair?  He, ah, he isn't here.  We haven't seen him in days."

"But he sent us a message under his seal requesting aid!  The Archduchy has always been among the most pious Glordiadelian realms, and we were happy to come to his aid, but we need to find him."

Mahler continued, "We are companions of his.  He was working with us to break up a slavery ring, but he left several days ago.  He left us a piece of parchment with his seal on it, saying that we could use it to get aid if we needed it.  That's what we sent to you."

"Ah, fighting against slavery is just the sort of thing he would do.  Still, we need to find him.  He hadn't been heard from in months.  And with his father's death, finding him is even more urgent."

Alistair interrupted, surprised and distressed.  "His father's death?"

"Oh, yes, his father was killed some while ago.  The efforts to find Lord Alistair have become much more urgent since then."

Mahler stepped in.   "We could probably get a message to Lord Alistair.  Let him know about his father's death and such."

"Yes, that would be best.  If you go to the cathedral of Glordiadel and ask to see the Bishop in a few hours time, he'll be able to explain more and provide appropriate messages for Lord Alistair.  In the meantime, we should move the bodies back to the church, and deal with the prisoner."

Alistair removed the hag's magical belt-- the Inquisition would not need the loot.  "We'll need to have her interrogated."

"It's probably best if we turn her over to the Church of Paranswarm, then.  The Paranswarmians have also been fighting these slaving rings, and they have an Inquisition that will be better at getting information from the hag, much as I'm loathe to have any connection to their Inquisition."

The surviving guards escorted the hag to a church of Paranswarm, where the Inquisition took charge of the prisoner, after promising to share whatever intelligence they might gather.

Having dealt with that matter, the small group retired to a convenient inn, where they paid the extra for a private room.  Mahler carefully checked that no one lurked in the hall outside, and then shut the door securely.  Turning to Alistair, he raised an eyebrow and smiled.  "Lord Alistair, eh?"

"Indeed, although just Alistair will do fine." Alistair grimaced.  "I figured that using my seal would get us some reinforcements.  I didn't figure they'd be spending much energy looking for me this far from home.  But then, I didn't know my father had died, either."

"Who was your father, anyway?  And where's home?"

"Home is the Archduchy of Canberry.  My father's the Marquis Belconnen.  Or, I suppose, he was.  More to the point, my grandmother is Her Sovereign Grace, the Grand Duchess of Canberry.  My father was her heir-apparent."

Delbon looked at him in surprise.  "Are you now?"

"It's a little complicated.  My father didn't have any legitimate children, and I'm his only acknowledged child.  But some of my older half-siblings are well known, and my grandmother had several other children.  So, while I have a claim, so do a lot of people, and it's not clear that I have a duty.  And it's not a claim that I've ever wanted."

Mahler nodded.  "You don't have to worry about it if you don't want to.  We could claim the reward, and you could keep living the life you're living."

Alistair shook his head. "I need to go to see the Bishop.  I don't think he'll know me, and I want to hear how my father died and what the situation is back home.  I can't let my country fall into a civil war, if that's likely to happen." He tugged at his long hair.  "If we crop my hair short, I won't look much like any descriptions they may have of me.  Back home I wore it long under a powdered wig."

Mahler nodded.  "I can help disguise you." Mahler set to work with a disguise kit, changing Alistair's skin tone as well as clipping his hair short.  When he was satisfied with his work, he nodded.

Stithis piped up.  "You'll need a fake name, too.  How about Jer Pardon?"

"Sounds good to me." Alistair paused as they prepared to leave their room and took out a piece of parchment.  He quickly scrawled a note on it, and then sealed it before handing it to Mahler.  "It's a letter explaining that the church troops who died fighting the hags were killed on Lord Alistair's business, and providing their families with a right to pensions from the Archduchy, or spots as squires for their children if any want to be knights, and that sort of thing.  Grandma would approve..."


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## thatdarncat

*rents a room at the inn and wanders down to the common room*


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## Cerebral Paladin

Mahler, Stithis, Delbon, and "Jer Pardon" walked to the Cathedral of Glordiadel.  An acolyte looked them over suspiciously but quickly hurried them to the chancery when informed that the Bishop wished to see them.  After a short wait in a well-appointed foyer, one of the Bishop's attendants entered the room and gestured towards the door he had entered from.  "His Eminence, Bishop Humboldt the Holy, will see you now."

Bishop Humboldt turned out to be a middle-aged man, with a round body and a kindly smile.  "The blessings of Glordiadel be upon you." Alistair kissed the bishop's ring, but none of the others approached.

"Thank you, Your Eminence," Mahler said, as the group took the seats by the fire that the Bishop indicated.

The Bishop gestured to another person in the room, a fit and well-dressed man of middle age.  "I asked Earl Richard Sheffield, the Ambassador from Canberry, to join me when I first received the report that Lord Alistair was nearby.  He is most eager to see him returned safely home." 

Alistair quickly scooped up a wine glass and brought it in front of his face.  He had never met Bishop Humboldt before, but Earl Sheffield was an old friend of his father's. Mahler's disguise skills would have to be good indeed to fool "Uncle Richard."

The Earl nodded to the motley group before him.  "I am so glad to have made contact with companions of Lord Alistair.  It is vital that he return to Canberry as quickly as possible.  With his father dead, the situation is rather delicate."

Mahler nodded.  "We understand.  Unfortunately, Lord Alistair is several days ride out of the City.  Pursuing a possible diplomatic marriage with an exotic country."

The Earl thought for a moment.  "Couldn't be Ecsilias, or the dwarves...  He must be searching for a bride among the elves then.  That certainly would be interesting..."

"I'm sure we could get a message to him," Mahler continued.

Alistair couldn't stand to wait any longer.  "How did his father die?  I'm sure he'll want to be informed."

Despite his best efforts to keep a hand concealing part of his face, speaking drew the Earl's attention.  The Earl's brow furrowed in thought, as if he almost recognized Alistair.  Stithis averted the looming embarassment by allowing the wine glass in his hand to pass through his mostly air body.  The resulting commotion and apologies thoroughly occupied the Earl's attention until Mahler prodded further.  "Lord Alistair's father's death?"

"Ah, yes," the Earl's eyes grew sad.  "He was on one of his adventures.  Always trying to save the world, never minding the dangers.  A Zorplona-Argoni valar sought to enslave many of the refugees from the fallen cities to the south of Canberry.  The Marquis Belconnen and his entourage were crazy enough to fight the valar.  It's not thought possible to defeat the fallen elves on one of their flying ships, but they managed to drive them off and save the refugees.  Their victory came at great cost, however, leaving Lord Alistair's father among the slain."

"I assume that they attempted to raise him?" Mahler inquired.

The Bishop nodded.  "Yes, but the efforts failed.  Resurrection magic has its limits.  Certain parts of the body must be largely intact-- destruction of the head and heart will prevent resurrection.  And of course the subject must be willing to return.  I do not know why the Marquis's resurrection was unsuccessful.  I was not called on to assist."

"But his soul is safely with Glordiadel?" Alistair asked, worrying about the least pleasant reason that resurrection could be impossible.

"Indeed.  I was assured that the divinations performed after his death proved that the Marquis's soul is safely in its eternal reward."

The Earl spoke up.  "While I appreciate that Lord Alistair will want to know these details, I'm afraid that we must concentrate on the situation now.  For all his virtues, Lord Alistair's father was somewhat .... inappropriate in his personal life.  Why he couldn't have simply had a nice family with his perfectly nice wife and stopped his roaming is beyond me.  But he did not, and we now need to deal with the consequences."

"Is it clear who is the heir-apparent now?"

"No, which is where the trouble lies.  So far, Her Sovereign Grace the Grand Duchess has made no pronouncements on the subject.  And there are several candidates with reasonable claims.  The Marquis's next oldest brother, of course, is a strong candidate as the legitimate descendant of the Duchess with the highest claim.  But so far, he has not indicated any interest in the office.  The Marquis's children raise a particularly thorny problem.  The older children are all by thoroughly inappropriate mothers and have little official standing, but some of them are well-known and have been successful as generals and the like.  Lord Alistair, as the only openly acknowledged child and the only one of the Marquis's children with a vaguely suitable noblewoman, would also have a strong claim, but not while absent from the Archduchy."

"Have any of the Marquis's children taken steps to secure the inheritance?"

"So far, only Jerrabom, one of the Marquis's oldest children has declared his claim-- an act which probably offended Her Grace and eliminated him from true contention.  Still, he has a strong military background, which could be particularly worrisome if anything happened to the Grand Duchess's health before the issue was resolved.  None of the Marquis's other seven children are making public claims, although some of them may be advancing their cause privately, and all of them could make a plausible claim." The Earl paused.  "I think that makes it clear why it is important for Lord Alistair to return home."

Alistair nodded slowly.  "Especially if it was not just poor luck that his father's death was not reversible."

"Taking on a valar borders on the crazy... perhaps he knew the likely result and chose not to come back, although I would have thought that he would have talked to me before that.  Or he may have merely been brave and unlucky.  Heaven knows he was brave and lucky enough times in the past.  But there may have been something more sinister at work in preventing his return, in which case the Archduchy may be gravely threatened."

Alistair spoke clearly and firmly, despite the hand that he insisted on holding in front of his face.  "I'm sure that Lord Alistair will return promptly to Canberry when he understands the full situation."

Mahler looked sharply at Alistair and paused for a moment.  "Yes, I'm sure he will.  We will be happy to deliver the message to him."

Both Earl Sheffield and the Bishop looked relieved.

One of the Bishop's aides slipped into the chamber and whispered quietly into the Bishop's ear.

"You are certain that it was not merely misplaced?" the Bishop asked.  The aide nodded and whispered a little more.  The Bishop looked at the group with concern.  "I fear you had best contact Lord Alistair quickly.  The message with his seal requesting aid has been stolen.  I fear that some enemy intends to use his seal to scry on him."

Mahler thought for a second.  "Has anyone been making inquiries after Lord Alistair?  It might give us some information about who these enemies are."

"A good question.  Devon, please make some discreet inquiries about any unusual questions or strangers at either the cathedral or the church in Plurg." The aide immediately departed.

Alistair added, "We may need to travel incognito.  If people are searching for Lord Alistair, using his name openly could be dangerous."

"A wise precaution," Earl Sheffield responded.  "Here, take these.  They state that the bearers have the favor of the Earl Richard of Sheffield, Ambassador from the Court of Canberry to the City of Enclaves, and are worthy of assistance.  It should smooth your path, at least in some parts, without Lord Alistair needing to reveal himself.  Still, I would use them sparingly and with caution-- while you are hardly the only people who bear messages like these, Lord Alistair's enemies might figure out why you have them." As Alistair reached forward to take his, the Earl stared at him.  "You look familiar... did you accompany Lord Alistair from Canberry?"

All four startled in dismay, and Stithis decided on desperate measures.  He flung the ornate silver carafe to the ground, soaking the Earl's fine garments.  As the Earl patted at his clothes with a handkerchief, the Bishop stared more carefully at Stithis.  "I say... are you an air elemental?"

"A djinni, sir."

"Ah, I see.  And an unbound one at that.  Most unusual... we rarely see your kind on this plane without being bound to the will of some mage."

"I travelled here on my own.  I was curious."

The Bishop nodded. "I hope you are enjoying your time here." He paused in thought.  "If you have a human friend who you can trust... you may wish to go through a binding ritual.  As long as you are unbound, you could be bound by some evil wizard against your will.  And if you were slain, it would be permanent.  If you were to allow yourself to be bound by a trusted ally, you would then be immune to further attempts to bind you, and if you were defeated in battle, you would simply be returned to your own plane."

"Who could bind me?  Would it have to be a wizard?  And would I need to stay near them?"

"The person to bind you would need to have sufficient skill with magic to be able to perform the ritual but need not be an actual wizard.  A mage, a bard, some priests with the right specializations, would all be capable.  You could travel freely, as long as they did not exert their will against you, of course, and as long as you did not try to leave the plane without their permission."

"Thank you for telling me this.  I know someone who may do well."

Devon returned to the Bishop's sitting room.  "Your Eminence, I have the answer about suspicious questions." The Bishop waved for him to continue.  "One of the acolytes on duty at the Cathedral reported a beggar asking after the high nobility of Canberry, ostensibly seeking to throw himself upon their mercy.  He was told that the honorable Earl is the only member of the Court of Canberry anywhere near the City of Enclaves.  
Upon hearing that, he departed."

"Does this beggar have a description?" asked Mahler.

"Yes, sir.  He stood about five foot eight, with short cropped hair.  The acolyte said that what he noticed most was the beggar's piercing steel-gray eyes."

"Sounds like someone from the Hidden Guild," said Alistair.

Mahler nodded.  "In which case, we'd best be on our way.  The sooner Lord Alistair is informed of the details and begins his trip home, the safer we'll all be."

The Earl nodded.  "I will be certain to inform Her Sovereign Grace that her grandson will be returning.  I know she will be grateful for the news."

The Bishop rose.  "The blessing of Glordiadel be upon you-- may His Light guide your way safely back to Canberry."


----------



## thatdarncat

cool an update to read tomorrow at work


----------



## Ladybird

*Meanwhile, in another part of the Enclave...*

Plurg was probably the least pretty enclave in the City of Enclaves. Certainly it was one of the ones with the least pretty name. And the least pretty part of Plurg was the docks area – broken-down tenements, seedy shops, alleys filled with smelly unidentified piles. That was part of the reason that the hag and the slavers had set up shop there. Nobody paid attention to what went on in the docks. Oh, the temples of Glordiadel did what they could when they could, but that wasn’t often – temples were always understaffed in neighborhoods like this. 

That’s why Kit felt that she had to look out for the younger children.  She’d been born in the docks neighborhood, and had lived there for all of her sixteen years, mostly making her way on the street. She could take care of herself – she was tough, quick on her feet, and unlike her neighborhood, she was very pretty, even under the scruffiness and dirt that came from living where she did. So she could flash a sweet smile and talk her way out of most situations. People just always seemed to do what Kit wanted them to. 

And so she felt responsible for the other kids in the docks – the ones who couldn’t take care of themselves. She’d make sure the bullies wouldn’t hurt the kids who couldn’t stand up for themselves; she’d make sure they got home to their parents at night if they had parents, and to _someone’s_ parents if they didn’t have any of their own. 

Which is why tonight, she was creeping through the darkest back alleys, trying to track down where a few of her kids might have gone. These weren’t the type to run away, and even the bullies swore that they hadn’t touched them. Which left only one thing, according to the rumors that she’d overheard behind the tavern: slavers.

A sudden noise made Kit pause, holding her breath and flattening herself against the wall of a building.

“You think they follow?” came a guttural voice from right at her feet.

“Naw. We safe here.”

Ever so carefully, Kit edged away from the source of the voices, and slowly knelt down. A narrow window, its frame cracked and hanging askew, opened into a dim basement room. Two hulking half-orcs were clearly visible, their huge lumpy muscled forms seeming to take up the entire room. Then another sound caught Kit’s ear – a high-pitched whimper, unmistakably that of a child. She knew where her kids had gotten to.

“You sure they won’t chase?” the first half-orc persisted. “That priest – he look awful mad.”

“Told you, we safe here!” the second one answered. “Priests ain’t gonna follow. Dunno what’s gonna happen with the old gal, but we got the kids and we gonna sell 'em even if the old gal ain’t here.”

“Heh,” the first half-orc chuckled – an ugly sound that produced another whimper from one of the children somewhere in the shadows. “Yeah, more money for us.”

Kit pressed herself back against the wall, her mind racing. There were only two temples in this section of the docks neighborhood – one to Glordiadel and one to Paranswarm. It would be completely reasonable for _anyone_ to be afraid of priests of Paranswarm following them, and they _might_ get up in arms about something as illegal as slaving. On the other hand, the Glordiadelians would be much more likely to help if she went to them, even if they weren’t the same priests that the half-orcs were talking about. She took one last look around the alley, taking careful note of the surrounding buildings and their position, and crept off towards the nearest temple of Glordiadel.


----------



## thatdarncat

Cool  I went back and re-read the first two posts as well. When will you be playing next?


----------



## Ladybird

thatdarncat said:
			
		

> When will you be playing next?




In a few weeks. That's one of the reasons we're writing everything up - to refresh our memories before another round of Aphonion fun  

I'm glad you're enjoying reading it! There should be another Kit update by the end of the day.


----------



## Ladybird

*Meanwhile, Part 2*

The temple of Glordiadel was hardly ever well-populated after dark – the god of the sun didn’t tend to get many followers who came by at night, even in this neighborhood. But Kit could still see a small light burning inside, and she decided to risk a knock at the door. One hand rested on her battered rapier; the other slipped into her pocket, giving her lucky rock a quick toss. _Come on. Let me have chosen right this time…_

“Just a minute!” a cracked but pleasant voice called out from inside. A moment later, the door opened, to reveal a bent, aged priest, with a broad smile on his wrinkled face. “The sun may be gone, but the light always remains! I’m Father Gavin. What can I do for you, child?”

Kit drew back skeptically. “Good evening. Father,” she added, remembering the title almost too late. “Um…this might sound a little odd, but…” 

“Are you troubled, child?” the priest asked, giving her a searching, sympathetic look. 

“No! I mean, it’s not me, it’s – look, there are some kids who have been taken by slavers. And I heard that you might have been doing something to help them.”

Father Gavin blinked. “Why, yes. Just this evening, we helped free a group of children from the foul slavers who came in from across the canal. Are there more of them?”

Kit nodded quickly. “Yes!” she cried. “At least two half-orcs, holding maybe four or five children. I know exactly where they are – I can take you to them.” 

“Then let’s be off!” The priest shuffled off to the side of the door, then returned with a heavy mace brandished in one wrinkled hand, the sleeve of his robe slipping back to reveal chain mail underneath. “Where are they?”

“Whoa! Wait! Aren’t there – I mean – just us?” Kit frantically struggled to find words that weren’t ‘But you’re too old’ or ‘Are you sure you can lift that thing?’

Father Gavin patted Kit on the head with his free hand – if he noticed that she squirmed away from the touch, he showed no signs of it. “Well, there aren’t any other priests in the temple right now. Don’t worry, dear. There’s a Watch post along the way – we can stop there. And I can protect you.” He waved the mace unsteadily, demonstrating. It took all of Kit’s energy to not wince in pain as she watched.

The guard post, when they reached it, was similarly deserted. Even the authority of the ancient priest could only persuade them to give up one guardsman, and he had clearly drawn the short straw of the late shift by virtue of being the youngest guardsman in the district – he was barely older than Kit. Admittedly, what he lacked in experience he did make up for in enthusiasm – he was practically jumping up and down at the chance to go on such an exciting midnight mission. 

An old man, a green guardsman, and her. Well, it would have to do.

It was fairly easy for Kit to trace her way back to the building where the children were. She led Father Gavin and the guardsman around to the front door. Fortunately, it was unlocked – Kit could probably have picked it easily, but it wouldn’t have been very wise to do so in front of a member of the Watch, even such a young one. They crept as quietly as they could across the dusty, creaky boards of the abandoned building – which for Kit, of course, was rather more quietly than for the other two.

“Hey! What that?” The thunderous voice of a half-orc rose up from below, freezing them all in place.

The guardsman was the first to move. With his sword raised high, he charged forwards, shouting, “Stop! In the name of the law!”

“So much for taking ‘em by surprise,” Kit muttered.


----------



## Ladybird

*Meanwhile, Part 3*

Kit slipped nimbly around the charging guardsman, battered rapier already in hand as she leaped down the rickety stairs to confront the half-orcs.  Father Gavin trundled along behind her, with a tremulous shout of “Halt, foul miscreants!” 

The basement was dark, lit only by a sputtering torch, but Kit’s sharp eyes could still spot the four children huddled on the dirt floor, chained to the wall. But between her and them was a half-orc, roaring and waving a club. She sidestepped the charging half-orc, stabbing out ineffectually. Her blade suddenly seemed very flimsy, next to the enormous mass of orc and club that was storming through the basement.

Following Kit’s example, the guardsman took a huge flying leap down the stairs…only to crash headlong into the slanted ceiling above, and crumpled to the floor at the foot of the stairs. Still quavering on about miscreants, Father Gavin started his own descent of the staircase. Before the priest could even reach the bottom, the second half-orc took a swipe at him with a massive club, connecting with the old man’s armor with a sickening crunch. 

Kit gasped in shock and outrage. “You – “ Still having enough wits about her to remember that the priest and four children were within earshot, she cut herself off before she could say what she _really_ wanted to call the half-orc, and settled on “ – miscreant! Beating up on an old man like that! Stop it!” she shouted, her eyes flashing with fury. If either Father Gavin or the guardsman had been in any condition to notice, they might have seen her eyes actually glow for a brief moment in the dim light.  

And the half-orc stopped, club still raised, his eyes going vacant.

It was just for a moment, but that was all the time that Father Gavin needed to recover from the blow and swing his mace in a wicked downwards arc onto the half-orc’s shoulder. The half-orc roared in pain and staggered back, just as the guardsman pulled himself upright enough to swing his sword at him, catching the half-orc in the side and sending him to his knees, bleeding thickly onto the dirt floor.

Kit dodged around the struggling half-orc to intercept the other one as he charged across the basement, waving his own club so high that it nearly hit the low ceiling. “Stop!” she cried again, but to no avail this time – the half-orc kept barreling straight towards her. She frantically skipped back, thrusting out with her rapier. The half-orc let out a yell, so she must have made contact, but Kit was moving so quickly that she couldn’t tell. In and out she weaved, desperately trying to avoid the enormous club, aware at the edges of her consciousness that behind her the children were still crying. The guardsman sprang up on the other side of the half-orc, causing him to spin towards the guard in roaring confusion, and Kit seized the opportunity, slipping her thin blade straight between the half-orc’s ribs. Almost at the same time, the guardsman’s sword hacked down from above. The half-orc gave one final gurgling cry of pain, then slipped to the ground and lay silent beside his groaning companion. 

Kit stood for one stunned moment, then rushed towards the sobbing children. “It’s all right – it’s all right – don’t worry – I’ll get you out – “ She kept up a steady stream of soothing chatter as her fingers worked over the locks of the children’s bonds. _These are awfully tough,_ she thought, struggling to align her lockpicks in the tiny metal holes – until she realized that her hands were trembling from the excitement and fear of battle. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and started again. “It’s all right,” she said again, giving the boy whose manacles she was working on a steady, reassuring look. He blinked, nodded, and instantly grew calmer. Behind her, Kit could hear the priest murmuring some prayers – whether to heal himself, give thanks for victory, or make a proper end for the dead half-orc, she couldn’t tell. 

A few moments more was all it took for her to pop open the locks on the boy’s wrists, and after the first one, the other three locks were much easier for her to figure out. Between them, Kit and the priest got the children calmed down enough to get upstairs, carefully shielding their eyes from the still-bleeding corpse; the guardsman stayed behind to take the battered surviving half-orc into custody. 

Kit took a deep gasping breath of fresh air as they emerged into the night. She slipped a hand into her pocket and let her lucky rock spin between her fingers. The children were safe, and the slavers were caught – sure, it had been a bit more dangerous than usual, but still, it had been, on the whole, a lucky night.


----------



## Ladybird

*Meanwhile, Part 4*

The children were safely returned to their parents, the bells had long since chimed midnight, and Kit and the priest were standing outside the small temple of Glordiadel.

“That was very fine work you did tonight, child,” said Father Gavin.

Kit gave him a weary but honest smile. “Thanks.” She hesitated for a moment, then the smile widened a bit. “You too.”

“You know, there are others. Other people who want to work against the slavers as much as you do,” the priest explained. “I think they’d appreciate your help, if you’re interested in working with them.”

“Here? In Plurg?” Kit couldn’t believe that there had been something like that happening on her turf without her knowing about it.

Father Gavin shook his head. “Not exactly, although they do work here on occasion. I can take you to them, if you like.”

Kit’s head was still spinning from the fear and excitement of the night’s events. “Sure,” she answered. “I mean, if there’s anything else I can do to help get rid of those slavers and keep my kids safe, I want to do it.”

The priest beamed. “That’s the right attitude! Come – I’ll show you where they are. You can rest and get cleaned up when you get there.”

He led her through the winding streets and alleys of Plurg to the other side of the enclave, where the City of Enclaves ferry boats hitched up to a slightly more respectable set of docks when they weren’t shuttling up and down the canals that wove between the different island enclaves that made up the city. Even at this late hour, the ferries were running – there was always someone awake and doing business in the City of Enclaves.

The ferry floated gently through the canals, winding south towards the more affluent parts of the city, until it docked at Glitterdomes. “Um. Father? Are you sure this is the right place?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t steer you wrong, child,” the priest reassured her, giving her shoulder a paternal pat. “Come, follow me. I know exactly where it is.” 

With a sudden, acute awareness of her blood-spattered leathers and grimy hands, Kit trailed behind Father Gavin through the well-groomed streets of Glitterdomes. 

It was an enclave mostly inhabited by gnomes and halflings, and the small scale of the elegant houses lining the streets only made their ornamented facades seem more delicate and elaborate. Quite a few houses were to human scale, though, and it was at one of these that Father Gavin stopped. Kit made a vain attempt to smooth down her rumpled hair as the priest knocked on the door.

A tiny, aged man – whether halfling or gnome, it was difficult to tell under the wrinkles and layers of ruffled, out-of-fashion livery – answered. “Ohhhhh, honored guest!” he oozed, an obsequious smile pushing onto his face. “Please, tell me how I may be of service. I am Glimrod, and it is my humble honor to assist all those who come to the illustrious door of this family.”

Kit gulped, and reached into her pocket for her lucky rock. Butlers? And a place where even the doors were illustrious?

“Yes, yes.” Father Gavin waved Glimrod on with a benevolent hand. “Will you please tell the young master that I’ve got another helper for him?”

“Ohhhhh, certainly!” Glimrod gushed. “It would be my pleasure to take the…er…” He gave Kit a dubious glance, which she returned with a defiant lift of her chin.  “…young lady to join the others. Once she has…er…rested, and changed her attire.”

“Thanks,” Kit interrupted, her voice coming out a little too loud in her attempt to sound confident and casual. “I’d like that.” She clutched tightly at her lucky rock, and pushed on.  “So…uh…where can I get some of that attire?”

“See?” came the voice of Father Gavin behind her. “I told you that it would be all right.” He gave her shoulder another pat. She flinched away from the unexpected touch, but said nothing. “Go on inside, child. I need to get back to the temple – I’ve been away far too long as it is.”

Glimrod held the door open for Kit, and she followed him in, small and dusty in the huge clean expanse of a fancier house than she’d ever seen in her entire life.


----------



## Ladybird

*Meanwhile, Part 5*

“So…uh…where is everyone?” Kit’s voice echoed off the walls of the empty hallway – no, it was too grand to be a hallway, she thought. They probably called it a foyer, or an entry hall, or something like that.

“Oh, it is not for me to inquire about the doings of the mighty.” The aged Glimrod was somehow managing to both hobble and glide up the broad staircase, while at the same time turning around to answer Kit. “They are off about their business, and they do not deign to inform the humble Glimrod.”

Kit followed, running her hand along the banister as she climbed the stairs. Was that real gold leaf around the edge? “Oh. Right,” she said absently.

“If the young mistress pleases,” Glimrod oozed, when they reached the top of the stairs, “you may wait here while I go in search of some more suitable attire.” The butler gestured towards a room off the long, carpeted hallway. “Your bath will be ready for you in a few minutes, madame. You may find it through the left-hand door at the rear of the sitting room.”

“Um. Right,” Kit said again. She went through the door into a room that would probably big enough to fit her family’s entire flat into it, keeping her hands carefully folded behind her back. _Can’t touch anything,_ she thought. _Half the stuff in here looks like it would break if I breathed on it…_ And while she didn’t even dare think it, she knew deep down that if she kept her hands off things, it would be easier to resist the urge to slip a gilded knick-knack or two into her pocket.

With a start, she realized that Glimrod was still hovering by the door. “Thank you,” she tried. No, he was still there. “Thank you very much.” Still there, with that can-I-help-you smile on his face. How on earth did you get rid of servants? “Goodbye?”

“Goodbye, mistress,” Glimrod replied, much to Kit’s relief. “I will leave you to your business.”

Kit let out a sigh as he closed the door behind him on the way out, and then another one as she sat down on the sofa. Divan. Chaise. Whatever fancy name they would call it in a house like this. She unbuckled her rapier and let her sword belt fall onto the cushions, then started sliding the daggers out of her sleeves and boots.

As the last dagger left her hand, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Instantly, she was on her feet, spinning around with a rapier in one hand and dagger in the other, blazing with fury.  “Who’s there? Who is it?” she shouted. She darted this way and that, thrusting out with her sword with a look of wild, angry fear in her eyes.

From out of the nothingness of an empty corner of the room came a voice. “It’s me. I’m sorry.” A moment later, the faint outline of a figure appeared: first a head, then a torso, and then a misty swirl of smoke below that, all a faint translucent blue.
“Who are you?” Kit was still on edge, her voice coming out sharp and angry.

“I’m Stithis.” The bluish figure drifted backwards into the corner, away from the point of Kit’s rapier. “I’m not going to hurt you!” he added hastily, holding up his hands, both to show that he was unarmed and to keep her away. “I just wanted to see who was visiting. I heard the butler say that someone else had come to help out, and I wanted to see who it was.”

“Well, you can see who’s there by coming to the door and knocking!” Kit snapped back. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again!” Only now, as she was coming down off the crest of her anger, did Kit realize just how high she had to look to meet the djinn’s eyes – he was enormous. Slowly, Kit lowered her sword, but she still kept it pointed at the figure in the corner. “You’re one of Father Gavin’s people?” she asked warily. “Helping work against the slavers?”

The djinn nodded, eager to accept the change of subject. “We fought off these awful hags last night. The others should be back soon – they’ll tell you all about it. Lord Alistair just had to…” Stithis stopped himself, remember Alistair’s concern about keeping his identity secret. “He had to deal with some family issues. I went on ahead. They should all be back soon,” he said again, but his hopeful smile was met with a hard, hostile stare from Kit. “In fact, why don’t I go see if they’re back now,” he offered, drifting towards the door as quickly as his insubstantial form could take him.

Very slowly, Kit lowered her sword back to the couch, closed the door behind her (disappointingly, there was no lock), and then headed in to the bathroom (whose door, fortunately, _did_ have a lock).

The bathroom was astonishingly bright, with light from steady, smokeless torches radiating off of dozens of clean, shiny tiled surfaces. The tub was already full of water, with steam rising gently from the surface, and a huge pile of fluffy white towels sat next to it. Despite her lingering anger and nerves from the encounter with Stithis, Kit couldn’t help grinning at the sight. Real warm water! And enough of it to swim in, practically!

She _could_ swim in it, she discovered a moment later when she got in. Or at least, she could submerge herself entirely, with room to spare, and even enough depth for her to blow a few bubbles, when she remembered to hold her breath properly instead of giggling with the pleasure of this amazing luxury. After a few minutes, though – during which the water had not cooled one bit, nor shown any signs of becoming dirty – she started to get down to the business of cleaning off the stains of battle and the grime of living in the docks neighborhood. She grabbed one of the sponges from the side of the bathtub and went to work.

And then she started to feel another sponge, _not_ held by her own hand, moving up and down her back.

She leaped out of the tub, grabbing desperately at a towel. “STITHIS!” she shouted furiously. “I swear, when I find you…”

From the bathtub, a meek, bubbling voice answered, “Who’s Stithis?” A small face appeared, formed out of the water itself, next to a small watery hand that was holding a sponge. 

“Who are you? What are you?” Kit’s voice cracked with the strain and shock of yet another strange being appearing out of nowhere.

“I’m the bath,” the bath answered. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. The lady of the house likes it when I help out…”

Kit stared, shaking her head in bewilderment. “You’re the _what_?”

“I’m the bath,” it explained again. “Called here from the Elemental Plane of Water. The faucet is a small portal, you know.”

“An elemental. In the bath,” Kit repeated, sinking down onto the edge of the tub with weary resignation. “All right. Why not? There are djinn in the corner and I-don’t-know-_what_ at the door being butlers. Why not an elemental in the bath?”

The bathtub made an obliging little ripple. “It sounds like you’ve had a rough day,” it said soothingly. “Come back in. You’ll feel better after you have a nice bath.”

Too overwhelmed to do anything else, Kit nodded. “Yeah, probably.” She flashed one more wary look at the bathtub’s watery face, warning, “Just don’t look, all right?”

“All right,” the elemental agreed, and its eyes closed, dissolving into the gentle ripples of the bath.

Thankfully, the rest of the washing-up process was much less eventful, and Kit emerged several minutes later, entirely clean. After a moment’s careful surveillance of the sitting room door, she decided that there was probably nothing waiting for her on the other side, and ventured out. Glimrod must have come and gone while she was in the bath, because several sets of clothes were laid out on the sofa. She had no idea where he could have found them, but she wasn’t arguing – they were more finely made, and out of better fabric, than she had ever worn in her life. She couldn’t resist admiring herself in the mirror, once she was dressed and her hair tamed into some sort of order. She _did_ clean up well, she thought with a satisfied grin.

And with that, she slipped her lucky rock into the pocket of her new outfit, and went out into the hall to see if the others had returned.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair, Mahler, and Delbon returned to Delbon's family home in Glitterdomes.  The wealthy Enclave at the southern edge of the city provided a perfect place to regroup and plan their trip back to Canberry, so after settling in at Delbon's home, the three of them had set off to arrange for mounts for the long journey.  None of them, least of all Alistair, had any great desire to make it back to Canberry quickly, but the long overland journey would give them the opportunity to see the world and enjoy time away from the court while still preserving peace by returning eventually.  After negotiating fair prices for two horses, as Stithis had no need for a mount and Delbon already had a rather more exotic steed, they returned, looking forward to an opportunity to relax in a home with all of the luxuries typical in Glitterdomes.

Glibrod, the gnomish servant who had inexplicably attached himself to the group, greeted them eagerly at the door.  "Welcome back, good masters who treat Glibrod well.  Come in, come in."

The three enter a sitting room.  Delbon looks confusedly at Kit, who leaps up to introduce herself.  "Stithis, what is she doing in my house?"

Alistair interjected with a smile, "Not that we're objecting to the arrival of such a lovely young lady."

"She said that the nice Glordiadelian priest had sent her to help us fight the slavers.  So I thought that you would want her to join us."

Kit smiled awkwardly, wondering if she was supposed to curtsy, or hold out her hand, or something.  She settled on just introducing herself.  "I'm Kit.  I hear that you've also been rescuing the kidnapped children and thought we should work together."

"An excellent idea.  I'm sure that you will add a great deal to our efforts.  I'm Jer Pardon, and this is Delbon Glittercheeks, who is our host, Mahler Fife, and you've met Stithis."

As the introductions were concluding, the clapper on the door sounded loudly.  Before anyone else could react, Glibrod swung the door open, and bowed deeply, "Welcome, welcome, can I do anything for your ladyship?"

A proud knight, wearing a brilliantly white surcoat emblazoned with Glordiadel's Sun over her full armor, strode in.  "Thank you.  Please take me to see his lordship immediately."

Glibrod fawned at her boots.  "Oh yes, wondrous mistress, right this way." He quickly led her into the sitting room.

The knight looked over the room and focused on the two human men.  "May I ask which of you is Lord Alistair?  My order has sent me to serve as his lordship's bodyguard on the return to Canberry."

Mahler and Alistair looked at each other in confusion and dismay.  The secrecy of their location seemed rather less impressive than would have been hoped.  After a moment, Alistair shrugged and pointed dejectedly at Mahler.  "He is."

Mahler largely took it in stride.  "Ah, hmm, yes, I am Lord Alistair." As Kit boggled at the new information, he continued.  "I have been travelling incognito under the name 'Mahler' to reduce the danger to myself, my companions, and the innocents around us."

"Of course, my lord," the knight said as she knelt before Mahler.  "I am Dame Brionna of the Order of Valor, at your service.  The Church has ordered me to keep your lordship safe on your journey back to Canberry."

"I see.  Thank you, although that will not really be necessary."

Dame Brionna arose.  "I am afraid that I must insist, my lord.  The Church considers this a vital mission."

"Very well, then."

Alistair leaned in to speak to Mahler.  "M'lord, may I have a few words with you?"

"Of course.  Let's step into the other room to discuss matters."

Kit, Dame Brionna, Delbon, and Glibrod all pushed to follow them, but Alistair quickly spun the door closed behind them and threw the bolt before they could follow.  While Dame Brionna thought about how long she should respect Lord Alistair's privacy before breaking the door down to ensure his safety, Mahler and Lord Alistair quickly discussed matters in urgent whispers.

"We have to leave quickly.  Far too many people know that we're here; it could be dangerous to stay here," Mahler began.

"It's worse than that.  Somehow I doubt that a church knight is going to be fond of our plan to travel slowly back, and I don't really look forward to either of us being knocked over the head and thrown into an airship."

Mahler nodded.  "Look, why don't you slip out quietly?  She still thinks that I'm you, so she shouldn't be too worked up about it.  But if you stick around, someone will slip and she'll figure it out.  You can grab one of the horses and take off south, and Delbon, Stithis, and I will meet up with you in a few days.  If Dame Brionna will be a problem, we'll give her the slip before we head out."

"Right.  I'll find a place to stay two or three days south of the City, and I'll watch the main road and join you when you pass.  Try not to travel late into the evening so I don't miss you." Alistair paused.  "And if the cute girl wants to come along, too, that wouldn't be a bad thing at all.  She seems like much better company than the knight."

"I'll see what I can do.  If you don't contact us, we'll stop three full days south of the City and wait for you." 

"Thanks, Mahler.  I'll see you on the road." Alistair clapped Mahler on the shoulder, and quietly slipped out a window into the yard.  Less than an hour later, he passed through the great gates of the City and rode south.


----------



## thatdarncat

Errr splitting the party? This doesn't bode well.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Yeah, well... it seemed like a good idea at the time.  Alistair was just really, really worried that Dame Brionna would decide that duty required her to incapacitate him, throw him in irons, and haul him back to Canberry as quickly as possible.  Which would crimp his style.

On with the story:

Glibrod took charge of arranging rooms for Kit and Dame Brionna, while Delbon attempted to minimize the disruption to his parents' home.  After the many battles with slavers and hags, the group settled in for a well-deserved night sleep in comfortable beds.

In her room on the second floor, Kit awoke to the sound of light footsteps behind her.  Behind her on the window sill, that is.  She raised a hand to her throat with but a moment to spare as a dark-clad intruder tried to garrot her.  He succeeded in encircling her throat, but Kit's quick response prevented him from strangling her.  The two of them struggled for some time-- the attacker's grip over her mouth prevented her from calling out, while Kit's struggles barely managed to keep her alive.

A loud boom resounded from the front door as the second wave of attackers entered Delbon's familial home.  Mahler reacted first and rushed to meet the intruders on the stairs to the second story.  Three attackers rushed up the stairs and began slashing Mahler brutally.

Dame Brionna, wearing a demure but startlingly white nightgown and brandishing her sword rushed to defend her charge while Mahler struggled against his foes' superior numbers.  

Stithis rushed in to aid Kit, forcing the would-be strangler to shift his attention away from wrestling with Kit.  Kit responded by yelling at the intruder to "Stop!" Remarkably, her fervor stopped him momentarily.  The two of them easily defeated their stunned foe.

Meanwhile, the other attackers struck at Mahler again, causing him to collapse on the stairs.   Dame Brionna leapt forward, slashing at one of the attackers and standing protectively over Mahler.

The leader, a taller man in somewhat finer black clothes, gestured up the stairs.  "We only need the noble to collect.  Just finish off the rest of them and we can leave the corpses behind."

"You can't hurt the nice knight lady!" Glibrod flung himself down the stairs at the assassins, flailing wildly with a cudgel.

Delbon's Grease spell did a better job, causing one of the assassins to tumble down the stairs.  Dame Brionna brought down the other assassin on the stairs and gingerly advanced across the greased stairs towards the leader.  Stithis flew out the window from the upstairs and flew around to flank him, just as Dame Brionna called on the power of Glordiadel to smite him.

While still hampered by their lack of armor, the group overwhelmed the remaining assassins.  Dame Brionna hurried back up the stairs to heal Mahler.

Kit turned her attention towards searching their foes.  In addition to some quickly pocketed change, she found a charcoal drawing of Mahler.  "They were assassins, your lordliness.  From the Knockers, I'd wager," she added, naming a significant thieves guild dominated by ruffians and thugs.  "Someone hired them and gave them your picture."

"But... why would they have Mahler's picture?" Stithis asked.  "Why wouldn't they have had a picture of Lord Alistair?"

"Stithis... you weren't supposed to..." Delbon turned towards Dame Brionna.  "What he meant was..."

"I think we all know what he meant," Dame Brionna replied testily.

"Oh, yes, we all know what he meant," Glibrod added helpfully.  "Umm.... what did he mean?"

"Lord Alistair was actually disguised as that Jer Pardon, who I note has conveniently already left."

"Wait a minute," Kit said.  "So Jer was actually the high mucky-muck, and you're not?"

Mahler sighed.  "That's right.  We couldn't trust you, Dame Brionna.  You could have been an assassin only pretending to be from the Order of Valor.  But the real assassins must have been scrying on us and were also fooled."

"But now you know that I am, indeed, loyal to Lord Alistair.  And these Knockers show how essential it is that we be able to guard him and keep him safe."

"I know how to find Lord Alistair.  But he doesn't believe that he can safely return to Canberry through one of the faster routes.  I'll only take you to him if you swear that you will escort him on the route back to Canberry of his choosing."

Dame Brionna placed her hand on the tiny Sun of Glordiadel that she had never removed.  "I swear on my honor and on the honor of the Order of Valor that, so long as Lord Alistair follows some path back to the Archduchy, I will follow the route he has chosen and will simply keep him safe on his journey."

"Very well.  Stithis can travel faster than us, so we should send him ahead to warn Alistair of the danger.  The rest of us will join you as soon as we can, Stithis."


----------



## thatdarncat

Well that was quick. But if Alistair is safe or if that trick works a second time I will be rather disapointed. I mean, I'd be scrying to see how well my assasins did. With a bowl of popcorn and everything


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Ironically, Alistair deciding to run off on his own (really, fleeing a fellow PC) mostly had the effect of endangering the other PCs.  I'm not sure how clearly it comes across in the Storyhour, but Kit and Mahler both came really close to death (Mahler in deep negatives, Kit running a significant chance of being knocked unconscious and strangled while alone).

I don't think Alistair ever found out about Kit's danger, but he still feels really guilty about Mahler-- he was trying to shirk responsibility, not shift threats against himself onto his friends.  On the upside, this gave the party much better reasons to stick together and allowed us to integrate Dame Brionna (who is a great counterweight in the party).

Next update tonight!  (Have to finish last year's session's storyhour before the weekend!)


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Stithis easily found Alistair a long days' ride south of the City of Enclaves.  After riding as fast and as far as he could in one day on a fine horse, Alistair had found a pleasant place to stay by seducing a comely woman who owned one of the local farms that help supply the City's tremendous demand for food.  His stories of danger, intrigue, and a secret identity that he dared not reveal lest his enemies threaten them both had precisely the desired effect of earning her admiration, while preparing her for his inevitable sudden departure.  The stories even had the side benefit of being mostly true.

Stithis appeared to Alistair while his friend was attending to the duties of running her farm.  "Alistair... you need to be careful.  There are assassins looking for you."

"Stithis?  What are you doing here?  And how do you know that there are assassins?"

"Mahler sent me after the assassins attacked us.  They thought Mahler was you because of what you told Dame Brionna."

"Is everyone all right?  I never wanted to put Mahler or the rest of you in any danger.  I just didn't want that Glordiadelian knight to focus on dragging me back to Canberry."

"We're all fine.  The others will be joining us soon.  I just came ahead because I could reach you quickly and can stay up all night on guard since I don't need to sleep."

Alistair relaxed on hearing that the assassins failed.  "Thank you.  I'm really grateful that you've all been so willing to help me, especially since this isn't your problem."

Stithis paused.  "I was wondering if you could help me.  I've thought about what the Bishop said, and I think I'd like you to perform the binding ritual on me."

"Are you sure?  I can't say I'm too fond of the idea of being able to control someone, and I know I wouldn't want anyone to have that kind of power over me."

"I'm sure.  It's safer for me, and it's far better to be voluntarily bound to someone that I know won't abuse that than to risk some evil person binding me.  And I'd also be better able to prevent future assassins from getting you.  Besides, it's not all that different from the oaths of fealty that humans take to their nobles all the time."

"I think that's what worries me...  I've never really wanted people swearing fealty to me.  But if you're sure that it's what you want..."

Alistair carefully went through the steps of the ritual with Stithis to forge a mystic bond between them.

* * *

The group in Enclaves spent the following day healing and preparing for the long trip south.  They carefully posted watches and departed shortly before dawn the next day, with Mahler, Kit, and Dame Brionna on horses, Glibrod insisting that he could be Dame Brionna's squire, and Delbon on a huge bee, taking advantage of the unusual mounts available to the wealthy in Glittertowers.  The first day of travel south passed uneventfully.

During the second day, a small caravan approached the group from further south.  With farmland on either side, the group had no choice but to meet the caravan openly and hope for the best.  As the wagons approached, the riders gathered at the side of the road to allow them passed.

A large floating sphere, with a giant central eye and many small eye-stalks rising up from its body, floated out from among the wagons.  "Hello there, travellers!  I don't think I've met any of you!"

Everyone who recognized the strange creature as a beholder tensed, but if it wanted to kill them, there would be little they could do to stop it.  Mahler nudged his horse forward.  "Good day to you.  Bringing a load of trade goods to Enclaves?"

"Yes indeed.  Most of my kind devote themselves to conquest and pillaging, but with my superior intellect, I have realized the inefficiencies of such tasks.  True strength lies in the knowledge of people-- all people, not just other beholders that are close to the true breed.  Trade provides a convenient and profitable means to meet new people.  I have made it my life's work to meet and introduce myself to every intelligent being on the world." The beholder swung one eye-stalk back towards a wagon.  A stack of shiny copper plates, bound together with a sturdy ring, floated towards it.  "I am Glixilplort, a true breed beholder.  If you would each be so kind as to introduce yourselves, I would be most appreciative."

The riders introduced themselves in turn, and the beholder carefully etched their names and homelands onto the copper plates with a green ray from one of its eye-stalks.

"Thank you.  I did not expect an additional five introductions today before reaching Enclaves.  If I can keep meeting people at the rate I've maintained thus far, I will have met every sentient, living creature-- meeting undead is unproductive, even if they have minds-- within the next 489 years, 10 months, and 14 days.  As long as none of them die.  Or reproduce." The beholders gaping maw contorted as it chewed its rocky lips with razor-sharp teeth.  "If they do... then... No matter.  Death and reproduction do not fit the model I have propounded to structure my life plan around.  They are therefore irrelevant and will be disregarded." The creatures face took on its regular, strangely jovial look.  "Thank you for your assistance.  I hope your travels are smooth, and that you meet many fellow travellers on the rest of your journey."

With that, the beholder signaled its teamsters to resume their journey.

Delbon stared after the beholder in befuddlement.  "That was the least terrifying, but strangest beholder I've ever even heard of."

"With luck, it will be the only beholder we ever meet," replied Mahler.

Dame Brionna smiled and put her hand on her sword's hilt.  "I think I may wish to meet a more tradition-minded beholder someday, when I am ready and my duties allow it."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair and Stithis soon rejoined their companions.  Dame Brionna reassured Alistair that she would simply guard him on his travels, rather than trying to force him back to Canberry faster than he wanted.  Alistair, for his part, convinced Kit that she didn't need to call him "your lordliness" and that he had no desire to be treated as a lord, and the group settled into an amiable comradery as it continued on the road towards the Archbarony of Ecsilias.  As they rode, Alistair sidled his horse up to Mahler's.

"I feel terrible about the assassins trying to kill you, thinking that you were me.  I just wanted to make sure Dame Brionna wouldn't do anything unpleasant.  It didn't occur to me that it would lead you into danger."

"Don't worry about it.  I can't say that I enjoy being the target of assassins, but none of us were killed.  And it was far better that they attacked the whole group of us than if they had attacked you alone."

"Even so... Thank you, and I'm sorry." Alistair thought for a moment.  "If there's anything I can do for you... do you want a knighthood or something?"

Mahler smiled.  "Let's not worry about those sorts of things while we're still on the road.  There will be time to figure those things out when our journey is over."

The group rode on for several more days.  At night, they carefully withdrew off the road, trying to avoid any dangers.  The road between Ecsilias and Enclaves is usually safe, but the same could be said for the houses of Glittertowers.  They carefully posted watches, and Dame Brionna, Mahler, and Stithis were consciencious about their watches.  Alistair had carefully arranged to share his watch with Kit, and they spent more of their watches paying attention to each other and becoming progressively closer than actually guarding against threats.

* * *

The City of Ecsilias is the first major settlement on the traderoute to the south of Enclaves.  The Archbaron has a reputation as a fair, just lord, despite the adherence of his family and most of his subjects to the Church of Paranswarm.  After more than a week of travel, the entire group looked forward to the opportunity to sleep on beds in an inn instead of on bedrolls in a rough camp.  The City also allowed them the opportunity to hear the news of the day, and so Alistair and Kit set out to see what they could hear.

Alistair went to a fashionable tavern, where he succeeded admirably in his primary goal of finding an attractive lady interested in having a few drinks with him, but learned nothing significant of the world.  Kit visited the poorer districts of the city.  The rest of the group decided that they would draw unnecessary attention and laid low to wait for the scouts to report.

Kit hurried into the tavern where Alistair should have been hearing the news of the day.  She spotted him at the bar, with his new-found friend leaning up against him and rubbing her hand lightly on his neck.  Kit scowled and rushed across the room.  She elbowed the woman aside roughly.  "Sorry, sister, but he needs to leave.  Right now."

Alistair quickly stood.  "I'd best do as she wishes.  Fair well."

As they hustled towards the door, Kit whispered angrily, "While you were busy with her, I found out that we can't stay here at all.  There's a bounty out on all of us."

"It's not what you think.  I was simply trying to make her friendly so that she would be willing to share gossip that might include important news." Alistair lied with a remarkably sincere tone of voice.

Kit softened.  "Well... I misunderstood.   But the important thing is, we need to get out of here as fast as we can."

When they reached the rest of the group, Kit shared the rest of the news: she had found posters offering the staggering bounty of 5000 gold for their capture.  The posters had sketches of all of them except for Alistair and Stithis, with Kit, Delbon, and Dame Brionna's names written next to their sketches.  Mahler was helpfully labeled as "Lord Alistair" and the posters made it clear that his capture was the most important.

Dame Brionna scowled.  "5000 gold is enough to have every ruffian in Ecsilias keeping their eyes out and looking for an opportunity to collect."

Kit shook her head.  "I don't think you understand how real people view money.  Fifty gold would have been enough to hire half the thugs in a city like this.  A hundred would get you the other half.  For 5000, they'll attack anyone who looks vaguely like any of those pictures, and they'll chase any rumors of us whereever they think we've gone."

"Still, the point remains that we need to get out of here," Mahler said.   "I'll put some quick disguises on us, and then we'll ride through the night."

Alistair nodded.  "Let's leave through the North Gate, back towards Enclaves.  We should be able to take the side roads to loop around the city, and that way if anyone hears about our suddenly leaving in the evening, they'll assume we've fled back instead of pressing on."

They left the city without any indications that they had been spotted.  And instead of sleeping in pleasant beds and actually relaxing, they spent a sleepless night riding as hard as they dared by the light of the moons.


----------



## Orichalcum

*Brief note*

I play Dame Brionna in the SH, and just wanted to add that it's impossible to capture how hilarious Glibrod (who was played by Piratecat) was during this whole session. I always have a wonderful gestalt with PC and playing righteous, confused knight to his fawning servitor was six hours of immense fun and giggles.


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## Cerebral Paladin

From Ecsilias, the road runs south about 20 days' ride to Forktown, where it splits in three, with each road leading to a different pass through the great mountain range that divides the North of the continent of Drucien from the South.  Each pass has different advantages and disadvantages.  One pass is overrun with monsters and would pose no risk of discovery but a high risk of becoming wyvern food or the like.  A second pass is heavily haunted.  While many of the undead in that pass have relatively positive reputations, only fools are overly eager to deal with the undead.  The last pass runs directly through the City of the Pass-- a substantial city and the standard route of trade caravans, but a city mostly known for its corruption and crime lords.  If Ecsilias's poor quarters were any indications, the city ahead would be crawling with would-be bounty hunters and assassins.  Still, it seemed the best of a bad mix, so the travellers planned on making for that road.

They rode hard to get safely into the countryside south of Ecsilias.  During the third night after they left the Archbarony, a terrified wild boar burst into their campsite, scampered away from the light of the fire and charged further off into the woods.  Kit and Alistair were on watch but ended their quiet conversation and cuddling to warn the rest of their companions.  They couldn't be sure why the boar was panicking, but it was certainly troubling.  Dame Brionna and Mahler each grabbed their sword in one hand and a flaming brand in the other to deter any more animals.  Less than a minute later, the reason for the boar's flight became clear: a large wolfpack followed its trail straight into the camp.  All of the wolves but one veered away from the fire and the guards.  The lead wolf, however, stared directly at each of them and shifted shape into a partially humanoid form.  The werewolf glared at the group, and then shifted back to wolf-form and charged after its pack, howling at the moon as it ran.  The travellers spent the rest of the night fearfully watching for any signs that the werewolf and its pack were returning, but morning came safely, and they were all glad to be back on the road on horseback.

The next 10 days passed without further problems.  There were several additional instances of odd animal behavior, as a family of bears searched for food and seemed to view the presence of humans as a sign of safety, rather than danger.  But none of the travellers were experienced outdoorsfolk, and they assumed that it was normal for bears.

On the 15th day of travel, an enormous caravan from the Empire of Mask passed by.  The travellers simply yielded the entire road and allowed it to pass, as the nobles leading the caravan casually assumed was their right.  Once they were clear that the riders were not bandits and did not presume that they were the equals of the lords in the caravan, the traders ignored them completely.  The travellers paid rather more attention and noticed a pattern that might explain why all of the free-born people in the caravan carefully wore full masks that entirely covered their faces: many, perhaps half, of the slaves and porters working in the caravan had horribly disfigured faces.  When the caravan had passed, the riders resumed their travels south.

Several days later, a mere day or so north of Forktown, the group left the road to make camp again.  As they prepared to make camp, a boar piglet, about a foot long, dashed into the middle of their camp and began pressing up against Delbon, as he sat by the fire, for comfort.  The piglet appeared to be healthy but utterly terrified.  Dame Brionna confirmed that it was not evil, and they all noticed that it's behavior seemed oddly intelligent.  Once they reassured the piglet and gave it a little of their food, it looked off into the woods, walked forward a bit, and then looked back at the group.  The piglet clearly wanted to go somewhere but was afraid on its own.  Delbon shrugged.  "I guess we should see what it wants..."

The group followed the young boar into the woods.  It clearly mostly knew the way but not entirely.  It stopped several times to look and sniff around before resuming its trail, and even looped once or twice, but finally entered a clearing in the woods and rushed forward.  The piglet rushed across the clearing towards a small house, oinking happily.  An elderly woman rushed out of the house and scooped up the piglet in her arms.  "Oh my dear.  I was so worried... you know you shouldn't run off like that."

While the travellers watched in confusion, the piglet shifted form and became a small human toddler, cooing happily in her grandmother's arms.


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## Cerebral Paladin

We had the third session of the game a few weeks ago.  A few of the other players pointed out a few errors I made in the Storyhour; Stithis's player assures me that the binding took place in Enclaves and that both Stithis and Alistair left when the party split up.  Also, Mahler's player noted that the only reason that he was in danger during the battle with the Knockers was because Glibrod whacked him multiple times with crit fumbles.  Still, I don't think I'm going to bother to correct the Storyhour-- it's close enough, and I don't really remember the details well enough.

The new session was great fun and I'll start writing it up soon.  I'm almost done with the 2nd session; within the next two weeks or so I should post the end of the 2nd session, and then I'll start on the third.


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## Cerebral Paladin

"Thank you so much for helping my granddaughter find her way home.  I need to look after all of my grandchildren while my daughters work, and it can be a little hard to keep track of them all," Goodwife Amelie explained.  "Usually, when children wander off, other wearboars, humans, or the werebears eventually help them find their way home.  But recently, the werewolves have risen in number.  Even adult wereboars and werebears are not safe against a group of the werewolves, and the children are simply prey to them."

"What of your lord?" Alistair asked.  "Are there no knights to meet the werewolf threat?" Kit rolled her eyes at Alistair's assumptions.

"The Count used to help us, but he has grown distant and uncaring as the wolves destroy his people.  He is almost never seen outside the castle anymore-- after his son  died."

"Do you think he knows about the werewolves?" Kit asked.

"How could he not?  Some of his servants told him how his people suffer.  And his son was always ready to hunt the werewolves.  He single-handedly kept their rising numbers in check.  But since his death... no one can bend the Count's ear.  Except perhaps his dark chaplain." Goodwife Amelie looked around carefully, as if the walls might have ears.  "And I've heard some say that since the heir-apparent's death, they have seen the wolves prowling at the very gates of the castle, as if they were guards or friends of the Count."

Delbon said, "What of his other children, or his wife?  Could they help?"

Goodwife Amelie shook her head.  "He only had the one, and his wife died years ago.  He has withdrawn since his son fell from the cliff while hunting."

Alistair looked around at his friends.  "Killed in an accident while hunting the werewolves?  How convenient...  What of the Count's liege-lord?  If he will not act, perhaps his liege should remind him that a noble owes duties to his people as well."

"He has no liege.  We are a poor land; when the Count, a warrior with great accomplishments of his own, built a castle and declared himself a lord, we did not disagree.  But no king or emperor rules over him."

"Well.  If the Count will not behave as he should, and there is no higher authority to turn to, I think it falls to us to aid the good people of this land.  Do you think we could get into the castle to see the Count?"

Kit started and looked at Alistair in confusion.  "What could we do?  He's the noble, and, while it sounds like these people need help with the werewolves, what would we do with him?"

Dame Brionna smiled grimly at Kit.  "It is royalty's place to watch over the nobles as the nobles watch over the people.  If there were local royalty, Glordiadel would wish us to bring the problem of this Count's failure to their attention.  As there are not, it falls to any royalty present."

Alistair paused and looked uncomfortably at Dame Brionna's smile.  "Let's not worry too much about why we should do this.  Let's just see if we can help things out."

"I thank you, good travellers," Goodwife Amelie responded.  "You have brought my granddaughter home and would now take on even more risks to help the rest of my family and neighbors.  If you will come with me, I can lead you to the castle, where we can get you in through the scullery entrance."


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## Baron Opal

Wow, that's something I haven't thought about in some time. How is ol' Ren doing these days?

Hmm... Does the Helltide still wash over the land? Do the Courts of Chaos still stand? Did Asterlin ever control that color pool? Ask him the next time you see him, and I'll watch here.

 

Baron Opal
a.k.a. Asterlin, former minon of Sabrae


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## Cerebral Paladin

Reyn's pretty well.  He went through some rough stuff last fall relating to a close friend, and it has taken him a while to recover, but he's mostly doing okay now.

I'll have to ask Reyn about your questions about the game the next time I see him, Baron-- those aren't parts of the gameworld that I've dealt with.

And on to the next post:
The small group carefully and quietly made their way from the wereboar's house to the castle.  The Count's castle perched atop a large cliff overlooking the road.  The fortress was impressive in its gothic grandeur but also had a somewhat comic aspect.  While the castle was little more than a small keep with a curtain wall, the buttresses and supports arrayed around it were heavy enough for a much larger fortress.  To peasants and simple merchants, the flying buttresses may have made the castle more impressive.  But to the members of the group who had seen truly great castles, they simply served to emphasize the minuscule size of this one.  The Count's banner flew from the keep, indicating that he was within, and a separate banner with the downward black arrow of Paranswarm proclaimed his faith.

Goodwife Amelie rapped quietly on the scullery door.  A comely young woman, dressed in the simple clothes of a cook, opened the door and smiled to greet her.  "Mother!  I'm surprised to see you here."

"Please, we should come in.  These strangers may be able to help us."

The group hurried into the kitchen area.  Delbon quickly set about befriending the cook, while the rest of the group quickly quizzed her on the state of the household.  She informed them that the Count was, as always, in his library, while the chaplain was out hunting with the dogs.  The Count had never had any real knights in his service, and of late had stopped even bothering to make sure that the walls were guarded by villagers. 
While Delbon and the cook slipped off to sample the wine cellar and talk more privately, the rest of the group planned.

"This is the perfect time to handle the Count, while his chaplain is still out," Alistair said.

Kit opened a small door in the kitchen. "Does this dumbwaiter go up to the library?  I bet I could fit inside, and pull myself up with the rope to see what the Count is doing.  Maybe we can catch him asleep."

Stithis nodded enthusiastically.  "And I can go with her.  I don't weigh anything, so it won't make her work harder, and I can scout the room invisibly."

"Be careful, both of you.  We'll tug on the rope from below if the chaplain comes back while you're up there."

Kit climbed onto the tray in the dumbwaiter and carefully pulled on the rope that lifted the tray up two stories to the library.  Stithis floated upwards with her, turning invisible as they reached the library.  Kit carefully pushed the ornate double door to the dumbwaiter open a crack and looked around the room.

The library was a good sized room, with furnishings to fit a nobleman's home.  Several tall bookshelves contained the Count's large library of dozens of books.  A heavy wooden desk dominated the center of the room.  Kit and Stithis could see the back of the Count's head over the back of a large, ornate chair.  He appeared to be reading a heavy book open on the desk in front of him.  As they quietly watched, however, he did not move at all, not even to turn a page.

"Do you think he's asleep?" Kit whispered to Stithis.

"I don't know.  I'll find out," he whispered back.  The doors to the dumbwaiter fluttered a fraction of an inch further open as Stithis squeezed out into the room.  Kit bit her lip nervously, knowing that the djinni was gliding across the room but unable to see him.  After a few moments, Stithis appeared directly in front of the Count, who still did not react or move.  The djinni waved for Kit to come forward, and she slid out of the dumbwaiter.

A thin layer of dust lay on the book, clearly undisturbed for days or weeks.  Kit could see that the Count was breathing, but only barely.  His jaw hung slack as he quietly drooled on the desk, eyes staring blankly forward. Kit reached out and gently tugged on his shoulder.  The Count still showed no response to their presence.

Kit and Stithis gracefully stepped out of the dumbwaiter and back into the kitchen.  "I don't think the problem here is the Count.  He's under some sort of spell."

Dame Brionna turned to Goodwife Amelie.  "Did the priest arrive shortly before the troubles with the werewolves began?"

"Aye, perhaps six months ago.  There had been occasional werewolves before, but they grew worse starting perhaps a month after he arrived."

Alistair shook his head.  "We should've known to suspect the priest as soon as we heard he was Paranswarmian.  Stithis, you'd better fly up and search around the chapel to make sure the priest doesn't have any surprises prepared.  We'll let you know through your telepathic link if the priest makes it back before you do."

Stithis flew up the stairs in the tower that rose above one corner of the keep.  The chapel itself seemed to have nothing amiss.  Across from the door to the priest's chambers, however, a strange cabinet had been built into the wall.  Stithis opened the door and saw a red crystal that throbbed with an inner light set behind several protective bars of metal.  As Stithis reported this through his mental link, a loud knocking resounded from the scullery door.

Dame Brionna quickly roused the cook from her bed and, spotting the halfling sleeping beside the cook, urged Delbon to get ready as well.  The rest of the group hastily hid in the wine cellar.

The cook opened the door to the Count's chaplain, curtsying deeply as a blood-stained figure in black leather vestments strode in imperiously. The priest was a tall, dark haired man, with a somewhat wild look in his eye and some blood drying around his mouth.  He leaned a bloody boar-spear against a wall and flung two fresh bear skins onto the floor.  "Have those furs cleaned and treated.  I'll want them as additional rugs." The chaplain stared curiously at the cook, while the two great mastiffs that he had been hunting with ran up the stairs.  After a moment, he sniffed at the air with a strangely animalian attitude.  "Has your mother been here?  I thought I made it clear that she wasn't welcome here."

"No, your reverence.  I went and visited her while you were out-- to see my daughter, you know.  That must be what you're noticing."

The priest nodded.  "Very well.  You should make sure she doesn't travel here.  It would be a pity if the wolves got her...  Do not disturb me until the morning." He stalked up the stairs towards his chambers.  From her hiding place, Dame Brionna called on Glordiadel to sense evil and found that the priest radiated strong evil, but not as strong as the evil from a large gold amulet that he wore around his neck.

The group emerged from their hiding places.  "This is as good an opportunity as we'll get." Alistair looked around the kitchen.  "He may be weakened from hunting, especially if those were werebears.  We need to quickly lay an ambush."

The group quickly found hiding places around the kitchen.  Alistair applied some silversheen that Mahler had loaned him to his spiked chain, while Delbon enlarged him and created a large grease patch just waiting for when the priest returned to the room.  Alistair handed his silver dagger-- the only other silver weapon they had-- to Kit, so that even if the priest was a werewolf they would have some hope of hurting it.  Stithis decided to remain where he was, hoping that destroying the psicrystal would distract the priest.  When all was ready, Alistair cast an illusion and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I've come for you.  How dare you betray Paranswarm by attacking your own lord?"


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The priest hurried down and flung open the door to the kitchen.  The two dogs charged into the room, sprawling on the grease and sliding to the opposite wall.  One actually passed through the illusion: a towering figure, dressed entirely in black including a black cowl covering his face.  The only bits of color in the image were red gloves, the silvery glint of torture instruments, and a giant red blood-drop at the tip of the large downward arrow on the surplice that covered his heavy spiked plate armor.  As the priest entered, the faux Inquisitor raised his vicious black flail that seemed to radiate darkness.

"I thought it was only a matter of time before that wereboar moved against me.  But I expected her to come with a druid, a Gunnoran, or perhaps even one of those Glordiadelian knights in their shiny armor.  I never thought she'd have the guts to bring the Inquisition.  No matter-- we'll eat plenty of pork to commemorate your death anyway." The priest raised his hand and gestured towards the illusion.  A massive wave of concussive force roared across the kitchen.  One of the dogs, still reeling from having slid on the grease into the wall, was flung into the wall again and crushed to a pulp.  But the illusion just stepped forward while the real warriors leapt out of their hiding places to attack.  Alistair lashed at the priest with his spiked chain, taking advantage of his magically enhanced size to strike from a full fifteen feet away.  Dame Brionna charged the priest, proving that the priest was right to expect a Glordiadelian knight, while Delbon and Kit remained hiding, waiting for an opportunity to effectively strike at the priest.

Stithis, meanwhile, hacked at the metal bars protecting the psicrystal.  His first few blows did not break the bars, but the mortar holding them into the wall began to crack.

The next half-minute brought chaos and carnage to the kitchen.  The priest surprised everyone by flinging groups of magic missiles at Alistair and Brionna.  The mastiff savaged Alistair despite his best efforts to keep it at bay with his spiked chain.  Kit jumped into the fight to aid Alistair by flanking the dog and inflicting brutal wounds with her dagger.  Just as the dog finally collapsed, Alistair, barely standing despite his wounds, lashed out at the priest.  In his weakened state, however, he could not handle his weapon effectively, and one of the barbs on the chain caught on his belt buckle, causing his pants to fall about his feet and toppling him to the ground, barely conscious.

Stithis finally broke through the bars.  Seizing the pulsating psicrystal, he flew at top speed through a narrow window.  The psicrystal might break if dropped to the ground within the castle, but a few seconds of flight would take him beyond the cliff.  The extra sixty feet to the rocks below would surely doom the crystal, just as it had the Count's son.

The priest cocked his head, sensing his psicrystal's movement.  "Clever, trying to distract me that way.  No matter; after I've finished you off, I'll have my revenge on your little airy friend." He gestured again, striking Dame Brionna with another barrage of magic missiles.  Another such attack would surely finish her.

Kit looked around in desperation.  They were moments from disaster-- if the priest had more spells he could cast, it would not take him long to kill or defeat the rest of them.  Still, she couldn't abandon her friends... Kit leapt onto the countertop, rolling beneath the hanging pots and pans before launching herself through the air from the edge of the counter past the priest.  She landed nimbly behind him and then lunged up towards his throat.  With a savage hack of her silver dagger, she slashed most of the way through the priests neck, nearly decapitating him and saving her friends.  At the same moment, Stithis finally cleared the cliff and flung the psicrystal down to the rocks below, where it shattered and its inner light faded away.

Dame Brionna staggered across the room to Alistair and, after laying on hands to close his wounds, flung her cloak over the lower parts of his body to preserve his modesty from Kit's curious view.  As Stithis returned, the group carefully healed their wounds and finished hacking off the priest's head, just to be sure.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

With the priest dead, the group rushed to see if the count could be restored to health.  Far from freeing him from the enchantment, however, the priest's death had severed the last force preserving the count's life.  No more than a few minutes passed between the priest's death and the group's entry into the count's study, but his breathing had already taken on a ragged, tortured sound as he slumped even further onto the desk.  Alistair and Dame Brionna quickly laid him out on a bed, but were unable to do anything to heal him and had to satisfy themselves by making the count comfortable in his passing.  By the time the hour was out, the count stopped breathing altogether.  Dame Brionna quietly said a prayer for the dead.  After she finished, Alistair drew her attention.   "You should witness this." Alistair struck a pose.  "All other legitimate claimants having perished and my being seized of the territory, I hereby claim this county in the name of the royal family of Canberry by virtue of the victory of forces in our service over the usurper." He thought for a second.  "I don't really think it's large enough to be a proper county, though.  To avoid offending the nobles back in Canberry, I should probably reconstitute it as a barony.  Now I just need to find a baron..."

As Alistair began to walk out of the room, Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  "It is traditional to reward warriors who have saved the life of royalty in battle, and Kit did save your life..."

"I was already thinking that," he said as he exited.

"Good.  Besides, it would make her much more suitable..." Dame Brionna quietly observed as Alistair walked back to Kit.

"Kit... could I talk with you for a moment in private?" Once Alistair had Kit away from their other companions, he faced her.  "I wanted to thank you for saving my life, or really all of our lives, back there.  And I want to ask you whether, as a reward, you would like to have this barony."

Alistair stood ready for many reactions.  Stunned silence, overjoyed exulting, even amorous gratitude would not have surprised him.  Kit's laughter, however, did.  "What," she cried out gasping for breath amidst peels of laughter, "would I possibly do with a barony?"

"You wouldn't do anything with it.  You would appoint a steward-- I'm sure I could arrange for Earl Richard to supply a good candidate-- who would administer it for you.  And then you could live as a baroness off of its revenues, staying in a townhouse in whatever civilized city you chose to."

Kit's continued laughter showed what she thought of that idea.  "Thank you for the offer, but I don't think I really want to have a barony, your lordliness."

As they returned to the rest of the group, Delbon looked up at Alistair.  "What about the rest of us?" he asked, apparently having overheard Alistair's offer.  "Can't we get any awards?"

Alistair smiled.  "Of course.  How does a knighthood sound?  Sir Delbon... I'll make you a knight bachelor.  It seems appropriate."

Dame Brionna raised an eyebrow.  "Were you knighted yourself, m'lord?  If you weren't, I can take care of arranging the details for the ceremony."

"Of course I was knighted.  At least, I think I was knighted.  You have to understand, I was pretty drunk at the time.  I don't really remember much of the ceremony, but I'm almost sure that I got dubbed at some point."

Dame Brionna nodded.  "I think I should definitely take charge of the details of the ceremony then."

Before dealing with such details, however, the group finished exploring the castle.  In the priest's chambers, a diary revealed his gradual descent from the priesthood of Paranswarm to even greater depravity.  The problems all seemed to begin when he acquired the fancy gold amulet that he wore around his neck and that fully awakened his mind.  His journal declared in careful detail how he had infiltrated himself into the count's household, claiming he had been assigned as a chaplain.  He then set about spreading his lycanthropic curse to build up more followers, bound to his will through leather collars that allowed him mental control.  When the count's son sought to stop the werewolves, he arranged for a hunting accident, stunning the young lord psionically and then flinging him off the cliff.  And now, with the count fading quickly and the werebears and wereboars overmatched by the coordinated efforts of the fallen priest's minions, he merely waited for the opportunity to claim the entire county.  Over the course of the journal, the priest's writing grew progressively more crazed, so that the end of the volume appeared to be written by a completely different author from the meticulous scribe who began.  Having confirmed their suspicions and positively identified the amulet and leather collars of control as the remaining threats, the group carefully slid the amulet, without ever touching it, into a small lead coffer.  They threw in the leather control bands, and then carefully closed the coffer and tied it shut, hoping that would contain the threat until they could give it to the temple of Glordiadel to destroy it.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The next day or two passed mostly quietly, as the group put the castle back into order, interred the count in the family crypt, and buried the priest in an unmarked grave outside the castle walls.  Delbon and Alistair spent most of their time seducing the attractive servants and staff of the castle.  Dame Brionna noticed Alistair's escapades with disapproval, but Kit reacted more strongly, first with an angry tongue-lashing and then by treating Alistair with extreme formality, coldness, and disdain.  During the days, Alistair met with the leaders of the local community-- Goodwife Amelie, a prominent werebear, the local priest-midwives of Gunnora, and the village elders-- who were happy to accept Canberry's claims and Alistair's promise that the barony would be defended and run by knights in his service.  The group also found and distributed a variety of useful items, including the Paranswarmian priest's magical leather vestments and dagger, which Kit claimed, his magic boar spear that Stithis took, a minor Libram of Intelligence, which Alistair claimed, and a spellbook of some power that was of no direct use to any in the group, but that they took for its resale value.  They also found the castle's treasury of several hundred gold; each of the travellers took one hundred gold, and the remainder was left to ensure that the castle's new steward would have enough resources to help develop the Barony.

The group began planning its further trip south.  Alistair wrote a message to the ambassador from Canberry to Enclaves, hoping to both ensure that the barony would be taken care of and to throw off pursuit.

To: The Earl Sheffield, Ambassador to the City of Enclaves from Her Sovereign Grace, the Grand Duchess of Canberry

Dear Uncle Richard,

I trust that this letter finds you well.  I write to assure you that I am well, safe, and on my journey back home to Canberry.

We have been travelling south from Enclaves.  Some 20 days ride out of Ecsilias, we encountered a small independent fiefdom that had fallen into the control of evil forces who had usurped control from the local noble.  The people had no other recourse, so we defeated their oppressors and I claimed the castle and its environs, which I have renamed the Barony of Lyneham, in the name of my family.

I ask a boon of you, as my companions and I must continue on to Canberry.  Please appoint a steward to rule the Barony on my behalf and dispatch the steward and a group of knights to assume control of the castle and to defend the Barony.  You should understand in your choice that while it is very unlikely that I will elevate the steward to baronial dignity, there are many parts of the Barony that could be suitable for a new manor lord or lady, especially if my plans for Lyneham are carried out successfully.  I would have no objection to one of your children or a similar close ally, but you should remember that the previous lord of Lyneham was murdered, along with his only son.  These lands are too rough and far from civilization for a steward who is not capable.  I will leave written instructions for the steward in the castle.  You should also of course arrange for a priest of Glordiadel for the Barony as the faith inevitably follows the banner of Canberry, although the other good faiths of the people of the Barony are to be shown the strictest and most accepting tolerance, and if the Paranswarmians realize that the Barony was once theirs even one of their priests should be suffered.

We will wait for you to receive this letter and then head south to Forktown.  From Forktown, we intend to travel east along the barrier mountains, rather than through the paths, before cutting directly south to Canberry.  Passing over the mountains outside one of the three passes will be difficult, but it will be an exciting enough trip to justify it and should keep us well away from anyone who might be looking for us.

To bring the brighter light etc.				Alistair of Canberry
								        [signed and sealed]


After finishing the letter and carefully putting his signet ring back into the tiny lead coffer that would conceal it from scrying, Alistair sent the letter on to Enclaves via a courier.  Based on prior experiences, the information would surely leak into the hands of their enemies eventually, but with luck the description of the planned journey would send the assassins in entirely the wrong direction as they sought to sneak through the City of the Pass.

Alistair also wrote out instructions to his future steward.  He planned to expand the wealth of the barony by taking advantage of its position on a major trade route and offering services and security to the caravans passing through.  By suppressing banditry through ever wider patrols, Lyneham could justify charging tolls that would quickly make back the costs.  Ultimately, Forktown should be persuaded, peacefully, to accept rulership by the barony and the barony should stretch from Forktown to the border of Ecsilias.

End of Session 2


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Session 3:

Mahler travelled into the village to take stock of the business opportunities.  He quickly identified the forest's value in the lumber trade as the primary underdeveloped asset and went to meet the owner of the largest mill in the town.  A quick conversation confirmed that the mill mostly dealt with local builders and sold some shipments to merchants bound for Ecsilias.  Much larger profits could be had by shipping directly to Enclaves, with its insatiable hunger for raw supplies of all sorts to support its immense population, but the merchants there would only deal with suppliers who could ship large quantities on a regular basis.  Mahler quickly suggested that with the right influx of capital, the mill owner could gain access to that market and to the substantial wealth it offers.  After a quick negotiation, they agreed that the mill owner would greatly increase the size of his operation and enter the Enclaves market directly; Mahler paid him 58 gold for a 50 % share of the increase in profits beyond its current level.  The mill owner happily agreed to sign the contract, after asking Mahler to read it to him once the drafting was finished.

Meanwhile, Alistair and Dame Brionna arranged for the knighthoods for Delbon and Kit.  Mahler declined Alistair's renewed offer for a title or other reward for the risks he had run by standing in Alistair's stead.  But Kit, while still unable to believe in the reality of, let alone accept, the offer of a barony, perked up at Delbon's suggestion that they could both be knighted.  A rather confused conversation about what land Kit wanted as a fee, and whether she would pay scutage or serve personally in the military ensued, but all eventually was resolved.  Delbon and Kit each received their knighthoods, with Dame Kit receiving a parcel of forested land, including Goodwife Amelie's home, while Sir Delbon requested a length of the road beyond the village as his fee-- largely valueless at present, but with tremendous potential for inns and other businesses that cater to the desires of travellers, such as temples of Manumist.

With the local matters dealt with, the group prepared for their journey south.  Travelling through the City of the Pass still seemed to be the only sensible options, since either a pass filled with monsters or one populated mostly by undead could easily lead to death. 

"We must be careful.  From what I understand, thieves and brigands run the City of the Pass," Alistair explained.

Kit snorted.  "I'm sure that's what people like your lordliness think.  The City of the Pass is a guild-run city.  The thieves' guild is one of the powerful guilds that dominates the City, but only one.  We should probably worry more about the Black Guild, though... the City of the Pass is one of the few places where they operate openly, and that could mean trouble based on our experiences in Ecsilias."

Alistair looked confused.  "The Black Guild?"

"Assassins, your lordliness, assassins."

The whole group paused to mull that over.  While they thought, the castle's sentinel, who Alistair had left on duty for lack of a better use for him, sounded several notes on his trumpet from the highest parapet.

Stithis rushed to the watch tower and reported back to the group telepathically.  "There's a group of riders approaching.  Nine horsemen, with a large banner that I don't recognize, and they have some giant dogs with them."

Mahler raised an eyebrow.  "Doesn't sound like someone planning on attacking the keep, but not a group that I'd care to antagonize."

Alistair nodded.  "I guess we'll have to receive them as the Baron of Lyneham and his knights, then.  As long as they don't know who we really are, it shouldn't create any problems.  Stithis, could you have the sentinel run up the old count's banner, with a Glordiadelian banner showing the gold sun on a white field below it?  Then go to the gatehouse and invite our guests to dismount, surrender their weapons, and receive the hospitality of the Baron of Lyneham."

The riders reined their horses in as they approached the drawbridge.  "Greetings.  We ask hospitality from the master of this castle.  We have recently seen battle and are in need of a safe place to rest."

Stithis shouted back, "If you will dismount and surrender your weapons, you are welcome in the castle of the Baron of Lyneham."

The riders looked about in startlement.  One of them pointed up at the banners flying above the castle, and the conversation grew more heated.  The leader, an older man but still vigorous, wearing fine black robes and a wide purple belt over his armor, held up a hand to quiet his companions and spoke quietly to the rider who had hailed Stithis, who nodded.

The riders dismounted and began disarming.  The young rider at the lead shouted up again.  "Thank you for your generosity.  Please inform the Baron that His Excellence, Inquisitor General Francis de Borje of Lord Paranswarm's Inquisition, requests an audience at the earliest convenience."


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## skullsmurfer

cool stuff I am hooked and subscribed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Paranswarmian Bishop and his entourage entered the castle's hastily redecorated audience hall.  Alistair sat on a great chair centered on a dais at one end of the room, with Mahler, Kit, Dame Brionna, and Delbon by his side.

Stithis announced the visitors and Alistair nodded politely and formally but not deferentialy.  "I am Jer Pardon, Baron of Lyneham.  Welcome, venerable bishop."

One of Inquisitor General de Borje's aides confusedly thumbed through a large book before whispering quietly to his master.  The Inquisitor General frowned and spoke carefully.  "I am sorry to trouble you in this matter.  My men are wounded and need a place to rest and recouperate before we continue on our mission." The Bishop muttered a quick incantation to Paranswarm to detect chaos, and looked increasingly nervous as he detected light chaos from most of his hosts besides Dame Brionna and a strong aura from Stithis's extraplanar nature.  He paused, distaste for working with any who are not fully orderly warring with the need for aid, and then forced himself to continue.  "We would appreciate the opportunity to rest and cast healing magics before we resume our pursuit of a renegade priest who has stolen a powerful object from the Church and turned from the Orderly Darkness.  I would not have imposed on your hospitality in this way, but I had thought that this castle was Paranswarmian."

Alistair nodded.  "Indeed, the prior lord of this land was Paranswarmian.  His chaplain betrayed him and usurped control of the land, using his powers as a psionicist and mage to murder the Count's only child and to break the Count's mind.  We were part of the retinue of a member of the royal family of Canberry.  When we heard of the plight of the county, we sought to free the Count from the traitor's control.  Unfortunately, after we slew the usurper, the power sustaining the Count's life faded and he died.  We have interred him in the castle's crypt; you are welcome to examine his body and perform additional burial rites if you wish, although not to exhume him, to verify our account.

"With the rightful line extinct, the prince of Canberry claimed this land by right of conquest from the usurper and by right of his royal birth, and installed me as the first Baron of Lyneham.  As you understand, the established church follows the banner of Canberry, and this is now a Glordiadelian land."

The Inquisitor General nodded.  "It sounds like the 'chaplain' you mention was the renegade we sought to apprehend.  Did he have a large gold amulet with great psionic powers?"

"Indeed.  We identified that as a dangerous and evil power and sealed it in a lead coffer.  We intend to turn it over to the Church of Glordiadel for safe-keeping and destruction."

"I suppose I cannot object to that, as we were unable to keep it safe.  I warn you that you may find it harder to prevent its theft than you would think; it wishes to be used for evil, and pushes for those opportunities.  Do not bring it to any temple below the stature of a cathedral.  Any lesser church would surely be unable to guard against it.  As for the renegade... what did you do with his body?"

"We buried him in a grave outside the castle, after performing the most simple rituals to prevent him from rising again.  You may do whatever you wish with him."

"Thank you.  Paranswarm's punishment for those who betray His order are great and this renegade betrayed both his vows to the Church and his oaths to his lord; we must exhume him, cremate him, and bring the bones back with us to the cathedral, that we may perform the rites consigning him to the Second Deeping for five-hundred years of torment." The Paranswarmians had fierce looks of vengeance on their faces as the Inquisitor General discussed this, but their hosts simply looked uncomfortable.  "I understand of course about the need for the established religion, and the chaplaincy, to shift to yours.  Would we be permitted to send a priest to minister to any Paranswarmians in the barony?"

"We permit any priests of the Ecumenical Alliance to preach in this land, provided that they do not prosyletize among the Glordiadelians.  We would view it with favor, however, if you ensured that the Paranswarmian priest was from an order that we would not find particularly offensive."

"Of course.  We wouldn't send a Priest-Killman or some such.  Perhaps a priestess of the Weeping Woman?"

"That would be most acceptable.  You should also contact the Glordiadelian Bishop to arrange for any steps you want taken before we reconsecrate the castle's chapel to Glordiadel." The Bishop nodded in gratitude.  "Now, let us arrange for your wounded to be housed comfortably and begin preparations for the arrival of the rest of your troops."

Mahler interrupted.  "Who attacked you?  Should we fear that they will pursue?"

"I doubt it.  We travelled north through the City of the Pass.  A large group of guards from the Black Guild insisted on searching all travellers in either direction, and refused to allow any armed companies to travel north.  Several caravans were backed up outside the City, unwilling to go north without their guards and not permitted to with them.  The troops of the Holy Inquisition, of course, are not subject to search or delay by any secular authority, so when they refused us passage we stormed their position and forced our way through.  While we inevitably triumphed through Lord Paranswarm's blessings, we suffered heavy wounds."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna and Alistair used their limited magical healing to aid the Inquisition troops as best as they could, and then the group gathered in a conference room.

Mahler frowned.  "I don't like the Inquisitor General's description of the City of the Pass.  We can't fight our way through, and we'll have a much harder time sneaking through if they are alert to something."

"I could scout for us invisibly," Stithis said.

"Too risky," replied Alistair.  "If they can detect invisible, you would be in extreme danger.  I'm particularly worried about the searches.  Based on the amount of money being offered for us in Ecsilias, the searches could be designed to find us.  And if they find my signet ring, we're all dead."

"I could fly you across, carrying the ring, and then the rest could pass on foot..."

"But what if they have flying guards, or recognize Mahler from the posters?" Alistair paused.  "The other odd thing is the defense against armed groups from the south.  Who are they trying to stop?  I suppose my grandmother might have sent troops north to guide our passage.  In that case, we might want to wait for them to reach the City of the Pass, although I can't say I relish the thought of either waiting out the siege of a city or entering immediately into the protective custody of troops of Canberry.  I wish we knew more about who is moving against us... just waiting for them to attack doesn't make me happy."

"Maybe the Inquisitor General can do some sort of divination?" suggested Kit.  "I think he might be willing to in gratitude for the safe place to rest, and that could provide us with a lot more information for our planning."

Alistair approached the Inquisitor General as he supervised the exhuming of the renegade priest's corpse.  The least wounded of the Inquisitorial guard shoveled dirt off of the grave, while some of their slightly more wounded but still able companions carefully built a bonfire beside the metal cage that would be used for the cremation.  The Inquisitor General looked up from his task.

"Venerable Bishop, I wondered if I might ask a boon of you."

"Certainly, Baron.  After you have aided us by both bringing our quarry to Lord Paranswarm's justice and by sheltering us and offering us healing when we were injured, I am happy to repay you with any favors within my power."

"I told you before that we were with a member of the royal house of Canberry when we liberated this land from the usurper.  Our royal companion, Lord Alistair, travelled south from Lyneham on his way home.  Your description of the City of the Pass worries us, and we wondered if you might be able to perform some divinations to determine if he faces particular threats."

"Of course.  I will need a basin of water in a darkened room."

"The castle's old chapel to Paranswarm is available and still consecrated, if that would be suitable."

"Perfect.  I will join you there as soon as we finish preparing the renegade's remains for travel."

The party assembled in the Paranswarmian chapel.  The Inquisitor General spoke a quiet prayer to the Lord of Orderly Darkness, while one of his attendants swung a censor filled with brightly burning incense that provided the only dim light in the otherwise dark room.  He looked up at the group.  "You will be able to ask three questions of any form.  Tell me the first question before we begin."

"Who is behind, both directly and indirectly, the attacks on Lord Alistair of Canberry?"

The Inquisitor General made the sign of the downward arrow and then held his arms above his head.  "Oh Lord of the Empty Room!  You have heard the question; deliver us the answer!" With a savage motion, the Inquisitor General dragged a ceremonial dagger across his bare forearm, allowing the blood to pour into the ceremonial basin.  The blood swirled around in the water, and images formed.

A set of three figures, arranged as marionettes with each one controlled by a second controlled in turn by a third appeared.  The image focused on the smallest figure, a young human man of aristocratic dress.  Alistair murmured quietly, "One of Lord Alistair's half-brothers, named Luva." As the image shifted, the larger figure pulling Luva's strings came into view.  "One of his maternal aunts." The image shifted again, to a thin, pale skinned figure with pointed ears, the largest of the three figures and the only one under no outside control.  "How remarkable... one of the Nuldar, surely, and unless I misread his insignia, the Zorplona-Argoni Controller for Region 6."

The images faded and the blood settled to the bottom of the basin.  The Inquisitor General intoned, "Ask the second question."

"Why are the guards in the City of the Pass preparing a defense and barring armed groups from travelling north?"

The Inquisitor General brought the ceremonial dagger across his arm a second time.  The blood swirled in the basin, and an image formed of an army of cavalry riding quickly across plains.  The banner of Canberry fluttered boldly above the van of the army.  The image quickly faded.  "Ask the final question."

A brief discussion ensued over what question to ask after those answers, leading to: "What is the ultimate goal of the Nuldar in attacking Canberry's royal family?"

Once more blood spilled into the basin.  A map of southern Drucien formed, with brightly lit areas marking the major kingdoms and powers, the ancient elven land of the Forest of Singing Leaves brightest of all.  One by one, Canberry and the other inland powers faded to darkness.  When the Forest of Singing Leaves was the only lit area left, it suddenly became dark, and the map gave way to an image of barren desert, broken only by the occasional fallen tree.

"The divination is complete.  Thanks be to Lord Paranswarm and his great servant, the Lord of the Empty Room!" The Inquisitor General and his attendant remained in the chapel in prayer while the party shuffled out.

Alistair, looking a little green after those rituals, looked over at Dame Brionna.  "Would you mind leading a Glordiadelian service for us?  I think I would like a less disturbing religious service after that..."

Kit nodded, "I think I'll join you..."

Dame Brionna simply smiled, her eyes flashing in triumph, as she led the group to the top of the tower where the sun shines brightest.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

"It's clear that we can't safely travel south through the City of the Pass.  They're searching for Alistair among travellers from the north, and guarding against his allies to the south," Mahler said as the group sat again in the baronial council chamber.  "Even Stithis's powers of flight and invisibility are unlikely to be able to sneak us safely by."

"What about waiting for the army to arrive?" suggested Delbon.  "Canberry should be able to send a large enough force."

"But they're moving against a fortified city.  If the City of the Pass bars its gates, I'm sure the Canberry army would be sufficient to maintain a siege, but the city will be able to hold out for a long time, especially against a one-sided siege that leaves the northern approach unsecured."

"Perhaps we can arrange for the siege to not be one-sided, then," Alistair mused.  "The Archbarony of Ecsilias relies on the trade running through that pass on the way to Enclaves for its livelihood.  They will be very angry about the trade disruption, and even more angry that the guards of the City attacked the company of a Paranswarmian bishop.  If the Inquisitor General can obtain an interview for us with the Archbaron, we may be able to persuade him to march south on the City and besiege it from both sides."

"The other guilds of the City must be very angry with the Black Guild for disrupting trade as it is," Kit added.  "If the City is fully besieged, it would not be long before the trade guilds turn against the Black Guild to break the siege."

"And Ecsilias and Canberry would certainly be in a position to negotiate tariff concessions in the aftermath, making it easier to persuade the Archbaron to join Canberry's efforts."

The Inquisitor General readily agreed to arrange for a meeting between the Baron of Lyneham and his companions and the Archbaron of Ecsilias.  The entire company waited for another three days for the last of the Inquisitor General's guards to be safely settled in the castle and for the last matters to be arranged.  Several of the Inquisition's most badly wounded knights, and a badly injured young priest who served as the Inquisitor General's clerk, were left in the castle to secure it against any threats until Earl Richard of Sheffield could dispatch Canberran knights to relieve them.  With those matters taken care of, the party set off north along the road back to Ecsilias, with the Inquisitor General and a large group of Inquisition guards as an escort.

The first two days of travel passed uneventfully.  On the second night of their travels, they made camp in a large clearing near the road.  Shortly after nightfall, while the cooking fires still burned and before they had settled in to the rotations of sleep and watch duty, a loud commotion from farther north on the road drew their attention.  At first they could only see the faint light from a large number of lanterns peeking through the trees, but they could soon hear the chimes of distant bells and then sounds of laughter.  The group settled in to an alert watch, with the Paranswarmians ready for battle, when the procession rounded a bend and came into view.

A group of some four score people came down the road towards them, beneath joyous banners depicting gold and ivory laughing faces-- the symbols of Manumist.  A group of rolly-polly men with spears, several drinking deep from wineskins, proceeded to erect a large tent as the caravan entered the large clearing near the party's camp.  As the attendants finished their work, the main body of the Manumistian group, some fifty odd priestesses and acolytes clad in light, diaphonous clothes that suggested more than they concealed, began approaching the party, dancing and beckoning to the party to join them.  Their leader, a handsome middle-aged woman, spoke to the group.  "Joy be upon you!  All who wish are welcome to join us in our celebration of Manumist's love!" Delbon had not even waited for the invitation, taking off towards the tent as soon as he recognized his god's priesthood.  He quickly vanished into the tent, one arm holding a wineskin and the other circling around an attractive acolyte's waist.

Dame Brionna and the Paranswarmians glowered at the Manumistians disapprovingly.  A few of the handful of male acolytes and priests danced up to Dame Brionna in their light robes, but a few curt words sufficed to deter them from further efforts, and they turned their attention to seeking to persuade Mahler or Kit to join them.  Mahler drew the attention of a surprising mix of acolytes-- mostly men, but with a few women.  His discomfort was palpable as he spoke with them, softly trying to dissuade them, while not entirely seeking to be alone.

A bevy of the Manumistian sacred prostitutes approached each of Kit and Alistair as well.  Alistair took a few steps towards the Manumistians, then looked over at Kit, and waited to see what she would do.  Kit's actions mirrored Alistair, leaving them each staring at the other while a circle of attractive young men, in Kit's case, and women, in Alistair's, sought to draw them into the tent.  After a few awkward minutes with each of them waiting, Alistair walked over to Kit.

"I don't want to spend tonight alone, Kit."

"You don't have to," she responded gesturing at the dancing Manumistians.

"I know.  But I'd rather be with you."

"I'm not going to be just another one of your chambermaid conquest."

Alistair paused, taken aback by Kit's vehemence.  "I've never thought of you as like that, Dame Katherine.  You've always been more special."

The hard lines in Kit's face softened.  "Really?  Since I saw how you behaved at the castle, I haven't been able to trust you."

Alistair grimaced a little.  "You have to understand... I'm not going to make any promises to you that I can't be sure that I'll keep.  And things are different for me than for most people.  I can't get married without my grandmother's consent, because my marriage is a matter of state."

"I'm not asking for you to marry me.  But... I didn't know that."

Alistair nodded.  "As I said, I won't make any promises to you that I don't know that I'll be able to keep.  And I can't promise that there won't be others.  But I want to offer you as much as I can. Can that be enough for you?"

Kit thought, torn between her feelings and her fears.  "I wouldn't ask you to make a promise you can't keep....  I just need to know that you won't use future chambermaids to hurt me."

"That I can promise.  I swear that I'll never use other women as a way to hurt you." If Alistair internally emphasized the last phrase, unwilling to swear off other women altogether even to the degree he could, it slipped past Kit's notice.  With a ginger, tentative smile, Alistair reached out his hand to Kit, who took it and leaned in to kiss him.  To the surprise of everyone, not least of all the Manumistians, Kit and Alistair quietly walked away from the tent to a spot slightly further in the woods for more privacy.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

By the middle of the night, the camp was mostly quiet.  The occasional giggle or gasp showed that not everyone in the great tent slept.  Dame Brionna and the Inquisition guards resolutely divided the night up into shifts and maintained a steadfast watch on the road in either direction, with occasional disapproving glances back at the Manumistians.  Delbon quietly slept in the middle of the tent, fully satiated; his plans to recruit some of the Manumistians to staff a new temple, and business venture, in his fee in Lyneham could wait until morning.  After some time together in the woods, Kit and Alistair had moved into an alcove in the Manumistian tent to take advantage of its mystic prophylactic effects.  The chief priestess of the Manumistians was initially quite confused by Alistair's request that a small partition be raised to protect Kit's modesty but agreed to humor them.  After some unorthodox uses of Eagle's Splendor and Telempathic Projection to maximize their fun, the two had fallen into a contented sleep.  Stithis maintained an invisible watch over the camp, flying near the tent.

Mahler, for his part, remained awake.  He sat alone, some distance away from the camp, determinedly making his way through a flask of hard liquor.  Neither fully able to resist the attraction of the Manumistian festivities as Dame Brionna and the Paranswarmians were, nor willing to join in for reasons too private to share, he sat alone, dwelling on his choices.

With no warning, a group of ten drow warriors appeared in a circle around Mahler, swords drawn and pointed at his chest.  Their captain crisply demanded, "Surrender or die, Lord Alistair."

Mahler dropped the flask and held his hands up as he rose to his feet.  Ignoring the sounds of alarm beginning to burst out around the camp, he looked around at the swordpoints and replied, "Very well.  I surrender."

As Dame Brionna and the most alert Paranswarmians drew their weapons and charged the intruders, the drow, and Mahler, disappeared as suddenly as they had come, leaving only the gust of air into the space they had occupied as evidence of their passing.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Stithis quickly roused the party telepathically.  "A group of drow have attacked and taken Mahler!  They teleported out with him just after they arrived."

The camp quickly devolved into chaos.  Dame Brionna and the Paranswarmian guards, frustrated by their inability to stop the attack, contented themselves by attempting to guard against any further attacks.  Alistair, having only taken the time to throw on his tunic and grab his spiked chain, rushed over to the site of the attack.  The Inquisitor General was closely examining the ground with his top aides.

"Inquisitor General, would you be able to follow them?"

The Paranswarmian looked at Alistair.  "We could... it would require some of our greatest magic, but we could follow use a gate to follow their teleportation."

"Then we must do so," Alistair said.  "The drow took Mahler because they believe him to be Lord Alistair of Canberry.  At Lord Alistair's request, Mahler had impersonated him, but now assassins sent to kill Lord Alistair are trying to kill Mahler instead.  Lord Alistair would never forgive himself if Mahler died because of that deception.  It is our duty to retrieve him."

"Very well.  When you and your companions are ready, we may proceed through the gate.  I will bring us to a point some hundreds of feet away from the destination of their gate.  That should permit us to evaluate the situation before we take action."

Stithis, Delbon, and Kit soon joined the Inquisitor General, prepared for battle.  Dame Brionna had already been ready to go but brought over the remainder of Alistair's clothes and equipment as well.  Within minutes, the group stood before the Inquisitor General and his remaining guards.  The Inquisitor General chanted a great prayer to Paranswarm, finishing by making the sign of the downward arrow.  As he finished, the group vanished from the encampment and reappeared on the edge of a wide field.

Two great valar, the mighty flying ships made by both Eldar and Noldar elves, dominated the field, surrounded by a small drowan military encampment.  The larger valar was an enormous man-of-war, but even the smaller ship carried a terrifying number of drowan troops, along with powerful magic and psionic weapons.  But perhaps even more frightening than the valar was the figure speaking with a defiant Mahler.  The guards in the circle around Mahler were drow.  But their leader, resplendent in crystal armor, was a Noldar lord, wearing the marks of office of Zorplona-Argoni's Controller of Region 6.

"Should we attack to rescue Mahler?" Stithis whispered.

"We dare not while the Noldar is with him," responded Alistair.  "Attacking openly would be suicide.  But if he hasn't harmed Mahler yet, we probably have some time.  He won't guard Mahler personally forever."

The group crawled forward through the high grass of the field as far as they dared.  They approached to a distance where they could safely watch, although they were unable to hear the conversation.  They could tell, based on the arrogance of Mahler's gestures and body language, that he must still be playing the role of Lord Alistair.  The Noldar and his drow servants, for their part, treated Mahler with respect, courtesy, and firmness.  After another minute of conversation, the Noldar gestured towards the warship.  Mahler gave a formal half-bow, and followed two of the drow back to the valar man-of-war.  As they walked, Stithis slipped forward invisibly and made mental contact with Mahler.

"Mahler, it's Stithis.  We're watching you and waiting for an opportunity to rescue you."

"I'm glad to hear it.  They're exquisitely polite to me, but only as a prelude to my execution in the morning.  Apparently, I'm to have the great honor of being personally slain by the Noldar."

"Make sure I know where you're being held... I can't come any closer in case they have wards against invisibility."

"Don't worry, I'll stay in mental contact." After a minute or so of travel in the ship, Mahler reached his cell.  "They've placed me in the forward cabin of the warship.  The two windows facing forward at the front of the ship open into my room.  There are only a few drow directly guarding me; Captain Abruz and two guards, I believe."

"I'll let the rest of the group know and we'll come as soon as we can."

"Excellent," thought Mahler.  "In the meantime, I think there's little for me to do but enjoy the quite good drowan wine they serve their 'guests.'"

The group watched quietly as the Noldar, his chief lieutenant, and several drow guards walked over to a human peasant couple who waited with trepidation at the edge of the clearing.  The group recognized the peasants as two of the people of Lyneham.  The Noldar tossed a heavy purse onto the ground between them, and the peasants, with much bowing and scraping, collected the purse, obviously their wages for betraying their liege.  As the Noldar walked away, he made a small gesture to his guards.  The couple died before they even noticed the drow drawing their swords.  The fallen elves did not even bother to recover the peasants' payment.

Activity began picking up throughout the camp.  The drow were striking camp, taking down the tents and moving equipment back onto the ship.  Dame Brionna nodded at the activity.  "If we wish to free Mahler, we need to make our attempt before they finish striking camp, m'lord.  Once the valar take to the air, we will be unable to do anything."

Alistair nodded.  "With a sufficient diversion, we should be able to quickly reach Mahler.  But getting him out will be very difficult. Still, Lord Alistair would insist that we not allow Mahler to suffer on his behalf.  We have to try."

The Inquisitor General interrupted.  "I believe that I can take care of the remainder of your problems." He handed Alistair a small stone disk.  "Breaking this will activate an area Recall to my Cathedral in Tang.  If you are tightly grouped around Mahler, it will carry all of you to safety.  My men and I will provide you the diversion."

"Thank you, venerable bishop... but are you certain?  You cannot survive providing that diversion."

Stithis said, "Maybe I could provide a diversion instead, using my whirlwind and my large form to make them think that they were under a more serious attack."

The Inquisitor General shook his head.  "No, valorous djinni.  The drow and Noldar have powerful weapons and spells that would discorporate you in moments without requiring them to shift their focus of attention, and then your friends would be captured or killed as well.  Only a full force attack will provide enough distraction.  As for your concerns, Baron..." The Inquisitor General faced Alistair with a smile.  "Let us be honest with each other, your highness.  It is clear that when you speak of Lord Alistair's determination to not abandon one of his people, you speak for yourself, not some liege-lord who has departed towards Canberry.  Your true identity has become clear.  The Noldar's plan is to slay you to generate chaos throughout the South of Drucien.  Lord Paranswarm detests such chaos, and I must act to stop it.  As I know that I cannot persuade you from abandoning your lawful duty to your companions, and would not wish to if I could, I must provide you the means to stop the rise of this chaos." He nodded, in thought.  "My guards and I have served Paranswarm well and are ready to face His most orderly judgment.  If you will return the renegade's bones to the Cathedral and instruct them to consign his soul to the Second Deepening for five-hundred years, we will even have finished our last mission."

Alistair accepted the sealed box of bones and ash with a grim nod.  "You have my deep thanks, then, as well as Canberry's.  Is there anything else you would like returned to your cathedral?"

"No.  I think I should like to wear my ring and sash as I go to meet Paranswarm.  They will be able to make new regalia for my successor.  Wait for our attack to draw their attention, then execute your plan quickly.  May Paranswarm's Darkness cover your escape."

The group waited patiently, as close to the bow of the man-of-war as they dared approach, waiting for the moment to strike.  A tremendous gout of fire, laced through with streaks of pure blackness, fell from the heavens and engulfed several drow at one of the rear-facing crystal weapon emplacements.  With a tremendous shout, the Inquisitor General's guards charged, hacking at the drow closest to them.  The drow on both valar responded immediately, charging towards the stern of the ships as they readied their weapons.

With the sign to act clear, Delbon cast a spell to enlarge Alistair and scrambled onto his back.  Alistair used his new size to easily cover the distance to the ship and smashed through the window with his chain, while Kit nimbly clamored up him and through the window into Mahler's cell, pausing only to toss Mahler the rapier he had dropped at his capture before stabbing at one of the drow guards.  Dame Brionna followed close on her heals, although rather less nimbly, and joined the fight.  The drow fought for a few seconds before their leader, Captain Abruz, stepped back from the main fight and concentrated.  Stithis and Kit clearly "heard" the message he broadcast psionically throughout the area: "The attack is a diversion.  A strike team seeks to free the royal prisoner.  Request reinforcements."

Kit's eyes widened in surprise.  "Alistair, more troops will be here in seconds."

"Our cue to leave.  Everyone in close!" Alistair pulled himself deep into the cabin, and threw the stone disk at the deck.  Darkness surrounded them.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The darkness passed in a moment, and the group, complete with the drow captain and his two guards, reappeared in a cavernous hall, dimly lit by scattered lamps and votive candles.  Between the numerous, frequently gory, depictions of saints and the enormous black downward arrow suspended above the high altar, the sanctuary of a Paranswarmian cathedral was unmistakeable.

The battle raged on furiously; the group could hold their own against the two drow guards, and were slowly wearing them down, but their captain swung his sword with devastating accuracy and seemed immune to the magic Delbon threw at him.  As a group of hobbit-sized church knights rushed to investigate the battle, Alistair cried out, "We're here on business of the Inquisitor General!  Attack the drow!" While his new allies attacked the two increasingly beleaguered drow warriors, Alistair swung his spiked chain at Captain Abruz and finally penetrated his defenses, landing a lucky blow that ripped along the whole length of the drow officer's torso, finally killing him.

With the aid of the church guards, the group quickly finished off the drow attackers.  An Inquisition priest of normal height hurried over.  "Where is the Inquisitor General?"

Alistair responded quietly, "We regret to inform you that we believe that he died fighting the same group of drow as pursued us.  He requested that we turn over these bones of the renegade he pursued to be cursed... five hundred years in the second deep or something?"

"The Second Deepening.  I'll see to it.  But the Inquisitor General is dead?"

"We should leave quickly...  The drow are likely to teleport more warriors in to continue their pursuit, so you should gather troops to defend the cathedral."

The Inquisition priest simply nodded, still shocked by the Inquisitor General's death.  The group hurried from the cathedral, although not before Kit scooped up the remarkable crystal-edged sword that the drow captain had wielded.  As they exited the dark cathedral back into daylight, they could hear the priest shouting orders behind them and readying for a second, presumably more powerful, wave.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The group hurried through the streets of the capital of Tang.  Mahler stopped the group in the shadow of a building some distance from the cathedral.  "Does anyone really know where we are, or how to make it from here to Canberry?"

Alistair shook his head, and Dame Brionna said, "Only in vague terms.  Tang is a coastal kingdom, far to the southwest of Canberry.  We're probably about the same distance from Canberry as the City of the Pass is but in an almost the opposite direction.  Unfortunately, I did not study how to return to Canberry from such an unexpected place."

While the others discussed where they were, Kit and Delbon gawked at a large troop of soldiers that rapidly marched past, heading towards the cathedral.  Almost all of the soldiers were perhaps three feet tall, although not with the rounded shape of hobbits.  More peculiarly, they were arranged in ranks of three, and each set of three appeared to be identical triplets, completely indistinguishable except for the occasional scar.  Only the officers, who were apparently normal humans, did not move in groups of three.  While the people of Tang are mostly human, they are a strange offshoot from the rest of humanity.  Almost all births in Tang are of threes, who spend their lives largely together and are both smaller and less mentally acute then ordinary humans.  The occasional "Ones" form the aristocracy; while any couple in Tang may have a One as a child, the Ones are educated from birth to fill specific roles in the bureaucracy.  Despite their privileged roles, Ones are pitied by the regular people of Tang, who can only imagine the horrible loneliness involved.

Fresh sounds of combat and spells erupted from the Cathedral.  "So, we have only the vaguest idea where we are, and we don't know how to get from here to Canberry.  Meanwhile, there's a high bounty on Mahler, and drow using magic to pursue us." Alistair paused.  "I think it's clear that simply heading northeast and hoping for the best isn't a good idea."

Mahler nodded.  "It might be time to take advantage of your status, Alistair.  If we go to the local government, are they likely to help?"

"Probably.  Tang and Canberry haven't had much contact in the past, but opening up trade would be tremendously valuable to Tang." A stained glass window of the cathedral erupted outwards in a blast of flame and noise.  "Besides, I think that anything that angers the people attacking their cathedral will seem like a good thing to the Ones."

"Let's head to the palace, then, and hope."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The group arrived at the palace and quickly went through a series of short meetings, each successive meeting with a more important "One." After a brief meeting with the One of Diplomacy, the group was finally brought to a private audience before the One of Ones, Tang's ruler.  The One of Diplomacy announced their entrance, "Lord Alistair of Canberry, Sir Delbon Glittercheeks, Dame Brionna of the Order of the Knights of Valor, Dame Katherine of Enclaves, Mahler Fife, and Stithis of the Plane of Air."

Alistair stepped forward and nodded to the throne of the One of Ones.  "Canberry greets Tang." 

"Tang greets Canberry," the One of Ones intoned formally in reply.

"We have faced grave dangers recently; the Zorplona-Argoni seek to destroy us and have gone so far as to kill the venerable Inquisitor General and to attack us within your great cathedral," Alistair continued.  "The Zorplona-Argoni seek to destroy the Archduchy and all the other major realms of southern Drucien.  To frustrate their plans, we seek maps and intelligence to aid our return to Canberry.  We are sure that you know that Canberry has always been a firm ally to its friends and stands with them against any threats.  Canberry would look on any aid you can give us as a great boon and a sign of firm friendship between Canberry and Tang."

"We know well Canberry's honorable dealings with its friends and would welcome the opportunity to be counted in that number.  We hope that trade may flourish between Tang and its new friends in Canberry.  We will have the One of Maps provide you with advice upon the best route to take.  Tang would also be happy to provide a small escort, if you wish."

"We thank you for your generosity.  The escort will not be necessary; our best hope is to travel light and fast without drawing the attention of the enemy.  Good horses would be useful, however."

"As you wish.  Tang looks forward to more fully discussing trade opportunities with Canberry.  Perhaps you could meet with the One of Trade before you depart?"

Alistair paused, unsure how to handle anything as delicate as a trade negotiation, and Mahler cut in.  "Most Unique Majesty, I would be happy to meet with the One of Trade to begin those discussions.  Ultimately, any trade agreements will need to be approved by the Minister of Trade in Canberry, but we can bring back preliminary information to open an active trade as quickly as feasible."

"Tang thanks you for this service."

Alistair replied, "It is the least we can do as the first part of Canberry's gratitude for your aid."

After the group left the meeting, Dame Brionna quietly whispered to Alistair, "Did you intend the 'we' in your negotiation to be the royal 'we?' You know that you're not really entitled to, especially since you haven't even formally asserted your claim as heir-apparent."

"I intended to be deliberately ambiguous about that."

Dame Brionna nodded, apparently satisfied.

Meetings with the One of Maps, the One of Trade, and some lesser ones who assist the One of Supplies to arrange for the exchange of some items for more useful equipment occupied the rest of the day.  The One of Maps demonstrated the several different routes that could lead to Canberry.  Disorganized, chaotic lands fill most of the 1400 miles between Tang and Canberry.  Travel between the two requires passing through the former Confederacy of the Southern Kingdoms, but no new powers have emerged to fill the void left by the Confederacy's destruction.  Many gnolls, beastmen, and boar-centaurs menace the region, along with some more dangerous creatures.  Among the few potential allies in the area are the "Green Witches," as the One of Maps referred to the local druids, and a titan that continues wandering the area in search of his mate, who disappeared some centuries ago.  (Apparently, titans' great size, strength, and longevity is not always matched by equally great intellect.)


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The next morning, the group set forth from the capital of Tang.  The
maps showed that about the first four days of travel would be along
the well-maintained and patrolled roads within Tang, and the group
felt safe travelling relatively openly.  The group periodically passed
merchants, some local and travelling in groups of threes, others from
beyond Tang, and the occasional military patrol.  The group paid their
fellow travelers little mind, nodding in friendly greeting.

In the early evening of the first day, a wagon of merchants slowed as
it approached them.

"Good day," called out Kit, pausing slightly as she saw that the
merchants had the dark skin and pointed ears of the drow and noticed
that they seemed to be making some hand signals.

The merchants' leader smiled, "Good day to you as well." He then
touched an amulet he wore around his neck and looked at Mahler.
"Perhaps you would care to join us, m'lord, for a light meal?  Your
companions can travel ahead to set a camp and you could join them
quickly enough."

Mahler leaned back on his horse and then drew his rapier, calling out,
"The leader is a mage!  He tried to charm me."

The other two drow cursed and swung their cloaks aside, firing
crossbows at Dame Brionna and Alistair, but failing to penetrate their
armor.  The battle was swift and, from the perspective of our heroes,
more comical than dangerous.  Delbon summoned grease and toppled one
of the drow warriors from the wagon in the midst of drawing his sword,
while Alistair, Stithis, and Dame Brionna made short work of the other
warrior.  The fallen warrior never even managed to stand up.  Mahler
and Kit maneuvered to take the mage from both sides, and quickly
cudgeled him senseless.

"What a pathetic group of would-be assassins," muttered Alistair,
while they searched through the wagon.

"I'm not sure they were really assassins," replied Mahler.  "They
seemed ill-prepared for fighting, and their wagon is filled with
actual trade goods.  Mostly mushroom wine from Veclavarna, an
Underdark city, sealed with the symbol of a purple urn.  They could
have just been opportunists."

Alistair produced some wine glasses from somewhere.  "Well, we might
as well break open one of their best bottles and enjoy our good
fortune.  Their leader will probably be ready to answer some questions
soon enough."  Dame Brionna glowered while the rest of the group
enjoyed the rather unusual loot.

After a few minutes, the drow mage awoke to find himself bound,
gagged, and disarmed.  Mahler strode over to him imperiously and had
Dame Brionna untie the gag.  "Who are you, and why did you assault my
guards and myself?"

The drow looked rather forlorn.  "I'm just a merchant of the Clan of
the Violet Urn, m'lord.  We recognized your picture from the posters
and thought that it was worth attacking to get the 20,000 gold reward
that's been offered for your capture.   Hey, what happened to my
guards?"

"They did not survive the fight."

The drow merchant nodded.  "I guess that's what we get, attacking
nobles and warriors when we're just merchants.  It was just... that
kind of money could have made our clan powerful, and would have made
me a wealthy and influential drow.  But now I suppose I'm just going
to end up dead.  And my family won't even know what happened to me."

Mahler and Dame Brionna looked at each other.  "If you answer the
remainder of our questions truthfully, I give you my word of honor as
a Knight of Valor that I will attempt to deliver a letter you may
write."

"Sounds more'n fair to me.  What else do you want to know?"

"Where did you come from?"

"We travelled up through the Great Gate from the Sunless Sea, near the
Twin Cities of the Peaks.  We then travelled overland towards Tang,
planning on trading our wine for hard money and surface goods."

"Have you seen other drow or Noldar since departing the Underdark?"

"Noldar?  I don't know as I can recall ever seeing a Noldar, m'lord.
And there were many other drow in the Twin Cities; always are, there.
It's really one of our outposts.  But we haven't seen any others since
then."

Mahler nodded.  "What about other assassins?  Do you know anyone else
who sought the reward?"

"No... I can't even say that we were hunting you.  The posters didn't
say where you would be or anything, just offered riches for your
capture.  We just got... unlucky, I guess.  But there will be a lot of
other people hoping to get the reward, too."

"Did the poster describe my companions?"

"Not in detail; just that you were in a group of about six."

"I think that's about all.  Dame Brionna, you can allow him to write
his letter."

"And then what?" Dame Brionna asked, her eyes looking at Alistair.

Alistair swallowed hard.  "We can't have news of Lord Alistair's
presence spreading.  And if we spend the time to turn him over to the
authorities of Tang, it will give our enemies more time to close the
loop around us.  So our choices are really leaving him tied up where
no one will find him and executing him.  A clean death seems better
than leaving him to dehydrate."

"Very well, m'lord." After the merchant finished his letter,
explaining in general terms that he had been very foolish and would
not be coming home, Dame Brionna beheaded him and buried the bodies in
a shallow grave.

They travelled on with the wagon to the next town in Tang, while
Mahler did a radical disguise effort, cutting his hair to a much
shorter length, padding his cheeks and belly to create the impression
of more weight, and altering his skin tone with skillfully employed
make-up.  They quickly sold the wagon and the balance of the mushroom
wine for some 3000 silver-- less than its worth, but far more than
they would have gotten by abandoning it, and headed along the road,
travelling fast and light.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The next fortnight passed largely uneventfully.  They met a hungry
ettin on the tenth day, but persuaded him that there would be better
hunting some distance away, directing him to the area of the Drowan
outpost.  The next day, two four-armed giants, or athachs, passed near
their camp while disguised as moving trees and chasing a very worried
bison.  The athachs considered whether the group might match the
reward they had heard about, but with Stithis invisible and Kit and
Mahler well-hidden, the none-too-bright giants concluded that the
group was not the one they sought, because that group was "more."
Stithis goaded the bison back near the camp, and the athachs lost all
thought of the reward and concentrated again on their prey.  Slightly
more ominously, a group of lamias, with leonine bodies, deer hooves,
and human torsos carefully examined the group on the last day of the
fortnight.  Unlike the athachs, they actively hunted Mahler as Lord
Alistair, but they examined the entire party and concluded that "This
one is clearly not he who we seek." With a great sense of relief at
avoiding the danger, the group travelled onwards.

-----
The next few posts will be by Ladybird, since they detail a stretch of adventure that I missed.  I've finished the next several posts after that, so once she's done, I'll be able to resume posting without delay.


----------



## Ladybird

*Cobblesford, Part 1*

_(Here commences my second term as guest author for this SH! I'll be filling in the gaps for the session that Cerebral Paladin was absent for, and letting CP recover from his recent long-distance move  )_

“This,” pronounced Kit, “is a nothing town.”

Cobblesford was in fact, not quite so ‘nothing,’ but it wasn’t exactly a metropolis, either. Although it spanned a sizable river, and boasted a busy market, several inns, several magistrates (whose names had been carefully noted by Mahler and promptly forgotten by almost everyone else), and even a wizard’s tower, Cobblesford was still decidedly on the small side.

“Well, maybe it’s small enough that the people after us will have skipped over it,” Alistair suggested hopefully.

“We can’t take any chances on that,” Brionna replied. “You two stay inside,” she said, pointing to Mahler and Alistair, “and the rest of us can scout out the town to see what it’s like.”

“Um…what about me?” Stithis’ hopeful voice came from an apparently vacant corner, followed a moment later by Stithis’ body, slowly returning from invisibility. “Can I go out too?”

“Only if you stay invisible,” Brionna decided, over a disappointed sigh from Stithis.

“And what will you tell the inn staff about us?” Alistair asked, starting to follow Kit and Brionna towards the door. Mahler was already settling resignedly down on one of the beds in the room.

“That you’re sick?” Brionna suggested. “A skin disease, so you can’t be seen, and you have to take your meals in your room?”

--

“A _horrible_ skin disease! And they’re _terribly_ embarrassed about it,” Kit explained to the innkeeper on their way out, with her sweetest and most persuasive smile. “So they don’t want anyone to see them. Especially not the pretty chambermaids or serving girls. So you shouldn’t send the pretty ones to deliver their meals.” Kit’s enthusiasm at this new idea was so great that it almost ruined the image of her sincere concern for her friends’ welfare.

“And they’ll need to have extremely healthful foods,” Brionna added. “Lots of vegetables.” Kit rolled her eyes, and led the way outside.

--

Cobblesford’s market, while it may have been the biggest for miles around, still only consisted of a few dozen stalls, and Kit sniffed disdainfully as she and Brionna (with Stithis hovering invisibly nearby) headed out into the market square. “Nothing town,” she repeated. “I bet the poster people _did_ skip it.”

“Shhh!” Brionna hissed. “Not so loud! Wait – isn’t that the cook from the inn over there?”

Over by one of the vegetable stalls, Kit and Brionna spotted the unmistakable figure of their inn’s cook: a tall, broadly built man with dark black hair, and a sword slung across his back. It didn’t look like he was wearing a sword because he felt that he needed protection, Kit thought – after all, he stood head and shoulders above half of the people in the market – but more because he was just so used to putting on his sword in the morning, almost the way he put on his shoes. He wore it with that kind of ease and comfort. 

The cook was talking to a smaller, thinner, weedy-looking man whose booth was set up next to the vegetable stall – a narrow table covered with parchment, ink, quill pens, and other tools of the scribe’s trade.

“Do you think we should tell him about our special food arrangements?” Brionna was already starting to head over towards him, when Kit reached out to pull her back. 

“Maybe not right now…” Kit warned. A slender, red-haired man had just approached the greengrocer’s stand, and was unrolling a piece of parchment with an all-too-familiar picture on it. The red-haired man smiled an unpleasant, angular smile as he leaned in towards the greengrocer. Apparently, the 'poster people' hadn’t bothered to skip this town after all.


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## Cerebral Paladin

Okay, here's the big relaunch.  Since I already have a supply of ready posts, I'm going to rapidly repost all of the things that people have already seen.

Also, this post will serve as a placeholder in case Ladybird finishes the Cobbleford section.  Otherwise... suffice to say, that they ended up fighting a bunch of bounty hunters and won.  As our story resumes, they are trying to catch a bounty hunter who escaped.  They also met Jet, a retired soldier turned cook, and Marcus, a scribe and summoner, who we will meet again later.


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## Cerebral Paladin

As the group returned to Cobblesford, they turned their attention to the seventh and last of the bounty hunters.  A few quick questions at the inn confirmed that people had seen odd movement in the fields west of town at dusk.  The group cautiously fanned out and began creeping forward into the field.  As they advanced, they saw movement at the far end of the field and broke their cover to charge after it.  No sooner had they left cover than archers opened fire, peppering Alistair, Dame Brionna, and Mahler with arrows.  Exchanging arrows with archers hidden among the wheat seemed a losing plan, so the group rushed the archers, leaping past snares and deadfalls, and made short work of the archers.  A few zombies had been left to defend the archers, but Dame Brionna called upon the light of Glordiadel to drive them back, and the group quickly dismembered them.  While all this was taking place, the seventh man-- the real target-- had continued running, ducking deeper into the safety of the forest beyond the fields.  Safer from the warriors battling his archers and zombies, but not from Stithis, who hurried after him, flying and invisible.  Right as the bounty hunter concluded that he had made it safely away and turned to walk further on, Stithis appeared, smashing the haft of his warspear into the man's head.  A few moments later, Stithis floated back to his friends, carrying a very unconscious bounty hunter.

The bounty hunter came to surrounded by foes and tied tightly.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," Delbon said.

"What's that to me?"

Dame Brionna stared icily at him.  "We don't particularly want to kill you.  If you give us the information we need, we'll only do what we need to.  If you don't help us, I'm afraid that we'll have to conclude that you're still a danger."

"Fair enough.  What did you want to know?"

"First, where were you going?"

"Towards the South Bridge.  There were a couple fellows I wanted to talk to, get rewarded for the information I've got and get some help in collecting the rest of the bounty."

"What sort of fellows?"

"Some of the drow that hired us before.  They keep a couple of their leader types around to keep an eye on and coordinate the mercenaries."

"And that's what you are?"

"That's right.  Nothing wrong with a man trying to make a coin or two in this world.  They offered me and my friends 5000 gold up front, with more for success.  That hired us right good."

"You don't have any personal stake in this?"

"Not unless you count wanting to get some gold as personal.  I don't even know what this Alistair's done, although I reckon it must have been awful bad to make them want him that much.  Maybe he killed some children or something."

Mahler cleared his throat.  "That Alistair you're speaking of is me.  And I don't kill children.  They want me for political reasons."

"Right enough, didn't mean any offense.  I don't make it my business worrying about why people want to hire me." The bounty hunter looked at Dame Brionna's increasingly angry glare.  "What I mean to say... that is... I didn't use to worry about why people want to hire me.  In the future, I'll be much more careful, and only go after murderers and real crooks and the like."

"How many drow did you expect to meet?"

"Two.  At least, a pair of them met us last time."

"What about the archers?  Where did they come from?"

"I just hired them from some of the local lads.  Just to give us a little extra muscle."

After a few more questions, they concluded that they had all the information they needed.  Dame Brionna looked at Alistair.  "What do we want to do with him?  And the archers, for that matter."

"We turn over the archers to the sheriff, I think that's clear.  As for the bounty hunter... is he evil?"

Dame Brionna concentrated for a moment.  "No."

"Then I think that he goes to the sheriff, too, with a request that the town lock him up for a week or two to let us get well clear, and that they can then let him go."

Delbon piled up the bounty hunter's remarkably nice equipment.  "I don't think he'll need this back, though."

"Hey!  Fair enough to take some, but I make my living in the wilds.  You wouldn't leave me unable to defend myself?"

Delbon smiled.  "A good point.  We'll leave you one short sword... although not quite as nice as this one, I think.  That should be enough for a skilled hunter like you to get back on his feet, but also enough to teach you a lesson."

The bounty hunter nodded grudgingly, and the group quickly turned him, as well as the surviving archers, over to Cobblesford's sheriff.

* * *

The group travelled on into the early night, hoping to deal with the drow early rather than facing additional waves of bounty hunters.  They hurried on to the South Bridge and then travelled up the road.  At first, they were able to find some signs of the drow along the road, but they quickly lost the trail.  The group turned off from the main road and approached a small shrine to Gunnora, with a caretaker's house beside it.  Despite the hour, Mahler strode up to the door and rapped firmly on it.

A middle-aged Gunnoran priestess opened the door, a minute or two later.  "May I help you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but my companions and I are trying to find several drow that travelled by here on the main road earlier tonight." The priestess gasped in fear and surprise as Mahler mentioned the drow.  "These drow previously hired thugs to attack us, and we would like to prevent them from posing any further threat.  Did you perchance see them passing?"

"I'm afraid not... but I may be able to help you anyway.  Jed!  There are some people here." After a few moments, an eleven year old boy, obviously the priestess's son, came to the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  His eyes widened in amazement as he looked at the heavily armed travellers at the door.  "Jed, these folks are trying to find some dangerous people who passed along the main road.  Do you think you and Floppy could follow the trail for them?"

"Sure!" Jed quickly brought out a small hunting dog on a long lead.  "Let's go!"

The group thanked the priestess and turned back to the road.  Floppy quickly caught the unfamiliar scent and began to lead the group on, while Jed shushed him to avoid giving away their approach.  After a half hour of travel, the group neared a prosperous farmhouse on a large farm.  The group crept up on the farmhouse, and Dame Brionna concentrated to find evil.  She whispered to the rest of the group, "There are two evil presences at the farmhouse-- probably both of the drow we're looking for.   The stronger evil of the two is on the roof, watching the approach.  The other is inside."

Alistair nodded.  "Right, we'll have to deal with them." He turned to face Jed.  "Jed, these people are too dangerous for you.  If we get hurt, there's nothing you can do to help us, so you need to stay hidden no matter what.  Understand?"

Jed nodded unhappily.  "I understand."

Alistair stared at the defiant expression in the boy's face.  "I don't think you do.  These warriors are very deadly.  They've probably killed the family that lives in this farmhouse, just to get a place to stay for the night.  We should be able to take care of them, but if we can't, it's because they were too powerful for us to fight.  If they find you, they'll kill you and then hunt back to your home and kill your family just for spite."

"I've got a knife.  I could fight."

"We have armor, swords, magic, and other weapons.  Your knife won't make a difference.  I want you to go back home right now.  I'm going to watch you as you leave to make sure you do.  We'll be back to tell you that it's safe, but if we don't come back... the best you can do is to make sure that your family is well-hidden if the drow come looking.  If you want to try to avenge us, do it years from now, when you're full-grown and have a sword of your own, not just your hunting knife." Alistair paused.  "We couldn't have found them without you.  You did your part tonight.  Now let us do ours, and don't make us have to worry about keeping you safe."

Grudgingly, Jed turned back towards the road and slipped away.  Mahler shadowed him as he left and then came back.  "He's safe.  I don't care to think about whether he'll come back tomorrow if we don't handle this, but he won't rush in tonight."

The group carefully circled the house.  Kit and Mahler quietly climbed the back of the house, away from the direction that the drow sentinel watched, while Dame Brionna, Delbon, and Alistair guarded the rear entrance.  Stithis looped high above the farmhouse, in case the drow guard can see invisible, and descended straight down upon the guard.  The first inkling that the drow had of the group's approach was Stithis's opening attack.

The drow shrugged off Stithis's blow and leapt to his feat, allowing Stithis to strike him again.  He lashed out with his rapier with deadly accuracy, while Stithis and Kit each heard a voice in their minds saying, "We are under attack.  They approached unseen and have ambushed me."

Delbon created grease at the drow's feet, but he remained standing, even on the uneven surface of the roof, while Kit and Mahler stabbed at him.

Alistair called out to the drow warrior, "You cannot win this fight, so you should flee by jumping off the back of the house."

The drow only realized that he was under a magical suggestion while he was already falling, having been struck several times as he crossed the roof and again with a blow of Alistair's spiked chain as the drow fell past him.  The drow slammed forcefully into the ground and lay still.

Dame Brionna, meanwhile, had forced the back door open, smashing aside a small barricade of furniture.  A middle-aged man lay in a pool of blood in the kitchen, slain by a neat rapier thrust through the heart.  Dame Brionna rushed forward into a sitting room.

The other drow cleared his throat from his position behind a couch.  Three children and a woman were tied up as hostages on the couch, and the drow held a short sword across their throats.  "I suggest that you keep your distance.  I wouldn't want anyone to do something unfortunate in a mistaken belief that you were attacking."

Dame Brionna called out, "You had best all come in here.  We have a situation."

"I think you'll want to let me go."

The group gathered. Alistair whispered, "I could try to suggest him to drop his blade, but if it fails..."

Mahler shook his head and stepped forward.  "I'm the one you want, not those hostages."

The drow nodded.  "Indeed, Lord Alistair.  But what will you do about that?"

"I offer to face you in single combat.  If you win, my companions will allow you to leave, and even to take my body as a sign of your success.  If you lose, then we will have freed the hostages.  It's a fair chance-- the best you'll ever get of accomplishing your mission."

Mahler's companions looked at him in worry.  "Are you sure about this? The drow we've been fighting have been very dangerous for any one of us alone...  We could try to rush him."

Mahler shook his head curtly at their suggestions.  "Well?"

The drow thought for a second and then stepped out from behind the couch.  "I should have known you would be honorable, Lord Alistair.  The elven blood always shows that way.  I accept your challenge.  Better to fight a worthy foe than to hide behind children.  Shall we move outside where there is more room?"

The true Alistair thought for a moment.  None of his ancestors were elven.  And Mahler certainly did not have obvious characteristics of elven blood.  "My lord?  The drow seems to be confused, thinking that you are of elven descent."

"Of course Lord Alistair is descended from the accursed elves!  That is why House Dispania will never tolerate him sitting upon the throne of a human kingdom."

Mahler smiled.  "I fear you are misinformed.  You would be able to recognize the signs of elven blood, would you not?  Then look closely at me.  You'll see that I have no more elven blood than these hostages of yours."

The drow examined Mahler closely, his face becoming increasingly horrified by what he saw, or rather, did not see.  "But... the Zorplona-Argoni assured us that the blood of the elves ran strong in Lord Alistair."

"Then you have been deceived.  Do you still have any quarrel with the entirely human royal house of Canberry?"

"Bah, you humans may crown whichever one of you that you like.  House Dispania merely acted to keep an elf from power.  If the Argoni lied to us to make us act... it will mean war."

Mahler smiled.  "In that case, if you are willing to not fight me under the circumstances, I think you are free to go.  You may even take your captain's body with you, if you wish."

"Thank you.  When you are crowned, House Dispania will send an embassy."

"They will be welcome and will stay in my own house."

As the drow set off into the night, Alistair muttered to Mahler, "I'm going to hold you to that; when the drowan embassy shows up, we'll put them in your house."

The group quickly freed the hostages and left a sack of gold behind.  They could not bring back the farmer, but at least his family would be able to hire hands to bring in the crops and would not starve.

* * *

The next several days of travel from Cobblesford towards Canberry were largely uneventful.  Stithis spent quite some time trying to explain to Kit that she must be psionically active to have been able to hear the drowan projections and she began to make the connection between the effects some of her intense desires have on others and something that could be consciously controlled.  Unfortunately, Stithis's natural telepathy still did not allow him to properly train Kit in the ways of the mind.  On the third day of travel, the group met a caravan of dwarven smiths carrying a variety of metal goods to market and sold the letter of credit from the bounty hunters, as well as a variety of surplus arms, to the dwarves, after a long haggle over pricing.

On the night after the fifth day, a small, dark shape loomed up from the ground.  What looked to be a small glowing gem focused on each member of the group in turn, staring out from a small pile of dirt.  Dame Brionna stepped between the shape, which she recognized as an earth elemental, and the rest of the group.  The elemental looked up at her and she stared back at it.

"What are you doing here, little one?  This seems far from your home plane."

"I search!  There are people who will give me much good food if I find what they want for them.  I do not know why they would give such food for one of their own kind.  There seem to be many of their kind.  And all of them look pretty much the same to me.  But I search!"

"They've offered you food?"

"Oh yes!  Gems and gold and other food of the finest kind!"

Dame Brionna shook her head.  "You shouldn't work for them.  They are bad people who want to hurt other people.  You don't want to do that, do you?"

"No.  I just want to get some food."

"And you probably wouldn't even be able to tell when you found the right person, since we all look the same to you.  So if we tell you where you can find similar good food, without having to hurt anyone, will you go there instead?"

"I suppose... is the food as good as gems?"

"It is." Dame Brionna proceeded to describe, as accurately as she could, the drowan mines around the City of Twin Peaks.  The elemental happily headed off, still talking about searching for food.

* * *

The group had a slight scare about a week later, when a cockatrice turned one of the horses to stone, but Stithis was able to hunt it down, confident that he could not be affected.  Little permanent harm was done, except to Dame Brionna's reputation as a cook.  Alistair perked up at the thought of freshly caught cockatrice, and Dame Brionna gamely offered to cook it, but without really knowing how.  That dinner was something of a disaster for everyone.  The next day, however, they were able to head on, while down one horse.  Kit and Alistair, in keeping with their general behavior since the night with the Manumistians, were happy to double up, despite Dame Brionna's concerns that they would distract each other too much and ride into a ditch or some such.

* * *

On the fourteenth day of travel past Cobblesford, the group saw the characteristic cloud of dust on the horizon of an army on the march.  They quickly dismounted and hurried a long distance from the road.  Dame Brionna and Mahler carefully tied the horses to trees (although not so well that they could not be quickly cut loose if flight seemed best) and placed feedbags over the horses' mouths, lest a misplaced whinny summon disaster.  The group then carefully crawled forward through underbrush to a position where they could watch the road and waited as the army marched forward.

Or rather... the not army.  As it drew nearer, it became clear that only a tiny fraction of the swarm were armed: the small group of mounted guards riding patrols around a huge mass of several hundred people trudging along on foot.  The ominous booming of tremendous drums still kept a march time for the hoard of people pressing forward.

"Slavers..." Alistair hissed, picking up his spiked chain and inching forward.

"Wait, m'lord," said Dame Brionna.  "Even if they are slavers, there are rather a lot of them."

Delbon piped up.  "Besides, if they were slavers, why would they have those banners?" He pointed at a set of large black banners emblazoned with dragons.  "And a whole lot of the unarmed people are monks or priests."

"They could still be Borsh'troan slavers..." Alistair muttered.  "No, those dragons have two heads.  They're Paranswarmians, and the banners are for Vitrix-Henoxi.  You can see downward arrows on some of the other banners now.  They could still be slaves, but they're probably just pilgrims." Alistair relaxed, although not nearly as much as Dame Brionna, who had been envisioning a battle of six against a small army.

The group emerged from its hiding place and hailed the priests at the front of the huge procession.  "Greetings!"

"The Blessings of Darkness be upon you on this holy day!"

"What holy day is this?"

"A child has been born, sacred to Lord Vitrix-Henoxi.  The babe is a copper half-dragon and we travel to the living saint's shrine to dedicate the child unto him."

"A half-dragon?" muttered Kit.  "That can't have been a pleasant birth."

"Indeed, Lord Paranswarm has welcomed the child's mother into his blessed Darkness after the great honor of her child's birth."

Dame Brionna stepped forward.  "We wish you well on your journey.  We plan on travelling in the direction from whence you came, towards Canberry.  Do you have any news of the road?  Are there bandits or the like ahead?"

"No bandits that we saw, Dame Knight, but some five days forward a great war is being fought.  'Tis a strange thing, indeed.  Two armies of drow make war amongst themselves, though neither is from the region, while the armies of Canberry, and a few elves, watch from the safety of their fortresses.  The larger of the two drow armies has some of the Most Accursed among them and will surely win.  None but the highest elves and the mightiest of Lord Paranswarm's servants could stand against the Noldar.   The nearest fortress is a heavily fortified manor of the Knights of Valor; if you reach their protection, they will see you safely into Canberry."

"Thank you for this news.  We'll travel carefully."

"May Lord Paranswarm's Darkness cover your passage."

After a brief rest, the drums resumed and the hundreds of pilgrims continued on their journey.  When the last of them had past, the much smaller group mounted and rode on.

* * *

The group travelled carefully and cautiously, but making good time, for another three days.  By the third day, scattered signs of recent battles dotted the landscape.  Coils of dark smoke rose from some of the farm houses, with trampled fields and bodies showing where engagements were fought.  Still, the group had seen no close signs of the drowan warfare.  As the horses cantered along, two skaven burst from the underbrush on either side of the road.

The horses reared in terror as the ratmen warriors charged at Alistair and Kit, brandishing fearsome tulwars.  A flow of sickly liquid, surely poisonous, poured down from the tips of each blade.  But before the warriors even attacked, a voice from high in the air ahead of the group cried, "Kill the noble first!" and a barrage of magic missiles slammed into Alistair.  The warriors flanked Alistair and Kit and struck Alistair twice, dealing out savage blows.  The second strike clipped the top of his head, slashing away most of his scalp and leaving him barely conscious.

Stithis charged off invisibly towards the mage, hoping to find him by sound alone.  Delbon summoned grease on the weapon of one of the skaven, but it retained its grip, chittering madly at the halfling mage in reply.  Mahler leapt from his horse and stabbed at one of the skaven, but only wounding it lightly.  Alistair, far too aware that another set of attacks like the first would leave him very dead, swung his spiked chain at the wounded skaven and then, with a theatrical cry of pain, slumped against Kit as if the exertion had been too much.  Kit, though reassured by the clear squeeze that Alistair gave her waist after his "collapse," played her part as well, crying out "You killed my boyfriend!" and stabbing the wounded skaven.  While the skaven warriors opened yet more grievous wounds on Mahler and Kit, Dame Brionna ignored another wave of magic missiles, wheeled her horse, and with a mighty charge impaled one of the skaven on her lance, killing it outright.  Stithis continued searching for the invisible mage.  He knew that he was getting closer, but could not quite catch him.

Mahler took another hard hit, leaving him little better than Alistair, before a second grease spell from Delbon disarmed the remaining warrior.  The entire group rained blows upon it, and it finally collapsed.  No sooner had it fallen, however, than the mage cried out, "Lord of Vermin and Horned One" and threw two white globes at the melee.  Within seconds, the corpses of the skaven warriors rose, still horribly wounded, but a threat once more.  The battle remained intense.  Dame Brionna dealt savage blows to the skaven, but the ratmen had left all of the main warriors close to death.

The mage hammered Dame Brionna with another wave of magic missiles, leaving her one blow from collapse.  But, finally, the skaven mage had made a mistake.  Not far enough from Stithis when he cast, he was unable to avoid the djinni's charge.  And faced with the superhuman strength of Stithis, the weak ratman was easily immobilized, unable to cast more spells.  Recognizing that capture approached, the skaven cried out "Eshen!" and stabbed a small knife into his stomach.  The quick poison on the blade ensured that Stithis would only bring back a corpse.  With the mage defeated, the warriors brought down the two zombies, with even Alistair joining in for the last set of blows.

After Dame Brionna and Alistair healed the group's wounds as best as they could, they examined and searched the bodies.  Alistair recognized the two warrior as Gutterrunners, while the mage, with its mottled white fur, must have belonged to a different tribe or breed.  "Eshen" suggested a specific group of skaven, not generally found on the continent of Drucien.  Dame Brionna verified that the "Weeping Blades" the warriors used were intrinsically evil, and the group buried the blades, planning on later recovering and destroying them.  The other interesting items were all on the mage.  In addition to a necklace with two additional globes of Animate Dead aligned to the Horned Rat and a circlet of flying, the skaven leader had a pouch filled with interesting items.  It contained a letter with a broken seal of the Horned Rat on the outside.  The letter, addressed to all Gutterrunners and commanders throughout Drucien, commanded all Eshen clans to abort all standard spying missions and to concentrate on finding Alistair, to claim the reward from the "infidel." Perhaps most interestingly, the description of Alistair was accurate, drawn from reliable sources instead of describing Mahler.  Along with the letter, the pouch contained nine identical small crystals, perhaps quartz, that Stithis believed could have psionic uses.

* * *

After two more days of hard riding, through increasingly combat-torn fields, the group finally spotted the banners of the Knights of Valor, fluttering in the early evening twilight.  A small army of troops camped in a hastily fortified position, some distance further out than the Knights' permanent fortifications.  While the banners of the Knights of Valor flew over most of the companies of troops, they were hardly alone: both royal Canberran troops and troops from several major nobles joined the Order's troops, as well as small but surely powerful companies of elves from the Forest of Singing Leaves.

The sentries challenged the group, and Dame Brionna reined in her horse and announced, "I am Dame Brionna of the Knights of Valor; I ride as escort for Lord Alistair, who has safely returned to Canberry!"

A heavy escort of knights quickly brought the group before the ranking knight of the Order, a heavy set man in late middle age who also wore the coronet of a count of the realm on his helm.  "Your highness," he said, bowing deeply before Alistair, "we all rejoice at your return.  And none too soon.  I regret that Her Royal Grace, the Grand Duchess, is in ill health.  The magics that have allowed her to resist the effects of age for so long are failing, and soon they will be unable to preserve her.  Your return while she still lives may have saved the Archduchy from catastrophe."

The news stunned Alistair; when he had left Canberry, his grandmother had been healthy and as hearty as could be expected for someone who relied on powerful magics to stave off old age.  Of course, she also had a living son as heir-apparent when Alistair left.  Dame Brionna, in contrast, was unsurprised.  She had judged the actual state of the Grand Duchess's health as a matter that would have only concerned Alistair, and perhaps provoked him into running from responsibility.

"I am sorry to have troubled you, your excellence," Alistair replied after a moment.  "I returned as soon as I heard of my father's death.  We were somewhat delayed by attacks from the Zorplona-Argoni, who sought to destabilize Canberry."

"The important thing is that you are back now.  We must get you to the capital immediately."

"Of course.  We will be happy to travel on with fresh horses as soon as we have had a moment to rest."

The Count smiled.  "The elves of the Forest of Singing Leaves have offered us the use of a valar, so you can take the time to rest and eat before you board it when it arrives in a few minutes.  You will still be in the capital by dawn, rather than facing several days of riding."

Within the hour, the group boarded one of the great flying ships of the elves.  Kit pulled Alistair aside.  "I'm so sorry to hear about your grandmother's health.  If there's anything I can do to help..."

"Just being here is help enough.  So don't go anywhere."

"I won't."

"Kit... there's something I need to ask you.  If we don't take steps, people will assume that your title is because of our relationship.  I don't care if you don't, but if you do, I'll need to do things to make sure that people know you earned it."

The thought hadn't occured to Kit, and she stammered, "But I did earn it."

"I know that.  But people won't assume that, unless we take steps."

Kit thought for a moment.  "I do care.  I'm not ashamed of us, but I'm proud of what I did to earn my knighthood.  And I want people to know."

"I'll take care of it."

Alistair slipped out and spoke with Dame Brionna.  "It's very important that you let people know that Kit was knighted for heroism before we became involved.  We were barely speaking when I knighted her.  I don't want people thinking that her title is just because she's my mistress."

"I'm not very good at spreading rumors."

"Just make sure you tell people.  They'll know you aren't lying, because you're a Knight of Valor, and the rumor will take care of itself.

Meanwhile, Kit approached one of the elven officers.  "Excuse me... I've been told that I should speak to one of your psionicists."

The elf cocked his head and looked at Kit for a moment.  "Yes... I can see why you would have been.  Come, the Grand Master will wish to see you personally."

The elven grand master examined Kit carefully, gently probing at her mind with his own.  "Indeed, the gift is clear upon you.  Among our people, you would never have been allowed to go untrained for so many years." He asked Kit to perform a few basic exercises and nodded thoughtfully.  "Still, the damage from the lack of training is not too deep.  If you wish, we will provide you with the training you need to properly develop your skills."

"Thank you," Kit stammered.  "I didn't even know I had powers until the journey and never thought to look for training...  I also have another question.  Do you know what these are?" Kit showed the grand master the nine crystals taken from the skaven leader.

He examined them thoughtfully.  "They are very primitive psionic feeder crystals-- crystals that have been grown and attuned to aid in psionic activities.  But they are odd... who made these?"

"I don't know for sure... we got them from the body of an 'Eshen' skaven, but I don't know if he made them."

"I do not think they know how," the elf replied.  "Still... the work is far too poor for Noldar, and even the lesser fallen or humans would surely have done better than this.  Perhaps the Eshen have learned.  That is a dismaying thought that bears further consideration."

"Are they dangerous?"

"No.  They would be safe to use, merely not very powerful.  Come with me." The elf led the way into a deep recess of the ship.  A bright array of much larger crystals flashed in many colors, set within a carefully grown block of wood.  "This array is the valar's steerage.  Be careful... it has an awareness of its own, the mind of the ship, and could overwhelm an untrained but open mind such as yours.  The crystals you found could be converted for use as weak power capacitors, to augment your own reserves.  Alternately, if you keep them together as a set and manipulate them with your mind, they will gradually form a collective awareness or mind of their own.  In neither case will they be very strong, but they could still be useful."

* * *

By dawn, the flying ship arrived in the great courtyard before the palace of Canberry.  A crowd of functionaries, led by the Lord Chancellor, met the group as they disembarked.  "Your highness, welcome back to Canberry.  We have much to discuss."

"First, we need to see my grandmother."

"Of course, your highness.  But while we walk... She has made it clear that you are to be her heir, now that you have returned.  There is much work to be done to secure the stability of the Archduchy, however.  While none admit it openly, several of the four chief duchies are considering bids for independence, and of course there is still the danger that one of your siblings will challenge you in a civil war."

"I suppose the first step is to fly my father's banner again, to make it clear that the Marquis Belconnen is the heir-apparent to the Archduchy and has returned."

"Very good.  We will also want to quickly schedule a series of dinners and balls.  Each of the major duchies is interested in a dynastic marriage, and of course three have sent their most eligible daughters to the capital in an effort to arrange that."

"Three?  Oh, I suppose that my step-mother's family is not particularly keen on another marriage into my family.  It could be awkward.  Still... we'll need to send a letter inviting the Duke... her father? Uncle?"

"Brother, your highness."

"Brother to the court, and stressing how important she was to me after my mother's death, and the way in which she was really like a mother and I think of the Duke as my uncle."

"Indeed, your highness.  I have prepared a draft of that letter for your review and edits, after your meeting with the Grand Duchess.  Turning to the other duchies, by prolonging the courtship period, you should be able to prevent any of them from leaving, by holding out the possible prize of a royal marriage, before ultimately committing to one of them."

"Yes, I can see how that would be wise.  What about my siblings?"

"Two half-brothers, Frederick and Caitan, and one of your half-sisters support your claim; they are with Her Royal Grace now.  Most of the others have refused to declare either in support of you or in opposition."

"I have certain proof that my half-brother Luva and his maternal aunt have been behind assassination attempts against me."

"I'll deal with them directly, your highness.  As I said, we have much more to discuss, but that will wait until after your audience." The Lord Chancellor gestured into the Grand Duchess's private quarters.

In an opulent room, the Grand Duchess Amelia Ashberry lay on a regal bed.  The Archbishop of Glordiadel and three of her grandchildren surrounded her.  The primary impression she gave, though, was not of her majesty or her famed mystic prowess, but simply of her age.  As the group stepped forward and Alistair quietly greeted the Archbishop and his half-siblings, the Grand Duchess smiled.

"Alistair!  It's good to see you again.  You had us worried, you know."

"I'm sorry, Grandmother.  I came as soon as I heard of my father's death, but I fear I did not realize the urgency.  I've never wanted to be the Grand Duke."

"I know, dear, but neither did I.  You grow into it, and you're the right one.  Indeed... Lord Chancellor?  Bring me the papers of regency I had you draw up." The Chancellor carefully placed a writing tablet across the Grand Duchess and arranged a formal decree upon it.  The Grand Duchess signed her name and gestured for the Chancellor to place her seal upon it.  "As of this moment, you have full powers of regency throughout the Archduchy.  It's a smoother transition than to wait for my passing.  Don't worry, dear... I've had a long, good life.  Better this way than as your father passed."

"How did Father die?  I feared that he may have intended to be killed, because of his attacking the Noldar and the inability to raise him."

"No, I am quite sure that he thought that he would live.  We have many refugees from the Confederacy of Southern Kingdoms. I have tried to help them, but perhaps more was needed.  Your father spent much time fighting plots that he thought I did not need to worry about, including an effort by drowan slavers to take many of the refugees.  He attacked their valar directly, and succeeded in injuring the Noldar lord commanding the vessel, as well as killing an important drow commander.  That was sufficient to drive the valar into retreat, but not before they concentrated their attacks upon him."

The Archbishop added, "His head and spine were destroyed utterly, leaving him beyond my power to restore.  The best I could do was to confirm that his soul made it safely to the Lord of Light."

"Thank you.  I'm glad to know that."  Alistair paused.  "Grandmother... there are some people you should meet.  First, Mahler Fife has been a great friend and a fearless ally.  He's faced death countless times, because he stood in for me at a crucial moment and my enemies tried on numerous occasions to kidnap or kill him, while really trying to strike at me.  Dame Brionna of the Order of the Knights of Valor was my devoted and determined guard, making sure that I made it back alive.  Sir Delbon Glittercheeks has been a staunch ally with his magical skills and good advice; he is one of two of my companions who I made knights-bachelor for their heroic service.  Stithis has been a strong and bold champion.  And finally, Grandmother, I would like you to meet a special friend of mine:  Dame Katherine, or Kit."

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you, and thank you for taking care of my grandson.  Dame Brionna, I know that your order will honor you appropriately.  As for the rest of you... perhaps if Mahler will not accept the knighthoods you've offered, he might accept a role in the trade ministry.  As for Sir Delbon and Dame Katherine, you are henceforth Knights Banneret, and may quarter your arms with the royal arms."

"What does that mean?" Kit asked urgently.

"I'll explain later," Alistair replied.

"Stithis, have you had a proper period as a squire?"

"No, your grace."

"In that case, I think you would make a fine personal squire to Alistair, until he deems you ready for knighthood."

"And now... Kit.  It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you, your grace."

The Grand Duchess faced Alistair.  "Do you love her?"

Alistair boggled for a moment before regaining his composure.  "I care for her a great deal," he said finally.  "I don't know yet whether I can say I love her.  I promised that I wouldn't make her any promises I couldn't keep."

The Grand Duchess smiled, an equal mix of indulgent and slightly disapproving.  "That was the most his father would ever say, either.  Do you love him?"

Kit paused.  "I think so.  I want to, but everything has happened so quickly.  I don't know, but I hope so."

"If you love each other, I see no reason that you shouldn't be married."

"But Your Grace, I'm nobody!" Kit burst out.

"We were all nobody at some point," the Archduchess replied serenely. "The elves say that they can remember when humans were all nobody, just savages climbing around in the trees. But we'll be around long after the elves are all gone, back to being nobody. Individual elves live much longer than we do, but we'll still last longer than their entire race. Things pass away, but others endure. Don't worry about having once been nobody, dear. That doesn't have to stop you from doing anything.   You won't be able to marry for some time for political reasons, but Alistair can hedge off other candidates for several years through official mourning for my death.  Hush, dear, we know it's coming.  And then you should be free to follow your hearts."

"Thank you, Grandmother."

"Thank you, your grace."

"And now, I think it's time for me to rest."

The group left and was quickly enveloped in a whirlwind of activity-- literally in the case of Stithis, who tested a new method for shining armor with his whirlwind and some grit.  Dame Brionna quickly spoke with the Chancellor about security matters, and just as quickly found herself as the new Captain of the Guard, after they agreed that the old captain should be "promoted to a field command" as part of a reorganization to ensure that the royal guard's complete loyalty to Alistair.

Alistair and Kit met quietly in one of his chambers.

"Kit, I do care deeply about you, but I'm not sure that things are as simple as my grandmother wants them to be.  She's been the Grand Duchess of a stable, cohesive Archduchy.  But I need to make sure that a fractious, divided realm doesn't collapse into civil war.  I never wanted this, but I'm going to do it right.  And that may mean a marriage for political purposes."

"I understand.  If you need me to go away, I understand."

"No!  I want you to stay here.  Right now, I need you with me more than anything else to get through this.  But I need you to understand the situation."

"I do.  I may not like it, but I understand that you need to do what Canberry needs.  Even if that means not being with me."

"I do care about you deeply, Kit.  I think I love you.  But I may need to do things as Grand Duke..." He paused.  "Do you think you could love Alistair, even if you can't be with the Grand Duke?"

"I don't know.  I think I love you, too.  But I don't know if I can accept that divide.  We'll have to see."

"Let's just be glad we're together for now then, and we'll leave what we have to do tomorrow until tomorrow."

The next day, Kit travelled down into the city and slipped discreetly into a temple of Manumist to have a conversation with a priestess about herbs and precautions.  As she slipped back into the palace, she muttered quietly to herself, "Let's just make sure that there aren't any messy succession issues in the next generation.  One generation is quite enough."

End of session 3


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Session 4

The following morning, Dame Brionna visited with her family.  As she expected, her family was proud of her achievements but a little reserved.  Her family was a prosperous noble family once, but that was before the skaven took her homeland away.  Now, they only have their pride and their honor.  The honors bestowed upon Dame Brionna are a fine thing, of course, but father's old titles are no less worthy than those bestowed by the Archduchy of Canberry.  Indeed, they are more noble, coming from a king and being part of the family's honor for generations.  What matter that the lands that her family holds title to are far away and occupied by enemies?

Dame Brionna spent most of her visit with her older sister, Marietta.  "How have things been since I left?"

"Well enough, I suppose.  If you believe the rumors, the skaven are raiding in the south of the refugee camps.  Some say that the ratmen are reopening our grain fields to feed their filth.  They certainly keep taking young and strong captives." Dame Brionna's sister grimaced.  "As you know... I didn't mean to bring up any sad feelings about your betrothed.  I think I'm glad that I know that my husband died cleanly..."

Dame Brionna looked down.  "I can only pray that Glordiadel will light his way back to us."  Her sister nodded, a little awkward about Brionna's much greater faith.  "What of the Noldar?" Brionna continued.  "Do they continue to enslave our people?"

"There's a bright thought at least.  The slaves they took have not been heard of again, but their slave raids have all but stopped.  The late prince's final battle seems to have done that much good, at least.  I suppose that's at least something fine to say about your Canberry."

Dame Brionna smiled, ignoring the dig as best as she could.  "Welcome news, indeed.  But enough of such things.  How has Abigail been?"

"A handful, as always.  She's smart and good-hearted, but I can't do a thing to make her behave.  If you don't have two eyes on her, and one hand on her shoulder, she'll find trouble.  She's always running off and..." She paused.  "I don't mean to sound too angry.  I just worry... She's all I have left of her father.  But we can't help her if her antics anger someone powerful."

"Perhaps I could help.  I could ask Lord Alistair if he could find a position for her.  She's old enough to be ready."

"That might be for the best.  But not as a servant, mind you.  We are nobles and deserve to be treated as such..."

* * *

Upon her return to Alistair's apartments in the ducal palace, Dame Brionna approached Alistair formally.  A nimble, wiry girl of about ten followed a few steps behind, her eyes wide but also darting around to take in everything.  Dame Brionna bowed formally.  "Your Highness, I wish to ask a boon."

Alistair smiled, a bit puzzled by Dame Brionna's formality.  "Of course, Dame Brionna.  What do you desire?"

"I would like to present my niece, Abigail, to your highness.  My niece is a talented young lady, but we have not been able to find an appropriate place for her.  I wondered if you might be able to arrange something for her.  Curtsy, Abigail."

The girl stepped forward and nervously dropped a deep curtsy.  "I am honored by this audience, your highness," she said, carefully delivering the line that Dame Brionna had drilled into her.  The effect was somewhat spoiled by her continuing to look about at the surroundings.

Alistair smiled.  "Welcome, Lady Abigail." Dame Brionna's eyes shown with gratitude at the honorific, so often omitted when the lords of Canberry addressed the former nobility of the Southern Kingdoms.  "Any kin of Dame Brionna's is welcome in my service.  At your age, I think a posting as a page would be best." He paused in thought.  The highest honor would be to make her one of his pages, but that could be politically awkward.  "What skills has your niece shown thus far, Dame Brionna?  Do you wish to see her trained as a knight?"

"I would be happy if she became a knight, and she certainly will have the strength for it, but I'm not certain that's where her talents would best be used.  She's very bright and reads well, but so far she's gotten herself into a lot of trouble."

Abigail looked indignant.  "I gave that Baron his purse back.  I just wanted to see if I could get it without him noticing, and HE didn't notice..."

"Hush, Abigail.  They don't want to hear about that," Dame Brionna interjected, ignoring the amused smiles on the faces of Alistair and Kit.

"If she reads well, perhaps she should be tested for magical aptitude.  We can always use more wizards.  But in the meantime... perhaps it would be best for her to be a page to Dame Katherine.  It would be appropriate to Dame Katherine's station, and it seems like she would give the right sort of guidance to Lady Abigail.  Dame Katherine?"

Kit smiled.  "I'd be happy to have her as a page.  I'm sure she'll work out great."

"My thanks, your highness, Dame Katherine," Dame Brionna said.  "Now, Abigail, you must do whatever Dame Katherine says.  You should be sure to stay out of trouble, and I don't want to hear about you sneaking into the kitchen for snacks or..."

"Dame Brionna." Alistair interrupted firmly.  "Abigail is a page to Dame Katherine now.  Dame Katherine will instruct her on her duties and discipline her page as she sees fit."

"Of course, your highness.  My apologies, Dame Katherine."

"Come along, Abigail.  I'll show you around and explain your duties," Kit said.

"Yes, Dame Katherine," replied Abigail, curtsying again.

As soon as they were around the corner, Kit smiled winningly at Abigail.  "We're going to have so much fun together.  C'mon.  Let's start off with the secret doors.  You'll need to know where they are, and which ones you can go through..."

"The secret doors, Dame Katherine?" Abigail's voice quivered with anticipation.

"Any page of mine needs to be good at secret doors.  And just call me Kit when other people aren't around.  Also, I don't want you stealing from anyone unless I tell you to.  Don't worry... I'll make sure you get plenty of chances..."

* * *

Recruiting the remainder of the household filled much of the remainder of the morning.  A priestess of Glordiadel, Mother Honore, arrived with a letter of introduction from the Archbishop to serve as chaplain.  Jet and Marcus arrived, having decided that following their acquaintances to Canberry City offered much more than remaining in Cobblesford would have.  Kit and Dame Brionna quickly welcomed them in to the household, appointing Jet as cook and Marcus as Alistair's scribe.

Alistair looked at Mother Honore.  "I assume, Mother, that you are trained in the healing arts?"

"Of course.  Why do you ask?"

"Am I correct in believing that rats are known to spread disease?"

"They are."

Kit rolled her eyes.  "I could have told you that.  Plenty of rats, and plenty of disease, where I grew up."

"I've been thinking about the ratmen we fought on the way in, and the skaven attacks in the south that Dame Brionna mentioned.  The skaven we fought had an accurate description of me, which means that they have spies within the Archduchy.  I think if we make war on the rats, ostensibly as a disease control measure, we'll make life hard on the skaven as well.  Just posting a bounty should do it."

Kit nodded.  "I like it.  It doesn't do much to tip our hand, but it takes care of the problems."

"How much seems reasonable?  A silver per rat?"

Jet looked pained.  "I think a copper per pair of rats would get everyone's attention.  You're not asking nobles to hunt rats, after all."

Alistair nodded.  "Good.  A copper per pair.  And then we'll mention bonuses for particularly big rats-- that should be enough to make people particularly interested in any ratmen that may be hiding in Canberry.  Marcus, I'll need you to keep track of records of the rats that are turned in-- if we get particularly large numbers, or actual skaven, from any specific area, we'll want to know about it."  Alistair sent for the Chancellor.  "How are the Archduchy's finances?"

"Your Highness, the Archduchy's coffers are flush.  Both House Canberry's holdings themselves and most of the other duchies have been prosperous of late, and your grandmother has always maintained a sound and frugal budget.  As a result, we have ample financial reserves."

"Excellent.  So we would be able to offer a bounty of a copper piece for each pair of rats killed and brought in?  They're dirty creatures that spread disease."

"Of course, your highness.  If your scribe would provide a stack of posters, I'll see that they are posted throughout House Canberry's lands."

"Ah.  I was actually hoping to make this a policy throughout the Archduchy.  I assume we can still afford that?"

"Yes, your highness, I see.  In that case, perhaps your scribe could accompany me?  After he produces the master, we'll need a whole body of scribes to produce copies to then distribute throughout the Archduchy.  It will take some time to get them posted in the further duchies, but it will be no difficulty."

"Good.  See to it."

"Very good, your highness.  If I may impose, your highness, there are several other matters of account that we should discuss." The Chancellor led Lord Alistair to a private office where he began a long account of the finances of the Archduchy.  Lord Alistair did his best to not seem completely bored.

The remainder of the household looked after other organizational details.  A middle-aged, nondescript man stepped out of the shadows next to Kit while she was on an errand outside of the apartments.  "If I may have a word with you?  There are a few things we should discuss."

"Do I know you?"

The man smiled.  "You didn't.  The guilds have chosen me as your contact.  While we do not have the official status of the craftguilds, we, too, are an important and loyal part of Archduchy's people.  My guildmaster has long believed that critical intelligence should find its way to someone close to the monarch.  He wishes you to be his conduit.  And should there be any tasks that my guild can undertake for his highness, let me know, and it will be done."

"I understand," said Kit, thinking to herself that she should have known that Canberry was too large to not have a thieves' guild.  At least they're our thieves' guild.  "Do you have any information that we need to know?"

"Perhaps.  The Duke of Brightspan finances many of the Field Armies within the Federated Army, as you may know.  Over the course of the last year, Brightspan has slowly and carefully moved legions from the field armies that he finances into Canberry City, including the Third Federated Field Army, under the command of his third son, Field Marshal Sir Derrick Brightspan.  While the Federated Army is completely pledged to the Archduchy's service, nonetheless, more than half of the units currently within the capital are financed by Brightspan, and it may be worth thinking on whether they have more loyalty to their oaths or to the coin that pays them.  And when the Duke comes himself, he will surely bring a substantial honor guard from his own army.  We thought you should know."

"Thank you.  That information will be most helpful.  Please tell your master that we are most grateful for the continued assistance of your guild."

The man smiled.  "I will pass on that message.  Also remember that I can pass information to another guild besides my own.  Should you need a message, or orders, to reach the Master of Assassins, you need only tell me.  You will never find it difficult to find me with a little looking in out of the way places."

Kit swallowed quietly.  "Thank you.  I'll remember that."

Kit returned to the apartments, where Dame Brionna and Jet were vigorously working on rearranging the kitchen against any possible rats and checking the provisions.  Jet nodded at Kit, with a friendly smile, "Glad you're back.  I'll be sleeping in the kitchen as a safeguard, but I'd appreciate it if you could lend your eye to our efforts to stamp out any rats in here.  Dame Brionna thinks we should only eat food cooked in here from a private stock of supplies... no point taking chances with poison.  After we're done with the physical adjustments, we'll be going to hire new scullery maids."

Dame Brionna nodded, "We need to make sure there's no chance of evil among them, and I'll judge them each in the light of Glordiadel."

"And we can make sure that none of them are pretty, while we're at it," Kit said.

"My thought exactly.  Why ask for trouble?" replied Dame Brionna.  "In fact, it's probably best that we make sure they're all ugly."

* * *

After Kit described the worrisome news about Brightspan's army (neglecting to mention where she heard those reports), the threat of impending civil war occupied everyone's attention.

"One of the keys to the whole situation is Sir Derrick Brightspan," noted Alistair.  "If he is loyal to the Archduchy, his father's actions are much less of a threat.  Unfortunately, I know little of him.  He has an excellent repution as a general and is reputed to be chivalrous.  He fought in some of the orc battles protecting the Duchy of Westmarch."

"Any family of his own?" asked Dame Brionna.

"He's unmarried but has had a consort for many years.  She's of far lower birth, and he thus couldn't marry her," Alistair replied, carefully not looking at Kit.

Mother Honore steepled her fingers in thought.  "The field army that he directly commands has many Glordiadelian chaplains assigned to it; by all accounts, Field Marshall Brightspan is personally devout.  Perhaps I could get one of them to open up about him."

"Why don't you do that.  I plan to meet with each of the three field marshals, partly to get their opinions about our military situation overall but also to get reports on Sir Derrick and the opportunity to judge him myself.  I'll go in order of seniority, since that gives me a convenient excuse to meet him last."

Dame Brionna nodded.  "If I may, I would like to join you for those meetings, Lord Alistair."

"Of course.  I think that would be a wise idea."


----------



## Piratecat

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> Otherwise... suffice to say, that they ended up fighting a bunch of bounty hunters and won.



The drama! The intrigue! The... err, the wiseass?  Yeah. The wiseass. That sounds about right, if we're discussing this post.

I'm psyched to read the parts I missed.


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## Cerebral Paladin

Okay, and now that we're back to where we were before the unpleasantness...  here's a new post!

* * *

Mother Honore made her way to the encampment of the Third Field Army and made her way to the tents of the chaplains.  Glancing in, she noticed a stocky, middle-aged priest finishing a meal alone at one of the tables-- perfect.  She rapped on the tent post.  "Good day, Father.  I thought you might like some company, and I had a bottle of wine I've been looking forward to drinking."

"Welcome indeed.  Please join me." The priest quickly brought out two mugs.  "I hope you'll pardon the informality--we can't very well take crystal on campaign."

"Quite alright," replied Honore as she filled his tankard and began with some small talk.  After her companion had finished a few drinks, she began to move the conversation towards serious matters.  "How have things been around here?  I hope the army hasn't been facing any problems."

"No problems that you'd speak of," he replied.  "There have been some odd things though.  Many of the officers from the Caldra field army seem to be getting large amounts of extra money.  I don't know who they're taking it from or why, but it's certainly been a lot.  And in platinum, too."

"You don't think they'd turn disloyal, do you?  Could they be paid to betray the Archduchy?"

"The Defenders and the Heavy Horse would never.  Truth be told, I doubt their officers would even take coin with no strings attached.  Their sense of loyalty and honor wouldn't permit it.  But the light infantry... they might.  The money must be coming in through them."

"What of the Third Field Army?  Do you have any fears for their loyalty?"

"Bah, our officers could never be bought.  They follow the Marshal."

"So their real loyalty is to Sir Derrick?"

"Aye.  Sir Derrick is a fine leader, and his men would follow him anywhere.  And I do mean follow-- the surest way to find the thickest fighting when the Third fought against the orcs was to look for Sir Derrick.  Truth be told, I wish he were a little less bold-- he took a spear through the lungs fighting the orcs and was unconscious for better than a week.  We all feared we would lose him."

"And what of his loyalties?  I've heard some suggest that his father might challenge the prince's right to rule."

The chaplain shook his head sadly.  "The Marshal's in a terrible position.  There's none more honorable than him, and he's sworn to serve the Archduchy.  But his father has his expectations, and honor demands loyalty to family as well.  Truth be told, it will probably depend on what he thinks of the prince.  If the prince's father were still alive, he'd follow him, sure enough, whatever the Duke of Brightspan might want.  But he's not, and if the prince is as bad as he was when he left, the Marshal will have no choice but to follow his father.  He just won't be able to cross his father to serve a wastrel."


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## Cerebral Paladin

I realized that at the current rate I'm posting, I'm going to have an evergrowing backlog of storyhour.  Since I have quite a stack of prewritten storyhour, I'm switching to a once a day schedule.  If sometime this summer I start running out of material, I'll slow down again, but I should be able to maintain this for a long time, possibly indefinitely.

---
Marcus finished up the draft posters for the rat bounties and then left the scribes to their work of copying. That taken care of, he walked back towards Alistair's apartments.

"Good day, Marcus," said a gentleman approaching him in one of the hallways..

"I'm afraid you have the advantage of me; I can't say that I know your name."

"No matter. The prince's secretary attracts a certain degree of attention," the gentleman replied. "Indeed, many people would wish to be privy to some of the discussions with Lord Alistair. Some of my friends hoped that you would be willing to do us a favor in that regard. I can assure you, we pay rather better than whatever the prince gives you if you'll do some little tasks for us."

Marcus thought for a second. "I'd be happy to help. What do you want me to do?"

The gentleman produced an ornately worked amulet with baroque embellishments and curlicues of gold, silver, and enamel. "If you would be so good as to bring this some place near where the prince discusses matters of state, it will allow us to gain some insight into his discussions. You could conceal it upon your person, or hide it near his seat-- the method matters much less to us than that it be near the prince when he speaks of urgent matters. In exchange, we offer you this payment." The gentleman followed the amulet with four coins, each minted from a strange black metal and with a thin elven face raised on it.

"You can count on me," Marcus replied.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Marcus approached Jet, Kit, and Dame Brionna upon his return to the apartment. "I think you should all know that someone just hired me to plant a magic device near Alistair."

Dame Brionna looked deeply concerned, but Kit just asked, "What would the device do? And where is it now?"

"I don't rightly know. They claimed that it would allow scrying, but I didn't confirm that. I don't actually know where it is. I had an unseen servant hide it, along with the payment they gave me, by the river, without telling me where. I can send the unseen servant to recover it if we want it."

Dame Brionna glared sternly at Marcus. "What I don't understand is why you agreed in the first place."

"As long as they think I'm working for them, they have a reason to keep me alive. If I said no, I go from being a useful asset in their eyes to being an enemy who knows who one of their agents is. I prefer them to think I'm useful."

She nodded grudgingly. "I suppose that makes sense. Any idea who they were?"

"The man I talked to seemed human, but he paid me in strange black coins with an elf's face on it."

"That sounds like the Noldar," Kit said. "In which case, I know exactly who we should talk to."

The grandmaster of psionics on the elven valar that had transported the group from the edge of the Archduchy to Canberry City greeted Kit warmly. "I hope that your studies go well."

"They do," Kit replied, "but that's not why I asked to speak with you. My friend Marcus was asked to plant an amulet near Alistair and was paid in black metal coins with an elven face on them. Dame Brionna determined that the amulet wasn't evil, but it has some sort of psychokinetic power in it. I thought that the coins might be from the Noldar and hoped you would be able to deal with the amulet."

The grandmaster nodded. "A wise choice. Do you have the amulet with you? May I see it? We have wards here that should keep us safe."

Marcus reached into a pouch and drew out the large ornate disk, along with the four coins. The grandmaster barely glanced at the coins, but carefully examined the amulet, turning it over several times before looking up.

"It was well that you did not deliver this as you were instructed. It would produce a powerful psychokinetic blast-- a Grand Concussion-- upon being within three yards of Alistair."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna glared at the amulet. "Can you disarm it?"

"Oh, that's simple enough. You could break it with an ordinary hammer and the psionic charge would dissipate harmlessly. If you wish, I will destroy it."

"Can you tell who made it?" Kit asked.

"Indeed. Based on the psionic signature and certain design details, it was manufactured by the Drow of House Hetland. They are one of the houses that routinely trades with the surface world. Still, you were right to suspect Noldar involvement. Those coins are Noldar horde coins. Each is made from adamantium, and they are worth a fortune in the surface realm. That implies that House Hetland is a cadet branch of the accursed Moriquendarim, one of the Noldar great houses."

"Are the Moriquendarim connected to the Zorplona-Argoni?"

The elf nodded. "The Moriquendarim have complete control over Zorplona-Argoni's Region Six, which includes the area surrounding Canberry. Region Six is the wealthiest region in decades-- they would be very willing to use its resources to pursue their house's goals."

"Thank you. This information is very helpful."

"A few more things before you leave. Young man, you accepted these coins?" Marcus nodded. "Have you been checked for an enchantment since then?"

Marcus quickly detected magic and then grimaced. "I seem to be under some sort of divination effect. It's extremely powerful-- probably beyond my ability to dispel."

"I thought you might be."

Dame Brionna said, "Then they know everything we learned in this meeting."

The elf smiled. "Fortunately, we take precautions against our fallen cousins scrying upon us. This conversation should be safe. However, I suggest you have a competent mage examine that scrying soon. I do not specialize in magical arts, but a skilled human mage should be able to handle it. It will be easier if you go to your court mages rather than one of my cousins here.

"That should handle all of the unpleasant business. On a happier note, I have a gift for my former pupil." The elf drew out a small, unusual looking plant. "While we worked together, I sensed your strong feelings for your friend. I know that such things come more easily for humans, but I thought you might still benefit from some of the arts my people have had to cultivate if we wanted to have any children at all. If you eat any of the leaves of this plant, or drink a tea brewed from them, it will make you much more likely to conceive quickly."

Kit covered her startlement quickly. "Umm, thank you. For all your help, and for this gift..."

"You are most welcome. Now, I should get back to my studies, and you should deal with his enchantment."

As they walked out, Jet nodded at the plant. "A fertility herb, huh?"

Kit's face tightened. "It wasn't my idea. But I didn't want to refuse it."

"Just don't take it while it would create inconvenient potential heirs," Dame Brionna said. "The Archduchy will be so much better off if the next succession is smooth."

"Don't worry," Kit replied a bit sharply. "I won't be taking any of this plant for a long time. Can we please concentrate on the issues that matter right now?"


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Upon returning to the palace, most of the group headed directly to the chambers of the Royal Coven. Lady Constance Deepingwell, the archmaga who leads the Coven, waived the group in, past several barbed devils. As soon as the group saw the devils, Dame Brionna placed her hand on her sword, eliciting a chuckle from the Archmaga. "You needn't worry, Dame Brionna-- they are thoroughly bound, and I am properly licensed to have summoned them."

"Very well, then," Dame Brionna replied guardedly. "Can we speak freely here? We have many enemies who would wish to spy on us."

"I pity anyone foolish enough to scry on this coven in our own chambers," Lady Constance replied.

"Some sort of divination has been placed on me," Marcus said, "and we hoped that you could remove it. Preferably in some way that would not make it obvious that it had been dispelled."

"Let me see... Interesting. Quite a powerful curse this-- as you suspected, a clairaudience effect. And both divine and arcane components. Very tricky. Do you know who placed this curse?"

"We believe that it was the Drow of House Hetland, working for the Noldar."

"Ah. That would make sense-- there is a certain flavor to drow magic. They must have made this a high priority; both the Matron Mother of the House and the Archmagus must have worked together on this enchantment. No doubt to conceal the actual involvement of the Noldar, which even I cannot detect directly... as I said, very clever." The Archmaga examined the dweomer, gently manipulating its magic, and finally nodded. "It would be relatively simple for me to unravel the enchantment. Transferring it to another subject would be more challenging, but I should be able to. I could summon an infernal creature, transfer the enchantment, and then dismiss the creature. That should conceal your actions; as far as they will be able to tell, the young man will simply have fled the plane to escape their revenge."

"I think that would be best," Marcus said. "If at all possible, I'd prefer to avoid groups of drowish assassins looking to punish me for my treachery."

"Very well. Let's prepare the summoning, then."

The transfer was more difficult than anticipated, but after a few tense moments, Lady Constance nodded with satisfaction and dismissed the imp with a flick of her wrist. "The transfer is complete. There was a trap waiting for any who tried to dispell the curse, but I was able to avoid discharging it." She carefully checked the summoning circle before deliberately erasing it. "Still, you should be careful. Based on what you've told me, I have no doubt that the Noldar were behind this, and they will continue in pursuing their goals."

Dame Brionna nodded. "We fear that this is a plot of House Moriquendarim."

"Quite likely. But not all of the Moriquendarim will be directly involved. They are usually divided between the Aragoni slavers and the rest of the House, and all of the plots I have become aware of smack of the Aragoni." Lady Constance looked thoughtfully at Dame Brionna. "How are your preparations for more direct assaults on the Archduchess's grandson?"

"We have prepared as well as we can, and my troops and I stand ready to give our lives to defend him. Still, it is difficult to tell if the guard has been infiltrated."

"Hmm. Perhaps I should assign several devils to join in the defense. I could easily place a glamour upon them that would make them seem to be regular servants."

Dame Brionna gritted her teeth and answered relying purely on determination and duty rather than her gut. "That would be most appreciated, your ladyship. In these troubled times, the more reliable the defenses are, the better off we will be. Will the devils obey my commands?"

"After I'm done instructing them, they will do whatever you tell them. I think I shall give them orders to obey young Alistair as well, but to follow your orders above his. That's probably the safest approach."

"Thank you, your ladyship."

[There was a whole humorous sequence here where Marcus and Lady Constance covered up any suspicions about their contact by deliberately creating a rumor that Marcus was Lady Constance's boytoy, evoking a great deal of pity (and just a hint of jealousy) from the archducal guard. I can't remember enough details to include this directly.]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Meanwhile, Kit gathered information about the ratmen. The only new information that she learned was that a new variety of ratmen has been spotted. The new ratmen were large and black, where most of the skaven that had been seen before were small and grey. Comparing these descriptions to the skaven that the group fought on the way into Canberry, Kit concluded that the new skaven must be the "Gutterrunners."

The group gathered in Alistair's apartments and shared their information. Alistair frowned. "Mother Honore's information only makes my meetings with the Field Marshals more important. He could go either way, but things will be much easier if he can be convinced to side with the Archduchy. But there are still a lot of other matters we need to deal with."

Kit nodded. "The rest of us can do some more checking on the rest of your half-brothers. We know that Frederick and Caithan are loyal, as well as your half-sister, and they've already arrested Luca. But that still leaves Clarence, Dridall, and Bartlet as possible threats."

"I'd concentrate on Clarence, because he had actually declared that he believed he was my father's rightful heir, and Dridall. Dridall isn't fully human, but I'm not certain on the details. Either of them could be a pawn of one of the forces trying to destroy the Archduchy."

"Right. We'll check them both out, and then Bartlet just to be on the safe side."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Since today's update was so short, I figure this would be a good time to include a little campaign background.  Wondering what the major nobles of Canberry are, or for a little bit more history?  Wonder no longer.  This is the document that the DM gave us just prior to the session I'm currently detailing.  There are many interesting little tidbits scattered through it that helped guide our characters' priorities.


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## Cerebral Paladin

A few minutes later, Field Marshal Manning Broadfields, the most senior officer in the Federated Army, joined Lord Alistair and Dame Brionna in a conference room. Alistair had already laid out a large map of Canberry and the surrounding areas and placed markers for each of Canberry's legions and for suspected dispositions of foreign troops.
"Thank you for coming, Field Marshal. I wanted to speak with you about our strategic position," Lord Alistair began, gesturing at the map.

"Of course, your highness," the elderly but still vigorous officer responded. He glanced about at the map, shaking his head slightly at a few of the placements. "Some of your information seems a little inaccurate."

"We'll cover that as we talk about each area. Why don't you begin by describing the strategic situation as you see it? If you could discuss each of the potential threats we face in turn, I would appreciate."

"Very good, your highness. The Empire... I mean of course the Archduchy... does not face severe imminent threats, but has medium term concerns in every direction except the north. To the north, the only serious concern is whichever country wins when Hanal and Masque finally battle, but it will be at least a generation before they threaten the Empire. To the East, barbarians are the greatest threat. Their tribes have become more organized and militant lately and will probably resume attacks on our settlements within the next two to three months. In all likelihood, the barbarians will only be raiding, but we will still need to defend our towns and villages.

"In the south, it will be two to three years before the refugees begin seriously pressing in on the Empire. To the west, the humanoids are still badly rebuffed by Field Marshal Brightspan's defense of Westmarch. The Duchy of Westmarch is incapable of defending itself without the support of the Federated Army. Westmarch could benefit from more farmers, and Tusslefield would be happy to supply some of its excess population, but fear of the humanoids drives some of the native Westmarchers off their lands and few want to move to a place where they might face orc raids."

"What of the threats to the refugees in the south? Do we have the forces to protect them from the skaven?"

"We currently have two field armies deployed south of the Archduchy, your highness," the field marshal replied, while adjusting some of the markers on the map to more accurate positions. "That's about ten thousand line troops, with perhaps half again as many auxiliaries. We should have deployed four field armies, but we would not have enough troops to adequately defend the Empire itself if we deployed an additional two among the refugees."

"Could we strengthen Westmarch's own defenses? If we could take the pressure off the Federated Army there, we could redeploy additional troops to the south."

"It could be done, your highness, although it would not be fast or easy. The army of Westreach is four field armies of irregulars, but much less powerful than a similar size force of properly trained and equipped soldiers. Westreach's army could be made more powerful, but that would require extensive training and organization. Westreach also has a few mages, but they would need to be required to make more regular military service."

Dame Brionna gestured at the skaven markers to the south of the refugee settlements. "What of the threat from the skaven? Will two field armies be sufficient to drive them back? We've heard reports that they have begun major slaving operations, perhaps to resume heavy farming in the south."

Broadfields grimaced. "The ratmen will be a difficult, dangerous foe. Skaven are brutal combatants, except for Clan Skree, which is willing to negotiate. Clan Skree might serve willingly as scouts, but only if you could convince their leaders that it was in their best interest. They have no interest in wealth as we know it, so you would need to offer them other incentives if you wanted to reach some sort of agreement. Clan Skree also serves a Lord of Chaos, but they have more self-interest. The skaven could be taking slaves to build up their fields, but it might also be to prepare a slave army-- they've been known to do terrible things with prisoners. If that is their plan, it will make defending against them much more dangerous. The skaven are probably the most serious threat that the Empire will face within the next generation."

Alistair nodded appreciatively, suppressing a smile at the Field Marshal's repeated references to "the Empire" rather than to the "Archduchy." "If that covers the major strategic concerns, I would like your opinion on the general officers of the Federated Army. If you could begin with an assessment of the other field marshals and then proceed on to the generals."

"Field Marshal Brightspan is a very good officer, but deeply conflicted about his loyalties. He is also all aggression and conflict, not the least bit diplomatic. There's none better in a field campaign, but you wouldn't want to put him in a position where he needed to build support with allies or the like. Field Marshal Greening, in contrast, is a solid, defensive officer. He's very cautious about wasting men, which makes him less effective on the offensive. But he has a keen understanding of fortifications and defensive tactics.

"Turning to the generals, the top tier of generals, such as most of the major generals in command of field armies, are very good. The next tier of generals, unfortunately, has many political appointees, chosen more for their family connections than for their ability. A few of them are able, but there are many weak generals who are not up to their duties, such as commanding individual legions. The subordinate officers are by and large better."

"I see. Improving the quality of the junior generals will need to be a major priority," Alistair responded. "What other recommendations do you have for improving our security, both internally and externally?"

"Well, your highness, I suggest that you begin by binding the Duchy of Brightspan in as quickly as you can. Marry the Duke's daughter, if necessary; it's what the father wants and will ensure peace. The rest of the duchies are loyal, and if you handle Brightspan well, it will eliminate any risk of civil war. Looking beyond the Empire, ask the refugees to join us. Once most of their settlements have joined, simply annex the rest. By fortifying their areas and ending the ability of the skaven to draw strength from raiding the refugee, we can keep the Empire safe from the skaven attacks."

"What about the human barbarians to the east? Should we raise and deploy more troops?"

"That would be wise. If the treasury will support it, I would suggest raising a total of four additional field armies, leaving two to be deployed in the south for defensive operations protecting the refugees and two to augment our forces in the east. If we strike a heavy blow against the barbarians when they first begin raiding, we can probably deter further aggression for at least a generation--that's why they have been so quiet for the last twenty years after our previous clash."

"Thank you, Field Marshal. If that covers the matters you think I should be informed about, that will be all."

"Your highness." Field Marshal Broadfields braced to attention and departed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Field Marshal Greening, a large, powerfully built man in late middle age, reported shortly after Broadfields departed. Greening was a plain-spoken man, whose accent still reflected his lower class origins. Over the course of many years, he worked his way up through the ranks through competence, hard work, and shear determination. His overall assessment was quite similar to Broadfields's, but with a higher emphasis on the threats. Where Broadfields had described the skaven in the south as a meaningful threat and Hanal as a possible enemy many years in the future, to Greening the skaven are a great concern that could destroy the Archduchy, while Hanal is an inevitable enemy that will arrive within only a few short years. Greening advocated adopting a solid defensive posture, and then hunkering down and resisting skaven advances until they exhaust themselves.

"What of the refugees?" Dame Brionna asked.

"To the extent we can afford to aid them, we clearly should, both because it would be a strategically sound decision but also because it would be the right thing to do. Indeed, the more weapons we can send south to them to arm the refugees, the better off we will be. They would have no reason to be a threat to us, and their strength would help keep the skaven away from our borders. To do it right, we should also provide as much training as we can manage, as well, and provide them with rations and other logistical support. But I would be hesitant to commit heavy troops, at least without raising substantial additional armies; we simply can't afford to weaken the defenses of the Archduchy itself."

"Thank you for your strategic assessment," Alistair said. "Turning to a more delicate issue. What are your opinions of the other general officers?"

Field Marshal Greening looked slightly uncomfortable. "I can't say I like being asked to comment on the other field marshals, your highness, but I guess you need me to give you my best thoughts so you can give us our marching orders. About Field Marshal Broadfields, at least, I have nought but good things to say. He's without a doubt the best officer in his generation, well-suited to all aspects of command. Field Marshal Brightspan, now... he's hot-headed, that one. I don't deny his ability. But I can't approve of his methods. He's abandoned fortified positions to launch assaults on foes that outnumbered his troops! Sir Derrick is tactically brilliant, but we can't afford the types of casualties he incurs. Hanal will come for the Archduchy after they attack Masque--it's only a matter of years, and not many at that. And when Hanal comes, we need everyone we can find alive, able-bodied and in armor, to have a hope of beating them off. As for the rest of the general officers, most of the field army commanders are skilled, proven officers. The legion generals, though; begging your pardon, your highness, but we'd be in better shape if more of them came up from the ranks and less of them came straight in as generals to please their noble parents."


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## Cerebral Paladin

Kit, Mother Honore, Marcus, and Jet met briefly with Alistair's loyal half-siblings, and then went to meet with Clarence. Clarence, the only sibling besides Alistair who had explicitly asserted a claim to be heir-apparent of the Archduchy, maintained a small townhouse near the palace district. Mother Honore rapped on the door, and a thin, furtive looking young man in his twenties answered the door. His eyes widened as he looked at Mother Honore. "You don't go into the bloody room, do you?"

Mother Honore paused. "Uh, no. May we speak with Lord Clarence?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Come in, come in. I am Lord Clarence."

Kit's eyebrows raised at Clarence opening his own door, but the group followed Lord Clarence into his sitting room. "We wanted to speak with you about your decision to declare yourself as the Archduchess's heir."

Clarence nodded. "I had to. They told me to, and it seemed best."

"They told you to? Who are they?"

"The rat people, the white rat people who appear out of nowhere. Have you met them, Mother?"

"No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"When I talked with the new priest at Glor'diadel of the Fields, he knew about the ratmen. We talked for a while and he said I would be a good Archduke and should announce that after my father's death I was next in line. So since you're a priest, I thought you might also know about the ratmen."

"I see. No, I can't say that I've met any of the ratmen. What did you mean when you asked about the bloody room?"

"When I met the new priest, I could see that there was blood in the room beyond the sanctuary, where the black ratmen were. I didn't like the black ratmen... they weren't nice like the white ones that talk with me. But the priest told me not to worry about the black ratmen. He said they weren"

"The new priest?"

Clarence nodded. "I hadn't met him before we had that nice talk."

Kit concentrated and sensed the contours of his mind. In a low voice, she said, "He's definitely remembering that bloody room and the rats. He's addled, and I wouldn't put delusions past him, but that isn't one."

Mother Honore nodded. "Thank you, Lord Clarence. It would be best if you stayed in here. Things could be a little dangerous for the next few days. I think I need to have a conversation with my colleague at Glor'diadel of the Fields."

The group headed quickly over to the temple. As they approached, Mother Honore cast a quick spell and frowned. "The hallowed ground has been defiled. The church isn't properly sanctified."

"All the more reason to speak with the priest then."

The priest of the small temple nodded at Mother Honore as she came in. "Good day, Mother. How may I help you?" The priest had a thin, somewhat sinister looking face and a coldness to his smile.

"I wanted to talk with you about one of your parishioners. I believe his name is Lord Clarence?"

"Ah, yes. Clarence. Such a troubled young man."

"Yes, we're worried about him. He said that you were new here?"

"Indeed. The old priest was reassigned out of the city. I think Clarence took his departure hard. The young man had been discussing his problems with the prior parish priest, and it's always a hard transition when a new priest has to take over a matter like that."

"I understand. Where was your previous assignment?"

"In the Diocese of Caldra, out in the east. I didn't have any parishioners with problems like his back there. He keeps seeing strange things."

"You think they're just visions, then?"

"What else could they be? The poor young man is just not well. I've tried to convince him that his visions don't make any sense, but I'm not sure he even understands everything I'm saying. How did you become interested in young Clarence, Mother Honore?"

Honore paused. She hadn't mentioned her name... How much did the priest know? "I'm just trying to help out Lord Clarence. The Archbishop was concerned for his welfare after his erratic behavior since declaring his intention to inherit. I'm hoping that I can help him recover."

The priest nodded. "I hope that you can. I fear that I have not been making much progress."

"Let's head back to the palace. I think we should discuss our next step." Mother Honore said.

"Do you think he knows what we're investigating?"

"I'm not sure. He recognized me, and I suspect he knows we're from Lord Alistair's household. But I think he believed that we were just trying to help Lord Clarence. Still, he must be working with the skaven. It's the only thing that explains his different responses when talking to Lord Clarence and us, the defiled temple, and whatever the bloody room Clarence saw was."


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## Cerebral Paladin

About a third of the way back to the palace, two black-furred ratmen leapt out from either side of the roadway. One of the ratmen charged directly at Mother Honore, crying "Die, servant of light!" and hacked at her brutally with a small but viciously jagged sword. The other ratman called for them to yield to the Horned Lord while it swung its blade at Jet. Our heroes fought back, but the fight was going badly. The advantage of surprise allowed the ratmen to quickly cut down Mother Honore and Jet. Marcus and Kit fought on, hoping that if they won quickly, they would still be able to save their friends' lives. The battle was close, but Marcus and Kit had the advantage of fighting in a city filled with humans. Bystanders, initially stunned by the violence, soon started calling for the guard. Within a minute, a passing mage began casting magic missiles and acid arrows at the skaven. Between his attacks, the creatures Marcus summoned, and Kit's attacks, one of the two ratmen finally collapsed.

At that point, a drow emerged from the expansive townhouse outside of which the battle raged, and with a glare unleashed a powerful psionic concussive blast that shattered the body of the remaining skaven. While Kit and Marcus bandaged their friends, the drow psionicist approached. "I'm terribly sorry that you were menaced outside my establishment. You have the apologies of my House."

Marcus looked up at the psionicist. "What house might that be?"

"I have the honor of being the Canberry factor for the House of Hetland."

"Oh, really?" Kit replied. "I think then you should speak with the head of our household."

"Of course. Who would that be?"

"Lord Alistair, the Lord Regent of Canberry."

The dark skin of the drow tends to maintain an even tone regardless of mood, but even so, a certain pallor on the factor's face was unmistakeable.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Field Marshal Sir Derrick Brightspan, the commander of the Third Federated Field Army, entered Lord Alistair's conference room. "You wished to see me, your highness?"

"Indeed." Alistair fixed Sir Derrick with a calm look. "As you have likely realized, my grandmother has been hesitant to deploy the Third to locations where it would be exposed to heavy combat, especially after your injury fighting the orcs. She judged the wrath of your father if you were killed too great a risk to run." Alistair paused. "As you can see and surely know, we face too many possible risks to leave one of our best field armies safely away from danger. Between the skaven and the eastern barbarians, Canberry needs all of our armies ready. I can't have a commander who I cannot commit to action for political reasons. So I need to know: Are you an officer of the Federated Army who I can rely on, regardless of the peril you may face, or should I treat you as just the son of one of the great nobles of the realm?"

"I am a soldier and an officer, sir. If you command me into battle, I will go willingly." Sir Derrick smiled self-consciously. "I have enough understanding of politics to know that my appointment was intended as a sop to my family, in the same way that many of the generals under me were appointed to please their families. But I have served as best as I can, and I believe I have proved that I am capable and unafraid of battle."

"No one doubts your bravery, Sir Derrick. I simply needed to be sure I could rely on you to serve Canberry fully. I can't be serving both Canberry and the desires of your father when I make assignments."

"Then serve Canberry, your highness, and I will as well. I had heard many worrisome things about you, I must admit. But I should have known that you would focus on protecting the realm. Your father was a heroic leader, especially with his efforts in protecting the refugees in the south, and I should have known that some of his determination would live on through you."

"Thank you, Sir Derrick. The loss of my father weighs heavily on all of us, but we must press on. I'm glad to hear that I can rely on you. In a few minutes, I'll give you an important assignment. But first, I would like your opinion of the other general officers."

"Field Marshal Broadfields is an outstanding commander. Field Marshal Greening is too timid. I know that some think that I'm overly aggressive, but Greening is unwilling to take any chances and will throw away opportunities to win decisive victories because some people will die. Soldiers die in warfare. It's regretable, but also unavoidable, and when you try to not lose any troops, more people die eventually. Still, he has a fine understanding of defensive tactics. There is no general I would less want to face if I were called on to assault a fortification, and he can wage brilliant defensive campaigns. As for the other generals-- as I said, there are many political appointees. Some of them, like myself, turn out to be able. Others are flatly incompetent. We need to promote from the more junior officers, and rapidly, to build a completely solid core of general officers."

"Thank you, Sir Derrick. How would you respond to our strategic situation?" Alistair asked.

"And do you have any thoughts on who Lord Alistair should marry?" added Dame Brionna, ignoring the slightly irritated look that provoked from Alistair.

"There are two pressing concerns. The skaven in the south must be dealt with, and when the eastern barbarians attack we must strike back hard to deter further aggression. You should raise ten field armies, and dispatch four south. Annex the refugee settlements, and they will provide a defensive buffer. Send the rest of the new field armies to the east to meet the barbarians. To find officers for the new field armies, promote from the ranks rapidly. Some officers will fail, but we do not have enough able young generals to be able to work more carefully."

"I'm considering assigning Greening to command the field armies in the south, and sending you to the east. Thoughts?"

"Greening is perfect for the southern command. It's necessarily a defensive operation, which capitalizes on his strengths. And I lack the diplomatic skills to be effective at organizing an annexation. Fighting the barbarians, in turn, is perfect for my skills. As for your question," Sir Derrick nodded to Dame Brionna, "there are only three reasonable matches. My sister; the sister of the King of the Cities of the Gates, who is young, but that is acceptable for a marriage of state; and the daughter of the Queen of Hanal. If you have other ways to extend the Archduchy, my sister is the wisest choice. She would secure my father's support and settle the internal politics of the Archduchy, while binding my family to your house permanently."

"Thank you for your advice. Here are your orders. I want you to head directly to the Duchy of Tusslefields with enough officers from your current command to form the nucleus of four new field armies. Raise the new armies, promoting new generals to command their legions and head to the east. You will need to drill them rapidly; in two to three months time, you will need to be ready to fight the barbarians. I want a quick, decisive victory that breaks their will to fight without wasting too many lives or permitting them to raid. I will be sending the remainder of the Third south with another field army to reinforce the two already in position to meet the skaven, under the overall command of Field Marshal Greening. Broadfields will remain in Canberry with the balance of the Federated Army as a reserve against other threats. Will two months be enough time to ready your new troops?"

"It should be, and the Duke of Tusslefields will be happy to have good slots to place his young men in. My only concern... the second ranking general in the Third is flatly incompetent. Shall I challenge him to a duel or try to quietly convince him to resign? He cannot be allowed to assume command."

"Do you have proof of his incompetence?"

"Ample."

"Then court-martial him publicly and break him. We'll use him as a signal to other generals who have only family connections, not ability, that they should retire honorably, and soon."

"Very good, your highness. I will take care of that before I depart. If you will excuse me, I need to begin preparations." Sir Derrick began heading towards the exit and then paused. "One last thing. Some of my troops have reported seeing skaven creeping through the sewer system. I haven't yet had the time to deal with the threat properly, but you should be aware of the dangers."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The group that had been investigating Alistair's siblings escorted the nervous factor of House Hetland into an audience chamber within Alistair's apartment. Dame Brionna glared at the drow, while Alistair stared stonily at him.

"Your highness... I had no idea that ..."

Alistair cut off the factor with a sharp hand gesture. "I am wroth. My companions were ambushed --nearly murdered-- just outside your House's base in this city, and you dare to say that you had no idea? Do you deny that it was your duty to know that the ratmen operated under your very nose?"

"No, your highness. I should have known, and your servants should have been safe." The drow straightened his back. "I know that my life is forfeit and that I cannot expect mercy. But you should know that the failing was mine alone, and not the fault of my House."

"Your House is responsible for your failings, factor. Surely you know that."

"Yes, your highness. But we will be willing to make great concessions to retain the trade with Canberry. If you will limit your vengeance to my person, Hetland will appease you for my failures."

"Perhaps I will be willing to stay my vengeance," Alistair said, a look of barely restrained fury on his face. "But first I must have more information, both of your House's activities and of any news that you may have learned. Do you know anything of the plots to advance my half-siblings against me?"

"I do, your highness. I have heard of the arrival in Canberry of one of your half-brothers, Dridall. Dridall is a tiefling, your highness. During one of your father's campaigns in the south, a wizard summoned a succubus and sent her to seduce him. At the command of her master, the succubus conceived and then delivered Dridall into the control of the wizard's allies. They moved him at great cost of money through the Twin Cities of the Gates, where they controlled a minor noble house. He is now staying at the Golden Lion, to be used as a possible challenger against you."

"That information is very helpful, and might even be enough to make me overlook your failings. But your House has done more than merely fail to keep my people safe. Marcus, if you could create an image of the objects they gave you." Marcus cast an illusion, and the amulet and horde coins floated before him. "The Matron Mother and the Archmagus of your House conspired to have me murdered with a psychokinetic trap."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The factor cringed visibly. "Your highness... you must believe me, neither I nor most of the rest of my House had any idea that any of Hetland would be so foolish as to involve ourselves in an assassination attempt against you."

"I believe you, factor, but you understand now the depths of my anger with your house. The issue has never been whether I would execute you, but whether I would seize all of your House's holdings within Canberry, close our gates to your trade, and wage war upon Hetland whereever we may find you."

"Yes, your highness."

"Still, if you could aid me in defeating those who have moved against me, I might consider refraining from a war upon all of Hetland."

"Your highness, if I may contact the Chief Factor, he will approach other elements of the Great House, and we will end all activities that might harm you. He will also arrange further reparations as you deem fit. The Matron Mother is powerful, but she will not be able to withstand the anger of the other powers within the House at risking war with a powerful realm such as yours, to say nothing of the risk of our entire trade with this region."

Dame Brionna spoke. "How can we trust you? After all, doesn't this prove that you are beholden to the Moriquendarim and will continue to carry out their efforts?"

"To the contrary, Dame Knight, it does not," the factor replied, looking nervous to contradict any here. "Those horde coins are of the Aufaugauthal'arim, not of the Moriquendarim. The foolishness by the Matron Mother must have been motivated by simple payment from that House, not from any sense of loyalty."

Alistair continued to look stern before finally relenting. "Very well. If you will arrange for the punishment of those responsible and to provide other suitable reparations, we will permit you to live for now and will not destroy your House's assets within Canberry. But you must also provide us with any further information that will help protect Canberry and my house."

"Your highness is too generous. We will inform you if we learn anything, and we are ready to answer any questions you may have."

Kit nodded at the coins. "Who is the Noldar on the coins anyway? Is he still active?"

"Your ladyship, the coins depict a great lord of the Aufaugauthal'arim. He was slain in the horde battle at the End of the Fourth Age."

Alistair waited to see whether the group had any other questions and then gestured towards the door. "Depart, before I regret my forbearance." After the factor had left, he relaxed and smiled. "I think we fooled him completely. As far as I could tell, he really thought that he was within an inch of execution and warfare with his house..."


----------



## Quartz

Nobles of Canberry said:
			
		

> Special Advisors: Lord Davion Aufaugauthal’arim, the forsaken. (Noldar renegade: Psion 20, Psychic Warrior 20, Alchemist 15, Fighter 15, Sorcerer 10, Lord of the Veil 10 [prestige class],Psionic Pillar 8 [prestige class]; General of the 1st Field Army of Gateway



That's a 98th level character there! There also seem to be quite a few other epic characters in seemingly relatively minor positions.

That aside, this is a very enjoyable Story Hour: keep up the good work.

Any chance you can post the stats of the PCs and major NPCs?


----------



## Orichalcum

Quartz said:
			
		

> That's a 98th level character there! There also seem to be quite a few other epic characters in seemingly relatively minor positions.
> 
> That aside, this is a very enjoyable Story Hour: keep up the good work.
> 
> Any chance you can post the stats of the PCs and major NPCs?




One of the most interesting aspects of this campaign, at least for me, is actually that the reverse is also true - the PCs are very low-level characters who have been catapulted into positions of immense responsibility and power. My PC, Dame Briona, for instance, has just hit 6th level (5th level paladin, 1st level marshal), with fairly average stats, nothing above a 16, and now at 26 is the Captain of the Archducal Guard and the Director of Military Security. This is, to say the least, extremely stressful, and the fact that she now spends most of her time ordering higher-level people into dangerous situations where many of them will get killed is a very interesting character dynamic. Interesting in the sense of "heading for a nervous breakdown," that is.

Whoever originally came up with the custom that all the high-level staff of the Archducal court would commit suicide whenever the reigning monarch died, leaving a nigh-total vacuum of competent, experienced administrators ought to be resurrected and then painfully tortured to death, in Briona's very quiet opinion.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks for the kind words, Quartz!  It's really nice to hear from readers who are enjoying the Storyhour.

Re: Lord Davion:  I boggled too when I did that math.   The key thing to realize is that the Eldar and the Noldar are tremendously powerful relative to any humans (or to ordinary elves and drow).  I don't know for sure, but based on his house, I think Lord Davion may be a Firstcomer (i.e. an elf who was directly created by the Creator, instead of being born); if he isn't, he's still probably been alive since about the time the first humans were born.  Most of the ridiculously high epic level characters are from tremendously long-lived peoples.  (Humans tend to max out in the mid to high 20s).

The other thing to be aware of is that the GM is, shall we say, not exactly a rules maven.  So there are occasional rules mechanical oddities.  Also, NPCs tend to be overpowered relative to their roles, partly to compensate for the fact that PCs tend to have vastly more efficient builds/tactical play.

And now, more updates:
Kit returned from a short errand outside the palace. "A thin-faced man stopped me and told me that one of the elders of Clan Skree wants to talk with representatives of the Archduchy." 

"Based on the Army's assessment, Clan Skree is the only skaven clan that we might be able to negotiate with," said Alistair. "I don't think we can afford to turn down the possibility of dividing some of the skaven off from the rest. Did he say how to find them?" 

"He said that if we followed the river south out of the city, we would come to them soon enough." 

"I think we should go, then. And I think I need to be there-- if we're negotiating with an entire clan of the skaven, I should be there personally." 

Dame Brionna frowned. "I can't say that I like the idea of you walking in to a meeting with any skaven. It could be a trap, and from everything we know the Skree are still evil and untrustworthy. But since I don't think I can persuade you to not go, let me see if I can find a cloak of invisibility. At least then there's a chance that they won't be able to ambush you, if it is a trap." 

"I can live with that." 

After some brief preparations and dressing in nondescript clothes, the group proceeded along the river. They passed the walls of Canberry City, and followed the river as it curved through the surrounding farmlands. No more than a quarter mile beyond the city, the air shimmered as they walked forward, and they suddenly found themselves in an encampment of about eight tents. Marcus murmured, "An area glamour of invisibility... clever, and no mean feat of magic." About a dozen ratpeople, all piebald and white, scurried between the various white tents. Above the encampment, but safely within the sphere of invisibility, a large banner depicting the thrown-back head of a great rat with horns fluttered in the wind. 

As soon as the group entered the encampment, a tall ratman in white fur approached, carrying a staff. "You have not been tracked by the Eshen, have you?" 

Kit shook her head. "No." 

"Good, good. Eshen knows we are here but they do not know where, and may not know which of us. Come to see the Great One." 

The ratman led the group to the largest and most central tent. He pulled aside the flap and gestured inside. An ancient, scarred ratman, whizened with age, sat upon a wooden throne in the center of the tent. The skaven rubbed his paws together when he saw the arrivals. "Ah, you've come. I was afraid that your lord would fear all of our kind too much to meet with us. It is well that he did not. I am the Eleven Counsel of Clan Skree, one of the five great clans." 

Dame Brionna nodded. "We greet you on behalf of the Lord Regent of Canberry. But you must understand that we cannot yet trust you. What assurances can you give us that you are not simply part of the skaven threat?" 

"Clan Eshen and Clan Muldar, the beastwalkers, plan to throw this continent into chaos. Here, there is a chance for our people. We come from a dying world, and came to a dying land within this world. When the demons broke through from Shadow, we creeped after them. When we came to the south of this continent, the Skree knew that we had found a land of plenty, where we can be prosperous at last. Clan Eshen and Clan Muldar have a different vision of what our people should do. Nor do the other of the Thirteen, except for Krikakit, and he is insane. 

"In their effort to bring chaos to this whole continent, the others have connected themselves to a renegade Noldar, in one of the minor eastern noble houses here. I fear that this alliance may bring destruction upon us. It is not a path I would choose for the Skree."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

"Then perhaps we do have room to work together," replied Dame Brionna. "How do the other clans plan to aid the Noldar?" 

"Clan Muldar changes humans so they are skaven inside. They will use them to strengthen the armies of Caldra. The Earl of Caldra is completely a creature of the skaven." 

"You mentioned a Noldar; which house is the Noldar from?" 

"The Noldar is of House Moriquendarim. But you must not forget the Eshen. The targets of the Eshen line-assassins are three: the spinster aunt of Alistair, the Field Marshal Brightspan, and the Archbishop at the moment of the Archduchess's death to disrupt the coronation." 

"Why his aunt?" asked Kit. "The other two would disrupt things badly, but why her?" 

"The aunt is a target because she has true sight. That is why they must destroy her; the true sight runs in the royal family of Canberry. But with the way your people shun those who are born with it, the lines that carry the true sight will die out soon. And then you will have no defenses against our kind." 

"And you don't feel bound by the decision of the other clans to pursue this plan?" 

"We have great influence, but of all the clans, our clan have the most freewill, and intelligence to make our decisions." 

Dame Brionna coughed. "Let's focus on the threats at hand. What resources do the Eshen and Muldar have in Canberry?" 

"Eshen has the six line-assassins present, who are the least of theirs, but still better than the best humans. They must have been successful gutterrunners, warriors for the skaven, first. Each assassin will have its own target. I do not know the other three. 

"As for the beastmasters... Muldar has at least four great beasts in the city. At least one is a rat-ogre; you want a unit to deal with that one. One is a great mole-rat. The others were caged, and we could not see for certain what they were. But they were probably wolf-rats that can follow a scent forever. They are cooperating with the Eshen." 

"But what is their plan? Do they simply wish to create chaos, or do they have a larger goal?" 

"The Noldar's plan is that when the Archduchess dies, the Archbishop will also be killed, and the aunt will be dead or killed soon after. The last will then strike, with any gutterrunners they may have, at Lord Brightspan; the rumors will then begin, through the controlled priests, that the Prince had Brightspan killed. Then their candidate will declare or be declared. He is a weak candidate, but they hold his mother and their family to the south. Not his true mother, who is some sort of demon, but the mother he knows as his own, who raised him. His family lie in an Eshen compound at the edge of the old Kingdoms. If he refuses to cooperate, they will be processed by the Muldar." 

Alistair whispered quietly into Dame Brionna's ear. Dame Brionna swallowed hard and then said, "Thank you for this information. Lord Alistair would wish to make an alliance of sorts. We will not strike directly against the Skree, even in the lands that were traditionally the human South Kingdoms, if you will aid us in turning back the threat from the Eshen and the Muldar." 

The elderly ratman smiled. "That is most acceptable. We will not fight our cousins directly for you but will give you the information you need to fight them. We are even willing to lead you to the Eshen compound in the sewers below the city." 

"Field Marshal Brightspan will be leaving the city soon, perhaps before the Archduchess's death. Would the Eshen follow him if he leaves before they spring their attack?" 

"The Eshen live for efficiency, so they would not pursue him if he leaves. They would switch their target, perhaps to his father." 

"Do you know anything about their Noldar ally's other forces?" 

"Little. We see and here much, but it is difficult for us to survive long near the elves, of any sort. There is a Moriquendarim war schooner near the town of Caldra, with Drowan troops in the town. With the speeds of their airships, they are less than two days away. I do not know more than that." 

"Are there mages or priests among the Eshen and the Muldar?" asked Marcus. 

"Muldar's magic limited to one area: warping living creatures to serve their purposes. Eshen is more complex: they have many priests, who tend to specialize in magics that allow them to reach places others cannot, or to enhance death-giving capabilities of their warriors. They share a propensity for alchemy with us. They also specialize in items and devices that will inch their way over days through springs until it drops poison a weak later without an agent touching it after it's first placed. They considered sending in monks of the Order Bubonicus, but they concluded that there were not enough rats." The ancient skaven nodded. "Your efforts to kill rats throughout Canberry frustrated them greatly. You have killed many spies of theirs, and made it much harder for them to strike with some of their weapons. 

"But you must also fear their warpstone. They have at least four warpstone potions, that will corrupt any human who drinks them. It will not change your heart, but it will change the body of any who drink it. They have suborned several in the palace kitchen, including Guenivieve, a cook of salads, and the wine steward, who bears their messages." 

Dame Brionna nodded. "We will need to attack their base quickly. Can you show us where it is?" 

The skaven waved, and an image of the Canberry sewers appeared. A large black spot throbbed near its center. "There. Will you be able to find that?" 

"We should."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Mother Honore stepped forward. "We think they may have also infiltrated the priesthood. Do you know anything about their agents within the temple?" 

"They have corrupted several of your sun priests. Using their most extreme methods, they corrupted a Father Giorgio, I do not know the rest of his name. He is now assigned to a chapel in the summer palace, the Palace of Winds, having just arrived from the Holy See. They also changed a priest from near Caldra, who they transferred to the Bishop's entourage and then to the temple of Glor'diadel, Lord of the Fields. He has several gutterrunners with him. They may also have corrupted the Mother-Superior of the Order of the Blessed Hope, but I am not certain." 

Mother Honore nodded. The priest from Lord of the Fields must have sent some of his gutterrunners after them; apparently, he did not believe her explanation as well as she thought. But the Mother-Superior of the Order of the Blessed Hope, a huge order of nuns throughout southern Drucien, was perhaps the most worrisome possibility. The Order has twelve chapter-houses, but its center is in Canberry City itself. 

"How can we contact you if we have further questions or need to get you a message?" Kit asked. "I'd rather not rely on your agent being able to find us." 

"I will send a messenger with you. Come here, Cheechree." The skaven elder grasped a small young skaven as he approached and began pushing and pulling on the youngsters body, bending and changing it. When he was finished, Cheechree looked like a small dog rather than a ratman. "He will always be able to find us with a message. But you should keep the messages short-- not longer than six or seven words. His mind will be more like a dog's and less like a skaven, and I am not sending one of the brightest of the younglings." 

The small dog scampered over to Jet, wagging its tail and panting enthusiastically. Jet rubbed his head. "You'll have a good time in the kitchen with me. Plenty of bones for you." The former ratman just wagged his tail further, and licked Jet's hand enthusiastically. 

"Thank you for your assistance." Dame Brionna said to the skaven leader. 

The skaven leader gestured with his head towards where Alistair stood invisible. "Thank your lord for dealing with us. We feared that you would simply attack when you knew of our location, but we needed to take the chance. War with your country poses too much threat to our survival, especially now that we finally have a land with enough food to feed our young."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The group headed directly to The Golden Lion, where Dridall was lodging. Dame Brionna asked to book the best room in the house, but the innkeep informed her that the best suite on the top floor was already occupied; perhaps she would like one of the other fine rooms on that floor. The innkeep quickly admitted that he had a noble from out of town lodging in the nicest room, trying to impress potential clients with the exclusiveness of his establishment. Dame Brionna quickly agreed to let the second-nicest suite, and the group made its way up to the top floor. 

A brief scouting effort confirmed that there was one person in the other suite and no one else apparent on the floor. Kit picked the lock to the room, and the group burst in. A young man, with a slightly reddish skin tone and the barest hints of horns under his hair, sat up on the bed. Alistair, still invisible, recognized him as Dridall and whispered, "It's him." 

"Lord Dridall," Dame Brionna began, "we need to ask you to come with us. We can't permit the skaven to use you to destroy the Archduchy." 

"I don't want to hurt anyone-- I never asked to be part of this. But I can't leave the inn. They watch the entrances carefully. If the ratmen see me leave without their permission, especially with anyone they didn't send, they'll do terrible things to my family." 

"We'll take care of your family," Dame Brionna said. "Lord Alistair knows that the skaven are forcing you to do this. He won't let them hurt your family." 

"How often do they check on you?" Kit asked. 

"Directly? Only once every few days. But they watch the entrances and exits constantly." 

"So if you slipped out invisibly, we would have several days to mount a rescue mission for your family before they even realized you were gone. More, even, because it would take them time to be sure that they had lost you permanently and then to send a message back to where they're holding your family." 

"I guess so... but I don't have any means to make myself invisible." 

"Ah, but we do," said Alistair, lowering the hood of his cloak. "I'll head out, with the cloak up and with a companion. I'll send the cloak back in with the companion carrying it, we'll use it to make you invisible, and then Dame Brionna will escort you back to the palace. We'll keep you safe and anonymous there. And then we'll rescue your family." 

"I guess that would work. But how do I know that they won't hurt my mother before you rescue her?" 

"You'll just have to trust us. We can't leave you as a pawn for the skaven. The risks are just too great. So we can't wait on your rescue until your family is safe, but I give you my word that we will rescue your family as well. We're not trying to save Canberry so good people can be abandonned to monsters." 

Dridall looked at the determined faces of the group surrounding him. "I suppose I don't have a choice." 

The plan worked like a charm. Within minutes, Dame Brionna was riding a horse towards the palace, her arms firmly holding an invisible Dridall on with her, while the remainder of the group headed back to the palace by a different route.


----------



## Quartz

More! More!


----------



## Baron Opal

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> Most of the ridiculously high epic level characters are from tremendously long-lived peoples.  (Humans tend to max out in the mid to high 20s).
> 
> The other thing to be aware of is that the GM is, shall we say, not exactly a rules maven.  So there are occasional rules mechanical oddities.  Also, NPCs tend to be overpowered relative to their roles, partly to compensate for the fact that PCs tend to have vastly more efficient builds/tactical play.




When I gamed with this DM in the ... crikey, early '80's, it paid to be a bit cirumspect with whom you picked fights with. And, researching weaknesses and gaining allies was always a good idea. There were items called color pools that boosted your magical aptitude according to a theme. Most were either claimed or lost. If you wanted one (and every magician did) you had a lot of research to do to figure out what a particular color did and what the capabilities were of the current possessor. These people were far too capable to just attack.

There was always a strong political undercurrent to his games, as well. Our group didn't go into that too much (when I was involved), but the option was always there.

There were about 12 people in the gaming circle, plus others on different days. Naturally, there was factionalization but there was a long-standing tradition of absolutely zero PvP. You could hamper or inconvienience, but no PvP. A loophole that was exploited was that you could send NPCs into conflict and Reyn would let you know what happened.

And thus, the Courts of Chaos completely squashed the upstart Courts of Neutrality. Heh.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks for the encouragement, Quartz!  And it's nifty to hear from another player.  One of the neat things about his world is that the consequences of other players' actions (past and current) affect the ongoing world.  And now, a brief update (I'll try to do two posts tomorrow to make up for the short, or maybe a post and starting the rogues gallery Quartz requested.

--------

As the group headed back, an agitated man hurried passed them. As he saw Mother Honore's vestments, he stopped and made the sign of the sun towards her. As she returned the blessing, he asked, "Have you heard the news, Mother? It's such a terrible thing..."

"The news? What news?"

"Oh, about Glor'diadel of the Fields. It was dreadful, as I hear it. The priest and several nuns were murdered. And that's not the worst of it. They were tortured like, and their blood was thrown about the sanctuary and over the altar in some foul ritual-- like it was done by demons or such."

Mother Honore grimaced. "I hadn't heard. That's awful."

"Will you give me a blessing, Mother? I'm headed to bring my family to the Cathedral-- I think that's where all of us'll go, Glor'diadel will look after his own there. But if I could have your blessing to keep us safe until then..."

"Of course," said Mother Honore, as she gave the man a perfunctory blessing, to his extreme gratitude.

"How terrible... they must have been murdered by that skaven priest," said Kit as the man hurried off.

"There was nothing you could do," Alistair said to Honore and Kit. "The real priest and the nuns were already dead when you were there, unless I miss my guess. I think we now know what Clarence's 'bloody room' was. Still, we need to respond quickly to this before the City panicks completely. I think it's time we went to the Cathedral as well."

The group quickly commandeered horses from a local stable. The stable boy was amazed by the urgency with which they demanded the best horses, but a few gold coins and the assurance that they were on the Archduchess's business convinced him that details like ownership weren't so important. And with a clatter of hooves on cobble stones, they galloped towards the cathedral.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A huge mob of people had assembled in the great square between the palace and the Cathedral of the Sun. The fear and worry was almost palpable in the air, as the Dean of the Cathedral attempted to calm and reassure the crowd. Alistair quietly slipped past the crowd and into the Cathedral. He grabbed the first acolyte he could find and flashed his signet ring. "Take me to the robing rooms. I need to address the people, and it would be best if I did it in the robes of the Protector of the Light." 

"Of course, your highness. Follow me." 

Alistair quickly donned the robes symbolizing the religious title that the Archdukes and Archduchesses of Canberry have traditionally had. After a quick consultation with Mother Honore on protocal, they added a rather silly floppy hat with a long gold braid, similar to the differentiation of a coadjutor bishop from a monarchical bishop and symbolizing Alistair's status as heir-apparent to the Protector of the Light. Alistair then slipped quietly through the sanctuary to where the Dean, taking a break from his orations, discussed matters with the capital of the cathedral guards and several other senior priests. 

"Reverend Dean. I think it would be best if I addressed the people to reassure them that the Archduchy will protect them." 

"Yes, your highness. If you could convince them to disperse, it would be greatly appreciated. We can do little to protect a crowd of that size, and their presence raises the danger that someone will be hurt." 

"I'll do my best." 

Alistair made his way up to the great steps of the cathedral overlooking the huge crowd. Several acolytes struggled to hold back the press of scared people desperately trying to force their way into the Cathedral. Alistair held up his hands for silence, and the crowd, perhaps surprised by this new figure in most unusual vestments, subsided for a moment. 

"People of Canberry, my fellow faithful of Glor'diadel," began Alistair, relying on his bardic training and the magics of the Cathedral to project his voice throughout the great square. "As you know, a dreadful crime and act of blasphemy has taken place today. We all mourn for the good priest and nuns who died at Glor'diadel of the Fields. But we must take heart. 

"In their role as Protector of the Light, my ancestors have ever guarded the people of Glor'diadel from the forces of darkness and shadow. And even today, we strike against the foe. This was not a crime committed by an unknown foe. Foul ratmen, not content with the ravages they have wrought in the south, now seek to strike at Canberry herself. But they will not succeed. My Grandmother, the Grand Duchess, works through me and the forces of the Archduchy to smite the foe that has dared to rise against us. With the backing of Glor'diadel, our triumph is sure. 

"You may have heard of our efforts to kill the rats of the Archduchy. We acted on the first reports and already we are weakening the enemy's forces, putting out its eyes and cutting off its claws. As I speak to you, the Archduchy's forces are preparing to launch even heavier blows at the heart of the ratmen threat. The danger is real, and the enemy vicious, but we will prevail. Glor'diadel, Lord of Light, shows the path we must walk and guides our hands in this battle, and with his Light we will not-- we cannot-- be defeated. 

"Fear is a weapon of the ratmen as they try to overcome us. You must be brave. Return to your homes. If you see a rat, even the least of them, kill it. Every last rat serves the enemy. But if you see one of the ratmen themselves, remain safe. Report the foul beast to the nearest parish priest, and we will send soldiers to bring it down. But keep yourselves and your families safe within your homes while we deal with the threat. 

"In some few days, we will announce to you our victory over the ratmen, and the peril will have passed completely. Until then, join me in asking Lord Glor'diadel for His blessings. And remember-- rats may be frightening in the dark of a cellar or the corner of a room, yet they cower from the sun, for they know that they are no match for the power of Light. So, too, will the ratmen cower from the Sun of Glor'diadel, against whom they have no power." 

The crowd cheered at the end of Alistair's speech. Immediately upon his finish, all of the priests of the cathedral set out into the crowd, blessing the people and encouraging them to return to their homes. Finally, the sense of panic passed, and the crowd began to disperse.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna secured Dridall in an unused apartment in the palace, posting several guards with orders to neither allow Dridall to leave nor anyone else to come in. She then headed to the palace supply and gathered up all seven ounces of orichalcum that were present, hoping that Alistair had remembered correctly that the alchemical metal could neutralize warpstone's foul effects. She quickly dropped one ounce into a bottle of wine that had been delivered to Lord Alistair's chambers with the complements of the palace wine steward. Both the orichalcum and most of the wine disappeared in a flash of light, shattering the glass bottle in a fiery blast. Dame Brionna, lightly scorched, simply nodded with satisfaction. 

Her efforts to protect Princess Cecilia, Alistair's aunt with the sight, went less well. The Princess was not in her chambers but had left a note behind. "The ratmen are in the sewers. I must go to find them to keep the city safe." 

Dame Brionna mentioned this to the rest of the group on their return. Kit nodded. "I'll take care of this." 

Kit quickly found her contact with the guild. "Princess Cecilia has gone into the sewers, looking for the ratmen. You must find her and bring her safely back to the palace. But be careful; the skaven are dangerous and they have agents throughout the sewers." 

"She will be safe under our watch. And we know of the skaven; there have already been some clashes between our people and the ratmen in the sewers. You should know as well that something big has started moving through the sewers today, towards the main square of the city, I think towards the cathedral. We're not certain what it is; perhaps an ogre? But it moves fast." 

"The rat-ogre. We'll organize warriors to fight it when it arrives." 

"What should we do about other ratmen in the sewers?" 

"If you can kill them, do. But be careful." 

Kit's contact smiled. "People in our line are always careful, or we're flogged, hanged, or worse. You can rely on us." 

"I know." 

The group gathered and realized that Alistair had slipped off from the Cathedral. Dame Brionna was nearly apoplectic, but without any idea of where he had gone, there was little they could do to keep him safe. As best as they could figure, he had slipped off nearly a half-hour earlier, while the rest of the group had worked to secure Princess Cecilia, gather the orichalcum they needed to protect against warpstone, and organized the defense against skaven attacks. The best they could do was to prepare to meet the rat-ogre, so she resolutely gathered a group of Archducal Guards and led them out into the great square. While the crowd was greatly diminished, hundreds of people still thronged outside the cathedral. And all of them began screaming when an enormous creature, perhaps twenty feet tall, with the face and claws of a rat but the muscles of an ogre or a giant, smashed up through one of the sewer grates. The rat-ogre clawed its way through the crowd on the steps of the Cathedral and slammed through the great doors into the sanctuary.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair rushed into the center of Sir Derrick Brightspan's headquarters and threw off the cloak of invisibility. "Marshal Brightspan! The City is under attack. A small skaven army, led by four great beasts, is in the center of the sewers. You must send a force to destroy it immediately. I came personally because there was no time for delay." 

Almost before Alistair had finished speaking, Sir Derrick was yelling out commands. "Organize my personal guard! We ride to battle!" 

Alistair held up a hand. "No, Marshal, not you personally this time. You are the target of one of their assassins. There will be plenty of opportunities for you to fight the skaven later, but for now we cannot expose any of the targets directly. I need you to come with me as we gather up some of the other targets. Call for your mage; we'll need to teleport to save time." 

Sir Derrick frowned. Not rushing to the front chafed against his sense of duty. But with a great effort of will, he nodded and quickly gave a subordinate orders to plan the sewer attack and called for his mage. 

"I'll also need you to send a detachment-- at least a company and better a regiment-- to defend Midwife Burry Hairytoes. She's the High Priestess of Gunnora and another one of the Skaven targets." 

Sir Derrick passed on that command as well, as Throckmorton Daresworthy, his archmage, entered the command tent. The archmage's eyes lit up as he saw Lord Alistair-- one ray of force and the Duke of Brightspan's fondest wish would be granted. But as he began to raise his hands, Sir Derrick scowled. "No, not that. The Prince is organizing our battle against the skaven. We will obey his commands loyally." 

"Very well, my lord," the archmage replied, desire warring in his eyes with duty. 

Alistair smiled with both relief that he had not walked into his death and awareness that he had won Sir Derrick's loyalty. "We must teleport to the Seneschal. He is one of the other targets." 

"Step close, my lord, your highness," said Throckmorton. Moments later, they reappeared in the Seneschal's chambers. Mere seconds after Alistair ordered the Seneschal to move to a safer position within the palace, the sounds of the rat-ogre erupted from the square below.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair, Sir Derrick, and Throckmorton charged across the square directly into the battle already raging within the cathedral's sanctuary. Several church guards fought desperately to prevent the rat-ogre from reaching and defiling the high altar, while Marcus summoned celestial bison that charged, nostrils flairing, into the rat-ogre. Meanwhile, virtually every swing by the rat-ogre crushed one of the cathedral guards or one of the Archducal Guards that Dame Brionna had led into the battle. 

Alistair and Sir Derrick charged into battle. Although Alistair hung back a little, swinging his spiked chain, the rat-ogre sniffed at them and then focused its attacks on him, smashing him brutally. Alistair barely withstood the first assault, knowing that if it attacked him again he would surely die and that it was single-mindedly focused on him, ignoring the much more effective attacks of Sir Derrick. 

Throckmorton unleashed his most potent attack spell, and a prismatic spray arched above his allies and bathed the rat-ogre in indigo light. The other combattants continued to stab at the rat-ogre, but its huge form seemed almost impervious to harm. Kit tumbled around behind the rat-ogre, nicely flanking it with Sir Derrick. 

As the rat-ogre attacked again, the insanity brought on by the prismatic spray served its purpose. Rather than surely killing Alistair, it first destroyed the terrestrial form of one of the celestial bison, and then landed a brutal blow on Sir Derrick's head, shattering his jaw but almost miraculously not killing him. Sir Derrick staggered as if punch-drunk, and then perhaps forgetting that he was not surrounded by his own soldiers called out, "I'm still fighting, it hasn't gotten me yet. Fight on, fight on!" Seconds later, the field marshall matched words with action. 

Kit tried to stab at the rat-ogre, but everything went wrong. She slipped on a patch of blood and stabbed her rapier into her own foot, discharging a spray of poison in the process. But that paled in comparison to where her momentum carried her, directly into the backswing of the rat-ogre's dreadful axe. The axe smashed into her torso and sank deeply, scattering blood and viscera around the cathedral. Dame Katherine slumped to the ground, dead before she landed.


----------



## Quartz

Ooh! Good thing she's in a temple, hopefully with a high priest or two around.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna watched Kit's death, but maintained her focus on the battle.  In order for Lord Alistair to be safe, not to mention the cathedral and the many devout warriors who defended it, the rat-ogre had to die.  Dame Brionna charged the length of the nave on her warhorse, smiting the rat-ogre with a mighty blow of her lance as she rode past.  She wheeled her horse around the high altar, couched her lance, and charged again.  On each pass, the mounted guards with her charged as well, although with substantially less effect.

The group continued pounding on the rat-ogre, and between its confusion from the prismatic spray, the devastating spells of the archmage, Sir Derrick's devastating blows, the celestial bison, and the attacks of many weaker warriors, including both our heroes and the guards they brought, the rat-ogre finally collapsed. 

Alistair rushed over to Kit's body, but she was completely dead. He turned to the Dean, tears in his eyes. "Can you bring her back? I never meant to bring my friends into danger..." 

The Dean nodded. "Of course, your highness. Bring her over to the high altar. I'll raise her there." 

Leaving Kit in the hands of those who could still help her, Alistair threw an arm around the shoulders of Marshal Brightspan and walked with him to the doors of the cathedral. They held aloft their weapons in triumph, and the crowd roared. Their faces were bloody, they bore many wounds-- but the forces of Canberry and Glor'diadel stood victorious.


----------



## Ladybird

Quartz said:
			
		

> Ooh! Good thing she's in a temple, hopefully with a high priest or two around.




Now that Kit's fate has been resolved in the Story Hour, I can say that yeah, that was the first thing that went through my mind when she died, too.

Actually, no, it was the third. The first was "Argh! I hate my dice!" The second was, "Alas for those old-school critical failure tables..." And the third was, "Whew. Well, at least she's in a place where she can get raised."


----------



## Orichalcum

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> The group continued pounding on the rat-ogre,





Just for the record, said pounding included a number of glorious charges by Dame Brionna on a warhorse down the nave of the cathedral, each time dealing grievous harm and smiting evil to the ogre with her lance before wheeling at the altar, turning, and repeating ad mortem. ad mortem ogrensis, that is, not Brionnae. 

Not that Alistair noticed.


----------



## Ladybird

Orichalcum said:
			
		

> ad mortem ogrensis, that is, not Brionnae.




I think 'Ad Mortem Ogrensis' should totally be the motto on Brionna's coat of arms


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Sorry, Orichalcum.  See, the reason it got omitted was that Alistair was too busy trying to stay alive in a battle where he was hopelessly outclassed but couldn't retreat for political reasons, and being traumatized by the death of a woman he lo.. lo... likes a whole lot to notice.  Or more accurately, because CP is a doofus, especially since Orichalcum made this comment on a rough draft, and I promised to fix it and then didn't.  Oops.  I've added a paragraph about it now.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The next morning, Kit visited a knight of the Archduchess who had left a message for her. Dame Esmerelda of the Deeping Wood gestured for her to come in to the organized office. "I am your predecessor as the Mouth to the guilds. I intend to follow the old traditions, when the Archduchess passes. The church has never accepted those traditions, and I do not think the Archduchess would approve, but I will do as I think I should, as my predecessor did before me." Kit swallowed hard as she realized that Dame Esmerelda was calmly discussing her suicide. "But when I became the Mouth, I was handicapped by not knowing what my predecessor had. I do not wish you to have a similar impediment. 

"You will serve two functions; you are only aware of the first. You will also be the spymaster. I have heard that your relationship with the Prince is also personal. Should that change, you must remain loyal to the Kingdom. The Prince and the Kingdom will depend on you too much-- more than they will ever know." 

"I understand. I hope that Alistair and I can remain happy, but I'll do what I need to do however things turn out." 

"Good. See that you do. On to the substance. You will be reported to by four groups. You will never be reported to by the military intelligence, so you must place your own agents there. The military is very jealous of its intelligence. The largest group of your agents is in Hanal, which will be the largest threat, and within your lifetime, unless Hanal and Masque fight each other. The Squire of Panal Valley is our permanent spymaster within the Empire of Hanal. He is not the man he once was, but he is loyal to us. His son will replace him; no one has realized that we replaced him twenty years ago, and no one will realize now. There are cells throughout Hanal but not in the Royal Household, but the Iron Bitch does not move without the consent of at least thirty of the Councillors. Queen Thyastis has determined to not attack the Forest of Singing Leaves although that was originally planned. She intends it to be a human empire and has already eliminated the hobbitish farmers of the upper peninsula. 

"The second major group has been infiltrated into the orc tribes to the west. Their is a great struggle for succession between Throb, son of Tonguegnasher, and Knee-ripper. Throb is slightly more sane and more moderate. That will be an advantage of Hanal moving further south. 

"The third major portfolio is from the eastern barbarians. They are united under a warleader again; they call him a khan. The Bear and the Dog have united for the first time in twenty years, but I expect a major assault at endyear. The military knows to expect the raids in the next few months, but not that they plan to attack at endyear. 

"The final portfolio of external spying relates to the Archbarony of Ecsilias and the City of Enclaves. They are no military threat, but the trade is too important to not study. Nothing important has happened there lately; the Archbishop of Ecsilias recently passed on. It's believed to be natural, but Sir Jervon of the Screaming Lance, our agent there, believes that it may have been poison. 

"The second half is your counterintelligence. A half-dozen Hanal spies have recently been captured. The royal family must never know our methods. Amelia would never have approved, and your Prince must not know either. Counterintelligence indicates that while Hanal does not view us in the short-run as anything but a trade partner, Masque has agents in the lower class. They may want more trade, but they may also wish to recruit mercenaries for their Order of the Vulture.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

"Your second position as Mouth is dealing with the Guilds. The arrangement has always been that as long as they did not rob the abjectly poor, and did not take all from others, they are permitted to operate with only routine police operations against them, in exchange for their unswerving loyalty to the Crown. Most nations of the world believe that Canberry does not have a Guild, but we do, and we have a small branch of the Black Guild. I have used them three times. I considered having the Duke of Brightspan assassinated-- that would have been my fourth. Most nobles do not know that the Black Guild exists; they are used more often by the merchant families. The infighting among the merchants as the trade has shrunk after the fall of the Southern Kingdoms has become vicious. This is why all the merchant clans have access to the guard. I believe there to be only a half-dozen of the Black Guild here in the city, but that's enough.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Can you recommend a scribe who is completely discrete and knows what you've told me?"

"I can send you mine."

Kit thought for a moment. "How did you get your position?"

"I was a friend of Amelia's from when she was an adventurer as a young woman. When her father was dying and we hurried home, after her brother's death racing horses... I had to rebuild from scratch. The previous Mouth was also a follower of the old ways; he did not speak with me before he passed."

"Thank you for all of your help. Are you sure about your decision?"

Dame Esmerelda smiled. "I've served the Archduchy long enough, my dear. After Amelia passes... I will do the one last service that I owe to her, and then be done. Best that you not think on it. You can't persuade me, and you have much work ahead of you."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Meanwhile, Jet stared stormily at the remains of the wine bottle. "How dare he send poison into my kitchen. We'll see about that..." He went out to the hall and signalled for a page. "Could you ask the wine steward to come here? I wish to consult with him about the proper wines to match with the Prince's dinner." 

"Very good, sir. I'll run and fetch him." The page pulled at his forelock and then took off at something just below a run. 

A few minutes later, the wine steward, a somewhat portly, balding gentleman, walked into Jet's kitchen. "Good day. I understand you wanted to discuss..." The wine steward lost the ability to speak due to the sudden appearance of a giant constrictor snake that wrapped itself around him. Before he could react further, Jet smacked him across the back of his head with his sword, and he slumped unconscious. 

"Thank you, Marcus, that worked well. And we even got him alive like Dame Brionna and Lord Alistair asked." 

Marcus dismissed his snake and cast another spell. He frowned. "There's definitely some sort of magical effect on his torso. I'm not certain what it is. I think we'd best have the Archmaga look at him before we try asking any questions." 

The Archmaga Lady Constance Deepingwell came down to the Prince's chambers. After examining the steward briefly, she cast a series of careful spells and drew a long cylinder out of his back. She carefully tucked the cylinder into an extradimensional space. "Quite a nasty piece of work. Designed to messily fragment through his spine if magically triggered. Very lethal, but very hard to deal with in advance. You did well to find it." 

"Thank you for your assistance, Lady Constance," Alistair replied. "I think we can handle his interrogation from here. But I did want to ask if you could assist in another way. My half-brother Dridall is a tiefling. He had been coerced into plotting against me and may still be used to try to topple the Archduchy, but I would very much like to avoid harming him. At the same time, I can't really trust his word. Is his fiendish blood sufficient to allow you to bind him? It would be convenient if an oath of his to support my inheritance could be made to compel him." 

"How strong is the fiendish bloodline?" 

"We believe his mother was a succubus." 

Lady Constance nodded. "I should be able to bind him easily then. Even without his consent it would be possible; if he willingly agrees to an oath, I will have no difficulty holding him to it." 

"Thank you, Lady Constance."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

With those matters taken care of, Dame Brionna awakened the steward. 

"What's happening? Where did that snake come from? Why am I tied..." The wine steward slowly stopped his gibbering. 

Dame Brionna glared at him. "We know who you were working for, and we know what you put in the wine. We also know that the device the ratmen planted in you would have killed you to silence your tongue if we hadn't removed it. So are you going to stay loyal to a group of rats that would rather kill you then rescue you, or are you going to help us?" The wine steward blinked for a few moments. Dame Brionna cleared her throat. "I suggest you decide quickly. If I let our cook take out his anger on you for trying to poison food in his kitchen, I don't think you would last very long." 

"I didn't know that the potion was poisonous," the wine steward protested. He looked around at the unsympathetic faces. "I suppose there isn't much choice. I didn't, though. I never knew much of what was going on... didn't even know for sure it was the ratmen, although I guess it makes some sense. I was just hired by a rat-faced boy... he paid me a lot of good money, and asked me to take care of a few things. I never got the money I deserved, and if half of what they say about the Prince is true, things were just going to get worse..." He trailed off as he thought a little bit more about who he was speaking to. "So he gave me some silvery potions, asked me to put it in a few things; a bottle of wine for the Prince, and I used a fine vintage, with a very complex, full-bodied taste..." 

"Where else did you put the silver potions?" 

"I sprinkled some over all the beef in the main larder." 

"When?" 

"Probably a day or two ago." 

Jet whistled. "Good thing we'd already switched to a private supply of food..." 

"Where else did you put potions?" Dame Brionna continued. 

"In the great urns next to the high throne. That's where he wanted it, but I don't even know what those urns are for." 

"I do," replied Alistair. "At the highest, most formal occasions, incense is burned in those urns. He meant the potion to be dispersed in the smoke during the coronation, with me right between the two urns, and I suppose the Archbishop of the Sun standing right next to me." 

"If you say so." 

"Did you have any other orders?" Dame Brionna asked. 

"Yes. I was also supposed to sprinkle some powder around the Prince's chambers. Didn't get a chance to-- it's probably still in my pouch. I figured I'd take care of that after talking with the cook about the wine, but... well, you know what happened." 

"What does the powder do?" 

"Like I said, I don't know what any of it did. They didn't tell me, I didn't ask." 

"Who were they? Who did you work with?" 

"I only worked with two of them. Never saw the rat-faced boy again after he hired me; I got the rest of my messages through Guenivieve, the salad cook, and Anna, a scullery maid. They came and did something with Anna one night, but I don't know what. I was supposed to help Anna get in to see the Prince; they hoped to catch his eye with her. Don't know what went wrong-- she was a real looker. But we just couldn't get you" he nods towards Jet "to even think about taking her into the Prince's kitchen, and we never got him to even see her." 

Jet and Dame Brionna shared a smile at their foresight, while Alistair blanched slightly, all too aware of how easily their plan could have succeeded. 

Alistair signalled to Abigail. "Run and tell the guard outside to gather a squad and have all of the beef in the main larder condemned as poisoned, by my orders. Remind him to have any meat that's currently cooking condemned as well. After he's done that, he's to knock out Guenivieve, the salad cook, and Anna, one of the scullery maids. We want to interrogate them, so we need them both alive."


----------



## Quartz

Umm... who's Jet?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Jet is another PC, played by Obezyanchik (the GM in "The Cheyenne Mountain Irregulars" storyhour).  Jet joined the group relatively late, and has only been in a few sessions.  The other PCs first met him in Cobbleford, although unfortunately that's the part where the storyhour skips forward so he's not actually introduced there.  The first appearance in the storyhour is in http://www.enworld.org/showpost.php?p=2814008&postcount=47 .  Jet is a retired soldier turned cook, and has been appointed as personal cook for Alistair, partly because we didn't trust anyone else to cook our food in the current environment.   Jet's been around for the last several posts, but hasn't gotten a lot of screen time for a variety of reasons.  (I also think that Jet's player may have been in and out in this game, so that he appears in some sections and then not in others for that reason, but I don't remember for sure.  )


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna pressed the steward further. "Did they have you do anything else?" 

"I opened up the sewer doors in the third cellar below the root bins. I took the keys from the Seneschal-- he's mostly blind, y'know-- and unlocked them." 

"Did anything come through those doors?" 

"Not yet, I don't think. It's all planned for the Archduchess's death, from what the others said." 

After a few more questions to make sure that was everything, the group turned the steward over to another guard and began heading towards the kitchen. While en route, a shattering boom sounded from in front of them, and the group broke into a run. The kitchen was in chaos by the time they arrived. Blood covered parts of the floor, and several bodies were laid out on the slate, while the uninjured tended to many wounded. 

Dame Brionna spotted the guard from outside Alistair's chambers. "What happened?" 

"I'm sorry, Captain. I tried to follow the Prince's orders. We were careful to get the drop on Guenivieve and to take her alive, like he said, but the other one must have seen what was happening. She just exploded... it was awful." 

"You did what you could, Guardsman. Did you secure the condemned meat?" 

"Yes, Captain. Most of it was set aside for a coming feast, so I don't think anyone had eaten it. And the only other meat that had been taken out was for the Coven's creatures, and they're not likely to be poisoned, are they?"


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Without waiting to ask any further questions, the group took off at a run towards the Royal Coven. By the time they arrived, a huge battle raged. A group of devils, clearly uncontrolled, battled against the magi of the coven. Dame Brionna burst in the chambers just in time to see one of the devils, which had backed a group of magi into a corner, bite the head of one of the magi clean off. Without hesitating, Dame Brionna flung a piece of orichalcum at that devil, and it disappeared in a huge explosion of bright yellow-gold flames. One of the four magi it had trapped was completely incinerated by the blast, but the other three lived thanks to her quick response. 

Within a few more minutes, the room finally quieted. The carnage was terrible, and the bleak sense of loss on the faces of Lady Deepingwell and the other magi made it difficult to even look at them. Every one of the devils that ate the contaminated meat had broken free of her control. And of the twenty-five other members of the coven, twelve had died. Some would be raisable, but others, such as the promising young mage whose head the devil had swallowed, or the other wizard incinerated by the blast from the orichalcum, were beyond even that. Dame Brionna explained what had happened, and Lady Deepingwell confirmed that warpstone could break the bindings on devils. She also identified the white powder the steward had been given as concentrated disease, which she quickly destroyed. With a heavy heart, the group left the coven to deal with its own repairs and to mourn its dead. Ultimately, six of the dead were restored to life, but even their return did little to blunt the loss. 

While returning to Alistair's chambers, the group was rejoined by Kit, who had a slightly disoriented Princess Cecilia in tow. As they returned to the apartment, Dame Brionna explained the morning's events to Kit, and then stopped before entering. "Oh! And there's an entrance to the sewers in the third root cellars that's open, that I haven't had time to deal with!" 

"That's what my people are for," Kit replied. 

"You have people?" 

"Yes. They'll take care of it."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair smiled at the Princess. "We're very glad to see that you're safe, Aunt Cecilia." 

"Oh, hello, Alistair dear," Princess Cecilia said. She looked back and forth between Alistair and Kit. "Oh, that's who she is. Your special friend came to find me after that nice young man in the sewers insisted that I return to the palace." She smiled at Kit. "Don't worry, dear. He cares about you very much. And the two of you will have an easy time with children, when you want to..." 

Kit boggled for a moment. Then comprehension dawned. Ah, she thought. That's why one of the Archduchess's children never married... 

Cecilia nodded absently at her. "Oh, I suppose that made you a little uncomfortable. They always did get a little uncomfortable when I was about in social events. All these things are just so obvious to me... I forget that not everyone can see them. And some people get upset when they're mentioned." 

"Umm, don't worry about it, Princess," said Kit. "But why were you in the sewers, anyway?" 

"There are more ratmen there. I found the one assassin as he was sneaking into my room and trapped him in my closet. But there are others, and not everyone can see them like I can, you know." 

Dame Brionna stiffened. "You trapped one in your closet? Is it still alive?" 

"I expect so. Plenty of air in there. I don't think it realized that the closet doesn't permit extradimensional travel out-- can't have thieves teleporting in among one's private things, you know." 

Dame Brionna gestured for one of the disguised bone devils to go to retrieve the skaven assassin. 

"Aunt Cecilia... I'd like to take you to meet the entire palace household staff. Ostensibly, of course, this will be for my benefit. But that's the best way for us to identify the remainder of the ratmen. We have to deal with them quickly." 

After a few quick orders, the entire palace staff was assembled for inspection, each group gathered in and around its own work area. The group worked its way rapidly through the staff, accompanied by Princess Cecilia, a group of guards, and the disguised bone devils. The examination started with the kitchen staff; with Guenivieve and Anna already dealt with, Princess Cecilia looked over the rest of the kitchen staff without any reaction. In the next group, however, she gestured at one of the servants. "Arrest him. He has been spying on us for Hanal." The guards quickly hauled him off. In the next group, she again gestured. "Arrest him. A skaven spy." She then pointed at another. "And dismiss him from our service. He is a bad man, who has been lying and cheating on his wife." In the fourth group, the Seneschal's aides, she simply said, "Kill him."


----------



## Baron Opal

Of course, you vetted Aunt Cecelia to ensure that she wasn't barking mad before she started giving out orders for summary executions...

I think I missed a part somewhere.


----------



## Quartz

Yes. The earlier posts flowed together much better; the past few days have been rather disjointed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

To the Baron:  It's true, checking would have been a good thing to do.  I think we mostly relied on what we had been told by the Skree and on the fact that she clearly had been able to defeat the assassin sent after her.  As you'll see in a moment, her judgment was validated rather quickly.  (I'm not sure that we had been planning for her to hand out summary execution orders, as opposed to identifying people for further investigation.  She just did.)

Re: the disjointedness:  that's partly a result of my efforts to reproduce a rather frenetic session.  We had the feeling at this point of being totally overwhelmed with all the fires we had to put out, running from one to another at a breakneck pace.  I may have also chosen less than ideal break points.

And now...
------
The man she gestured at leapt forward and a set of darts arched out from his elbows at Princess Cecilia. One of the guards reacted almost instantly, flinging himself in front of the princess. The darts embedded themselves in the guard; he twitched momentarily, and then his entire body dissolved into goo. Several other guards and one of the bone devils were killed bringing down the skaven assassin.

Alistair looked at the disintegrated guard. "For the rest of these, maybe you could be a little bit more subtle about pointing them out, Aunt Cecilia. I'd rather they not have the chance to do that."

"Oh... I suppose that makes sense, dear."

By the time the search through the palace was finished, a few additional spies had been apprehended, one more from Hanal and several more skaven agents. She noted in passing that while the various spies were evil, the sense of chaos from them was much greater.

Having dealt with the infiltrators, the group escorted Princess Cecilia back to her chambers.

"Thank you for your assistance, Aunt Cecilia," Alistair said. "We would have been doomed without you."

"I'm always happy to help, my dear. And don't worry, I'll go back to my chambers so I don't create any problems for you by being in public. I know that sometimes I say things that upset people..."

"No, Aunt Cecilia. You will always be welcome in public at my court. We need your skills, and those of those like you, and if we have to hear the occasional secret, so be it."

"Oh, thank you, dear."

"Are there other members of the family who have the sight? We need to preserve it."

"There are, although your line has none of it. But some of your cousins... The sight is not gone from us yet. A few more generations of those of us with it not marrying and it will be."

"We'll have to make sure that all of those who have the sight have the opportunity, at least, to marry, and if possible to others with similar abilities. Things are probably easiest when one member of a couple does not need to deal with the other's occasional over honesty."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The group returned to Alistair's chambers, where the bone devil had disarmed and bound the skaven assassin that Princess Cecilia had trapped.

Alistair stood before the assassin. "Since you have failed in your mission, the best that you can do is to terrify us by explaining your plans," he said, invoking a spell of suggestion.

The ratman hissed. "Terror indeed. Your destruction is at hand."

"How many assassins were sent? Who are their targets?"

"Six made the long march north. One targets Alistair at the time of ascension; one targets the Archbishop of the Sun; and one targets the leader of the Hidden Faith, the Faith of the Fields, the Little People. They are fat and will make good meals. One targets the righteous son of an unrighteous man; one is sent for the head of the Royal Coven; and one for the ruler's aunt."

"Who was your target? Did you have a secondary target?"

"I was sent after the ruler's aunt. After I had slain her, or if she escaped, I was to turn after the Seneschal or the Ambassador from Hanal."

"We slew the rat-ogre, but the other great monsters are still at large. Why did they not attack?"

"The rat-wolves will be released for the final target, the Prince, coming with the dogs of the Earl of Caldra."

"We know that some of the assassins look like humans, but some like you match the true form of ratmen. How many of each are there?"

"Three have taken the long walk. The others move unseen in the shadows, even by the half-breed spies. One was placed here..." The ratman stopped talking and its beady eyes narrowed. "You have ensorcelled me! I betray the Horned Rat!"


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair cast a new suggestion, "With what you have said, there is no harm in you continuing." 

The ratman glared at him for a second and then at long last nodded again. "One of the others on the long walk was placed close to the leader of the Farm Faith, and has a secondary target. If it fails, it is to seek out and kill the ranking priest of Dain who has entered the city, made to look like an act of treason by the Archduchy. The final one has been insinuated in as a priest in the Archbishop's household. We had to kill an existing priest and then use the stone to absorb his memories. He will strike once the old woman dies, to prevent the Prince from being crowned." 

"How could we recognize him?" Dame Brionna asked. 

The ratman shrugged. "He has fat cheeks." 

"How does the ratman targetting the head of the coven plan to strike?" 

"Following two routes. First by releasing the devils through warpstone in the meat supply, but if the devils fail, then the assassin will try directly, or switch to targetting the Prince." 

"Are there other skaven besides the assassins in the City?" 

"There is a Skree lord, but he is a traitor. He wishes to meet with the Prince, but we have not been able to find him to kill him. We but hope that the Prince's people will kill him for us. Of the Eshen warbands, two of the bands did not survive the crossing, but were killed by Brightspan. We would have had fifty warriors and two more assassins if they had made it. Only two warbands made it, providing about twenty-five warriors. It may have been a mistake to approach the Duke directly, but we knew he was disloyal and thought we could enlist his support." 

"What of Dridall's family? Are they still human? Where are they held?" 

"Dridall's family is still human; Muldar has odd ideas of honor. There is a Muldar compound with Eshen guards. Nearly at the border, in what used to be the city of Gettings, where they alter the slaves for infiltration. Most die; few can be changed, even though Muldar can change anything." 

"Infiltration? Infiltration where?" 

"Most were sent east to convince the barbarian tribes to attack." 

"What of the other human lands around here? Did you target them as well?" 

The ratman nodded. "We have our plans to take the Twin Cities of the Gates. We intended to take that pass by force, using the skaven warriors and slaverats. We must expand to avoid stripping the land. We have starved before and do not wish to starve again. We were going to start by taking one of the cities, which we could do with ease, but now that they have pulled back their troops and started purging rats, it may be a losing call. We have some agents there, but their rulers will not listen to reason." 

The questioning continued but produced little additional information.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna looked at her comrades. "Since the other two assassins disguised as humans are targetting the high priests, we should make them our next priority. Saving the Archbishop of the Sun should be our first task. After all, he is the highest representative of the state church, and also if he died, a coronation would be impossible until the consecration of his successor." 

Kit shook her head. "But the skaven said they would time the attack on him for after Alistair's grandmothers death. The halfling priestess may be in danger before then." 

"I agree with Kit," said Alistair. "Besides, if the Archbishop of the Sun were killed, the people would probably rally around the House of Canberry. But if the high priestess of Gunnora were murdered and it was blamed on us, it might turn the people against us. Based on what we've heard, the assassin in the Archbishop's entourage is probably this Father Giorgio. So let's send some guards to seize him and to defend the Archbishop while we go with Aunt Cecilia to find the assassin lurking near Midwife Burry." 

The group quickly reached Midwife Burry's large, but not ostentatious, home. The halfling matron herself answered the knock on the door. "Oh! I had hoped to meet with you, Lord Alistair, but I hadn't expected you to come here unannounced. Come in, come in..." 

"This isn't a social call," Dame Brionna informed the halfling, as a group of guards established a defensive perimeter around the high priestess. Because of the difference in size between the little priestess and the guards, any attack would literally have to have gone through them to reach her. "One of your attendants has been replaced with a skaven assassin." 

The remainder of the guard swept through Midwife Burry's house, which was fortunately scaled for humans for the occasions when she assists in the difficult birth of a human child. After a few moments, Princess Cecilia gestured at an unusually thin halfling. "She's the one!" 

The guards rushed forward, tackling the midwife to the floor in an effort to take the skaven alive. But before they could knock it unconscious, it simply exploded. Several guards, as well as two other halflings who simply had the misfortune of being too close, died in the blast. 

"We regret having to bring such pain to a house of healing, Midwife Burry," said Alistair. "Still, it would be best if you came with us. They may send another assassin to replace the one that failed." 

"Yes... I probably should. I never would have thought that the ratmen would have realized that we were a threat to them..." 

As they made their way back to the palace, Dame Brionna approached the Gunnoran high priestess. "Do you do matchmaking, as well as midwifery?" 

"Of course. Are you seeking a husband, Dame Knight?" 

"No. My fiance was taken by slavers, but I still hope he will return. I was thinking of Lord Alistair. The main candidates for his hand that we have heard discussed are the Duke of Brightspan's daughter and the daughter of Queen Thyastis of Hanal. Do you have any thoughts?" 

"Oh, my. I often act as a matchmaker, but rarely for such a lofty marriage." The halfling priestess paused in thought. "Neither of those matches is at all suitable. They would kill him as soon as a child was born to the marriage. Queen Thyastis's daughter has been through six lovers, none of them still alive. As for Brightspan, while he would welcome the marriage, he would count the days until he could be regent for an infant grandson. 

"I think either a daughter of one of the Kings of the Cities of Gates or maybe the daughter of King Erich of Stormwall. King Erich was the last surviving monarch of the Confederacy of the South Kingdoms; he acted as a ruler for all of the refugees, and tried to defend them, until the slavers killed him a few years ago. None of his children have been crowned as his successor, but his elder daughter is of marriageable age and would have a good claim to rule over all the refugees. But the best match is probably with the Princess from the Cities of the Gates. Her family is very wealthy and would get Canberry control of another pass. They also have eight Field Armies, more than a little reason for a marriage of state in troubled times. And she's supposed to be a nice girl, for all that she's very young; they say she's as quiet as a mouse."


----------



## Baron Opal

Well, well.

I think Lord Alistair should marry a daughter of King Erich. Yes, that would be most suitable, I think.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

King Erich's daughter definitely looks like a strong possibility.  We haven't actually gotten to meet her yet, though, so for all we know she's an insane Borsh'tro worshipper.  But it does have such good political possibilities...

-------
A wounded young guard met the group at the palace gates. "Dame Brionna! We attacked Father Giorgio in the Archbishop's entourage, and he was indeed a ratman assassin. We slew the assassin, but not before several guards and a few of the priests were slain. The Archbishop is safe." 

"Good work," replied Dame Brionna. "Have your wounds attended to. You've done well. You've surely saved the Archbishop's life and may have saved the Archduchy." 

"Thank you, Captain." Her words brightened him up. He never noticed the grimace on Alistair's face as he thought about the terrible butcher's bill of the last few days. 

Back in Alistair's chambers, the group discussed what to do about the Duke of Brightspan. 

"You can't possibly marry his daughter now," said Kit. "It won't do much good, and it might get you killed." Dame Brionna nodded vigorously as well. 

"I know. From what we know, he's turned his heir-apparent against us already, but we don't think his grandsons are hostile yet, right?" asked Alistair. When the others nodded, he continued. "I think it's time we honored the boys with positions as my pages. We'll give similar positions to the future heirs of the other duchies as well. They won't be able to refuse the honor, but it will still mean that the future Duke of Brightspan will grow up in our household, not theirs, and will end up loyal to Canberry." 

"An excellent idea, Lord Alistair," said Dame Brionna. "And Kit, you might suggest that Abigail make friends with the Brightspan pages." 

Kit nodded. "I like it. If anything fishy starts happening, Abigail would let me know right off." 

The Chancellor entered and interrupted. "Your highness. The Archduchess has slipped into sleep. The priests do not expect her to awaken." 

Alistair slumped in his chair, the weight of both his sorrow and the heavy burdens he would soon assume pressing on his shoulders. 

Kit squeezed his hand, drawing a slight smile. "I'm sorry. She was a very special lady, and I wish I had known her better." 

"Thank you. I wish so, too." Alistair faced the Chancellor. "Thank you for telling me. Inform me immediately if she awakens. Otherwise, just let me know when it's finished." 

"Of course, your highness. I will leave you to your mourning, while I prepare for my own."


----------



## Quartz

Is Alistair having any of these guards Raised? It would be good from the loyalty POV.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I'm actually a little vague on the answer to that, Quartz.  I certainly agree with you, although raising people isn't cheap (in either magic or in components).  I don't recall any specific comments about it in this case, although "raise those you can" is a fairly common request from Alistair to the high church people.  Also, of course, many people choose to stay in heaven rather than wanting to come back, so...

-----
Before the Chancellor left, the Seneschal entered. "Your highness. A messenger from the Duke of Brightspan has arrived. His Grace the Duke has entered the city. Also, His Grace wishes to inform you that a small force of skaven have attempted to pass surreptitiously into Canberry City." 

"Nice," said Kit bitterly. "He sends us a message once he arrives, so he can claim that he did his duty, but doesn't send it magically or by a fast courier to give the skaven as much chance to succeed before he arrives as possible. Real nice." 

Alistair held up a hand as the Chancellor and the Seneschal began to leave. "Wait. Tell me, do you and the other high officers intend to follow the old tradition?" 

The Seneschal looked at, or because of his poor eyesight near, the Chancellor, who squared his shoulders and faced Alistair. "We do, your highness. It is the last duty that we owe to the Archduchess we served so long." 

"I suppose that pointing out that the Church condemns it, and that neither my grandmother nor I approve, won't make a difference?" 

"This duty is older than the Church in Canberry. We can but hope that Glor'diadel will forgive us for attending to our duty to the Archduchess before we attend to His teachings." 

"Then let me ask a boon of you. I merely ask, because I know that you would disobey me if I tried to order you. These are troubled times for Canberry, and a civil war may still be fought over the succession. It would be much easier if you helped through the succession. Can I ask you to serve at least six months and until it is clear that there will not be a civil war before you follow your duty?" 

The Chancellor and the Seneschal conferred privately. Finally, the Chancellor answered. "Very well, your highness. We will delay until it is clear that the threat of civil war has passed, but not longer than six months. And we will ask the other high officers who will follow the old tradition to do the same." 

"Thank you." 

The Chancellor nodded gravely, and they both left. 

A few minutes later the Seneschal returned. "His Grace the Duke of Furrows sends word that he approaches, along with the Sheriff of Cogswood." 

"The Duke of Furrows? The Earldom of Caldra is in that duchy," said Dame Brionna. 

"Ask his grace to attend on us in my main audience chamber upon his arrival, along with the sheriff," said Alistair. 

"Yes, your highness. You may also wish to know that his other principal vassals, the Earls of Caldra and Caligshire, arrived in Canberry City last night, but did not see fit to announce their arrivals to the palace." 

"All the more reason to meet with the Duke," said Kit. 

Before the Duke of Furrows reached the palace, the Seneschal returned twice, to announce the arrivals of the Duke of Furthings, with his entourage and major vassals, and the Duke of Westmarch, along with his entourage and vassals. 

After a few minutes, the Seneschal escorted a trio into the audience chamber. "Your highness, I present His Grace the Duke of Furrows, His Grace's sister, Lady Susan of Furrows, and the Sheriff of Cogswood." 

The Duke, an extremely elderly man, bowed formally to Alistair who returned the bow appropriately. "Your highness... Marquis Belconnen. I'm so sorry about your mother. But my, you look in astonishingly good health... I had so thought that you would look older by now."


----------



## Orichalcum

Baron Opal said:
			
		

> Well, well.
> 
> I think Lord Alistair should marry a daughter of King Erich. Yes, that would be most suitable, I think.




Dame Brionna is highly in agreement with you, both because she herself is a refugee from the southern kingdoms, and thus wants to promote their nobility, and because of a very bad feeling.

The Princess of the Gates, you see, is described as "quiet as a mouse." In a city which we know to have been infiltrated by skaven ratmen, who can absorb people's memories  and replace them. Maybe, Brionna hopes, she's just having a random anti-vermin prejudice.

But really, is it worth risking Alistair's health on? After all, the one place where she really can't protect him is behind closed doors with his wife on their wedding night. And it's hard enough bodyguarding a randy young nobleman like Alistair...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Susan, herself gray-haired but still vigorous, smiled apologetically. "That's the Marquis's son, your grace. Remember? You know that the Prince's father was killed fighting the Noldar." 

"Oh... yes. I had forgotten. A sad day indeed, your highness. You have my most earnest condolences. And to face another loss so soon..." 

"Thank you, your grace." Alistair paused. "Tell me, your grace... are you aware of any Noldar in or near your lands?" 

"Noldar? I suppose the slavers might raid the refugees now and again, although not since your heroic..." Lady Susan whispered urgently in his ear, and a look of pain crossed the Duke's face again, as it had after the first correction. "I mean your father's heroic action against them. But even then, they did not come as far as Furrows. I haven't heard or seen any Noldar in Furrows in many years." 

"When did you last see one?" asked Kit. 

"Some fifty years ago, a small drowan entourage with a Noldar leader came to us, many years ago when I was younger. They wished to position a fortification-- they called it a scientific outpost, but that's what it was-- in our lands, but departed reluctantly when I refused. They also approached the Gate, and were refused there as well. I believe they finally built their outpost in the unclaimed mountain territories." 

"Do you know what House the Noldar was from, your grace?" 

"Yes... they were of the Aufaugauthalarim." 

"It's interesting you should mention the Noldar, your highness," the Sheriff of Cogswood said. "We haven't seen any Noldar, but the fallen elves were one of the things we thought you should know about. There have been more than a few shadow elves, spying in the woods near Caldra for the last few years. We've captured a few, but couldn't get answers to any of our questions. All the prisoners just died. The Earl of Caldra may have captured more, but... not that I would know of." 

Lady Susan nodded. "Caldra has become more withdrawn following their troubles, your highness. After banditry and assassinations among the squires and gentry, including the odd death of one of his best knights who exploded-- the Earl is rarely seen now, and does the bare minimum of his duty to His Grace. We haven't felt like pushing the issue for the past several years, as you may understand." 

"What of the Earl of Caligshire? We have heard that a renegade drow councillor, Drucilla, carries much influence there." 

"Drucilla?" the Duke of Furrows responded. "Lovely woman. Except when she talks about insects, mostly the eight-legged kind..." 

"I wouldn't say lovely," said Lady Susan. "Competent would be the word I would use. She's been present since the present earl was just a boy. He relies on her in all of his major decisions."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

"What of his choice to pass over his son?" asked Dame Brionna. 

Lady Susan pursed her lips. "A difficult matter. The son, Benedict, is clearly incompetent. It's almost as if he's insane. I don't see much choice there, but it will spell trouble later." 

Alistair nodded. "I do not wish to pry into your houses internal matters, but will your succession be smooth? His grace is not a young man." 

Lady Susan nodded. "My brother's eldest son predeceased him, one of several things that hastened his condition." The Duke simply looked confused as Lady Susan discussed him. "But he left behind two sons. My brother's eldest grandson has just been invested as a paladin. He's seventeen, but would be ready to assume his duties if he had to. His second grandson, Brendan, has not yet chosen much of anything. But he is only fourteen, and his primary talents so far are quite inappropriate." 

Alistair nodded, relieved. "I have a few other questions about Caligshire. What do you think about the earl's daughter?" 

Lady Susan responded directly, without waiting for the Duke to comment. "She's certainly more competent than Benedict. She's also close to Drucilla, of course." She frowned. "We also have had the opportunity to read a few letters that Cassandra has exchanged with Wade, the eldest son of the Lady Mayor of Canberry City. Based on the missives, they are courting. She is young, but not so that courtship is impossible, given her station. But Wade is only fourteen. I would not have thought that his mother would want him to think of such things for some more years. Still, it may just be the innocent interests of the heart. But then, he's rather far away, and a surprising object for a happenstance crush." 

"Thank you, Lady Susan. We'll look into that from here." said Kit. 

"If there are no other matters, my brother needs his rest." 

"Of course, Lady Susan. Thank you again for attending on us, your grace, Sheriff." 

After they left, Kit nodded. "Drucilla seems to fit our profile for a Noldar better and better. An albino renegade drow who just happens to set up in the same area that we know a Noldar is secretly active?" 

"I agree, especially with the Earl slipping quietly into the City without announcing his arrival. I just wish I understood the matter between Cassandra and Wade better. I guess we know what we need to investigate next." 

---End of Session 4

Ladybird will be taking over with the Storyhour duties for the next session, since I wasn't there and thus couldn't write up the Storyhour.  As a result, the last updated tag may not always be accurate, but I'll try to keep it up to date.


----------



## Quartz

More! More! And longer, please!


----------



## Ladybird

Here commences Session 5, which took place in February. As you'll see in upcoming episodes, there's quite a different cast of characters for this one. I can't promise to live up to the diligent posting schedule set by Cerebral Paladin, but I will do my best  Enjoy!

--
Two weeks after the death of Archduchess Amelia, the court of Canberry was still in mourning. Black draperies muted the gleaming white marble of the palace walls, and somber mourning clothes replaced the usual finery of the courtiers.

Kit didn’t mind. She preferred wearing black anyway.

And Kit was one of the few people at the court who had broken out of the endless cycle of memorials and prayers. Although she wished she could remain at Alistair’s side to comfort him – the new Archduke was already being noted for the sincerity of his grief at his grandmother’s passing, something rare in an heir who benefited so much at a relative’s death – Kit had other things to do.

“There are slavers at work in the south,” Dame Esmeralda said. For now, the small room next to the archducal audience chamber still belonged to the older knight, and provided a comfortable and private meeting place. “We’ve got a group of people heading out there, and you’re going to accompany them.”

”Aren’t there always slavers working south of the border, m’lady?”

Dame Esmeralda smiled at Kit’s quickness, but only a little – the Mouth had been as subdued as the rest of the court these last two weeks; perhaps even more so, since she had been so close to the Archduchess. “Yes. But these may be different ones. If they belong to the Sixth District, we want to know if they’re still active – but we think that these slavers may belong to a different group, perhaps even a non-Noldar group. They haven’t come too near to the border yet, but it’s still close enough that we want to know about it.”

Kit nodded, but a little more slowly this time. “Yes, ma’am,” she said carefully. “But…are you sure that _I’m_ the one who needs to go? I mean, if you need me to help fight slavers, I will, but…I think there are a lot of other things at court that need to be taken care of.”

Dame Esmeralda smiled again, with a knowing little lift of her eyebrows. “I understand that you’re reluctant to leave the prince – the Archduke’s side.” Her voice skipped a beat, as she corrected herself on Alistair’s new title. “But there are other things that I think you in particular need to investigate. First, even though the heir to Brightspan has been taken care of, and his father’s allegiance secured, there are still doubts about the loyalty of the rest of the family. You’ll be passing through the duchy of Brightspan on your way south of the border – check out the rest of the ducal family, and see if there are any other potential threats to Canberry.”

“Right.” Kit nodded firmly, her expression darkening a little at the memory of the previous assassination attempts on Alistair, and her mouth set into a determined line. “What else?”

“Farther south, in the refugee lands, there seem to be some people setting themselves up as nobles. They’re only the strong-man type of noble – might makes right, without any kind of governmental power or organization. Still, if they are going to be the new power base south of the border, we need to make sure that their loyalty is to _us_. You’re to investigate them, make sure of their loyalty, and place some agents within their boundaries – we will need continuing sources of information on these new nobles. You’re authorized to draw on 25,000 gold from the privy purse, in order to compensate your new agents.”

Kit’s eyes nearly popped out. “Twenty-five _thousand_?” she gasped, before she could stop herself. “I’ll be able to bribe the whole bloody south, and half the eastern barbarians besides!”

“Compensate,” Esmeralda corrected, an amused light dancing in her eyes, overcoming her subdued grief for a moment. “And really, it doesn’t go nearly as far as you think it does.”

“Um. Right.” Desperately struggling to regain her composure, Kit nodded, chattering hastily away. “Twenty-five – right. Compensating them all. Anything else to look for? As long as I’m in the neighborhood, you know?”

“That should be all,” Esmeralda said. “And of course, if you do happen to encounter any of the slavers, your group is authorized to use whatever force is necessary to defeat them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kit replied. “And report to you when I get back?”

“No, dear.” The Mouth’s smile was unusually gentle, and infinitely sad. “You should report to the Archduke. I won’t be here when you return.”

“Wait!” Kit burst out. “You mean that you – you’re really going to – while I’m _gone_!” Even though the Mouth had said many times that she would be following the old customs of Canberry, Kit had never really been able to bring herself to understand, or believe, that Dame Esmeralda would be committing suicide

“Yes,” Esmeralda said gently. “I’ve already taken longer than I should, but if I’d done it any sooner, my true position might have been suspected. Nobody is supposed to know who the Mouth is, and it would create suspicion if I acted at the same time as the other close advisors. As it is, I’ll just look like a loyal knight taking my place by my lady’s side. By the time you return – and you must return within two weeks, so that you will be back in time for the coronation – everything will be taken care of.”


----------



## Ladybird

When Kit returned to the palace atrium a short while later, a note from the treasury and an ornate bracelet of Sending tucked away in a well-hidden inside pocket, most of the rest of the party had already assembled. She was happy to see Jet among the group of people milling about – she knew that the mercenary/chef had been feeling restless amid all of the ceremonies and restrictions of court, and had been eager to get a chance to get away. She was even more happy to see Mother Honore – for a Glordiadelian priestess, Honore was all right: reliable, trustworthy, friendly, and even had a sense of humor. 

Honore was talking to another clergywoman – younger, more fragile, and with a pale exotic intensity about her, dressed in the robes of a Glordiadelian nun. “This is Sister Alessandre,” Honore said, ever polite and proper when making introductions. “And this is Kashan,” she continued, gesturing down to a halfling woman, “who will be assisting us with arcane matters. “Over there is Varya. . .”

“Where?” Kit interjected.

“There.” Honore drew Kit a little closer, and pointed discreetly to a ledge near the side of the atrium, on which rested…

“An _owl_?” Kit said incredulously, drawing a few stares of her own as her voice echoed around the atrium.

Honore lowered her own voice a little, and leaned in towards Kit to say confidentially, “Yes, Varya is an owl. She talks. Quite intelligently, too, in fact. I’m not sure of the entire story, but I have it on good authority that she will be helpful – she’s helped combat slavers in the past. And there’s also…” Honore trailed off, as the subject of her next bit of advisory discourse drew near. 

“Er,” Kit said, looking down at the unmistakable small scaly form of a kobold, and putting on the most polite and least bewildered smile that she could muster. “What’s your name?”

The kobold replied with a nearly unintelligible stream of clicks and trills. Kit looked at Honore, who gave her a small, apologetic smile in return. “He doesn’t speak much Common, I’m afraid. He’s very strongly opposed to slavery, though, from what we can tell.”

“Say that again?” Kit leaned down, cocking her head towards the kobold. Again, the string of clicking sounds and consonants. “Wait! That bit almost sounded like ‘Twang.’ Right. You don’t mind if we call you Twang, do you? We’ve got to call you something.”

The kobold – Twang – shrugged, and scampered back to the other side of the atrium, where it continued fussing over its small, flimsy traveling pack. Kit and Honore stayed where they were, looking with increasing apprehension at the odd, motley group.

“Pardon me,” broke in a strident male voice behind them. They turned to see a tall man, with the light armor and light step – they hadn’t heard him approaching – of someone who spends a great deal of time in the wilderness, but with a rigidly upright bearing. “I am Gyles Lennox, dispatched to help fight this scourge of slavers in the south. Who here is the one leading this expedition?” Kit and Honore glanced at each other uncertainly. “Who here is the ranking noble? That is the one to whom I must report.” 

Kit looked around. The mercenary. The two clergywomen. The kobold. The _owl_. She felt the odd, heavy weight in her pocket of the bracelet by which she would communicate with the capital, and the heavier weight of the sword at her side. She gulped.

“Um. That would be me. Dame Katherine of Lyneham. I – I guess I’m the leader.”


----------



## Ladybird

The easiest and safest launching point for an expedition into the lands south of the border of Canberry was from the city of Brightspan, capital of the duchy of the same name. And the easiest and safest way to get there was via teleport circle. One by one, the group stepped through the circle in the palace in Canberry – or flew, in Varya’s case – and stepped out almost instantaneously into a matching one in a tower just outside the city of Brightspan. 

A very young, very bewildered-looking page was the only other person in the room. He looked desperately around, as if hoping that someone else would appear to save him from the duty of dealing with the travelers who had so suddenly appeared in his presence – but no, he was the only one there. “Er. Um. Greetings? Um. Hello?” the page stammered. “I – we – er – welcome you to Brightspan? O noble travelers?” His eyes darted nervously from person to person, trying to figure out which was the proper one to address.

Kit was looking around at the others, too, waiting for one of them to reply – until she remembered that _she_ was the one who was supposed to be in charge. “Greetings,” she said, sidling through the crowd to face the befuddled page, and gave him a friendly, winning smile. “I’m Dame Katherine of Lyneham. We have been sent from the capital on an expedition by the Archduke to combat the slavers in the south. We request safe passage through the city. And, er, we apologize for appearing so quickly.”

“Aha!” came a triumphant voice behind the group. “Fighting slavers! _That_ is why Whimsy has sent me here!” The group turned slowly – Gyles and Kit with their hands creeping towards their swords – to see a tall thin man standing behind them, evidently having come through the teleport circle, although he hadn’t been with them in Canberry. He was dressed in flamboyantly ruffled clothes, wearing a huge plumed hat and the rainbow holy symbol of Whimsy, goddess of chaos. He also carried a long-barreled musket. (Gunpowder in the world of Aphonion only worked through the favor of the goddess Whimsy, but due to her nature, it often had unexpected and unpredictable effects. Also, unpredictable practitioners.) “I am Sir Toby, Musketeer of Whimsy!” the man declared, with a flourish of his gun that set the plume on his hat waving. “I go where the goddess sends me! And she has decided that today is a good day to fight slavers! Yesterday was a good day to eat cheese.”

It would hardly seem possible for the poor page to become _more_ bewildered, but the appearance of the Musketeer of Whimsy seemed to have done it. “Er.” the page faltered, as he turned back to Kit. “Would you be – er – wanting to see Her Ladyship, then, miss? Er, ma’am. Er, m’lady?”

Kit smiled even more sweetly at the page. “Oh, we would be _most_ appreciative of her ladyship’s hospitality.” Kit was getting her momentum back. _Keep talking_ she thought. _If I’m talking, he’s not asking questions, and not trying to figure out what we really want with Lady Brightspan_ “Please do apologize to her for our abrupt arrival.”

The page looked around again, a slight look of desperation in his eyes…and saw that he was the only person in the room besides the new arrivals. There was nobody else for him to send ahead. “I’ll – er – tell her, then. Once we get back to the castle?”

Through the streets of Brightspan City, the page led the group of travelers, drawing quite a few curious stares. Every so often, they passed a group of uniformed soldiers – not unusual, in a city the size of Brightspan, and a duchy whose ruling family was so highly placed in the military. But there was still something…off. 

“My lady?” Gyles spoke in a low voice into Kit’s ear, so that she was the only one who could hear, but it still took her a moment to realize that the ‘my lady’ was directed to her.

“Yes?” Kit answered, her voice just as hushed.

“There’s something that isn’t right about the troops.” Gyles glanced around, his eyes wary and troubled. “The uniforms don’t fit properly. Their bearing isn’t right. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something wrong with them.”

“Could they be new recruits?”

“Possibly. Or mercenaries, perhaps. But in that case, what happened to the regulars?”

Kit frowned. “I wish I knew.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Oh no. Oh God no. Not a follower of Whimsy.

*retches*

Kill it while you can.

I wanted so badly to exterminate them, but the other members of the party thought they were cute. "Oh, look at the pretty butterfly wings. Look at the rainbows, all the pretty colors. Pretty, pretty, pretty." Ugh.

Of course, I was practically the only lawful character in a party strongly allied to Chaos.
(The founders of the Courts of Chaos) So, that probably has something to do with it. I at least had _respect_ for the Paranswarmians we butchered.

Whimsy. Feh.


----------



## Ladybird

Baron Opal said:
			
		

> Oh no. Oh God no. Not a follower of Whimsy.




Hey, now, be nice, Baron  Sir Toby proved to be pretty useful to the party at times. Also, pretty entertaining - entertaining enough to persuade a non-gamer spectator that there might be something to this D&D thing after all...

And now, on with the update!

--
Castle Brightspan stood at the heart of the city, in the midst of the oldest part of town. Centuries ago, the castle had been built before anything else was there, and the city had grown up around it. Successive generations had added onto the castle, too, until it was more a sprawling noble residence than a citadel of defense, festooned with elaborate buttresses and turrets and fancy stonework that served no purpose other than decoration.

The interior was similarly ornate, with luxurious carpets down every hallway. Twang poked at them with his (or her? Nobody could tell, and Twang wasn’t saying) bare clawed feet, chattering the whole time. The hapless page was chattering too, scarcely more coherently than the kobold. “I’m sure her ladyship will be very happy to see you. Really. Really she will, honestly – oh, good day, m’lords and m’ladies.” The page broke off abruptly to greet a group of nobles coming the other way, three of whom nodded politely, if a bit uncertainly, in return. The fourth, a thin man walking behind the others, let out a sharp gasp and stepped aside – and, as far as any of the group from Canberry could tell, melted into the wall.

“What was that?” Kit cried, her hand going to her rapier again. 

“Amazing place!” Toby declared, poking at the wall near the spot where the man had disappeared, and staring at it in fascination. “The people vanish right into the walls! But wait – what if they come out again? What if there are dozens of people in the walls, just waiting to jump out at us?” He sprang back, plumed hat bouncing and hands going out in a flourishing defensive pose. “I should cast Protection from Wall! No, wait, that’s Protection from Law…”

Meanwhile, Twang was running its hands over the wall, too, still clicking and twittering in its incomprehensible language, while the three other nobles hovered near the edge of the corridor staring with increasing bewilderment at the scene taking place before them, and the poor page desperately continued to try to smooth things over. “Really, nothing is wrong, the walls are completely safe, and shouldn’t we be getting to Lady Brightspan soon?” 

Under the cover of all of the chaos, Honore murmured to Kit, “Look there. Halfway up the wall. Do you see that?” Kit narrowed her eyes – and sure enough, just at the spot where Twang was pointing and chattering, there was a slight irregularity in the pattern of the stones. And it was moving up the wall towards the ceiling. Kit paused, took a deep breath, and let her mind open up to pick up the thoughts of the others around her. There, halfway up the wall, and climbing higher by the second, was another mind – a man, intelligent, and slightly disconcerted.

_Who would have thought that Alistair would have the guts to send his own people here?_ the man was thinking. _Not surprised that one of the women is leading them, though. Always did have an eye for ladies, that one…_ Kit focused on him more closely…and as he lifted his head to navigate the corner between the wall and the ceiling, she could finally focus on his face. She’d never seen him in person before, but Dame Esmeralda had made sure she knew what his face looked like. It was Brady, the Brightspans’ chief assassin.

Kit was still looking straight at him when she said, “Really, I think we _can_ be moving on.” She turned her head, even, to make it clear that she was still watching him even after she walked past him. “Strange things happen, Sir Toby. And we wouldn’t want to keep Lady Brightspan waiting. Not when we’ve come all the way from the capital.”

And the group continued on their way down the hall, to the infinite relief of the poor page, leaving the nobles to stare after them in confusion.


----------



## Baron Opal

Ladybird said:
			
		

> Sir Toby proved to be pretty useful to the party at times.




Yes, they can be _useful_. But they're also nauseating. 

The cleric of Whimsy that I adventured with had bright butterfly wings and wore bell-bottoms. I think that he started life as an elven magic-user/thief, adventured in Aphonion for a while, and then traveled to the Land. This was run by a mutual friend, known as the Land Lady Linda in our circle of friends. This elf imported the Whimsy faith, got blown up by a vengful djinn that he freed, and then became a ... mutant cleric of Whimsy after living as a tree in the desert for a while.

Did wonders for his persepctive, he tells me.

Of course, I have little room to talk as my magic-user figured out how to transform his flesh into living bronze psionicly. So, there was plenty of self-inflicted mutation all around.


----------



## Ladybird

Lady Brightspan’s chamber was a light, airy room, filled with colorful tapestries and a flock of ladies-in-waiting, all busy with talking and needlework. Lady Brightspan herself was a small, thin, middle-aged woman with her gray hair looped up in fluffy, elaborate knots, deep in conversation with another, slightly younger woman. Everything about the scene suggested peace, tranquility, and homey comfort.

Nobody from Canberry was fooled for a second. From the way Lady Brightspan was speaking, it was obvious that she was completely in control of her castle, and the business of the Brightspan government hadn’t stopped just because the duke was away.

Something about the bearing of the younger, dark-haired woman next to Lady Brightspan tugged at Honore’s memory. It was as if the woman had had clerical training – Honore remembered having to stand for hours like that at prayers, when she was in the seminary – but she wore no obvious holy symbol. Still, a noble of Lady Brightspan’s status _should_ have a spiritual advisor by her side, and there were no other clergy in the room that Honore could see. “Odd,” thought Honore, and filed that away in the neat, orderly workings of her mind.

Meanwhile, Lady Brightspan had dismissed most of her ladies-in-waiting, who scurried out of the audience chamber with sidelong looks at the Canberrry expedition that showed that most of these women had just as much expertise and intelligence as Lady Brightspan, despite their appearances. 

The poor page, nearly at his wits’ end after the encounter in the hallway and being buffeted to and fro by departing ladies-in-waiting, gulped, and said in a single breath:  “Lady Brightspan. May I introduce – Dame Katherine of Lyneham - Sir Toby McGillicuddy, in service to Whimsy – Mother Honore and Sister Alessandre, in service to Glordiadel – Gyles Lennox – Kashan – Jet – and, er, Twang? Sent from the capital on their way south of the border to fight slavers, m’lady.” Varya, who had not said a single thing throughout the journey to the castle, didn’t mind that she wasn’t included in the introductions. She was used to being overlooked, and had gotten so used to it that she wasn’t offended anymore. Plus, it helped to be overlooked, sometimes – it meant that you could go places and not get noticed.

“Ah,” said Lady Brightspan, with a sweet smile. “We are always happy to have visitors from the capital. I hope that the new Archduke, is doing well and in good health?”

Kit still wasn’t fooled. She could tell that the Duchess of Brightspan hoped that Alistair was anything but in good health. Preferably dead, if Lady Brightspan got her way. 

“Oh, certainly, Your Grace,” Kit replied, with just as sweet and polite a smile. “And he will be happy to hear that your ladyship is the same. We just _couldn’t_ pass through without paying our respects, Your Grace. It wouldn’t be proper.” She wasn’t sure if Lady Brightspan was fooled by her own attempt at kind concern, but she could hope.

“Indeed. So you’re here to fight the slavers?” Lady Brightspan went on. “Good. It’s about time someone tried to put a stop to them. Oh, there have been the usual adventuring bands of younger children of noble houses, that sort of thing. But that’s not enough, even after the Sixth Disctrict withdrew.”

“So they _are_ gone?” Kit’s interest sparked. She wasn’t sure if she could trust anything that Lady Brightspan said, but figured that this, at least, was easy enough to verify.

“Oh yes. Six weeks ago. They took their three vollers and went off to the west. Whoever is in behind the current raids, it isn’t the Noldar. They do have arcane power on their side, though; there have been fireball attacks, or so I’ve heard. Still, nobody’s been able to make a dent in them yet. Not even the Hanalians.”

“The _what_?” 

Lady Brightspan’s smile betrayed the tiniest hint of malice at Kit’s shocked reaction. “Oh, didn’t I mention them?” she asked, in a calculatedly casual tone. “Yes, there are 500 or so Hanalians south of the border. They don’t seem to be doing much against the slavers, though; they seem to be concentrating on the refugees. I rather think they’re looking for something or someone that the refugees have.”

“Oh. Really?” Kit was able to moderate her voice much better now that the initial surprise was over, but her mind was racing. Hanalians? This close to the border of Canberry? Too big to be a scouting party; too small to be a credible attack force; too open to be trying to sow discontent and sedition among the refugees…what could they be doing? 

“Yes.” Lady Brightspan smiled again, as sweet as ever. “Would you like something to eat before you move on? I wouldn’t feel _right_, sending you on your way hungry.”

_I think it might be time for one of those food-tasters._ Kit thought, and by the uncomfortable look in Jet’s eyes, she could tell that he was thinking the same thing. _Although I doubt that she would poison us at her own table, no matter how hostile she is to Alistair…_

Fortunately, the food was very good, and entirely non-poisonous. To say grace, Lady Brightspan called in her official spiritual advisor: an ancient and doddering Glordiadelian bishop. _Well, that explains how and why she’s been able to have that other cleric at her side,_ thought Honore, as she did her best to subtly prompt the old man along when he forgot his lines. _It would probably be impolitic to have another official advisor, but still – there must be something odd going on, or why wouldn’t the other cleric want to reveal her status? Or even the deity that she worships?_


----------



## Ladybird

After lunch, the Canberry party waited while Lady Brightspan’s staff went off to the stables to requisition horses for them. (Kit wasn’t about to let an offer of free horses go to waste, and it amused her to be able to inconvenience Lady Brightspan.)

As Kit was wandering around a narrow corridor, she caught sight of a familiar-looking face – one of ‘her people,’ as she was coming to think of them. One of the Mouth’s spies within Brightspan. This one was Henry, an under-steward in the palace – high enough to see things; not high enough to get noticed too often. Kit made a quick hand gesture – meaning ‘I’m the Mouth. Report.’ Henry returned his side of the code-signal, slightly surprised. 

He was even more surprised when Kit dropped the Mindlink on him.

_Welcome to the new way of doing things,_ Kit thought, with a grin and a quirk of her eyebrows. _Absolutely secure, and absolutely silent. No possible way of being overheard_

_How do I know it’s you?_ Henry thought back, slightly suspiciously.

Kit made the hand gesture again, accompanied by another grin. Henry shrugged, and grudgingly thought, _All right…_

_So, what’s the news?_ Kit thought. _What’s going on with these new troops?_

Surprise registered in Henry’s mind. _They were brought in four weeks ago. Didn’t you hear? Almost all of the regulars were sent off to the west, dressed as civilians. I sent word to the capital – didn’t you get it?_

_No._ Kit thought flatly, and her cocky grin faded into a discontented frown.

_I can’t imagine what went wrong,_ Henry thought. _I know I sent it…_

_Congratulations_, Kit cut him off. _You’re in charge of figuring out what happened. You find out, and you report back to me. No, wait, I’ll get in touch with you. This way,_ she added, with a tilt of her head to indicate their present form of mental communication. _And if Brady so much as steps out the door to this castle, you tell me and you tell the capital. Understood?_

_But – but – _ Kit didn’t think it was possible to splutter when you were only thinking, but Henry was managing it. _Brady? He can melt into walls! He can practically turn invisible!_

_I have faith in you,_ Kit thought back sweetly, before her mental words turned chilly again. _You’re my representative here, and he’s the Brightspans’ chief assassin. You had better figure out a way of seeing him._


----------



## Quartz

Ooh - a spymaster directly communicating with spies in place. No intermediaries. No plausible deniability. Possibility of being revealed by a turncoat. Not sensible and definitely not good.


----------



## Ladybird

Quartz said:
			
		

> Ooh - a spymaster directly communicating with spies in place. No intermediaries. No plausible deniability. Possibility of being revealed by a turncoat. Not sensible and definitely not good.




Hey, she's really young, and still trying to figure out this whole spymaster thing. She'll learn  (Possibly, she'll learn the hard way, although fortunately she seems to be doing OK so far.)


----------



## Ladybird

Two days out of Brightspan, they saw the burned-out stockade.

Smoke had long since ceased to rise, leaving only charred gates and eerie silence. “Would you like me to scout ahead?” Varya offered, already fluttering up even before Kit could say, “Yes, please.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to be worried about,” Kashan interjected, as the owl fluttered away.  The halfling sorcerer had spoken so rarely during their journey that at the sound of her voice, the entire group turned towards her, sending her into a flurry of shy confusion for a moment, but she recovered enough to say, “I mean – er – the magical residue – nothing’s happened here for at least two weeks. Yes, there _was_ a Fireball cast here, but that was quite a while ago.” Regaining her confidence as she spoke, the little sorcerer slipped off of her pony and padded forwards towards the burned gate. “You see how the burning damage was done?” she asked. “It’s all focused here, on the gate. The rest of the stockade wasn’t even touched – only magical fire could have done that. I think it _must_ have been a Fireball. And…” Kashan paused, concentrating for a moment. “And a Sleep spell. A _very_ powerful version of the Sleep spell.”

“Enough to put everyone in the village to sleep?” Honore suggested. 

Hovering right behind Kit, Gyles was starting to make her nervous, the way he was looking at her – as if he expected her to say something. Finally, he said, “My lady, may I go forward to investigate?”

Kit blinked. He was asking _her_ permission? “What? Oh – yes, yes, right, go ahead.” Kit waved her hand, motioning Gyles towards the gates. _I’m really going to have to get used to that_, she thought.

“It is safe to enter!” Gyles announced a moment later. “There’s nobody here.” Still cautious, the rest of the group moved through the burned-out gates of the stockade, and fanned out. 

The village was both deserted and full of horror. Dozens of animals had been slaughtered, their corpses littering the narrow streets – dogs, cats, cows, even a few old horses. But there were hardly any people. A few very old men and women lay in their beds with their throats cut; but a few more were sprawled on the floors of their houses, and one was sitting at his kitchen table. “The Sleep spells,” Kashan muttered, padding around the village. “It put them all to sleep, and they came through afterwards to kill everyone.”

“And the slavers took the rest,” Gyles finished darkly. Sister Alessandre said nothing to the others; just murmured a soft, sad prayer over each body as she passed by. “Took the people,” Gyles continued, as he strode down the village’s central street, “except for the old ones who couldn’t work anymore. Probably took the good horses, too, and the goats, and other animals that could be useful for food, and that traveled easily.”

Honore stepped into the temple – a humble little building, dedicated to the nature-goddess Gunnora – and her breath caught in her throat. “Oh dear,” she murmured, stopping short in front of the body of a priest, lying face down in a long-dried pool of blood. He was in full chain mail, and a mace was in his hand. “This one…went down fighting.” They all paused, silent for a moment in contemplation of the priest, and the old villagers who had been killed. Finally, Honore cleared her throat with some effort, and said quietly, “Sister Alessandre? Will you help me give a decent burial to these people?”


----------



## Quartz

They're not going to try Speak With Dead? But they're doing the honourable thing.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

I've been reading this storyhour during quiet periods at work over the last week or so, and now I'm caught up, I just wanted to say that I'm mightily impresssed. It's very well written and the campaign world is clearly complex and interesting. Kudos to Cerebral paladin, Ladybird and all others involved.

Two requests: (1) I'd be interested to see some info on the religions - I haven't quite sussed out how they all fit together yet; (2) any chance of a flashback or two to describe how Alistair et al came to be hunting the hag slavers in Enclaves?

Oh yeah, and a third request ... write more!


----------



## Ladybird

Hi, folks! Sorry for the hiatus for the past few days - I've been out of town. But I've got plenty of Story Hour to go, and I will start updating again on a mostly-daily basis as soon as I'm back at work and over my jetlag 

And thank you, HalfOrc! It's always great to know that there are people out there reading and enjoying what we write! Cerebral Paladin will probably be better able to answer your questions about the Aphonion pantheon, so I'll let him field that one.

Thanks again! More updates coming soon, I promise!


----------



## Quartz

Thank goodness; I was beginning to get withdrawal symptoms. This really is good, right up there with Sep & Jester.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks for all the kind words.  It really made my day to read them.

As it happens, I have a write-up on Religion in Aphonion that I prepared for new players.  It skews towards the deities PCs tend to worship.  The references to Caldefor are there because another group of PCs is currently based around that country.

-----
Religion in Aphonion

Aphonion is a polytheistic world, but most temples are organized around a single deity, sometimes with a few servitor deities and saints.  Most individuals are affiliated with a single temple, although some follow both an official more popular deity and quietly a personally preferred deity (sometimes following two benign faiths, as with farmers who are nominally Glor'diadelian but in practice Gunnoran, but sometimes professing a good aligned faith while secretly worshipping demons.)  Most realms in Aphonion have an officially established faith; among non-evil realms, Glor'diadel and Paranswarm are by far the most common established religions.  Some countries permit open worship of other faiths, often with restrictions against a few disfavored faiths (whether evil or simply just contrary to the principles of the realm's ruler), while others essentially ban all religions besides the state faith.

Major religions in the Ecumenical Alliance (a roughly good aligned alliance formed to fight Borsh'tro and various demon worshippers):

The Creator and his First Daughter (strongly good aligned):  The Creator made Aphonion originally, along with directly creating the elves.  Almost all elves and good faerie worship the Creator and his Daughter.  While the elven gods (and the elves) have tremendous power, they are probably the least active of all the good-aligned deities and faiths, except in fighting back efforts by Morgrath.  (Common as patron for PC elves; rare for all others)

Glor'diadel, Lord of Light and Sun God (Lawful Good):  The Church of Glor'diadel is the single strongest force for good active in humanity.  The Church is organized along a hierarchical, episcopal structure (modeled on the medieval Catholic Church).  (Common as patron for PCs)
*  Glordiadel has many servitor deities and saints.  These rarely come up in game and PCs are almost never devoted to them.
*  State religion of the Archduchy of Canberry

Paranswarm, Lord of Orderly Darkness (Lawful.  Definitely lawful.  Evil? Neutral?  Good??  That's more up in the air):  The Church of Paranswarm is enormously powerful, organized, expansionistic, and aggressive.  Historically, Paranswarm was the most active force of organized evil among humans.  Now, the Church is divided.  Many Paranswarmians follow traditional evil ways, but many others, including much of the hierarchy, fight vigorously against the forces of evil in Aphonion, particularly fighting Borsh'tro, demons, and other chaotic evil forces.  And many individual Paranswarmians are lawful good, including some orders of paladins.  Even Paranswarmians at their most good tend to be a little bloodthirsty (some would say psychotic).  The Church of Paranswarm is also structured around a hierarchical, episcopal structure, and tends to have very close ties with nobles in Paranswarmian realms.  Human sacrifice is practiced; some, but not all, Paranswarmian realms restrict sacrifices to condemned prisoners.  (Uncommon as patron for PCs, but probably rising in popularity?)
*  Paranswarm has one servitor deity (the Weeping Woman, Paranswarm's bastard daughter who weeps for the world, particularly the poor and destitute) (many of the most good followers of Paranswarm, including rare PCs, follow the Weeping Woman) and many, many saints, including the dragon saint Vitrix-Henexoi, St. Barnaby the Often Martyred, the Eyeless Face, etc. 
*  State religion of Caldefor before its fall

Gunnora, goddess of hearth and home (Good, neutral I think but might be chaotic):  Gunnora is the goddess of the harvest, fertility, homes, halflings, and similar things.  In terms of total worshippers, she may be the most popular god in Aphonion.  In terms of power, however, her temple is much more limited, because her worship skews heavily towards peasants.  Her temple appears to be fairly disorganized and de-centralized, but that could just be a lack of awareness of its structure.  Some of her clergy are good-aligned druids, I believe.  (Common for halfling PCs; uncommon to rare for other PCs)

Dain, god of dwarves (lawful good):  Dain is worshipped by dwarves.  Also by most gnomes, and probably a few other people.  The temple of Dain is as active a force for good as the dwarves themselves (meaning pretty strong, but not very active outside the dwarven homelands).  (Extremely common for dwarven PCs, common for gnome PCs; very rare for all others)

Whimsey (very chaotic good):  Whimsey is the goddess of happy creative chaos and freedom.  Whimsey has no organized church to speak of, but some very powerful followers.  Good fey that don't follow the Creator tend to follow Whimsey.  (Common to uncommon among PCs)
*  The Mad God:  Not really a servitor so much as a similarly-minded friend deity.  Romantically involved with Whimsey, but they often have lovers' spats - not surprising, considering their erratic natures, but these quarrels between the deities can lead to conflicts between their followers as well. Whimsey also has a bunch of saints and servants; I've rarely seen them active in games, but I think they may have been important for other groups of PCs

Sytry, Lord of Golden Purity (Lawful, with goodish tendencies):  Sytry has another traditional, hierarchical temple, although there are many fewer Sytryan realms than Paranswarmian or Glor'diadelian.  Followers of Sytry are dedicated to purity, both ritual and otherwise.  The temples of Sytry and Paranswarm frequently clash, because of several unfortunate martyrdom incidents.  Followers of Sytry must not be resurrected; they serve one life and then join Sytry in the afterlife.  (Uncommon to rare among PCs)
*  Sytry has some saints.

----
Other good or neutral faiths:

Manumist (Chaotic, mostly, leaning towards good):  Manumist is the god of pleasure and hedonism, especially sexual pleasure.  Manumist's temple is mostly about organized cultic prostitution.  (Uncommon among PCs)

Namadon, the Lord of Ants and Insects (Lawful neutral):  Umm... Lord of Insects.  Pretty much sums it up.  Some humans follow Namadon, being all into equality and oneness and stuff.  Not a lot.  (Rare among PCs (I guess common among phraint PCs, but they're very rare, so... back to rare))

----
Major evil faiths:

Morgrath (Neutral Evil):  First Lord of Death, leader of the Noldar (the ancient fallen elves), son of the Creator and a classic Lucifer figure.  Some Morgrathians are reasonable and can be worked with; they at least want to preserve the world so Morgrath can rule it, making them opposed to the more nihilistic evil gods.  Still, pretty much evil to the core.  The Noldar and the more Noldar-aligned drow follow Morgrath, as do some humans and many monsters.  (Not strictly prohibited, but vanishingly rare among PCs; Morgrath has some neutral worshippers)
*  Many servitor deities.

Borsh'tro, Whipmaster of Destruction (Chaotic Evil):  Borsh'tro is the chief demon god and wants to destroy the entire world, with as much suffering en route as possible.  Leads an evil alliance with Berta and Arthranax.  (Unavailable for PCs)
*  Many demon lords and princes serve Borsh'tro, as well as other evil saints and lesser deities.  The Horned Rat, patron god of the Skaven, is among the more notable followers.
*  The Shadowlands, including Caldefor now, are Borsh'tro's personal domain and his principal power base on Aphonion.

Berta, Goddess of the Ever Changing Amalgamation (Pure Chaos):  Berta is actually chaotic, not evil, but is currently on a destructive kick.  This will presumably end at some point, but it's bad while it lasts.  Not that important, but notably was the patron goddess of the Confederation of South Kingdoms, and was directly responsible for their fall (sold them out to Borsh'tro, essentially).  (Rare among PCs, but possible I guess)

Arthranax:  Another major evil god, associated with disease and death.  Not a big on-screen player, in my experience, but fairly major nominally.  (Unavailable for PCs)


----------



## Ladybird

Thank you, CP, for filling in the notes on religion. And thank you, readers, for your ongoing support! And now, back to the show! 

--
Meanwhile, high above the deserted village, Varya had finished her scouting and was making a leisurely circuit of the stockade, keeping an eye out for danger (And for stray rodents. She _was_ still an owl.) when a cluster of birds in a nearby tree caught her eye. They looked oddly familiar to her for some reason – she had noticed a similar-looking group of birds the day before, too.

Varya fluttered closer. Yes, there were six birds, one slightly larger than the others. Definitely the same group of birds that had been there the day before. And – something tugged at Varya’s memory – hadn’t there been six birds perched near the campsite the night before last, as well?

The owl had no more time to think after that, though, because the largest of the birds had begun to move its feet and wings in a pattern that Varya recognized. It was casting a spell at her.

Varya didn’t have time to think before she cast a spell of her own. The bird’s Magic Missiles slammed into Varya, almost at the exact same time that her own Lightning Bolt ripped through the cluster of birds. Two of the birds frantically flapped away, squawking in terror. Four of the birds were dead by the time they hit the ground.

One of those four – the one who had cast the spell – was human by the time she hit the ground, too.

Far below, the rest of the group had heard the commotion and was running towards the edge of the stockade. Sir Toby had his musket out and aimed into the air. “PULL!” he shouted as he fired on one of the two remaining birds. A sparkling puff of fairy dust shot out of the end of his gun, soared up into the air, and sprinkled down onto the bird, turning it bright green. The puff of fairy dust was accompanied by a bullet, which also hit the bird, turning it dead.

Varya flapped lopsidedly down to the ground, where she huddled, whimpering in pain as Sister Alessandre rushed over to heal her, but the owl still managed to choke out the story of what had happened. Sir Toby started to pluck the bright green feathers of the bird that he had killed, happily sticking them in various places in his already-plumed hat and lace-edged jacket. Kit, meanwhile, was busily – but delicately – searching the crumpled body of the woman who had been a bird. “This one’s got a holy symbol on her,” she said, holding it out towards the others. 

Honore glanced over at Alessandre, who was still tending to Varya, and stepped forward to look at the symbol. “Mider,” Honore said, blinking in confusion. “She’s a nature goddess, and not a very commonly-worshipped one.”

“All right,” Kit said slowly, turning this over in her mind. “What about this?” She held out another small metal circle, somewhat smaller, with a more elaborate pattern impressed on it. “She had this on her too - it doesn’t look like a holy symbol.”

“No, that’s the seal of the Earl of Bountiful,” Honore replied. “He’s a vassal of the Duke of Brightspan.”

“Great,” sighed Kit. “Brightspan’s set spies on us. Well, they don’t have them anymore.”


----------



## Baron Opal

If I hadn't said it before let me add my praise as well. I've really enjoyed reading this, both for its own sake and as a chance to revisit a campagin I enjoyed playing in. Aphonion was the first campaign I played in beyond my own circle of friends in the early '80's. It was a great illustration of a campaign with a history and where the PCs actions had consequences.



			
				Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> Glor'diadel, Lord of Light and Sun God ...
> 
> Paranswarm, Lord of Orderly Darkness (Lawful.  Definitely lawful.  Evil? Neutral?  Good??  That's more up in the air):  The Church of Paranswarm is enormously powerful, organized, expansionistic, and aggressive.  Historically, Paranswarm was the most active force of organized evil among humans.  Now, the Church is divided...




This is interesting. When I played, Paranswarm was definatly LE. We smited them with great enthusiasm. Glor'diadel we taunted on occasion, but they were benevolent so we didn't pester them if they stayed out of our way.



> Gunnora, goddess of hearth and home ...
> Dain, god of dwarves  ...
> Whimsey ...
> The Mad God ...




We never had much to do with Gunnora or Dain, but the Courts of Chaos had good relations with the church of Whimsey. As the token non-chaotic, my character found them repugnant, but that's been covered. The Mad God rings a bell with me. I think that the Courts had strong ties with him or Vex or Grey Star met with him personally, or something. It's been a while.



> Sytry, Lord of Golden Purity ...




Another foe of the Courts, and activly worked against. It's interesting to see that his faith has diminished since I've played.



> Manumist ...
> Namadon ...
> Morgrath ...




Manumist as another allied faith, as can be expected. Namadon was ignored and Morgrath actively worked against.



> Borsh'tro, Whipmaster of Destruction ...
> *  The Shadowlands, including Caldefor now, are Borsh'tro's personal domain and his principal power base on Aphonion.
> 
> Berta, Goddess of the Ever Changing Amalgamation (Pure Chaos):  Berta is actually chaotic, not evil, but is currently on a destructive kick.  This will presumably end at some point, but it's bad while it lasts.  Not that important, but notably was the patron goddess of the Confederation of South Kingdoms, and was directly responsible for their fall (sold them out to Borsh'tro, essentially).  (Rare among PCs, but possible I guess)




The Courts had fairly friendly ties to Berta, IIRC, and I think was even a patron of the Courts. There was at least one PC member of the Courts that was a cleric of Berta. The Courts worked against the expanding of the Shadowlands and the fall of Caldefor is new to me. That Berta is allying with Borsh'tro is disturbing and makes me wonder at the current fate of the Courts of Chaos. I do know that most of the founding members officially left the plane around '85-'86 and it became a NPC organization. My character, Balthazar (me m-u LG), who was a hanger-on / ally of the Courts, attached himself with another elf (Sabrae) and headed off to the Enclaves.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Thanks to both the Paladin and Ladybird for your posts. I'm fully hooked now.


----------



## Ladybird

It wasn’t hard for Gyles to find tracks leading away from the burned-out stockade. Even though two weeks had passed since the slavers came through, they had taken several hundred people, and a crowd that size left a fairly obvious trail.  Following Gyles’s lead, the group traveled west, further into the hills – and, after a few hours, into the edges of a forest.

Kit and Honore were on watch that night when they heard a faint rustling, far back in the trees. Unfortunately, that was all the warning they got before the shouts rang out. 

”In the name of Hanal! Put up your swords, vile slavers!”

The group was instantly awake, on their feet, and shouting back.

“In the name of Canberry, put up yours!” yelled Kit.

“How dare you accuse us of being slavers!  We serve the Light!” Sister Alessandre cried, with surprising volume, as she held out her holy symbol of Glordiadel.

For a few moments, there was complete chaos, as Hanalians and Canberrians alike brandished weapons and shouted threats. But with a combination of the Glordiadelians’ protests of virtue, Kit’s quick talking, and Gyles’s emphatic declarations of his own lengthy career fighting slavers, the Canberrians were able to convince the Hanalians that they were not slavers themselves, and had been sent by the Archduke to help fight the slavers.

In all the noise, Twang was the only one who heard the Hanalian lieutenant say quietly to the knight-banneret in charge of the group, “If Canberry finds out about our loss, they may seek her, too.”

“Look, there’s safety in numbers,” Kit was saying, trying to get the leaders’ attention again. “As long as you’re here, and as long as it’s still _night_…” Kit was also trying to keep the resentment out of her voice, and almost succeeding. “And as long as there really _are_ slavers about, we might as well stick together. For the night, at least.”

Despite the lieutenant’s attempts to get his attention, the knight-banneret’s helmed head was firmly pointed towards Kit, and he gave a stiff, armored nod in response to her suggestion. “I think that sounds reasonable,” he replied, and reached up to take his helmet off, revealing a shy smile and a face that was startlingly young. “May we have your name, m’lady?”

It took a moment, as it always did, for Kit to realize that the “m’lady” meant her. “I’m Dame Katherine of Lyneham.”

“Sir Bernard Sathrecar,” the young knight-banneret replied, offering Kit another shy smile. “Thank you for your offer of hospitality.” The lieutenant pulled off his helmet too. He was about twenty years older than the knight, and couldn’t quite hide his disapproving frown as he watched Sir Bernard’s increasing infatuation with Kit.

There were only eight Hanalians, as it turned out. It had seemed like many more when they were shouting in the darkness, surrounding the camp with their clanking armor and clattering horses. But tucked away in their tents, they seemed remarkably unthreatening. As Kit stood watching the Hanalians go about their business, Twang scampered up beside her. “They lose something!” it declared.

“What?” Kit asked, blinking down at the little kobold. “Who lost what? And you can speak Common?” 

Twang let loose a stream of clicks and twitters, interspersed with a few heavily-accented words in Common. After a moment, Kit held up her hand. “Wait a second. Let’s try this.” She concentrated for a moment, and sent out a Mindlink towards the kobold.

_There_, Kit thought. _Now we can understand each other. And we don’t have to worry about eavesdroppers, either._

Twang just stared for a second. Kit could feel the kobold’s mind probing back, testing the link, and then it thought back slowly, _I didn’t understand all of it. I still don’t speak Common that well. But the two leaders were talking about having lost something. The older one said to the younger, something like ‘If they know what we’ve lost, they will look for it too.’ Or possibly, ‘they will look for her.’ Or ‘him.’_

A slow smile spread across Kit’s face. _They don’t know you understand Common, do they?_

Twang never really smiled, but its lips pulled back, and its hiss sounded happy. _I don’t think so. I haven’t given them any reason to think so._

_Good,_ Kit thought back. _Go back to the Hanalians. Hang around their campfire and see what they’re talking about. And then come back to tell me what they’ve said. We’ll talk like this, so that there won’t be any chance of misunderstanding each other. All right?_

Twang gave another one of its smiles, and scampered off towards the Hanalians’ campfire. Kit broke off the Mindlink, then looked up to where Varya was perched in a tree, and sent out another one. _Varya?_

_What? In my mind? Oh! Dame Katherine. I’d heard about your talents. Yes. What can I do for you?_

_You haven’t talked in front of the Hanalians, have you? They just think you’re an ordinary owl?_

Kit could sense the realization coming in Varya’s mind. _Yes, that’s right._

_I’d like you to…well, be an owl. Go perch on the leaders’ tent. If they’re not sharing a tent, go to the older one. He’s the one who’s really in charge, even if the knight-banneret outranks him. And listen, and watch, and see what he does, and what he says._

Varya didn’t smile either, but Kit felt the owl’s satisfaction at the assignment. _Certainly. I would be happy to._ Varya flapped off. Nobody in the Hanalian party paid any attention to an owl perched peacefully on top of the lieutenant’s tent, her wide yellow eyes staring off into the night.


----------



## Ladybird

Nobody paid much attention to Twang, at first, when he sidled up to the Hanalians’ campfire. Six of the Hanalian knights were sitting around it, polishing their armor, roasting various bits of food over the fire, and chatting quietly, occasionally shooting a cautious glance or two over their shoulders towards the Canberrians. Twang slipped between two of them and started rooting around the campfire, attempting to look mysterious and harmless at the same time. 

One of the knights was saying gloomily, “We’re never going to find her – “ as Twang approached, and he cut off abruptly at the sound of footsteps. But when he saw who it was, he resumed their conversation as if nothing had happened. That didn’t surprise Twang at all. What did surprise him was that one of the other knights addressed him in Kobold. 

“Good evening, friend!” His accent was terrible, but the Hanalian was very definitely comprehensible. 

Twang grinned toothily up at him, and replied in the same language. “Good evening! I didn’t expect to find someone who can speak Kobold around here.”

“Oh, it’s nothing much,” the Hanalian shrugged, in an entirely unsuccessful attempt at nonchalance. “I just picked up a few languages here and there. You know how it is.”

“You’re very good.” Twang wasn’t sure that his attempt at flattery in return would be too successful, but the Hanalian seemed to puff up a little, and Twang decided to press his luck. “So, who are you looking for?”

The Hanalian stared at him for a moment in surprise, then shrugged again. “I guess it won’t do any harm to tell _you_,” he said thoughtfully. He glanced over at his companions, who were still talking amongst themselves, then turned back to Twang. “It’s the Princess Anastasia. She’s run away. She’s an idealist, you see.” The Hanalian said the word as if it tasted bad, and rolled his eyes. “She took her personal guard and one of her mother’s vollers and ran off all on her own to fight the slavers here in the south.”

“So you’re here to find her?” Twang asked carefully.

“Well, us and 500 more of the Duke’s men. None of us have had any luck, though.”

“What happens if you bring her back?” 

“The Duke will marry her!” The Hanalian laughed. “He’s twice her age, but who can resist the offer of a princess’s hand in marriage?”

**
Meanwhile, Varya was perched on top of the small tent that the lieutenant and banneret were sharing. She listened for several minutes to the idle chatter of the two men within, and saw Twang return from the opposite side of the campsite. The kobold entered Kit’s tent, then left again a short while later. 

**
“She stole her mother’s airship?” Kit said, when Twang had finished. A grin spread across her face. “Now _that’s_ the kind of Hanalian we can get behind! I want to meet this Princess Anastasia.”
**

Several minutes after that, Varya saw, with an amused sniff and a fluff of her wings, young Sir Bernard leaving his own tent and heading towards Kit’s, his armor polished and his hair carefully combed. 

It was only after Sir Bernard had left that the lieutenant started talking. 

“My lord?” the lieutenant muttered, as quietly as if he were speaking to himself. “Yes. We have encountered a group of Canberrians. They claim to be here to fight the slavers, but I suspect otherwise.” There was a brief pause, while the lieutenant listened. “Eight of them, my lord. Led by several young women. Katherine of Lyneham - I did not see her heraldry – and two Glordiadelian clerics. I suspect that they are here to capture the princess.” There was another pause, and when the lieutenant spoke again, there was a note of relief in his voice. “Thank you, my lord. I did not think it wise to attack, either. We will tell them nothing, and leave at first light.”


----------



## Ladybird

“Ahem. Lady Katherine?”

Kit poked her head out of her tent to see Sir Bernard standing outside, holding himself very straight and shifting nervously from foot to foot.

_I’m surprised he didn’t bring flowers_, Kit thought amusedly. What she said was, “Come in, Sir Bernard. And it’s Dame Katherine.” _Good gods, he’s younger than I am!_ “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes!” Sir Bernard replied, a little too eagerly.

Kit hesitated for a moment. _Wine is always good for nobles, right?_ Sir Bernard seemed to think so, taking the goblet that Kit offered with puppyish gratitude. “Oh, thank you, my lady!”

“You’re welcome. Have a seat?”

Sir Bernard clanked – he was still wearing most of his armor – into a seat, and Kit (less clankily) did likewise. 

“So,” Kit began, “you’re here to fight the slavers, too?”

Sir Bernard hemmed awkwardly for a moment before saying, “Yes! My liege – well, my father’s liege – the Duke of Snattercaz has always been very opposed to slavery.” The Hanalian took a deep drink of his wine, while Kit struggled to suppress a giggle. Snattercaz. Hanalian names had always been the hardest part of getting through Dame Esmeralda’s security briefings. “So – er – he had to come right down. He brought two vollers and 500 knights.”

“Two _vollers_?” Kit stared at Sir Bernard. “He brought two _vollers_ and 500 knights within four days of the border of Canberry? I mean, I appreciate the Duke’s zeal. In fighting slavers, of course,” she added hastily. Even though Twang had filled her in on the real reason for the Hanalians’ presence, she wasn’t about to let Sir Bernard know that _she_ knew that their princess had gone missing. “But do you have _any_ idea how that looks, bringing a military force of that size so close to the border of another nation?”

“Er. Yes.” Sir Bernard’s face was getting redder by the second, and he reached hastily for the bottle of wine to pour himself more. “But with so many people, we’ve been able to cover a lot of ground. Er, in fighting the slavers.”

It took a little more wine, a lot more flattery, and a few sweet smiles – not even any of her psionic powers – for Kit to get Sir Bernard talking. He was only too happy to impress the pretty, slightly-older girl with his knowledge of local events and the bravery of his exploits.

“So…there are only eight of you in your group?” Kit asked, pouring him some more wine.

“Well, there were ten, but two of them got – well, there’s this basilisk around, and it froze two of them.” 

“Oooh, that’s too bad.” Kit’s wince and sympathy were honest, even though she made a mental note to ask Honore more about basilisks when she had the chance.

“Oh, it wasn’t that frightening,” Sir Bernard said, with a wave of his wine goblet that was probably intended to look brave and casual, but succeeded only in being messy. “We were surprised to see it that close to inhabited territory, though. There are nobles setting themselves up, you know. We saw at least one set of fortifications. There’s even a mage’s tower!”

The flap of Kit’s tent opened, and she tensed – if it was Varya coming back to report, that could go very badly. But it was only Sir Toby. “Dame Katherine!” he declared, sweeping off his hat with a flourish. “This is for you! And this, sir, is for you!” With another elaborate flourish, Sir Toby handed each of them a bright green feather, then swooped out of the tent again. 

While Kit was still blinking after Toby in confusion, Sir Bernard continued, “We were near enough to Brightspan to find out some things about them, too.”

Kit’s ears pricked up at that. “Oh, really? Like what?”

“Well, they’ve brought in a lot of specialists from a long way away. As far away as Masque and Enclaves.”

The mention of her hometown made Kit sit up even more. “Enclaves? What kind of specialists?”

“Tieflings.”

_Oh, my,_ thought Kit. _No wonder those troops in Brightspan didn’t look quite right. Tieflings. I really need to report this back to the capital._


----------



## Ladybird

The next morning, the Hanalians rose early and went off to the south, while the Canberrians continued to follow the slavers’ tracks west. They parted on relatively good terms – civil, if not friendly – and went their separate ways.

Varya soared high into the air, flying up with strong flaps of her newly-healed wings to scout ahead of the group. She didn’t realize how far away she had gotten until she spotted the tiny forms of the Hanalians, and wheeled to follow them for a few miles.

Varya didn’t see the bandits until they were almost upon them. Out of the hills burst at least thirty bandits, roaring incoherently. The Hanalians turned to fight, and Varya sped back to her own group as quickly as she could.

It was still too late by the time the others got there. All of the Hanalians were dead.

”At least they fought back,” Jet said gruffly as he surveyed the bloody scene. “Took out twenty – no, twenty-one of the bandits.”

Gyles looked up from where he was poking at one of the bandits’ bodies. “It looks like the rest of them fled that way,” he said, jerking his head towards a set of dim tracks leading off to the southwest. “Look at this - mismatched armor, shoddy weapons. The only way they were able to defeat the Hanalians was through superior numbers.”

Jet nodded in agreement. “They must have been refugees who had turned to banditry.”

Everything of value had been taken off of the dead knights, but Kit searched anyway. Alessandre, going about the sad business of assembling the Hanalians’ bodies for burial, gave her a reproachful look. “Bandits might not necessarily have taken documents,” Kit told her. “If the Hanalians were carrying any more information, I want to know.” _And I may have to get Honore to read it to me, but I want to know_. 

There were no documents, but on the lieutenant’s body, Kit found a small black stone. The second her hand touched it, she could feel the psionic resonance. _Hm. That’s not the way the elves’ crystals felt. I wonder if that was how he was talking to his lord._ Surreptitiously, she slipped the stone into her pocket. Then she reached over to pull Sir Bernard’s cloak over his face and made a brief sign of Paranswarm over his body, and stood aside to let Alessandre and Honore continue their work.


----------



## Ladybird

Thanks to Varya’s gentle persuasion, the Hanalians’ warhorses agreed to follow along with the party, although even Varya couldn’t get them to carry anyone. “They won’t let anyone ride them except _their_ people,” the owl explained. Jet shrugged and loaded some of the party’s equipment onto the Hanalians’ horses, and they all continued on their way.

It was fairly easy for Gyles to find the tracks of the few bandits who had survived the clash with the Hanalians, and once he pointed out the trail to Varya, she flapped off ahead of the group. The narrow, ragged trail of footprints ran through the low foothills, and wound into the forest, ending at a wide clearing, in which stood a village fortified with stone walls.

When Varya returned to report what she had found, it did not make Kit happy. “Stone fortifications? That sounds like the nobles’ settlements that Sir Bernard was talking about. If one of these new so-called nobles has been sending out the bandits, that can’t mean anything good.”

Suddenly, Varya squawked and fluttered up from her perch on a tree branch. Just below her, the trunk of the tree had opened, and an old man stepped out of it. He had a long beard, tattered robes, and a decidedly distracted look in his eyes. “Greetings, travelers!” he cried happily. “Praises to Berta! Praises to you all! Oh look, a butterfly….” 

“Berta,” Alessandre muttered sourly. “Goddess of pure chaos. I might have known.” Kit was starting to feel similarly apprehensive, as she watched Sir Toby approach the old man, who was still shouting devout but erratic praises to Berta.

”Well met!” Sir Toby declared. “I am Sir Toby, bound to the service of Her Majesty Whimsey!”

”Ah, a kindred follower!” the old man cried. “What do you do in the service of your lady?”

“People tell me what to shoot, and I shoot! What should I shoot?”

“Oh, there are so many wonderful things to shoot…” the old man exulted.

Kit cut him off before he could make any actual suggestions, thinking very fast to try to avert any shootings of people or things in the vicinity – or any alliances between Toby and the old man that might sidetrack the group from their main goal. “You know…why don’t you go and…uh…make a list of all the things that you could shoot.”

The old man’s eyes widened. “_All_ the things?”

“Yes!” Kit cried, with grin and a sudden flash of inspiration. “Make a list of all the things that you can possibly shoot. And when you’re done, come back!”

And with that, the old man departed, perfectly contented, heading off to make a list of all the things in the world that could possibly be shot.


----------



## Ladybird

The party continued to wind their way through the forest, still following the bandits’ trail towards the fortified village. As the trees closed in around them, deeper and darker, the sounds around them began to change – there were fewer animals rustling in the undergrowth, and fewer birds chirping overhead. Therefore, it was easier for Kit to hear the strange, dragging footsteps as they approached the path from ahead, even if she didn’t immediately know what they were.

Kit and Gyles barely managed to jump out of the way when the basilisk appeared. 

Jet and Alessandre, immediately behind them, were neither as lucky nor as quick to react. Alessandre slipped off her horse and frantically put up her hands to shield her face – and was frozen in place with her hands up, turned to stone by the basilisk’s fearsome gaze. Jet too managed to fling himself free of his horse, but he hit the ground with the massive, earth-shaking thump of a stone statue.

“Don’t look!” Gyles shouted. “Keep your eyes away from it!” 

The party stood, as still as if they too had been turned to stone, not daring to move or make a sound. The only noise in the clearing was made by the slow, dragging footsteps of the giant lizard, pacing around….and around…and then away. The party exhaled.

“How many did it get?” Gyles asked, brusquely surveying the scene as the party started to swarm worriedly back into the clearing. “Just Jet and Alessandre?” Honore rushed to attend to her fellow priestess, while Kashan studied both petrified people with an almost clinical curiosity, and Varya fluttered anxiously overhead.

Moving almost as quickly as Varya, Kit paced around the clearing, her mind racing. “What do we do, what do we do?” she muttered. “How can we fix this?” 

“My, my,” Toby murmured, as he bent over to study Jet’s stone legs. “I know what this needs!” He stood back, poising his hands to cast a spell, while Twang looked up at him, beady eyes full of hope. With a dramatic flourish, Toby cast Prestidigitation, conjuring up small stone pedestals for the statues to stand on.

“Toby!” Kit snapped sharply. “Not helping!” She looked down at Jet’s stone face, frozen in a terrified grimace, and winced at the expression. “Do we know if they’re even conscious in there?” A collection of blank looks greeted the question. “Well, there’s one way to find out,” Kit muttered. She drew in a long breath and carefully sent a Mindlink towards Jet. 

Within the stone head, she found a very conscious, very active, and very agitated mind. _Kit! By all the gods, you’ve got to find a way to get us out of this!_ the cook thought anxiously. _Please!_

_I’m trying!_ Kit’s own thoughts were rising to just as fevered a pace as Jet’s, and she clamped down on her fear with only the greatest of effort – it wouldn’t help to add her agitation to Jet’s. _Honestly, I am. I’m working on it._ She looked around the clearing – Gyles was looking expectantly at her, too. And so was Varya. And…

Then an idea hit her. “Wait! Sir Bernard said that there was a mage’s tower somewhere around here. Varya – can you fly up and see if you can spot it from the air? If there’s a mage around, he or she might be able to help turn them back.”

Up Varya soared, high above the treeline, surveying the landscape. Higher and higher she went, until finally, far away, she spotted a small stone tower atop a hill.

“I think I’ve found it,” the owl reported, as she fluttered back down to land on a branch near Kit. “It’s about a day’s travel to the west, but the path looks clear, and we should be able to make it without too much difficulty.”

With a profound sigh of relief, Kit said, “Thank you! All right. We need to get Jet and Alessandre on the Hanalians’ horses – if we load them sideways, the horses can probably carry them. Gyles, you and – “ Kit cut herself off. Her first instinct was to call on Jet when heavy lifting needed to be done. And he was hardly in a position to help right now. “Everyone,” she said instead. “Let’s get them on the horses and get going towards the mage’s tower.”

“But Lady Katherine – “ Gyles began.

“What, Sir Gyles?”

“Ahem. It’s just Gyles, my lady.”

“If you’re going to promote me,” Kit snapped, “I’m going to promote you. Now what is it?”

“Er. Ahem. Right. Er. Won’t this divert us from our mission against the slavers?”

”Yes, it will,” Kit admitted. “But we can’t go on without Jet and Sister Alessandre. And I won’t leave them here.”

_Thank you!_ came Jet’s frantically grateful thought into Kit’s mind.

_Don’t worry,_ Kit thought back, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. _We’ll get you out of this_. Then, aloud, she said to Gyles, “This is worth a diversion of a day or two. We’ve got to get them back.”


----------



## Ladybird

The party moved slowly through the forest, weighed down by caution and the heavy stone bodies of Alessandre and Jet slung across the horses.  For as long as Kit’s Mindlink lasted, Jet kept up a running mental commentary on cooking, the scenery, the prospect of a fight, how much he wanted to get un-petrified – anything to keep the lines of communication going between him and the outside world.

The quiet, if tense, ride was suddenly broken by the guttural declaration of  “Stand. Deliver.” Five orcs and an uruk stood before the group, weapons drawn.

Gyles had spent years fighting orcs, and at the sight of the orcish bandits, a twitch started up near his eye, and his face started to flush with anger. But it was Toby who acted first. With a surprisingly melodic burst of sound, his musket went off, sending a stream of sugarplums coursing towards one of the orcs. The sugarplums smacked the orc squarely in the head, knocking him out, and continued to dance around his head as he slumped to the ground. 

Kit, almost as stunned as the orc, just stared. “I was about to say, ‘Toby, you’re not helping.’ And then you did.”

And then Gyles sprang into motion, charging towards the uruk, roaring a battle cry and leveling his lance at the huge creature. Varya, with almost as much fury, flapped towards the orcs, lashing out with her claws.

Kit targeted the uruk too, but nobody could see the effects of what she was doing. Carefully, she sent a psionic feeler out into the uruk’s mind, searching around among the memories of his many battles, until she found a suitably painful memory of being wounded. Then, just as carefully, she drew it forth, and a gash opened up in the uruk’s shoulder, even though no blade had come close to him. The elves had taught Kit how to Recall Agony, but she’d never done it before. It was…disconcerting. But effective, she had to admit.

The uruk, slashed by Gyles’s lance, Kit’s psionic power, and Varya’s claws, lashed out with his axe, swinging wildly at Varya’s fragile wings. The other orcs rushed towards Honore. Twang, cowering in the back of the group, shot Magic Missiles at the orcs, moving as far back as he could while remaining in range. Shoot – retreat – shoot – retreat – retreat – retreat – retreat. The terrified little kobold might have been pleased to know that he had taken down one of the orcs, but he had fled into the forest before he could even see the results of his spellcasting.

Meanwhile, Gyles had left his lance sticking in the uruk, and had drawn his sword to batter the other orcs with ever-rising fury. Sir Toby shot his musket again, sending an arrow into one of the other orcs; and Kashan matched Twang’s choice of spell, with similar success, although not with a similar flight afterwards.

Finally, under Kit’s repeated mental assault, the uruk’s mind entirely gave out – he let out one last shriek of pain and collapsed, wounds opening up all over his body. Gyles finished off the last of the orcs, then straightened up, pulling his lance out of the uruk’s corpse with a brutally forceful tug.

”My lady!” Gyles growled. Kit just nodded – she wasn’t going to risk correcting Gyles when he was standing there with a sword in one hand and a lance in the other, both dripping with orcish blood. “Request permission to follow the rest of the filthy orcish bandits!”

“All right…” Kit replied, a little uncertainly.

From above, Varya interjected softly, “Would you like me to go keep an eye on him? I’ll make sure he stays focused on fighting the slavers. I’ve worked with him before, and he’s got a bit of a blind spot when it comes to orcs.”

Both Varya and Kashan split off to go with Gyles on his quest to hunt bandits, orcs, and whoever else came across his path. And Twang, as the others soon discovered, was nowhere to be found. That left Kit, Honore, Toby, and the petrified Jet and Alessandre. And several Hanalian warhorses, who continued on their plodding way west towards the mage’s tower.

[At this point, unfortunately, Real Life broke in, and the players of Gyles, Kashan, Twang, and Varya all had to leave. And yes, Gyles is a ranger, with the favored enemy ‘orcs’ ]


----------



## Ladybird

Moving a little more slowly without Gyles’s expert tracking guidance and Varya’s overhead scouting, the party traveled on through the forest, winding their way towards the mage’s tower as the day wore on towards evening.  

When they came to a convenient clearing to camp in, however, they found it already occupied, and by an extremely strange collection of tents: three sets of three identical tents. Something started to tug at Kit’s memory – threes. Something about sets of three.

And then the triplets came out. One set of identical triplets from each set of identical tents. “Tangites,” Kit groaned.

The little triplets were friendly enough, if a bit at loose ends without their One to lead them. The party decided to share the campsite – there was safety in numbers – and also shared their food with the Tangites, and the information about the basilisk. In return, the Tangites told the Canberrians what they had found on their long journey north, in which their One had been killed.

“Beyond three small bandit villages to the south,” said one of the nine little men, “there is a very large encampment. And – forgive me! They are all Ones! They don’t want the slavers to be stopped! And they have great power.”

“What kind of power?” asked Kit.

“Boom!” exclaimed one of the…_ten_ little men. One of the sets of triplets had now become a set of quadruplets, a fourth identical little man beaming at the others from his spot around the campfire. Kit groaned. “Toby.”

The other triplets in the set sprang back from the campfire. “A doppelganger!” one of them cried, staring at the fourth – the magically-disguised Toby – in horror.

“Toby,” Kit groaned again. “You’re _really_ not helping…”

“What?!” the fourth man protested, in Toby’s hurt voice. “It’s just a little spell…”

“You have magic power?” gasped one of the other triplets in the set. “Do you have _great_ power?”

“Of course I do!” Toby declared, returning to his original form with a flourish.

“We have no One to lead us anymore,” said the little triplet slowly. “Do you think…do you think that _you_ could be our One? If Paranswarm has led us to you…”

Toby glanced down at his holy symbol of Whimsey, doubtful for a moment. But Whimsey, in her eternal capriciousness, had decided to change his holy symbol – for the moment, at least – into the downward-pointing arrow of Paranswarm. “Of course!” Toby declared again. The nine little men clustered around him happily.

While Kit and Honore saw to the assembly of the rest of the group’s campsite, Toby was starting to teach the Tangites to sing. In three-part harmony, of course.


----------



## Ladybird

Late the following afternoon, the group (whose size was now increased by nine harmonizing little Tangites) reached the mage’s tower. In classic mage’s-tower form, it was tall, stone, and forbidding. Less classic was the harried-looking old servant who scurried out into the courtyard to meet the group, and who let out an exasperated sigh as soon as he spotted the petrified bodies of Jet and Alessandre, each slung across the backs of three of the Hanalian warhorses. “More basilisks? All right, all right, come on in.”

The servant helped them load Jet and Alessandre onto small floating platforms – much to the relief of the horses – and led the party inside, keeping up a grumbled running commentary the entire way. “Never sure how many steps it’s going to be. I can’t see why he can’t put his laboratory on the first floor and make it easier on all of us. No, he’s got to have it on the _top_ floor. Or sometimes the second-to-top. Yesterday it was twenty-five flights up, and the day before that, it was seventy-three!”

Fortunately for everyone, on this day, it was only seventeen flights up to the mage’s workshop. The mage himself – who, the servant had told them, was named Alexandros Omsberg, - was as stereotypical as his tower, a small, hunched old man with wispy white hair and a long straggly beard. His workshop was cluttered with bubbling vials and the glowing debris of dozens of magical experiments. “Yes, Igor?” the mage said, looking up from some unidentifiable strange spinning silvery objects. “Oh, more basilisk victims? Right, bring them all in.”

In a few minutes, Jet and Alessandre were back to normal, much to their relief. Kit, a little wary of such freely-given magical service, said, “We’re all very grateful for your help, sir, but…what do you want in exchange?”

“My privacy,” Alexandros said simply.

“Er…well, we’d be happy to give you that, now that you’ve helped us,” Kit answered skeptically. “But are you sure you don’t want any other payment? We could put in a good word for you with the Archduke…”

“Archduke? I thought it was an Archduchess!” For the first time, the mage’s scattered grumpiness cleared, and he focused closely on Kit. “What happened to Amelia?”

“I’m sorry,” Kit replied gently. “She passed away just over two weeks ago.”

Alexandros sighed. “Well, I suppose she was getting on. Who’s inherited, then? Her son?”

“No – her grandson, Alistair.”

“Hmph!” The mage snorted. “Well, I hope he’s stopped foddering around enough to calm down and rule!”

Kit cleared her throat, while Honore tried to suppress a snicker. “Yes. Well,” Kit said awkwardly. “He’s, er, calmed down quite a bit. His grandmother thought that he would make a fine Archduke.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Alexandros conceded. “You’ve come from the capital, then? Personal friends of the Archduke?” He eyed Kit significantly, raising his eyebrows at her growing blush. “Personal friends,” he repeated. “So what are you doing all the way down here?”

“We’re here to fight the slavers,” Jet replied. Grateful to be talking again, and seeing that the rest of the group seemed to trust the mage, the often-laconic cook was, for once, eager to chatter away. “We were sent from the capital to investigate where they’re coming from, and to try to put a stop to them.”

“Ah!” The mage brightened a little. “In that case, may I make a few suggestions?”

“Oh, suggest away!” said Jet. 

“Well, first, I would suggest that you should have the Archduke talk to the other members of the Mages of Northern Arilian. If they know that he’s committed to fighting the slavers, they may be willing to help. And I would suggest that he talk to them about other subjects, too.” Alexandros narrowed his eyes at the group. “You must have come through Brightspan in order to get here. Did you meet with the Duchess? What did you think of her?”

Kit wavered. “Well…she’s…er…”

Alexandros nodded, with a satisfied sniff in response to Kit’s hesitation. “She’s a diabolist,” he said flatly. Alessandre blinked, drawing back from the mage’s directness. “And you should talk to the rest of the Mage’s Circle, because it is not safe for anyone to allow her to continue her work.”

“Thank you,” Kit said, a little weakly. “We had…er, suspected that she might not have Canberry’s best interests at heart. Do you have any suggestions about who we should talk to first? And can we use your name – you know, say that you sent us?”

“Talk to Lady Meredith the Dazzling. This is more her area of expertise than anyone else’s.”

“All right. Thank you.” Kit could see Jet edging towards the door, anxious to get out of the tower and on his way. “Is there anything else that we can give you?”

“My privacy,” Alexandros repeated.

And so the party gave it to him. It was fifty-three flights down to the ground, but everyone walked it under their own power.

**
While the rest of the party worked on redistributing the packs, now that the Hanalians’ horses didn’t need to worry about carrying the petrified bodies of Jet and Alessandre, Toby stared thoughtfully up at the mage’s tower, wandering slowly back towards it.

“You know, I think that man needs a bit of cheering up,” Toby mused to the nearest set of Tangites. “I think he needs a monkey.”

And with that, he summoned a monkey, which went scampering up the outside wall of the tower. And then he left.


----------



## Ladybird

“So what do we do now?” Kit looked around at the others, as they made camp for the night. “We don’t have that many people left. And if there really are all these bandits, there’s no way we can make any kind of strike against them. I say we turn this into an information-gathering mission. Find out as much as we can about what’s going on, and get back safely. All right?”

“What if we find reinforcements?” asked Jet. “There are supposed to be some other knights of Canberry down here, fighting the slavers.”

“All right,” Kit conceded. “If we can find enough reinforcements from Canberry. Or Princess Anastasia. Otherwise, unless we get a really lucky break, I don’t think we’re going to have the numbers or power to do anything significant.”

It was the middle of the first watch when Honore heard something, far back in the woods, and nudged Kit. Kit concentrated for a moment, opening up her mind to Detect Thoughts.  _Surround them!_ someone was thinking, far back in the trees. _Take the kidnappers alive!_

That was all the warning that they had, before the trumpets blew and the clearing erupted with the clank of armor and clatter of hoofbeats as the Hanalians rode forth. 

The Canberrians were suddenly surrounded by sixty armed Hanalian soldiers. Just as before, there was a good deal of shouting and demanding to stand and deliver and surrender in the name of various crowns, until they managed to get it sorted out that no, they were neither slavers nor kidnappers. Unlike before, however, this group was led by a much more mature-looking nobleman, with his heraldry prominently displayed on his shield. At his side was a severe-looking man in the robes of a Paranswarmian Inquisitor, who, as soon as it had been determined that the Canberry party was no threat, declared, “It is your honor to meet His Grace the Duke of Snattercaz.”


----------



## Ladybird

While the Canberrians scattered around, making room for the overwhelming – but, fortunately, peaceful – force of Hanalians, the Duke of Snattercaz was holding a quick, muttered discussion with his advisor the Inquisitor.

“The leader isn’t displaying any heraldry,” the duke said, glancing at Kit out of the corner of his eye, “but she must be a noblewoman.”

“She’s traveling with a priest and a nun,” the Inquisitor observed. “For someone to have two clerical advisors, in an entourage that small? She must be at least a countess. Perhaps the heir to a duchy. If she were a duchess, of course,” the Inquisitor added, preening, “she would be traveling with a bishop.”

The duke frowned. “You’re probably right. I can’t place her accent, though. She doesn’t sound Canberrian. Although the priest most definitely does…" Snattercaz slid off of his horse and landed in front of Kit. “My lady?”

After all of this time, Kit was finally used to the title. “Yes, Your Grace?” she replied, not missing a beat. The duke glanced significantly over at the bishop, raising his eyebrows at her casual reaction, while Kit raised her eyebrows in return, studying the duke and bishop as they exchanged looks. Surreptitiously, Kit sent out a Mindlink to Honore. _Help me out with this?_ Kit thought. _This one’s important._

_I’ll do what I can_, Honore thought back. She glanced over at the duke and the bishop – fortunately, neither of them appeared to have noticed the psionic activity.

“What’s your name?”

Kit thought fast. She could tell that the duke wasn’t sure of her rank – she’d seen him looking for her heraldry. _Don’t say ‘Dame,’_Honore suggested. _Just say your name and let him guess at the rest._ “Katherine of Lyneham, Your Grace,” Kit said out loud. It had the result they’d hoped for – the duke and bishop exchanged another look, and she could see the bishop racking his brains, trying to figure out where in Canberry Lyneham was. _Well, it wasn’t part of Canberry until a couple months ago, so he’ll have a fun time trying to figure that one out,_ Kit thought.

“What is your mission here south of your border?” the duke asked.

“We told you – we’re here fighting the slavers. We were sent by the Archduke himself to look into the matter.”

The duke and bishop exchanged another glance, this time a surprised one. “The Archduke? Has Her Grace finally gone into eternal darkness, then?”

Honore frowned subtly at the Paranswarmian idiom; Alessandre frowned a little less subtly. “She rests in the light,” Alessandre muttered.

“Sadly, yes, Her Grace Lady Amelia has passed on,” Kit interjected, speaking over Sister Alessandre. The duke looked at her more closely – there was a note of real sorrow in Kit’s voice when she spoke of Amelia’s death, and Snattercaz had noticed it. “Just over two weeks ago. Her grandson Alistair has succeeded her.”

“And whose son is _he_?” the bishop asked, a slight note of disdain in his voice.

“That’s Belconnen’s son,” Snattercaz replied, before Kit could do so. “One of them, at least. Belconnen was a good man – a good warrior,” he said, nodding in gruff approval. “I’m glad it’s one of his children who’s sitting on the throne now.” 

Kit found herself grinning at the Duke. _If he thinks Alistair’s going to be a good Archduke, then maybe he’s someone we’ll be able to work with._ she thought to Honore, and could feel the priestess’s inward smile in response. But then Kit remembered something else that she needed to tell Snattercaz, and her smile faded. “Your Grace, I’m sorry to have to report another death. Several more. Sir Bernard Sathrecar, and all of his men. They were killed by bandits – they fought bravely, but they were outnumbered more than three to one, and all of them were lost.”

The Duke closed his eyes. “I’m going to have to tell his father,” he said, with a sad, heavy sigh. The Inquisitor made the downward-arrow sign of Paranswarm with his hand, shaking his head. “Are you sure it was bandits?” the duke asked. “Not the slavers?”

“Well…” Kit said slowly, “we think they may be connected. “At least, we think that some of the bandits are being backed by some of the slavers. Some of the bandits are just refugees who have turned to banditry because they have no other option. And there are several groups of slavers at work. But we think there’s one group that’s become particularly strong recently.”

“We know,” said the bishop flatly. “There are over a thousand of them, at a fortified base to the south of here. And they’re attacking with _these_.” He hauled a heavy sack from behind his horse’s saddle and tossed it to the ground at the Canberrians’ feet. The sack slid open to reveal the grotesque figure of a creature that was half human, but misshapen, and with black bat-wings sticking up from its shoulders. The bishop smiled grimly, and a little maliciously, as Kit and Honore sprang back, and Alessandre clutched at her holy symbol. “It’s a tiefling,” the bishop said, at the same time that Honore prompted Kit with the same information in her mind.

_Is that the same kind of thing that Lady Brightspan has been summoning?_ Kit thought to Honore.

_There are multiple kinds of tieflings – so, not necessarily. But I’m not sure it’s entirely a coincidence that we’re finding tieflings here, either._

“The slavers have been using those,” Snattercaz continued. “And you’re right that some of the refugees have been turning to banditry, but some of them have been doing it because the slavers have recruited them. Offering to protect their families, in exchange for help with raiding and slave-taking.”

Kit shuddered, her frown deepening at the thought of the refugees being coerced and threatened like that. “We’ve heard that the slavers have some pretty serious magical power on their side. Do you know anything about that?”

“It’s an arcana,” the bishop said, with the air of someone who has just made a great and portentous statement.

_What’s that?_ Kit thought frantically to Honore. _Please help me out – I can’t look stupid in front of them!_

_I’m not sure exactly,_ Honore thought back apologetically. _It’s some kind of demon, I think?_

“Ah,” Kit said, nodding with a very good approximation of comprehension. “More demons, then.”

The duke stepped back, glancing over at the bishop again, and beckoned him away with a nod of his head. The two men held a whispered conversation for a few moments, and then the duke returned. “My lady,” he said, with a respectful nod to Kit. “Would you walk with me for a while? I believe there are some things that we may need to discuss in private.”


----------



## Ladybird

The Duke led Kit deeper into the forest, winding between the trees away from the camp and into the darkening night. In other circumstances, Kit might have felt apprehensive, alone in the dark with a strange man from a hostile country, armed to the teeth and with dozens of knights at his command. But she still had the Mindlink with Honore – and she could tell that Snattercaz was nervous about something.

_Bet you two silver that he’s trying to work up the courage to tell me about Princess Anastasia,_ Kit thought to Honore.

_Is it really proper to be wagering on something so serious?_ Honore’s words were disapproving, but her mental tone was amused. It turned more sober, though, as she asked, _Are you sure you’re all right out there?_

_If anything goes wrong, you can raise the alarm._

Snattercaz took a deep breath, gathering his resolve. “My lady,” he began. “I’m afraid that I must inform you of another motive that Hanal has had, in our forays into the lands south of Canberry.”

“All right,” Kit replied. She was grateful for the darkness – it made it much easier for her to hide the smile that she wasn’t quite succeeding in suppressing. It shouldn’t be funny, but it really was – the Duke working up to a big confession that everyone already knew.

“We have been fighting the slavers wherever we find them, it is true. But our true purpose is to seek the Princess Anastasia, second daughter of the Empress Thyastis, may she reign in glorious darkness forever. Anastasia was last seen in this vicinity – she took one of her mother’s vollers, along with a small retinue, and came here in the hopes of combating the slavers herself.” The Duke’s voice warmed a little as he spoke of Anastasia. Maybe it was just a political match between them, but there seemed to be some honest affection in there, too, at least on the Duke’s side.

Carefully, Kit said, “I see. It must be a difficult political situation, not knowing the whereabouts of one of the princesses.”

“It is,” the Duke sighed. “And even more difficult than it may seem at first.” Kit’s ears pricked up – was there something new coming? “I admit my own personal involvement in the matter, since Anastasia is my betrothed…”

“How does she feel about that?” Kit broke in, surprising both herself and the Duke with her directness. She gulped, reaching along the Mindlink to feel Honore’s reassuring presence, just in case. _Still, how could I not ask? What if she’s just running away from a bad marriage?_

But the Duke didn’t seem to take offense, beyond an initial stiffening of his already upright posture. “She is aware of the need for someone in her position to make a political match. But she is not entirely opposed to the marriage for its own sake.”

Kit nodded, flashing the Duke a quick, apologetic look, and he continued. “But it is not just the marriage.” Snattercaz spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully as he went. “There is a faction at court that favors Anastasia as the heir to the throne. She is impulsive, yes, as is the way with the young. But she is also idealistic.” Unlike his compatriot, when the Duke spoke of Anastasia’s idealism, he didn’t make it sound like an insult. “A follower of the Weeping Woman. And…much better suited to leadership than either of her sisters.” 

Kit grinned up at the Duke. The more she heard about Anastasia, the more she liked her. This was _definitely_ the kind of heir that Canberry would like to see in Hanal. But… “What about the other sisters?” Kit asked, her smile fading a little.

Snattercaz glanced around, as if worried about being overheard, even out in the middle of the forest, thousands of miles away from his home country. “The eldest of the Empress’s three daughters is…secure in her convictions, and not troubled with moral questions.” His mouth twisted wryly. “And fond of torturing her slaves. And her lovers. The youngest daughter would not be an objectionable candidate from that perspective – she has shown no signs of the kinds of personality traits that her mother and eldest sister share. But she is weak and sickly, and probably could not withstand the physical rigors of rulership.”

“So which one does the Empress favor? The eldest?”

“The Empress has not declared her preference,” the Duke replied. His voice still had that careful tone, even though there was nobody to hear besides Kit. “The eldest is the presumed heir, but Thyastis’s plan for succession is…to live forever, and therefore not need a succession.”

Kit stared incredulously at the Duke for a moment. _That does seem consistent with what we know of Thyastis,_ Honore offered over the Mindlink, when Kit relayed the information to her. _Self-centered, and maniacally overconfident._

Snattercaz was still speaking, though. “The difficulty is that if the eldest sister takes the throne after Thyastis’s death – may it not occur for a thousand years!” he added hastily. “ – she will have the legal authority to execute her sisters. There will not be a second chance to put a good ruler on the throne of Hanal.”

Kit swallowed hard, and nodded. “Your Grace?” she began slowly. “I’m one of the Archduke’s advisors. From what I know of him, and from what I know of the situation in Canberry, I think that Princess Anastasia sounds like the kind of person that Canberry would very much like to see on the throne of Hanal. It would be to our benefit as well as yours, if she became Empress someday. If you’ll accept our help, we’d like to help you look for her.”

The Duke nodded, giving Kit a small smile. “Thank you. I had hoped that you would. We’ll have to find some way of communicating, so that we can coordinate our efforts…”

Kit reached into her pocket and pulled out the small stone that she had taken from the Hanalian lieutenant. “Would this help, m’lord? I’m not sure how it works, but I think it’s used for communication. It belonged to one of the leaders of the expedition we encountered earlier. I was going to return it to you,” she added, mostly truthfully.

The Duke’s eyes lit up. “Ah! You found the linkstone. Good. We’ll have to get it recalibrated so that it will be keyed to you, but the bishop can do that. Let’s go back to camp.”

The Inquisitor, still skeptical of the Canberrians in general and Kit in particular, was reluctant at first. But the Duke persuaded him to cast the requisite spell in order to realign the linkstone, allowing him to communicate with Kit, and vice versa.

And Kit went to bed quite satisfied, after tossing off a Sending back to Canberry. _Found sane Hanalians_, she reported. _Helping look for princess, so we can have sane heir to throne_…


----------



## Quartz

Oh yes...


----------



## Ladybird

Later that night, while Sir Toby and the nine little Tangites were on watch, there was a rustling, rumbling sound back in the trees. As they listened, the sound grew louder – and louder still, resolving into the rhythmic beat of dozens of hooves.

A herd of antelope thundered into the clearing, crashing with desperate speed through the trees. Three of the Tangites dove down to take cover; three looked to Toby for guidance; three stared in confusion.

Their confusion only increased a few seconds later, when the lions that were chasing the antelope appeared. The other six Tangites yelped and joined the first three in hiding in their miniature tents. 

Toby reached immediately for his gun. Perhaps this was not the original purpose for which Whimsey had sent him here, but if She chose to send lions into his path – and surely, the appearance of a herd of antelope and lions (herd of lions? pack of lions? flock of lions? oh well, there were only three of them anyway, not really enough for any kind of group) in such an unlikely environment indicated the workings of Whimsey. She would favor his gun, if She saw fit…

BOOM! He fired at the rearmost lion, sending out a puff of smoke – and suddenly, the lion was running _upwards_, flying at a steep angle into the air. 

Toby waved his gun, as if to direct the lion away. And sure enough, it moved in the direction that Toby’s gun pointed. The lion floated off, letting out a series of increasingly befuddled mewing roars. And then the sound faded into nothingness, leaving only peace and quiet in the night.


----------



## Ladybird

The parting between the Canberrians and Hanalians was much more cordial than their meeting – except for the bishop, who still glowered at everyone with vague discontent – and Kit and the Duke each promised to notify the other if they came across any sign of Anastasia.

They hadn’t been on the road for very long when the all-too-familiar sound of battle floated towards them. This time, though, there was something different – the accents of the shouting voices sounded familiar, and the sound of monstrous hisses was growing fainter by the second. The Canberrians spurred their horses forward, riding _towards_ the battle this time instead of away. “Broadfields!” Honore exclaimed, breaking into a bright smile at the familiar sight of her home county’s banners. 

The fight was almost over, and the large group of knights bearing the banners of Canberry’s Earl Broadfields was definitely on the winning side. The corpses of tieflings and bandits littered the ground, and there were halfling auxiliaries hurrying between the fallen bodies, finishing the last few off. There was nothing left for the party to do besides offer healing to the wounded, and try to figure out what had happened.

“I can’t understand where these abominations came from,” grumbled the leader, once the initial introductions had been made. Sir Alonzo Barleybasket, a vassal of Earl Broadfields, was as bluff and wholesome-looking as his name would imply, and looked surprisingly at ease in his heavy armor. “I’ve never seen anything like them before.”

“They’re tieflings,” Honore explained. “Some of the slavers have been using them to resist the armed groups that have been sent against them.”

Sir Alonzo grumbled even more darkly. “We knew they were some sort of unholy creature. Now we’ll be better able to fight against them. Which way are you headed? Would you…” He paused, glancing back at his lieutenant, and his expression grew a little more gloomy still. “Would you like a more heavily armed escort?” The knight didn’t look precisely happy at the prospect of needing to protect the little group, but clearly, his honor demanded that he at least ask.

The relief was plain on Sir Alonzo’s face when Kit replied, “Actually, we’re on the trail of a different group. Of slavers,” she added hastily. “You haven’t seen a voller around here, have you?”

“Well, actually, yes,” Sir Alonzo said, drawing back with surprise at the odd question. “Heading southeast. Yesterday morning, wasn’t it?” He looked back to his lieutenant for confirmation once more, and the other man nodded.

“Then that’s the way we need to go, too,” said Kit. “Good luck, Sir Alonzo, and take care. We’ll meet again, I hope.”


----------



## Ladybird

Another day’s ride south, and they saw it. 

An enormous wooden fortification rose up from the southern plains, surrounded by another several layers of outbuildings, tents, and makeshift stables. Dust wafted through the air, churned up by hundreds of feet as an enormous group of slaves, bound and shuffling and downcast, was herded out through the open gates of the stockade. Through another gate, a smaller group, only a dozen or so, was being driven raggedly into the slavers’ camp at the hands of two mounted uruks, whipping them brutally forwards. Above the wooden rim of the stockade fluttered the distorted, black-winged form of a tiefling.

The group hung back behind the crest of the hill, watching warily for a few minutes. Finally, Sir Toby broke the silence, his booming flamboyant voice slightly subdued. “Shall I scout ahead?”

“That means being _stealthy_,” Kit said, shooting a pointed look at the ruffled musketeer, and recovering her skepticism along with her equilibrium. “Are you sure you can do that?”

Sir Toby drew himself up with a plumed huff. “Certainly! In fact, I can be more stealthy than anyone else! If necessary, I can be invisible!”

Kit hesitated for a moment longer, glancing towards the others. Alessandre, deep in distressed prayer as she watched the procession of downtrodden slaves, offered no reaction. Honore, skeptical but resigned, pointed out gently, “It _is_ an asset.” Jet, just skeptical, shrugged. Finally, Kit nodded. “All right. But be _careful_. Here – I’ll keep a Mindlink running with you. If anything bad happens, let us know – and get out of there, quick!”

“Fear not!” Toby declared, with another flourish of his hat. It turned into a confused shake of his head halfway through, as the unfamiliar sensation of the Mindlink sank in, but he waved his hat and musket aloft, and trotted off down the hill.

**
_Eeeeeek! ahem. I’m all right, I’m all right! Never fear!_ Sir Toby’s thoughts came over the Mindlink in scattered bursts. _That was rather close, but everything is all right. They seem to have put up some fascinating traps around the perimeter of the encampment. Oh, look, caltrops! How shiny! And quite effective._

Still visible for now, the musketeer crept closer to the slavers’ fortified camp, unnoticed among the chaotic shuffle of  prisoners, bandits, tieflings, and captors. “Hm,” he murmured out loud. “That’s an unusual design for a trap.”

“Ooooh.” A slow, sultry feminine voice came from behind Toby’s shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

Toby straightened up. The voice belonged to a woman, nearly as tall as Toby himself, with flowing black hair…and flowing black wings. There was something slightly wrong about the set of her bones, and her eyes glowed faintly red.

Over the Mindlink, Kit’s thoughts started to grow more agitated the minute she received the image. _Toby, Honore says that that sounds like a tiefling. Get out of there!_

Toby didn’t respond to the frantic thoughts pounding in his mind, but he did talk back to the black-winged woman. “It’s a trap! Fascinating, isn’t it? Look how the little bolt goes this way and that!”

“You’re rather fascinating yourself,” the tiefling drawled, moving a little closer to Toby. “What are you doing so far from home? You’re not one of us. Who are you, little feathery one?”

_Toby, get out!_

A strange, unfamiliar emotion tugged at Toby, holding him back from answering the winged woman. Could it be…caution? “But who are you, fair lady? Er. Dark lady?”

“I asked first,” she replied, with a slanting smile. One elegant hand lifted, and flickered in the familiar-looking motions of a spell. If she’d succeeded, Toby wouldn’t have known what it meant – but he was able to resist, and realized that the winged woman was trying to Charm him.

_Get out get out get out!_

_If this is where Whimsy has sent me, then I must follow!_ Toby thought back, over the Mindlink. And then, just to himself, _But that doesn’t mean that I need to sit here and wait while she tries to Charm me._ Toby stepped back and lowered his gun, carefully taking aim at the winged woman.

BANG! A fruitcake shot out of the end of the musket.

_Woooooo! I am the Voice of Whimsy! And I say GET OUT!_

_Now that’s just silly,_ Toby thought back reproachfully. Before the tiefling could finish her next spell, Toby was already casting one of his own, and in a tiny puff of feathers and cake crumbs, he vanished.

The tiefling let out a low chuckle. “Ooooh, this game is fun,” she drawled. She vanished too, except for her lips, which remained, red and full and hovering ever closer to the invisible form of Toby.

Toby darted around to the side, and took aim again at the predatory lips. With a whiff of gunpowder, he became visible again, but this time, the bullet found its mark. The tiny pellet of metal didn’t appear to have hurt the tiefling woman much, but a second after it hit, the bullet’s other effect took hold. The red lips parted – in laughter. Hysterical, uncontrollable laughter seized the tiefling, and she shimmered into visibility again, doubled over and unable to do anything but laugh.

And _then_, Sir Toby got out.


----------



## recentcoin

Yay for Sir Toby...

Nothing like a bit of chaos to liven things up....


----------



## Ladybird

[Note: At this point, real-life concerns broke in – there was a huge blizzard coming, and the GM needed to leave. The rest of the session was therefore wrapped up over email. I’ll attempt to turn the brief exchange of emails into something that would be fun to read, because there’s some important information that needs to be conveyed along the way]

The group beat a hasty retreat from the slavers’ encampment before the tiefling could recover from her laughing fit and report to her superiors. “All right,” Kit said, once they had reached a safe distance. “We’ve got the location. We’ll note it so that a larger group can be sent back sometime later.”

“When we can spare the time and people,” Honore cautioned. “Now, I agree that something _must_ be done,” she continued, holding up a hand to appease Alessandre’s incipient protest. “But with the coronation so close, and so many other threats to the Archduke and the crown, who knows when we will be able to spare the people to take care of such a large fortified encampment?”

“I suppose,” Kit agreed reluctantly. “We’ll see what things are like when we get back to the capital. For now…let’s keep following Princess Anastasia. And let’s try to check out some of these so-called nobles who have been setting themselves up. 

The group continued journeying towards the southeast, following the course of Anastasia’s airship. This time, instead of skirting around the fortifications that marked the sites of the new nobles’ power bases, they headed towards them. Choosing a spot about equidistant between four small stockades, the group set up their own camp; then, leaving the Tangites behind to stand guard, they split up to start investigating. Kit, Honore, and Toby would cover two of the stockades; Jet and Alessandre the other. Connected by a Mindlink between Kit and Jet, laden with some of the bribe – er, compensation – money that Kit had been given by Dame Esmeralda, and on their guard against whatever they might find, they set off to check out just what kind of societies were setting themselves up south of the border.

**
“Thugs,” Jet declared flatly. “They say that they give the common folk more protection than they would have otherwise, and that might be true, but if that’s what they call protection, well, I’d rather be out on my own.” Anger was making the laconic chef more talkative than anyone had seen him on any subject other than cooking techniques. 

“That was only in one of the towns that we saw.” Alessandre was struggling to maintain her optimism, but her soft voice was still pained with the memory of what she had seen. “The southernmost one. Yes, their leaders were horrible. They claim that their people are free, but from what I saw, there was very little freedom in that town.”

“We had one of those, too,” Kit nodded, her expression set in a deep frown. “The smaller of our two towns. Nobody wanted to talk – they were all too afraid. But they’re more afraid to leave, because they don’t want to be without the protection of a lord, even one who deserves the name as little as that horrible strong-man leader does. The first decent contact I found, I paid off and left. I hope she’ll be able to get information out to me. Things looked…pretty bad in there.”

Jet nodded in unhappy agreement. “The people were being beaten in the streets. And the head man grabbed a woman right out of the street – right in front of her husband! and claimed her as his own.”

“We left there very quickly,” Alessandre hastened to reassure the others, as Honore started to reach out towards her with a swift, worried gesture. “I was never in any danger myself. But the poor people who live there….” She broke off, shaking her head sadly. “Are they really any better off than they would have been under the Noldar slavers?”

“We won’t let this continue,” Kit said, still frowning darkly. “We’ll report back to Alistair and get those places cleaned up. When we have time and resources,” she added with a sigh, before Honore could correct her again. “What about the other town?” Kit continued.

“Better?” Alessandre said hopefully. “The leader is someone whose name I had never heard before – someone from the old South Kingdoms, who has never been a leader before. He’s inexperienced, but he seems to be doing all right.”

Jet nodded. “He’s young, but he’ll learn,” he agreed. “Good instincts, that one. And he’s got an older woman advising him – an aunt or some such. She might make a good contact for you.”

Kit nodded. “I suppose our second town was the best of the bunch, then. One of the old South Kingdoms ladies has set herself up in charge. Or what passes for a manor there, I guess. She’s – well, she’s a lady. She’s ruling pretty well. People seem to be happy.” She managed a smile, answering Alessandre’s hopeful optimism with some of her own. “I suppose that in some places, at least, things are actually starting to pick themselves back up here. Tomorrow, I’ll go around and try to get in touch with those contacts. And then we’ll do the same for the other towns that we find along the way. And we’ll make a note of where the bad leaders are, so that we can come back later and clean house. We can’t let that happen,” she repeated, with growing determination. “Not on our watch.”


----------



## recentcoin

Yeah..go Kit!

Girl power!


----------



## Ladybird

They were almost in time.

The voller sat on a broad plain, far below the high hill where the Canberrians watched. The ship was surrounded by dozens of Hanalian knights, all rushing in a frantic, scattered stream towards another, smaller group of people.  Twelve figures, their stark black robes pulled up over their heads, surrounded a small, slim woman. The woman’s brightly-colored clothing stood out boldly against the dark robes, and flashed in and out as she struggled against the robed figures. 

“It’s the princess!” Jet shouted, already drawing his sword as he started to move forward. 

But Alessandre stretched out a hand to stop him, her soft voice high with fright. “No!” she gasped. “Look there!”

As they watched, the destination of the robed figures became clear: an enormously tall, elegantly-garbed figure whose furred snout and ears were impeccably groomed. “A Rat Lord?” Jet exclaimed, staring in incredulous horror. The black robe of one the other figures slipped down, revealing the black armor and fur of Eshen gutter-runners. The Rat Lord reached out towards the still-struggling Anastasia, its manicured claws curling viciously around her arm.

And then the Rat Lord and the Princess of Hanal disappeared.

A roar of distraught anger arose from the Hanalian soldiers, and they sped forward, falling upon the remaining gutter-runners with vicious force. But a few of the knights were moving more slowly, weighed down by armor and age – white hair showed at the bottom of their helms. The older knights staggered to a halt, a few of them bent double with the effort of breathing, and with the effort of enduring after the loss of their princess. With a slow, grieving solemnity, they helped each other out of their armor, and then fell on their swords, punishing themselves for the dishonor of having lost Princess Anastasia.

If there was any doubt about Kit’s origins among the other Canberrians, those doubts were cleared up as soon as Princess Anastasia disappeared. “Dame Katherine” let out a stream of furious language that came directly from the filthy streets of Plurg.

“Right out from under our bloody noses!” she managed to choke out at last. “We were so close! So close!”

Jet was scowling down at the increasingly bloody scene below them. “They’re too old to be out there anyway,” he said, shaking his head sadly at the aged knights strewn over the field. “They can’t be blamed for losing her – and how do they think that that will help them find her?”

Aha!” Toby’s triumphant cry turned all eyes towards him, with curious, hopeful looks. With the air of someone who has just made a great discovery, he declared, “The skaven were responsible!” As the others started to turn away again in exasperation, Toby continued, “And those people look like they’re trying to find them!” And, in fact, a separate group of Hanalians – younger knights, and some wearing the distinctive robes of mages - was starting to fan out across the plain.

“If they’re searching, we need to search, too,” Kit declared, her anger starting to resolve itself into determination. “The princess is a good person, and the best hope we’ve got of a sane leader in Hanal.” Kit wasn’t sure when she had started to call Canberry ‘we’; nor was she sure when she had decided that she knew so definitively what Anastasia was like. But she had the complete strength of her convictions behind her words. “We’ll tell the other knights that we’ve talked to the Duke of Snattercaz, and offer our help in searching for her.” Then Kit sighed, as a new thought hit her. “And I’m going to have to tell Snattercaz what happened, too.” She shook her head wearily, and took out the linkstone to tell the Duke that the princess had been kidnapped.

[End of Session 5]


----------



## Orichalcum

Dame Brionna listened to Kit's report of her mission to the south, keeping an impassive face as much as possible. Once Kit had left to reunite more privately with Alistair, and she was certain that the young spymistress was therefore not listening in on her thoughts, she drew a long sigh.

"I wonder," Brionna thought, "if Kit realizes that detouring to depetrify her friends may have lost her the chance to save Princess Anastasia. I hope not, in a way, although she is very young, and needs to start thinking about longer-term goals. Perhaps that's the difference between us. Kit's very nice; she really cares about individuals, and helping out her friends. Even now, I think she's mostly working at the court because she loves Alistair, although she's coming to love Canberry too. 

I would probably have left Jet and Alessandre there as statues for a few days, and pursued the mission, or else gotten help from the court mages back at Canberry. After all, they weren't in any harm, and the long-term future of an entire nation was at stake. And that doesn't make me a nice person. I can't afford to be; we nobles are trained to think of the good of the whole, and of the effects of our actions 10 or 30 or 100 years from now. It's not that I don't care; it's a question of priorities. i'd be sad personally if Alistair died, even if he is a bit of a twit occasionally, but devastated on behalf of Canberry and the forces of Light. 

Now I just need to make sure no one mentions to Kit the attractive priestesses of Glordiadel I've been distracting Alistair with while she's been away. I'll ask the chaplain to start rotating them out of the choir at morning services. Kit might think I don't approve of her relationship with His Grace. And I do! But really - she was gone for almost two weeks. Alistair was going to sleep with someone, and much better for it to be people who were reliable, discreet, and pre-screened as good and loyal, than some random chambermaid whose cleavage he liked.  Still, much better for her not to know. We can't afford distractions caused by a lovers' quarrel - not this close to the coronation!


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Just thought I'd pop in again to tell you guys that I'm still enjoying this storyhour greatly ... keep up the good work!   

... and the daily updates!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks to Ladybird for all the great storyhour writing.  It's been fun to be a reader in this thread for a while.   But now you'll all have to put up with my writing again.  On the upside, I have so much storyhour written up and not posted that I'm going to go back to a daily schedule (not just weekdays) AND increase the length of the posts.  Without further ado...

Session 6:
Shortly after Kit's return, Alistair and his friends and confidants gathered in his meeting room.  Of course, in light of his grandmother's passing, the meeting was formally a security briefing for the Archduke.

Dame Brionna began. "Your grace, we have several issues that we should discuss.  We need to make a variety of security preparations for the coronation and the continuing internal threats that could try to disrupt it. We also need to discuss how we plan on dealing with some of the potential external threats."

"Let's begin with discussing the envoys we expect to receive.  Some of them create additional concerns, and they're our best way to start dealing with the external threats."

Dame Brionna nodded.  "Yes, your grace.  All of the major human kingdoms in Southern Drucien are sending important emissaries.  Queen Thyastis of Hanal is sending the Hiercov of Magdad." Seeing a vaguely confused look on Alistair's face, she clarified.  "'Hiercov' is a noble title, about equivalent to a duke.  The Hiercov has a relatively good reputation.  I'm certain that he's loyal to Queen Thyastis, but he's primarily known as a decorated war hero.  In light of Dame Katherine's reports about the Queen's potential heirs, I should note that we do not know who he would support in a succession.

"The 'Goddess-Empress' of Masque is sending Count Gerring Holt of the Order of the Ocelot.  As you know, all of the nobles of Masque and most of the free people are members of an Order.  Nobles have the right to reclaim fallen or unused orders as their own, which Count Holt did with the Order of the Ocelot.  As a result, he is the only member of the Order.  Masque has a plethora of nobles, so Hanal and others may view it as something of a snub that they're sending a mere count, but I do not believe that you should take it that way, your grace.  Count Holt is a favorite of the Empress-- I do not know whether that extends to a special private relationship, so I wouldn't recommend trying to use the possibility of a royal marriage as a tool to build ties to Masque.  He is also a noted alchemist and an accomplished psionicist, despite not being a member of their Order of the Serpent, which includes most of their most powerful mages and psions."

"I assume that if we are interested in hiring the Order of the Falcon as mercenaries, we should discuss the matter with the representative of the Empress of Masque first?"

"I think so, your grace.  For whatever reason, that Order typically does not accept contracts from the government of Masque itself, but I wouldn't want the Empress to draw the incorrect conclusion."

Kit frowned.  "I still don't think we should be dealing with them.  Their Grand Constable ate someone's arm!  Surely, m'lord, they aren't the only option for mercenaries if we have to expand our military resources."

"I'm not sure there are any better options," said Alistair.  "There are too many possible military threats.  If the Duchy of Brightspan's army is part of a coordinated attack on the Forest of Singing Leaves by Hanal, Brightspan, and the Noldar, we could quickly find ourselves in the midst of a major war with Hanal, and that's assuming that a civil war doesn't break out.  Add to that the threats to the refugees in the Sunken Lands, Hanal's continual expansionist ambitions, Brightspan's disloyalty, the skaven, the orcs, and the human barbarians, and we just need more military capacity.  We can't ready seasoned regular armies fast enough, and Dame Brionna says that the Order of the Falcon is the only one of their orders that is both large and effective enough to fill our needs."

"From all that we know, Count Sheringar of the Order of the Falcon is very loyal to his employers, so I don't think we need to worry that he would betray us," Dame Brionna continued, although Kit's expression made it clear that she was still not persuaded.  "To continue, the less powerful human kingdoms, such as Tang and the Cities of the Gates, will of course also be sending ambassadors, but they are less of a priority.

"The most notable non-human delegations we expect are from the elves, including both Eldar and Noldar.  The Forest of Singing Leaves is sending Lord Everglowing Silverleaves.  Lord Silverleaves is a bard of unparalleled skill; he may in fact be the most talented bard on Aphonion, as many of the handful of more powerful Eldar bards have gone West.  He is an Eldar himself, of course, and will be representing the Queen of Leaves.

"Setilina of House Curini'rim intends to represent the Noldar.  She is a Firstcomer."

"What does that mean?" asked Stythus.

"It means that she was one of the elves that the Creator made personally, when they were the only people in Aphonion," explained Alistair.  "All of the other Eldar and Noldar, and of course the other elves, are the descendants of the Firstcomers.  She chose her side in the war between the Creator and Morgrath and predates the first humans.  That also implies tremendous personal power, in addition to her political ties."

"Indeed, your grace.  She is a powerful psionicist, as well as having both clerical and arcane magical abilities.  She specializes in clockwork automata-- House Curini'rim are the artificers of the Noldar and among the least virulently evil of the Houses.  Politically, she has close ties to Region 9 of the Zorplona-Aragoni, which is the region covering Northern Drucien.  Her cousin is in charge there.  As your grace may recall, Region 9 has stopped engaging in the slave trade and has begun an emphasis on regular trade."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

"Thank you, Dame Brionna.  Kit, why don't you brief us on the threats we've identified within Canberry."

"Yes, m'lord.  We're hearing many reports of someone trying to start a riot during the coronation procession.  Whoever it is has begun spreading money around the poorer parts of the City, m'lord."

Alistair frowned a little.  "Kit-- you don't need to call me 'm'lord.' I'm still just Alistair."

"Not when we're dealing with security matters, m'lord," replied Kit determinedly, eliciting a pleased smile from Dame Brionna.  "When I'm reporting to you as the Mouth, I'm reporting to my lord the Archduke."   Alistair looked displeased, but seeing that he wouldn't prevail, gestured for Kit to continue with her report.

"We also have heard reports that twenty heavily armed people have entered the city, m'lord.  They've been behaving politely and courteously, but haven't announced who they represent and have been doing their best to keep things quiet.  Until we know who they work for, we have to assume that they're up to no good.

"Finally, during my investigations in the south, we found evidence of a group of demon-worshippers active in the south, m'lord."

"And then there are the matters that we found out about earlier but haven't dealt with yet.  I don't believe we ever confirmed whether the Mother-Superior of the Order of Blessed Hope has in fact been corrupted by the skaven, as was rumored?"

Dame Brionna frowned.  "No, your grace, we haven't."

"Unless anyone thinks it's a bad idea, I think we can hand that off to the Archbishop of the Sun to handle.  It will save any awkwardness of our dealing with problems within the Church, and I'm sure that he can be relied on to treat it with the seriousness it deserves."

Sister Allessandre nodded.  "I think that's best, your grace.  If she has been corrupted, church troops are the ideal group to handle the threat as well."

"Good.  Sister Allessandre, if you could deliver the warning to the Archbishop?  Make sure that the church knights that he sends to investigate it have orichalcum to protect themselves if the Mother-Superior has been corrupted, and ask His Eminence to send us a report afterwards.  The more we can coordinate our efforts against the skaven with the Church's, the better.

"We also need to rescue my half-brother Dridall's family from the skaven.  The matter is too far afield for us to handle it directly, I think, and an army would be too slow and too visible to succeed.  I think our best bet would be to dispatch a team of adventurers to handle it.  We can tell them roughly where the Muldar fortress is, since we know that it's in the ruins of the city of Gettings.  If we're particularly lucky, that may be the same place that Princess Alexandra of Hanal is being held."

"I can take care of recruiting an appropriate group of adventurers, m'lord," responded Kit.

"How should we proceed on the rest of the issues?"

"Lord Alistair, if it's possible, I'd like to make a trip back to my home plane," said Stythus, Alistair's djinni squire.  "My house has been having troubles there.  Princes have been set up on all of the elemental planes and are seeking to force all of the noble houses to serve them."

"What sort of princes?  Just other elementals?"

"No... they are demonic, elemental princes that have taken on Abyssal energy.  And they are seeking to gather more followers."

"Wonderful.  We don't just need to worry about Borsh'tro's efforts to take over the Prime, but we need to help stop him in other planes as well," said Alistair.  "Of course you can go to help your family however you can.  In fact, I'm happy to offer them an alliance, if we can figure out any way for us to help them deal with this new threat."

"Maybe I could convince them to send some other djinn to help out with security for the coronation."

"That would be most helpful.  I'm sure that any sort of air elemental could be very effective at dispersing would-be rioters." Alistair paused in thought.  "What do your people value?  Do you use any sort of money?  We should send gifts with you."

"Exotic perfumes, special scents, and other types of precious air are often sought after on the Plane of Air."

"Fine.  I'll have someone buy a supply of perfumes from the market for you to bring as gifts.  But before you go, I want Lady Constance to look at that rune on your head.  We've neglected it for too long, and since I suspect it may involve demonism in some way, it would be best to deal with it before you begin working against demonic forces."

"When we speak with Lady Constance, we can also ask her about the tieflings in service to Brightspan, m'lord," added Kit.  "And then I think we need to get some people out into the city to find out more about who's instigating this riot.  It can't be difficult to find them-- they're spreading a lot of money around in all the lower class taverns."

Abigail, Kit's page, rapped on the door and poked her head inside.  "Your grace?  Lady Constance wishes to see you.  She has a knight by the ear and is berating him."

"Speak of the diabolist.  Send her in, please."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Constance stormed into the room, her face twisted in fury.  "Your grace, this fool had but a single duty, and he not only failed, he didn't even realize he had failed!" To emphasize her words, she twisted the ear of the knight she was escorting, producing a pained whince.

Dame Brionna held up a hand.  "Lady Constance... could you start at the beginning?  I recognize the Knight Guardian of the Pillow, but I don't understand the rest of what you're saying."

The aged diabolist released her grip on the Knight Guardian's ear.  "The Knight Guardian of the Pillow's duty was to protect a single pillow.  But really, his duty was to protect an Eldar medallion with tremendously powerful sustaining magic that was kept on the pillow.  The medallion was a gift from the Eldar of the Forest of Singing Leaves to your grandmother, your grace, and it sustained her life and kept her vigorous for years.  It was among the most powerful magic artifacts in the entire Archduchy.  And then this fool allowed someone to substitute a fake for the actual stone, and didn't even realize it was missing for months!"

Lord Alistair closed his eyes momentarily.  "I take it this was responsible for my grandmother's sudden decline?"

"Indeed.  I think that Amelia even realized what was happening, but did not want to allow anyone else to know.  The Eldar did her a great honor with that coronation gift, and would be displeased if they discovered that we had misplaced it.  And, unless my estimate is mistaken, the theft took place during an embassy to Tarsh seven months ago.  It would create quite a strain if we revealed that Tarsh allowed a major theft from a visiting head of state."

Dame Brionna glowered at the Knight Guardian, who looked absolutely miserable.  "The first thing we need to do, your grace, is make sure that the medallion isn't used in the coronation ceremony.  If Lord Silverleaves sees the replacement, he may recognize the switch."

"And then we need to see if we can recover it.  It's too valuable a resource to give up lightly.  Kit, do you have any assets in Tarsh?"

"No, m'lord.  Tarsh is too far away-- all of our resources are concentrated on this continent." She thought for a moment.  "I think this may be another matter to send a group of adventurers to deal with.  I may be able to find people who can get the medallion back without any other powers knowing that it was ever gone."

"Excellent.  Knight Guardian, you're dismissed.  For obvious reasons, speak of this to no one.  And now, Lady Constance, I was wondering if you could deal with a few matters for us."

"Of course, your grace."

"Quite some time ago, while we were fighting slavers in Enclaves, a hag carved a sigil into Stythus's head.  We believe that it has some mystical significance, but we were not sure what and hoped that you could tell us."

Lady Constance examined it carefully.  "Yes... it is a scrying mark.  It allows the power that the night hag served to observe young Stythus and his surroundings."

"Can you remove it?" asked Stythus.

"I should be able to, if you accompany me to my laboratory.  With your leave, your grace?"

"Certainly.  And if you can determine who she served, so much the better.  But please do return upon finishing.  There are some other matters we should discuss."

Stythus and Lady Constance made their way up to her lab.  Stythus pleased the ancient archmaga tremendously by showing her a secret passageway that shortened the trip considerably; as she explained, her knees aren't what they used to be, and the long trips up and down stairs and across many halls to get from her tower to the Archduke's chambers can be a bit trying.

Upon reaching her chambers, Lady Constance performed a complicated set of enchantments and then covered Stythus's head with a carefully prepared piece of parchment.  She rubbed the parchment against his head, while chanting words of power.  After a moment, she removed it and smiled.  "There.  The scrying power is now broken." She looked at the image left on the parchment, of a pale skinned elven woman.  "Give this to the Archduke.  The elf, or perhaps Noldar, whose image is on the parchment was the mistress of the night hag and the one who could scry through the mark." She paused.  "And now, I think, we'll summon the intermediary to us.  Do you think you could convince her to submit to your will?  Night hags are formidable foes, but they are used to deferring to more powerful figures in the demonic hierarchy.  If she believes you outmatch her, she will likely surrender easily."

Stythus thought for a moment.  "I think I could." He began sucking in more air, puffing his size up as much as he could manage in an effort to be more imposing.

"Good.  Then stand in that pentagram, while I begin the summoning." Lady Constance carefully checked and augmented the arcane sigils surrounding the pentagram, lit the appropriate incense in the braziers around her lab, drew forth a perfect, unornamented silver ring from a small chest, and then held her hands aloft.  "Lilith, Queen of Hell, I beseech you!  Command the night hag who marked this young djinn to appear before us!"

A moment later the night hag appeared in the pentagram with Stythus.  Before she had more than a moment to take in her surroundings, Stythus scowled and pointed at her, glowering fiercely.  "You!  You dared to mark me!  Now, the time of my revenge is at hand!"

The night hag hesitated for only a moment.  Then, with the slightest shrug of her shoulders, she cowered and kneeled before him.  "Please, do not harm me.  I recognize your might and will serve you as I can."

Lady Constance's lips drew back into a grim smile.  "As you swear to serve Stythus, I bind you to that promise." She held forth the silver ring.  "Enter, and come forth only when he calls you to serve." The hag bent her head in surrender, and then leapt towards the ring, fading away as she entered it.  Lady Constance carefully broke the pentagram.  "You may come out of the pentagram, now, Stythus.  I've been waiting so long for a good opportunity to use that ring.  Take it.  You will be able to summon the night hag three times per month, and she will serve you as best as she can."

"How long will she remain?"

"Up to one day for each service.  But be careful... if she is destroyed, the ring will lose its magic, and you will not be able to call on her again."


----------



## Quartz

Please keep this up!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

*Canberry Needs You!*

Curious about those adventurers Kit is sending to recover the Archduchess's amulet?  Wondering whether they will succeed and what wacky adventures they will have?  They could be you!  The DM of this game is writing an adventure for teams of PCs as they try to recover the amulet, to premiere at AnonyCon 2006  in Stamford, CT, December 15-17.  AnonyCon is a terrific con, mostly run by Ladybird and Delbon's player, with help from myself, Orichalcum, and many others.  Orichalcum and myself will be running another one of our D&D games as well, and Ladybird will have a Call of Cthulhu game, as well as much other fun stuff, including plenty of LG for people who like that.  We hope you'll join us.  And the Archduchy needs your help. 

Quartz:  Don't worry; I've got another 3 sessions all written up, and I'm working on the 4th.  That's nearly 100 pages more material!  I'll be able to keep up this posting rate for a long time.

I also want to mention that I have a note from the scene with Stythus and Lady Constance that says that the night hag serves the female demon.  I'm not sure what this means.

-------

When Stythus and Lady Constance returned to the meeting, they thanked the archmaga for her service.  While they did not recognize the face on the parchment, it was a lead that would surely bear fruit soon enough.  Lady Constance nodded, pleased.  "But you said you had another matter you wished to discuss?"

Alistair gestured to Kit, who nodded.  "Lady Constance, when I was investigating the slavers in the south, I saw that the army of Brightspan had been replaced by tieflings.  I do not know how many total, but there were definitely more than a hundred.  I also found out that there was a powerful group of demon-worshippers active, and I thought that the Duchess of Brightspan might be involved somehow.  Do you know anything about where the tieflings might have come from?"

Lady Constance paused, in thought.  "Depending on their precise lineage, they might just serve the Duchess out of familial loyalty.  The Duchess of Brightspan has a claim within the hierarchy of Hell, as her mother was a half-blood.  The Duchess's grandmother was a minor princess of Hell."

"Do you think that the Duchess might be involved in demonism?"

"I wouldn't have thought so.  In her youth, the Duchess was a licensed diabolist in Tarsh.  She converted for her marriage, more out of love for the Duke than for Glor'diadel, if you ask me.  But I wouldn't have expected her to have any fondness for demons.  She was a devotee of the Weeping Woman as a child, during the lead up to the Blood War of Tarsh, before her conversion.  Few of the Weeping Woman's servants have been corrupted by the offers of demons."

"And, presumably, the Church of Paranswarm would watch any diabolist carefully for signs that they had crossed over into dealing with demons as well as devils," Alistair noted.

"Indeed, your grace.  In her youth, the SHH watched her carefully, and with no complaints as far as my contacts tell me," Lady Constance continued, pronouncing the abbreviation of the Society of the Hands of Hell as a long syllable shhhh.  "Even after her conversion, SHH sent a member to watch and advise her in Brightspan, but he was assassinated."

"Maybe because there were things she didn't want the SHH to see," said Kit.

"Perhaps," Lady Constance replied noncommitally.  "As for the demon-worshippers-- I'm glad that you noticed the coven, as I was going to point them out anyway.  They appear to be working out of the sewers and have summoned at least three powerful creatures, including an arcana."

"In the city?" Kit said in consternation.  "The arcana I knew of had been summoned in the south, in the refugee lands."

"Ah... then it must be separate, although the coven that called it may be related to the coven here somehow."

"What exactly is an arcana, Lady Constance?" asked Alistair.

"A powerful demon, your grace, principally to be feared for its great magic abilities."

"I see.  In that case, may I ask that you take charge of investigating what the arcana in the south, or its masters, seek to do?  I think that the threat of the ones in the city is best dealt with by quickly identifying their locations and then simply sending knights to deal with them, but that's harder to do in the Sunken Lands."

"Or perhaps church knights, your grace," interjected Sister Alessandre.  "The unholy is best fought with holy light."

"A sensible plan, your grace.  And now, if I may ask a boon?" Lady Constance paused apprehensively.  "Amelia recognized that my magic was very different from her own and tolerated that difference.  We only attended upon each other's rituals once, and that was enough to know that the less she saw of my magic, the happier we would both be.  But she recognized that my powers had their uses, and gave me special permission to practice my art, even though your realm does not license diabolists regularly...

"Should you have a different view of the matter, I should know now, at the outset of your reign.  If you intend to treat me as any other diabolist, I should like to take my leave of Canberry.  Exile seems preferable to burning at the stake, and though this is my home, there are other realms that would welcome me." Something about the way in which she mentioned burning suggested that it was less the matter of execution than her doubts about what the afterlife might hold for her that made her cautious about anything that might shorten her life.

"Of course, Lady Constance.  You have served Canberry well and loyally, and in these troubled times, we would not give up your loyal service.  You may continue to practice your art as you did in my grandmother's time," Alistair replied, carefully speaking in the formal first-person plural.  "The continuing threat of demonism may make a diabolist unpopular among people who do not fully understand the difference.  Should the outcry become too great, we may need to dismiss you from our service.  But should that be necessary, you have our promise that you will be warned in advance, and you will be dismissed into exile, not death."

"My thanks, your grace, and I will understand if exile becomes necessary, though I hope it won't.  With your leave, I will begin my research into this arcana in the south.  We should teach demons a lesson about respecting Canberry's domain..."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Shortly after Lady Constance returned to her tower, Mahler brought news from his meeting with the Chancellor of the Exchequer.  Mahler had received his pick of the high offices of the land, because of the new Archduke's gratitude for his service and trust in his judgment.  But, rather than accept the position as head of the Archducal household, Mahler had asked to be named as the successor to the Chancellor of the Exchequer.  The rest of Alistair's inner circle ascribed that to the interest in trade that Mahler had demonstrated in both Lyneham and Tang, but a few of Mahler's statements about wanting power over the merchants suggested more.  In any event, Mahler's predecessor had agreed to postpone following Archduchess Amelia for a few months to ensure a smooth transition and was carefully briefing Mahler on matters of importance.

"I have some unfortunate news about our external trade.  As you know, almost all of our southern trade-- to the Cities of the Gates, to the refugees and the scattered settlements in the Sunken Land, and on to Tang-- runs through the Duchy of Brightspan.  Brightspan has relied on that trade for a fair amount of its revenues, although the Duchy also has a great deal of prime agricultural land, producing both food and cash crops.  In any event, Brightspan has recently drastically raised its tariffs, at least on through trade, by a factor of four."

Alistair winced.  "Reducing the profitability for merchants elsewhere in the Archduchy, reducing the total amount of trade and thus our tariffs as well, and making it more difficult for the refugees to successfully build new settlements to boot.  All while providing them with more resources to fund their armies, at least in the short run.  I don't suppose there's any way to bypass Brightspan?"

"Not easily.  We could route trade through the orcish lands, but the costs to defend the caravans would be tremendous, leaving aside the lack of good roads or other infrastructure."

"Why not just order them to reduce their tariffs?" asked Delbon.  "Brightspan's one of your vassals, after all."

"That's not a traditional power that the Archduchy has claimed.  The tariffs of its vassals have been considered their authority, as long as they properly collect the Archducal share," Mahler observed.

"Which means that if we intervene, we trample on their privileges and give any efforts they make to break free legitimacy in the eyes of other nobles.  Not to mention the danger that other vassals would start questioning whether they should break free."

"So, what do we do about it then?" asked Dame Brionna.

"For the time being, I don't think we do anything," replied Alistair.  "We don't have an effective response right now, and we have better things to spend our energy on.  But we'll keep an eye on the situation and look for an opportunity to respond in the future."

* * *

Some weeks earlier,  a great procession of drow emerged from the Underdark in the County of Gateways.  Drowan merchants are not unusual in Gateways, although they are also not the most common of the Underdark merchants, but they rarely pass through the underground city and emerge truly on the surface.  And this procession was no group of merchants.  A ceremonial company of guards escorted one of the daughters of the Matron Mother of House Drisdania.  Respecting Canberry's ways, as perverse as they seemed to the drow, House Drisdania had even hired free servants to carry the parasols that provided shade to the noble emissaries, bringing no slaves into Canberry to offend the Archduchy's laws.  A company of ritual mourners cried out in sorrow for the passing of Archduchess Amelia.  And at every crossroads, the strange procession halted.  Its trumpeters played fanfares that echoed off the mountains and across the rolling hills.  And then in unison the honor guard cried out, "Hail Alistair, Archduke of Canberry!  Long may he reign!"


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Stythus departed to the Elemental Plane of Air, with Delbon along for company.  Before they left, Alistair gave them each letters accrediting them as ambassadors from Canberry to the Plane of Air.  Stythus's family rejoiced in seeing him again; his parents were very proud of his accomplishments, even if they were less clear on where exactly Canberry might be.  When Stythus mentioned that the Archduchy desired an alliance to help his family and others resist the demonic elemental princes, his parents nodded with approval.  "You have done well with your companions.  But that is a matter for our Sultan to decide upon, not us.  You must go to the palace and see him yourself."

Stythus's family served a mighty Sultan of Air, who ruled over a wide stretch of the Plane (although perhaps less than he had before the coming of the demonic prince of Air).  A host of djinn guarded the palace, but they happily parted before Stythus.  Between his own status as a well-born subject of the Sultan and the letters from an Aphonion realm with enough magical power that the better informed parts of the court had heard of it, Stythus quickly received an audience with the Sultan himself.  Delbon proffered the rare perfumes that they had brought, earning appreciative responses from the Sultan and his court.

"So, young Stythus.  You serve this Archduke of Canberry?"

"I do, your highness.  I was warned when I came to the Prime that if I were not bound, an evil mage could make me his slave, so Alistair agreed to my request to perform the binding ritual on me to keep me safe.  Once he returned to his homeland, he made me his squire."

"It is well that he treats you with respect.  Most of the contact we have with humans is when they summon my people to work for them."

Delbon nodded his head.  "Your highness, the Archduke asked us to make it clear that while he is interested in the possibility of your people aiding him on the Prime, he would pay, not compel, any elementals who served him.  And if there are any services Canberry could provide here, the Archduke would be pleased to offer them.  He seeks to reach an alliance between friends, not to make himself your master."

The mighty djinni smiled.  "It pleases me to hear it."

Stythus added, "We have been fighting demons and their allies in Canberry.  Alistair wishes to help you in any struggle that you might have with them."

"That is most welcome.  This has been a vexatious problem.  Very well.  Let our realms be friends.  Should your Archduke have a specific request later, we can can discuss it at that time.  Thank you for bringing these tidings to me."

Recognizing that they had been dismissed, Stythus and Delbon returned to Stythus's family.   Their mission having reached at least a preliminary success, they shifted back to the Prime Plane.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit decided that there were several "downstairs" contacts that she needed to check on.  She first went to the local contact of her agents in the Duchy of Brightspan.  She caught the contact going about his regular job as a clerk in the Archducal palace, and he knuckled his forehead briefly.  "Ma'am?"

"Have we been receiving regular reports from the contacts in Brightspan?"

"Not what I'd call regular, ma'am.  Now and again a message'll come in, but it's more a message here, a message there than anything regular-like.  I'm worried our agents aren't sending much back."

Kit paused in thought.  Based on what she'd been told in the Duchy of Brightspan, that meant that messages were being lost-- or intercepted-- between the Duchy and Canberry City.  "When was the most recent report?"

"About four days ago.  Some of the Duke's grandkids have gone missing.  Not the heir or the spare, but the infants of his daughters.  Not recently, neither, but it's been hid well."

"When did the children disappear?" asked Kit, as she thought, _oh, no, she's using her own grandchildren?_

"As best as our sources can tell, it'd be about three or five months ago.  Call it the same time as the Archduchess started weakening."

"Any signs of what happened to the children, or where they might be?"

"Not that we've heard.  One of the daughters went insane after losing her child-- they put her away, probably in a convent somewhere, but we don't know for sure."

"Thank you for this information.  Let me know immediately if you hear anything more about this.  Were there any other reports?"

"Just that the Duke hung the bodies of a bunch of skaven from the walls of the castle."

"What about Brady?  Has he left the castle?"

"No, ma'am.  Least, the report didn't say anything about his movin'."

"Thank you."

"Ma'am." He knuckled his forehead again and nonchalantly walked away as if the meeting had never taken place.

Kit's next stop was outside the palace.  She took a turn down the closest dark alley, a few blocks from the palace square.  Almost immediately, a stealthy figure shadowed her, remaining well-concealed but making sure that Kit spotted him.  Kit leaned up against one of the walls of the alley and began casually cleaning her nails with a dagger.  "I'd like to know what our people have heard about the efforts to start a riot during the coronation."

"Sure.  Any of our people who work in the poorer parts of town could tell you about that.  But before I get to that, you need to know... there's something bad going on in the sewers.  We suddenly started losing people about forty-eight hours ago, in three places.  Under the palace, under the poor quarter, and under the main market.  I can't tell you what it is that's there, though; none of the people we've sent to look have come back at all."

"That matches some other information I've gotten.  I think there is a demon at each place.  Would you be able to lead some church knights to each location?"

"Well... I can't really say that most of us are very comfortable around the church..."

"Don't worry, they won't want to know anything about their guides, just where the demon-worshippers are to smite."

"Aye, we could do that.  Can't say it'll make people happy."

"But I don't think losing people taking short cuts through the sewers makes them very happy, either."

"True enough.  Now then... you wanted to know about the people setting up the riot?  Not much to say.  There are some fellows spreading a whole lot of coin around, among the poorer folk.  A silver to throw a stone and create problems.  Also giving out sweets for the small children."

"Anyone get a close look at one of these fellows?"

"Sure enough, but not so they could pick them out without their paint on.  They're dressed up as harlequins, festive as you please, with face-paint and everything."

"Could you get me one of the coins they're using?"

"Sure thing." A glittering silver piece, very old and well handled, sparkled in the air before Kit caught it.  She flipped it over a few times, and noted the unfamiliar face on the front and familiar elven writing upon it, even more unintelligible to her than Common writing.

"You didn't take their money..."

"Nah, we're loyal to you, you know that.  But once the coin's in somebody else's pocket... can't let my fingers get clumsy, y'know." He quickly dipped his fingers into a cleverly concealed pouch in his cloak, drew forth a coin, and let it drop back in with out so much as a clink.  Clumsy wasn't a word anyone would use to describe his fingers.

"Thank you.  I'll be back in touch when we're ready to make the sewers safe, and I'll warn you so anyone who needs to make themselves scarce first can." Kit walked out of the apparently empty alley and hurried back to the palace.


----------



## Quartz

Just a minor nitpick:

Hmm... a young lady, even an experienced one, travelling alone down a dark alley? That's asking for trouble. Presumably only a few people know her status and she isn't well-known as the Duke's lady.

Consider it a plot bunny for later on.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Well, it certainly is dangerous to travel alone down dark alleys in Aphonion, regardless of gender.  But I think it helps rather a lot that in Kit's case, many of the people you would ordinarily worry about in dark alleys work for her. 

-----

After checking it for psionic energy and having Dame Brionna check it for evil, Kit tossed the coin over to Alistair.  "This is what they're using to pay them, m'lord.  Just bribing the poor folk to do what they're asked.  It's elven, but..."

"Let me guess-- our friends the Noldar."  Alistair flipped the coin over carefully.  "But no.  Interesting... I thought they were all dead and forgotten, or at least all but..."

"My lord?"

"It's not a Noldar coin.  It's Eldron.  When the first elves chose between the Creator and Morgrath, and divided into the Eldar and the Noldar during the first war, a select few refused to take sides, and kept using the term Eldron for themselves.  Neither side forgave them, as both viewed them as traitors and apostates, and both the Eldar and the Noldar warred upon the Eldron during the Kinslaying.  They're all but extinct now; perhaps a half-dozen remain.  This is clearly a horde coin, from some ancient collection."

Before they could discuss the matter further, Abigail entered.  "Your grace?  There are two flying ships approaching the palace from opposite directions.  They slowed to match speeds about forty-five miles from the City, and as best as the guard can tell they'll arrive at exactly the same time, in a few minutes.  One is a voller from the Forest of Singing Leaves.  They say the other is a Noldar dreadnought."

Mahler laughed.  "They're deliberately making you choose.  You'll have to honor one of the ambassadors and slight the other."

"You could make them both wait, I suppose," said Dame Brionna.  "Show them what Canberry thinks of their childishness, your grace."

"And what would that get us?" replied Alistair.  "Besides, between Canberry's most ancient ally and the strongest other force for good in Southern Drucien on the one hand and an evil delegation nominally tied to the people who've been trying to murder me, and mostly only invited because we don't dare not, on the other, it's not a very hard choice."

By the time the two airships docked, the Archduke and an honor guard waited at the west tower.  A substantial complement of elven warriors lined the sides of the voller.  While the elven troops were largely ceremonial, Dame Brionna noted with horror that the powerful energy lances mounted on the ship as a broadside had been charged, as if in expectation of imminent battle, and carefully trained on the dreadnought at the far side of the palace.  Her eyes widened as she imagined the carnage a battle would wreak on the entire city below the airships.

"Relax," said Alistair.  "Neither the Eldar nor the Noldar want a battle here.  They're just maintaining appearances and preventing the other side from getting any ideas.  Still, you might want to tell the palace guard that if a battle should break out, they should attack the Noldar ship.  They might land a lucky arrow, or at least distract one of the drow slightly.  But I really can't imagine that it will be necessary." Inexplicably, his words did not appear to relieve Dame Brionna at all.

The Eldar Ambassador, Lord Everglowing Silverleaves, descended to the palace alone.  He was tall and thin, even for an elf, with a serene expression and an almost ethereal paleness to his skin.  His rainment was princely, shimmering with all the colors in the rainbow as the light played across what looked to be mithril chain woven so finely as to be more cloth than mail.

"Welcome to the Archduchy of Canberry, Lord Silverleaves."

"Thank you, your grace.  It is always a pleasure to visit your land, although I do wish that it were under happier circumstances.  Archduchess Amelia's passing is a great loss for all of us.   She was a great woman and a wise ruler.  The loss saddened all of the Forest of Singing Leaves, and it must be felt even more keenly by her country and family."

"Thank you."

The barest hint of a smile appeared on the Eldar's face.  "We are pleased that you honored us when the ships arrived."

"There was never any doubt of that, your lordship.  Canberry has always held the Forest of Singing Leaves as its closest and most honored ally.  We stand with you in all things," the Archduke replied.  "Speaking of our alliance, I must trouble you with a serious matter.  The Forest should prepare its defenses immediately.  A large army has been amassed to the west of Canberry.  I do not know their target for certain, but I fear that they may intend to strike at the Forest.  If they do, they will likely attack with allies from Hanal at the northwest of the Forest, and with the support of the Zorplona-Aragoni."

"I will inform Her Majesty immediately.  I cannot believe they would dare such a thing, as no human army, even with the support of our fallen cousins, could hope to prevail."

"Of course not.  Nonetheless, they may not realize this, and it will go better if you are ready.  Our primary reason for fearing that they mean to attack is that we have been unable to identify any other reasonable target.  We also wish to personally assure you that, although some in the army to the west may fly the standard of Canberry or its vassals, we remain loyal to our friends.  If the attack should come, call on Canberry for aid, and we will march to your aid immediately."

"Thank you; I will inform the Queen.  And now, you had best go see my aunt.  I am honored that you chose to see me first, but it would not be prudent to keep her waiting.  We will have time enough to speak later."

"Thank you, Lord Silverleaves.  But before I go-- you will presently receive an invitation from the emissary from Tang-- the One of Diplomacy, I should think-- to a meeting to discuss increased trade among Tang, Canberry, Singing Leaves, and Masque.  Please accept.  It is actually being sent on my behalf, to discuss more important strategic matters."

Lord Silverleaves raised one eyebrow.  "Indeed.  I await the trade discussions eagerly."

The Archduke, Dame Brionna, and the ceremonial guard hurried across the palace as quickly as they could, pausing only to regain their breath before greeting the Noldar ambassador.

As they stepped out to the eastern landing, an elf in robes of flowing crystal descended from the dreadnought, followed by a group of eight clockwork automata.  Her skin was pale, so that any who were not well-informed might have supposed that she, too, was of the elves loyal to the Creator.  But the handful of drow upon the dreadnought-- apparently just enough to work the energy lances that throbbed with barely restrained destructive power-- left no doubt about her actual status as one of the dread Noldar.  To Dame Brionna's relief, none of the drow accompanied the ambassador off the ship.

"Welcome to Canberry, your excellence."

"Thank you.  And thank you for the courtesy of not making me wait long while you met with my counterpart."

"We would not wish to do anything to show disrespect.  Our relationship with the Forest of Singing Leaves required that we welcome their ambassador first, but we kept the delay as brief as possible."

"I understand and appreciate your effort.  Archduchess Amelia always was a sensible woman; I'm glad that her family retains some of her nature.  Her death is a great loss for Canberry, and after such a short reign."

"My grandmother was a great woman, and all of Canberry mourns her passing."

"As well you should."

"Your excellence, we understand that you have close ties to Region 9 of the Zorplona-Aragoni.  We have been very pleased to note Region 9's recent changes in policy and hope that you will convey our respect and admiration to the Controller.  While no trade with Canberry was possible while the old policy remained in effect, abolishing the slave trade allows us to discuss other forms of trade."

"It would be my pleasure to pass on your message.  Though he is of the Moriquendarim, the father of the Controller of Region 9 had the good sense to marry one of my nieces.  My house, the Curini'rim, does not approve of the sale of human flesh.  It is beneath us and devices can provide better service than any slave.  It pleases me that my great-niece has focused her energies on more worthwhile projects than the slave trade."

"If it would not be too much trouble, we were curious about a fellow Noldar we have had some dealings with.  I regret that Region 6 does not have as reputable policies as your great-niece's region."

"I would be happy to answer your question, provided it does not probe to deep."

"Do you recognize the Noldar represented on this parchment, your excellence?"

"Indeed.  It is one of the sisters of Quinliart of the Moriquendarim.  He is the Controller of Region 6.  And I must say, that is a remarkably accurate depiction."

"Thank you for informing us.  We suspected she might be affiliated with Region 6 but were not certain.  The image was produced by a magical process."

"I thought as much."

"We also wish to know... some years ago, a Noldar accompanied by a group of drow established an outpost in unclaimed mountain territory, near our borders.  The Noldar declared an affiliation with House Aufaugauthala'rim.  But I did not think that house would have drow under them."

"Impossible.  Almost all of the drow that remain in service to Morgrath are of the Moriquendarim.  Some of the other houses maintain a few drow followers; my house has one small cadet house of drow, to take care of such things as my creations cannot, but that are beneath ourselves.  But the Aufaugauthala'rim do not tolerate any imperfection in their children and would not associate with any drow subservient to another house.  That outpost is most assuredly not theirs, if the Noldar is served by drow.  It is almost certainly of the Moriquendarim."

"Thank you.  That was as I expected."

"Now, if you will excuse me, your grace, I should like to rest for a bit.  And then I think I will invite my nephew to tea." She smiled coldly.  "And you can tell your captain that she may relax.  When we rose up under Morgrath against the false oppressor, one of my brother's abandoned our rightful god.  I would not wish any harm to come to his son and there is thus no danger that we will bring violence to your coronation."

"Thank you for the reassurance, your excellency.  I'm sure that Dame Brionna is very pleased to hear that." With that, they took their leave of the Noldar ambassador and returned to Alistair's apartments.  "When Lord Silverleaves referred to his aunt, I had no idea that he meant it literally..."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

While the Archduke and Dame Brionna handled ceremonial matters, a few of their less noticeable comrades went to the poorer quarters of the city to investigate.  Twang, the enthusiastic kobold, had trouble following most of the details of the political matters being discussed.  But he understood that he needed to investigate the costumed people distributing money to provoke a riot, and that was all he needed to understand.  Stythus accompanied the young kobold invisibly, to add an extra pair of eyes and to protect Twang if things went sour.

Twang quickly found one of the least reputable taverns in the city.  Even in the poorest parts of the city, a kobold draws plenty of attention, but Twang did a reasonable job of blending in-- just another poor creature trying to get a tankard of ale.  After glancing at him a little, the bar keep decided that his copper was as good as anyone else's and drew an ale for him.  Twang immediately set to work on it, the tankard comicly large in his small hands, while he and Stythus waited.

After only a few minutes, a thin figure with harlequin make-up, including a full coating of white face with a prominent black lightning bolt through one eye, stepped gracefully into the tavern.  The harlequin thrust his hand into a pouch and came out with a fistful of silver that he scattered on the floor.  "Throw a rock, earn a silver.  If you strike a guardsman, I'll make it two." Another handful clattered about the tavern's floor.  "Throw a stick."

Stythus stared at the demagogue carefully.  He did not detect any psionic activity from the figure, exactly, but there was definitely something there, a patina of psionic activity over the figure.  He relayed this silently to Twang, who hopped down from the bar and swaggered over.

"I take coin, but why you give?  I new here.  Why you want throw stone?"

The harlequin looked down at the kobold.  "My lord is devoted to ending the rule of this unjust lord Alistair. Perhaps you would throw a pail of paint?" He offered a small bucket to Twang from a concealed place in the pouch, which had a surprisingly large volume for its small size.

"I do that." While Twang continued talking, Stythus drifted closer, examining the psionic aura.  After a moment, he was sure: it was a farsensing aura, not generated by the harlequin, but the effect of some other psion's power.

But as Stythus realized that, the harlequin looked up and stared directly at him.  The strange figure reached out a hand towards Stythus and spoke, his voice sounding slightly different than it had before, although that might simply be the note of command in it.  "Who are you, where are you, you will speak to me..."

Stythus recoiled from the harlequin, but could not move quickly enough.  The figure stiffened like a statue and stopped speaking.  But Stythus could feel the farsensor's presence as it reached into his mind.  Unable to repel it, he stood helpless as it searched through his memory and identified his connection to the Archduchy.

<<The Archduke's personal squire?>> Stythus heard in his mind.  <<What has this fool done?>>

The harlequin collapsed to the ground, not breathing.  Stythus could see the patina of psionic energy fade, as he felt that his mind was free once more.  He sent a message to Twang.  <<I was attacked psionically.  Whoever did it is gone now.>>

As soon as it was clear that the harlequin was dead, most of the other people in the tavern dove on the purse, coming away with great handfuls of money.  Only the barkeep stood aloof, sure that any coins they might get would find their way into his pouch soon enough.  <<They'll want to see his body at the palace.>> Twang thought back to Stythus.

A moment later, Stythus reentered the tavern, having shaped his form to resemble the uniform of the city guard.  "What's this?  Stand aside for the Watch.  What's going on?"

The other occupants of the tavern quickly stepped aside with whatever coins they had managed to grab.  Twang stepped forward and gestured at the harlequin.  "This man, he come in here, he give job, he fall down.  Take away."

Stythus hoisted the harlequin up on his shoulders.  "Thank you.  We'll handle it now."

Twang returned to his drink after Stythus left with the body.  After he finished draining the tankard, he found Stythus in an alley around the corner.  He relieved the body of its bag of holding, noting with pleasure that it was still full of coins and paint to throw on guardsmen, and they quickly made their way back to the palace.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Upon reaching the palace, they took the body, under Dame Brionna's direction, to a lead-lined room.  That would provide at least some protection against further farsensing.  Lord Alistair and Dame Brionna joined them to examine the body.

Dame Brionna looked up after checking the body for injuries.  "He's dead, but there's no sign of physical injury.  Based on Stythus's description, whoever the farsensor was probably killed him telepathically."

Alistair crouched down by the harlequin's head.  He dabbed at its pointed ear with some of the harlequin's clothes, rubbing off the white facepaint and revealing jet black skin beneath.  "As I thought.  Drow.  What's more interesting is the lightning bolt on his face.  That's a symbol of Algaroth, the Father of the Darkened Elves, and one of Morgrath's servitors.  Which tells us that this was a Morgrathian drow, but it suggests a little more than that-- most of the Noldar treat Algaroth more as a king than as a god.  This drow, and I should guess his master as well, probably belong to the minority that think of Algaroth as a deity.  At least now we know it's more fallen elves trying to start the riot."

"That can't be good," Kit said.  "I bet the Eldar could help with this.  They might be able to trace back the psionic aura Stythus sensed.  It's still there, but fading."

They dispatched a messenger to Lord Silverleaves, asking if he'd be willing to assist them.  After a few minutes, Lord Silverleaves and his grandmaster farsensor joined them.

The elven psion knelt briefly next to the drow.  "Yes... the connection is still very clear."

"He can't still perceive us, can he?" asked Dame Brionna in alarm.

"No.  The connection has been inactive since he killed this one.  But it's clear enough.  This one served one of the Noldar.  Quinliart Moriquendarim, unless I misread his signature."

Lord Silverleaves tilted his head in thought.  "Strange.  Quinliart is the Controller of Region 6 of the Aragoni slavers.  I do not see why he would wish to disrupt your coronation."

"Quinliart and my family have a history of conflict," replied Alistair.  "My father wounded him and killed one of his captains, and he killed my father and has tried to kill me.  But his main motivation would be political.  He wishes to shatter Canberry as a power, to eliminate one of your allies."

"But that does not make sense, your grace.  Quinliart fears the skaven more than he fears any threat that Canberry could play.  He needs the Archduchy to remain as a buffer against further skaven expansion."

"Nonetheless, he has already tried many ploys to prevent a smooth succession." Alistair held up one of the coins.  "I wonder... could he have been planning on using the coins to gain psionic access to the people who accepted them?   Command some sort of mass action?"

"No, your grace," replied the farsensor.  "A paragon Coercer might be able to do so, but he is at most a grandmaster."

"A paragon?  I didn't even realize that there were levels of mastery beyond grandmaster."

"No human has ever achieved more than grandmaster level, your grace, but some of the Eldar and the Noldar have.  But Quinliart is not among them.  He could perhaps use a coin to gain a link to individual people; he could certainly monitor his own agents, as you have seen.  But attempts to influence the city as a whole would be beyond him."

"Lord Silverleaves," asked Kit, "We think he may be working with several other Noldar.  Do you know who they might be?"

"Two of Quinliart's younger female relations are quite devoted to him.  They are the most likely possibilities."

"We believe he has another nineteen drow agents working on creating a riot," said Alistair.  "Lord Silverleaves, would you be willing to assist us in dealing with the remainder of his agents?  I should think that it would be an opportunity to easily strike a blow against their forces, and I don't think there's any danger of your aunt intervening to defend him.  Your farsensor can find them much more readily than we can."

"Indeed not.  Perhaps...  How many escorts did my aunt bring down from her dreadnought?"

"Eight, your lordship.  All automata."

"Then I may bring eight as well without giving offense.  If I rotate my entourage to include my farsensor, my archmage, my captain...  Yes, I think we will do this for you.  I will also play music during your procession.  That should go some way towards defusing the tension of the crowd."

"Thank you, your lordship.  We are most grateful for the assistance of your legendary music.  Oh, we had one last question.  These drow are paying in Eldron coins; a previous operation used an Aufaugauthalar'im horde coin.  Is there any reason to worry that more than House Moriquendarim is involved?"

"I shouldn't think so, your grace.  Their hordes contain many ancient coins, and I shouldn't doubt that they chose these coins as part of their deception."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The group returned to Alistair's private chambers.  As they entered, one of the Archducal Guard snapped to attention.  "Your grace!  I have a message for the Captain-presumptive." Alistair gestured for him to speak and he proceeded.  "Dame Brionna, we have received reports of a delicate situation in the south of the Duchy of Canberry.  A large party of drow have been travelling to the capital from the City of Gateways.  They appear to be some sort of diplomatic party; they have been offering praises to his grace all along the road."

Alistair turned and glared at Mahler.  "This is all your fault.  You had to tell that drow that an embassy would be welcome at my coronation."

"What?  Oh, that's what this is all about?"

"I can't imagine any other reason for a drow embassy to be en route, can you?"

The guard cleared his throat and continued to address Dame Brionna .  "The drow aren't the whole problem, though, ma'am.  They were travelling peacefully enough, until a retired paladin rallied the people of his village to attack the drow.  Said the forces of darkness were walking the land, and they had to be stopped."

"Oh, no," said Kit.  "Did the drow destroy the village?"

"No, Dame Katherine.  They showed unusual restraint.  A few villagers were badly hurt, but the drow quickly withdrew and established a defensive position.  I believe they occupied an abandoned church building."

"That has to just thrill the paladin."

"No, Dame Katherine.  I believe he's preparing to lead the village in an assault."

"I think I'd best go handle this personally, your grace," said Dame Brionna.

"I agree.  I think you're easily the best suited among us for it."

"Do we know who the paladin is?"

"Yes, Dame Brionna.  A Sir Roland, of the Order of the Knights of Valor."

Dame Brionna first stopped in at the archducal coven and asked to speak with one of the more junior mages.  She preferred to avoid any unnecessary encounters with Lady Constance.  After explaining the problem, she quickly persuaded the mage to provide any necessary teleportation.  She next gathered up the Grand Master of the Knights of Valor, a still-vigorous woman of about fifty, who was in the capital to attend the coronation.

"Ah, Dame Brionna.  You must know that the entire Order is proud of your accomplishments.  When you succeeded in bringing back the prince, and then your elevation to Captain-presumptive of his Guard...  worthy accomplishments for any knight, and all the more so given your years."

"Thank you, Grand Master. But I regret that we do not have more time to talk.  A serious matter has arisen, and the Archduke has asked me to seek your help with it."

The Grand Master stiffened and turned serious immediately.  "We stand ready to serve the Archduchy in any way."

"One of our brother knights, a Sir Roland, has created a serious problem.  He has attacked a drowan embassy on its approach to the capital city."

The Grand Master sighed.  "Sir Roland is a good man.  But even in his youth, he was less notable for his insight than for his courage.  And now... he grows easily confused, but still yearns to serve the Light on the battlefield."

"Indeed.  I hoped that you would accompany me to speak with him."

"As you wish."

Minutes later, Dame Brionna, the Grand Master of the Knights of Valor, and a mage appeared in a grassy meadow.  Some two hundred feet away, the meadow rose up into a hillside, with a large church at the top of it.  The church had fallen into disrepair-- even from here, they could see the spire of the church located in the actual village that had displaced this one.  But the much greater problem was the mob of peasants, shabbily armed with pitchforks, torches, and the occasional shortsword, that surrounded the building.  As they approached, they could hear voices calling out from within, in accented but clear Common, "Please!  We are here to honor Lord Alistair at his coronation.  We do not wish to harm his subjects, but if you force your way through the door, we will defend ourselves."

A much rougher voice, from the only man among the villagers with proper weapons and armor, shouted it down.  "Do not listen to their lies!  They are evil incarnate, and Glor'diadel commands their destruction!  Bring forth the axes!  Once we have weakened the door with them, we'll be able to batter it in and bring the Light back into that once holy place!"

"Hold, Sir Roland," cried out Dame Brionna.

He turned to face her.  The beard that projected from his mail cowl had long since gone white with age, and she saw an old man, weaker in arm than he once was, but determined to do his duty one last time.  "Well met, Dame Knight.  I fear that I do not know your heraldry, but it is well that you would join us for our crusade...  Grand Master!" He dropped to his knee as his eyes swept past Dame Brionna to the head of his Order.  "I am honored indeed that you have come to personally aid us in destroying these evil doers.  From the combined force of our arms, there will be no escape."

"Sir Roland..." The Grand Master began.  "Dame Brionna, the Captain-presumptive of the Archducal Guard, and I have not come to aid your battle.  These drow are not our enemy."

"Not our enemy?  But they are evil.  The very nature of the drow is evil, and I have confirmed through the blessings of our Lord Glor'diadel that they have evil among them."

"And yet they are not our enemy, Sir Roland," Dame Brionna.  "It pains me, as well, to tolerate evil within our land, but they are an embassy, and one that Lord Alistair himself invited to his coronation.  His Grace would be most displeased if you provoked a war with these drow-- there are many more pressing enemies, and the Archduchy's armies must be kept ready to fight the threats that actually menace us."

"And can Lord Alistair's judgment be trusted?  They say he is a wastrel more occupied with chasing women than serving Glor'diadel.  Perhaps his invitation to the drow was part of some villainy."

"You forget yourself, Sir Roland.  Dame Brionna travelled for many months with Lord Alistair on his return to Canberry.  And she is a sister knight in our Order."

"These drow are here because of their prior dealings with Lord Alistair.  They wished to come out of respect for Lord Alistair, who had previously risked his life to save an innocent woman and her children." If Dame Brionna failed to mention that the literal object of the drow's respect was Mahler, and that they had all risked their lives to save the family from other drow of this House, surely Glor'diadel would forgive her.  "These were not subjects of his, but strangers, simple farmfolk in the lands to the south.  The Archduke is a good man.  He is not perfect and is fallible, but so are we all.  And if you get these good people killed trying to harm a peaceful expedition, your failing will be far greater than any of his."

"Even with our aid," the Grand Master continued, "you could not hope to defeat all of them.  And while a glorious death on the battlefield would not be such a tragedy for us, think about the young people of the village that you have led here.  There will be other opportunities to fight for the Light.  For now, obey your Archduke, your Church, and your Order, and let them pass."

Sir Roland stared away.  "I should not have allowed them to leave, had you not been willing to vouch for the Archduke.  If he can be trusted, and he wishes them to pass, then what choice do I have?" With an expression that left no doubt as to how hard he found the task, the elderly knight turned to the villagers that he had led, and calmly and earnestly explained that he was wrong and that the people should return to their homes.


----------



## recentcoin

And I thought elderly people using cell phones while driving cars was dangerous....

Sheesh!

At least they don't incite the locals to break out the pitchforks and torches...

2 cents,

RC


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The current Lord of the Exchequer provided Mahler with a convenient introduction to the Count of Gateways.  "Your excellence," the elderly treasurer said, "you should meet Mahler Fife.  He will be taking my place, when I finish my duties for Amelia.  You understand that I've only agreed to help ensure a smooth transition.  Soon, Mahler will deal with all of the trade matters you have hitherto discussed with me.  He's a fine young man, and very able."

Lord Grushak Nosepuller, Count of Gateways, looked appraisingly at Mahler.  "He seems like he'll do well enough, as long as he's not just a gutless accountant.  But then, that's what I thought of you when we first met, and you showed spine enough." He gave the old Exchequer a warm smile and did not notice if the smile he got in return was a tad stiff.  "So, tell me lad-- what would you like to know about?"

"How have things been in Gateways?  Anything unusual to report?"

"Nothing terribly unusual.  We did meet a pack of skaven on the way to the capital; can't imagine what they were doing around here.  We destroyed them, of course.  My guards could use the practice, and I didn't mind the exercise!  Other than that... back home, things go as well as usual.  We do very well in the trade."

"And things are peaceful among the merchant houses?"

A snort.  "As peaceful as usual.  Yes, I'd say things are pretty well settled.  The houses are currently getting along, and we haven't had any recent problems with threats from outside."

"Which house would you say has the most power currently?"

"Most power?  That's an interesting question...  Most people would ask which is the richest.  I'd say that the most powerful would be Goldglimmer-- there one of the dwarven houses, you know.  But the richest would be Blowingsnoz."

"With a name like that, they can only be a gnomish house."

The Count smiled.  "A good head on his shoulder, this one.  Any other things I can help with?"

"Oh, just a small matter.  Did Lord Davion Aufaugauthala'rim accompany you to Canberry City?" Lord Davion had the dubious distinction of being the only Noldar living openly in the Archduchy.  A renegade from his people, Lord Davion lived within the City of Gateways, where he served as the General of the Count's Field Army.  Mahler had previously spoken with his friends about getting Lord Davion's opinion on some of the Noldar machinations.

"Sure as lightfungus glows."

The old Exchequer added, "That's one of his excellence's charming Underdark colloquialisms.  He means yes."

"I got that, thank you.  Any thoughts on where I might meet up with him?  I should like to have a word or to with him as well."

"He's out at a tavern, drinking the water that passes for liquor up here, if you'll pardon my saying so.  I think he favors the Griffin's Golden Hind."

After a few more minutes of conversation, Mahler excused himself and headed out into the City, to pay a visit at the Griffin's Golden Hind.

The Griffin's Golden Hind was a posh wine bar in an enormously wealthy section of the capital city.  As Mahler walked towards the door, a large black insect outside held out one of its forelegs.  "Sir!  No weapons longer than a handspan are permitted inside."

Mahler smiled.  "Longer than whose handspan?"

The insect startled for a moment.  "I... I do not know.  Wait here." It quickly returned with a small book of rules.  "It says no longer than the handspan of the patron in question."

Mahler considered pushing the point, but then simply surrendered his rapier and passed into the tavern.  He quickly reached Lord Davion's table.

"Lord Davion?  May I join you for a drink."

"Certainly.  I am afraid I do not know your name."

"I am Mahler.  I know of you from the City of Gateways; I am from Gateways myself."

"Ah, are you?  Welcome then.  While Gateways is my home by choice, not birth, I am always happy to meet a fellow from my city."

"And it's an honor to meet one such as yourself, Lord Davion."  The Noldar simply nodded, taking that praise as merely his due.  "I am a counselor to the Archduke, and hoped you would be able to provide us with some insight into the plans of the Noldar.  If you would not object, I would be curious on your perspective on the conflict between Regions 6 and 9 of the Zorplona-Aragoni.  Do you think that it could rise to open warfare?"

"There is much distrust there.  Under ordinary times, House Moriquendarim would not tolerate any possibility of it rising to open conflict-- the House itself would intervene to settle any disputes.  But the House cannot do so now, and probably will be unable to for a score of years or so." Lord Davion took a drink of wine.  "You must understand, there's a succession struggle within the City of the Sickle Moon.  The eldest lord passed, which doesn't mean the same thing among my people as it does among yours, but he passed sixteen months ago without a clear successor.  Now, the uncle of the Controller of Region 9 and the father of the Controller of Region 6 both make claims on the lordship.  Both controllers are now young; the Controller of Region 9 replaced her uncle, to allow his bid, the Controller of Region 6 was appointed by his father to set up his bid years earlier.  They are left to something of their own devices, but they dare not waste resources that their elders could use to press their claims for mastery within the House.  The Controller of Region 9 is an innovator, a geneticist uninterested in slavery.  The Controller of Region 6 is a traditionalist, who views giving up slavery as unthinkable...  I find it hard to come up with anything that you would view as unthinkable in the same way as he views giving up slavery.   It is perhaps akin to your Lord Alistair giving his throne to a dog-- a literal dog.  And so, he views her as a traitor to the ways of his House-- much as many would view me-- while she views him as a relic of an older time."

"We have heard some rumors that he may be mustering an attack on the Forest of Singing Leaves.  He has definitely sought to kill Lord Alistair in an effort to weaken the Forest's allies."

Lord Davion shook his head slightly.  "He would never be permitted to attempt to overthrow the Forest of Singing Leaves if the House were in full control.  Why, you might ask, given the hatred his people have for the Eldar?  Because it wastes resources that could be used ultimately in the struggle against the Elder Wood.  All of the more senior members of all the Houses know that the ultimate struggle will be between the Empire of Krashmere, and its Noldar, and the Elder Wood that holds most of the remaining Eldar and their strongest children.  Anything that dissipates Noldar power elsewhere would be recognized as foolishness.  But the House is not in full control, and were he to win a great victory against the Eldar, it could shift the succession in his father's favor."

"We know he has some allies among the Noldar."

"He's relying on his cousins.  Were he to marry a Noldar, he could also rely on her power, but he has been singularly unable to find a match; most of the young are less fanatic than he.  And so he is left depending on two of his female cousins for support.  And they idolize him.  Their upbringing... displeased me.  I thought about intervening, but it would not be my place.  They are not of my House... and I left my House behind when I chose to marry a mortal and become a renegade.  I have no regrets-- any sacrifice would be worth it for my wife.  But I cannot interfere with them now."

"With the end of slaving in Region 9, and Region 6 curtailing its slaving among the refugees because of the Archduchy's involvement... the supply of slaves must be tighter.  Surely there are others who wish to fill the void?"

"Slaves are much scarcer, and prices are rising in response.  Goldorim is particularly hurting for slaves; each step has become much more expensive, from the initial capture to their hands."

"Do you think that Region 6 wishes to profit from this?"

"Wishes to, certainly, but it has little ability to.  He doesn't have that many slavers, and it takes hundreds of years to train a good slaver.  They must not damage the merchandise, must delouse and deworm them.  All over the world, the opportunities for slaving have become more difficult.  There is little slaving on Zest'Qua since the fall of Caldefor.  Regions 7 and 8 have little opportunity, with only the orcs and the barbarians to hunt among.  There was little ever on Khamista, besides picking over the ruins of Pardun.  And in Region 6, Hanal and Masque's expansion cuts down on their opportunities.  The days when the Noldar could make themselves rich from slaving are waning, and the Controller of Region 9 is wise to be shifting her focus.  For the Regions that continue to focus on the slave trade, not more than two centuries are left for the Zorplona-Aragoni."

"I thank you for your information; Lord Alistair will appreciate it greatly.  We are fortunate that you have chosen to make your home with us."

Lord Davion nodded and continued with his drink.  After a moment, he stared intently at Mahler.  "I have found the past half-century among your people more rewarding than the millenia before that among my own people, and, as I said, I do not regret my choice.  And yet... I do not understand how you could stand the sorrow.  I'm watching my wife fade... and we've only had a brief 40 years.  I have half-human children, and they age before my eyes."

Nothing Mahler said could comfort Lord Davion.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

In the chambers of the One of Diplomacy, sent to Canberry to represent Tang, a private gathering had begun.  Ostensibly, the One of Diplomacy had invited the Archduke, Count Gerring Holt of Masque, and Lord Silverleaves of the Forest of Singing Leaves to join him to discuss ways of increasing trade.  In reality, Lord Alistair had called the gathering, using the representative of Tang to avoid offending the Empire of Hanal by excluding it.  And if he could avoid the attention of Hanal's spies, so much the better.

Lord Alistair greeted the ambassadors formally.  "Thank you for coming.  While increasing trade among our realms would be welcome, there are more important matters we should discuss.  We live in troubled times.  The Empire of Hanal continues to expand as quickly as they can.  Canberry has no illusions that they intend to stop at the borders of Masque, or that if your Empire cannot stop them that they would stop at our borders.  Hanal has also made it clear that they have no love for any besides humans; while Queen Thyastis abandoned one plan to attack the Forest of Singing Leaves, that can only be based on fear.  Should victory be possible, she would surely make war upon the elves, hoping to slay them all.  In the south, the skaven continue to expand.  Not satisfied with the former Confederacy of the South Kingdoms, they will continue their expansion until they are met with force sufficient to repel them.  And even then, they plot and infiltrate.  And the Noldar plot against the Forest of Singing Leaves, and against all countries that could stand with the Forest.  Already they have tried to foment civil war in Canberry, because they know that we will support the Forest.

"We would be foolish to face these threats alone.  Hanal has the strongest human army on the continent; if war with Hanal must come to us, better that we face it together.  And the skaven and their Borsh'troan allies seek to destroy all civilization.  Our Churches have joined in the Ecumenical Alliance against Borsh'tro.  Our realms owe our churches a similar unity in purpose.  In short, I propose that our four realms enter into an alliance.  Should Hanal, the skaven and their demonic allies, or the Noldar make war upon any one of our realms, we would treat it as an attack upon all.  With our combined force of arms, we could turn aside any threat."

As the nominal host of the gathering, the One of Diplomacy responded first, although all of the ambassadors had nodded in agreement as the threats were enumerated.  "Tang would accept an alliance.  The threat of the skaven presses us already:  we recently fought a large force of ratmen.  We defeated them, but we lost an entire legion of threes in the process.  Our threes can fight well, but the death of any one means that another two will die as well.  Even though they fight with an unmatched ferocity when their sibling three falls, it still means their casualties are high.  We would welcome allies to join us in the fight against the ratmen."

"The Forest of Singing Leaves has long been allied with Canberry," replied Lord Silverleaves, "and we would wish to broaden that.  I do not believe that Hanal could truly threaten us, but we would be glad to join an alliance that would make the possibility absurd.  As for the forces of Borsh'tro, their efforts to cast down the entire world are insanity.  Anyone sane would work to stop them."

Count Holt laid his fingers along the side of his Ocelot mask.  The better part of a minute passed in silence while they waited for his reply, and Alistair feared that Masque would decline.  Losing Masque's enormous army for the alliance would leave Canberry only slightly more secure than it had been when its alliance was only with the Forest of Singing Leaves; indeed, this entire plan had been primarily a ploy to bring Masque into that alliance.  Finally, the Goddess-Empress's representative spoke.  "I am very surprised by this whole proposal.  I had not thought that Canberry would wish to face Hanal any sooner than necessary.  I thought you would view war between Hanal and Masque, when it comes as it surely will, as a situation from which Canberry can only benefit.  Nonetheless, we would agree to an alliance.  The threat of Hanal is imminent from our perspective; we will not turn down allies against that Empire.  I must add the proviso, however, that rulers do not live forever.  We learned this to our great shock recently, when the God-Emperor disappeared, and Archduchess Amelia's passing provides a sad reminder.  I can only commit to an alliance on behalf of the Goddess-Empress; upon her passing, the new lord of Masque would need to be free to re-examine the alliance."

"That is acceptable," replied Lord Alistair.  "Beyond military cooperation, we should also work together in our efforts to fight the forces of Borsh'tro by other means, as well.  Count Holt, we know that the two chaos regions in your Empire have been more troublesome of late.  You should know that we stand ready to aid you if necessary.  There are rumors that Borsh'tro would seek to create a new Shadowland, without the protection of the Hastur Shadowline.  I fear that those chaos regions might be the focus of this effort.  If this should be true, then we will provide all the aid we can to stop it, and to contain it if we cannot."

Even with his mask, Count Holt's widening eyes were obvious.  "A terrible thought, indeed.  I will redouble our efforts to aid the Order that defends against the chaos, and we will look closely for any signs of further plots afoot."

"I hope that you will share anything you may discover, and likewise that you will ask the Inquisition in each of your lands to share what it may discover.  We will likewise share our intelligence, although of course we will need to keep secret matters that might endanger our information sources.  And I remind you that the fall of Caldefor showed that only the light of Glor'diadel can stand permanently against the Shadow.  Should a new Shadowland form, we would be ready to immediately aid in establishing a new shadowline to contain it."

"Lord Paranswarm protect us from that.  But you are wise to make plans."

"We should take time to carefully consider whether to be public about our alliance.  Deterring war would have a great value.  And yet, we might do so by quietly letting Hanal know of our intention, without tipping our hand to the skaven who are likely to make war regardless.  And I fear that some of the lesser realms, such as the Twin Cities of the Gates, would be concerned by news of our alliance."  Alistair did not add that he had deliberately excluded the Twin Cities of the Gates and the remnants of the South Kingdoms from this meeting because he intended to bring both regions under the control of Canberry and did not want any complications from the alliance.  The ambassadors simply nodded, preferring to think a while before expressing an opinion.  "Canberry also has high hopes that this will, in fact, facilitate further trade among our realms.  Trade and wealth are our greatest strengths; developing them further should make all of the military threats less pressing.  And, Count Holt, if your Empress would not object, we hope that you will let Count Sheringar of the Order of the Falcon know that we would be interested in negotiating for his services."

"Indeed?  The Goddess-Empress would have no objection to an ally hiring his Order, and I will pass the message on to him.  I'm sure he'll be very interested in Canberry as a prospective employer.  You should know that they say that he lowers his prices, on a per year basis, the more years you hire for at once."

"Excellent.  Unless anyone has further matters to discuss, we'll prepare an initial draft of a formal treaty and circulate it to each of you as quickly as we can."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Eldar voller and the Noldar dreadnought turned out to not be the only flying vessels to arrive before the coronation.  Lady Meredith the Dazzling, chief of the Mages of Northern Aurelian, arrived in inimitable style, aboard a great silver disc that simply floated through the air.  After the formal honors upon her arrival, Kit met with her immediately.

After the introductions, Lady Meredith wasted no time getting to more pressing matters.  "As we flew down, we saw a great army massed to the northwest of Canberry.  It was perhaps 10,000 strong, although we did not stop to investigate in great detail.  A huge mass of Uruks had gathered with them.  They were preparing to march, although not on Canberry.  They appear to be aimed at the coast."

"We know, Lady Meredith.  We fear they may intend to attack the Forest of Singing Leaves, with the aid of the Noldar."

"Suicide.  They would be slaughtered if they were foolish enough to try.  And the Noldar would never agree to the risk."

"Even if Hanal also marched on the Forest?"

"Even then.  Hanal is too far away to mount an effective campaign against the Forest of Singing Leaves.  They would be unable to move their armies into position quickly, and unable to keep them in supply after battle was joined.  No, their target must be elsewhere."

Kit nodded in understanding and shifted topics.  "Lady Meredith, you should know, I believe the Duchess of Brightspan is in league with demons."

The Archmaga frowned.  "The Duchess of Brightspan was always a loyal member of our Order, although she has not been heard from in some years.  It would be most unfortunate if she had turned.  I find it hard to imagine; perhaps she has remained loyal and entered deep cover."

"I fear not, your ladyship.  She seems to be truly working against us."

"Perhaps," said Lady Meredith, not entirely convinced.  She closed her eyes for a moment.  "Nonetheless, we must take precautions.  I have ordered the youngest Brightspan son moved.  She placed him in fosterage almost immediately after the fall of the southlands, and we have raised him since.  He's now ten, but attaining his second circle power."  A note of pride came into her voice in the last phrase.

"I think that's wise.  I'm not certain whether the Duke of Brightspan is connected to her corruption, or whether he just plots on his own."

"She married for love originally.  If she has been led into evil, I think he would have to be involved."

"What about the tieflings in the Duchy of Brightspan?  Could that be a sign of her involvement with demons?"

"The tieflings could be her relatives, from the third Deeping of Hell.  Her forefather was most prolific, especially with humans, so many tieflings were produced."

"We also know that there are tieflings active among the slavers in the south and thought she might be involved."

"The tiefling slavers seek to fill the void left by Region 9's withdrawal from the slave trade, and the reduction of Region 6's take as they have stopped heavily raiding the refugees.  But while some tieflings profit from that trade, it is unlikely that the Duchess would engage in slaving.  Although if she has forsaken her vows..."

Kit swallowed hard.  "Lady Meredith, several of her daughters..."

"Yes, I know.  I do not know who took the grandchildren or what happened to them, but I know of the tragedy."

Kit thought for a moment.  "If the army isn't planning on attacking Canberry or the Forest, what could its target be?"

"I do not know for certain.  There are no other open settlements nearby.  If they are heading to the coast, there is some sort of garrison there that hates humans.  I do not know what they are; clearly intelligent, but what kind I cannot say.  Some form of psionic power."

"Could it be the illithids?"

"I shouldn't think so; the psionics seem too powerful for them.  But I can't be certain.  As for other possible targets... They could plan on marching south through the Sunken Lands to the Spice Lands, where the ruined city of Shur is. The Abomination of Shur is seeking to elevate itself to the status of a demon-god; it tried with a ritual that failed two years ago.  It sought to sacrifice a large number of children with elven blood to release enough power for the elevation.  But, if they have prepared the means, this army has enough military power to seize the city of Shur and conduct a new ritual.  If they could elevate the Abomination, their success would then put it in their debt.  There is no proof as to their intentions, and we did not have time to investigate further.  But it seems the most likely possibility."

Kit quickly thanked Lady Meredith and returned to share this new information with her friends.


----------



## recentcoin

Fun...fun...

All manner of evil abounds...

Can't wait for the next post...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Recent Coin:  It's certainly true that evil abounds.  I was talking with the DM about that relatively recently, mentioning the amusing thing that evil seems much more active and powerful in his world than good, such that if the PCs aren't continuously dealing with threats the whole thing will go to pieces.  His response was something like, "of course... that's so that the PCs will have stuff to do, and a need to be heroes."

-----
Stythus returned to the Plane of Air and met with the Sultan again.  "Your highness, the Archduchy of Canberry wishes to offer mutual support.  Lord Alistair is also interested in hiring a unit of air elementals or djinn to help with security during the coronation; his enemies are seeking to instigate a riot.  In return, we will help fight the demonic princes, although we are not certain how.   He will pay each djinn with valuable perfumes."

"Hmm..."  A great wind blew through the chamber as the Sultan considered this.  "You trust this Lord Alistair?"

"I do.  He is a loyal friend, and a good man."

"And you trust his judgment?"

"Yes, Sultan.  He is wise, and determined to do the right thing.  He is a good ally and always reliable to his friends and those that depend on him."

"Very well.  I will send Emir Howling Breeze as an emissary to the coronation.  I will also send a detachment of one hundred dust devil police to help with crowd control."

"Thank you, mighty Sultan."

After an extended costuming expedition, in which Stythus carefully helped Emir Howling Breeze avoid humiliating himself by wearing the wrong clothes, Stythus and the Emir plane shifted back to the Prime.  They arrived some 85 miles away from the palace, but that was a small matter given their ability to simply fly with the winds, and they quickly reached the capital.

End of session 6


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Session 7 marks a shift in the campaign.  Up to this point, the game had basically been played at cons and occasional get-to-gethers at the home of one of the players.  These were infrequent, because the group was spread over CT, two different areas of upstate NY, NYC, and (recently) Chicagoland.  While we still play in person when we can get together, Session 7 was the first game we played by voice over IP, using Skype.  It's a different experience, but still fun.  The regular online group is now Dame Brionna, Kit, Mahler, and Alistair, although Mahler missed Session 7.

Session 7:

Kit, Alistair, and Dame Brionna spent a quiet evening attending to some small matters that had been neglected.  All three reviewed the Order of Battle of the Archduchy.  As none of them had a great understanding of the armies of Canberry prior to the last few weeks, they all felt the need to review who was in command, what assets the various field armies had, and of course who was funding each field army.  With civil war still a distinct possibility, although perhaps less likely than it had been, staying aware of which armies might be more loyal to Brightspan than to Canberry seemed wise.

“Huh.” Kit said, looking up from the document.  “The Tenth Federated Field Army has a master-level redactor attached to it?  I wonder where he came from… according to the elves, few humans ever reach master in any of the psionic arts.  And why is he in one of the armies Brightspan funds?”

“I think my grandmother was a little bit less zealous about recruiting psions than would have been wise,” replied Alistair.  “Besides, there had to have been some psionic talents in the South Kingdoms.  Simple geography would make it easier for Brightspan to recruit the most powerful of the refugees, especially when we weren’t making it a priority.”

“We can’t let them gain a significant advantage,” said Dame Brionna.  “With your grace’s permission, I’d like to start spreading the word through my family’s contacts that we would be most interested in employing any magi or psions in the refugee communities.”

“Absolutely.  Thank you, Dame Brionna.”

“And I think I’ll have my people look into this redactor directly,” added Kit.  “The more we know about Brightspan’s allies and servants, the better.  And we still don’t know what exactly the Duchess of Brightspan is up to, except that it can’t be any good.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

While Kit took care of those arrangements, a guard entered the chambers, saluted smartly, and presented Dame Brionna with a sealed message.  Dame Brionna broke the plain seal, while Alistair and Kit looked on with curiosity.  She read the message inside quickly and grimaced.

“There was an attack two nights ago in Pottersflat-- one of the neighborhoods within Canberry City.  I received a report yesterday, but with everything else going on, I hadn’t had time to deal with it yet.  A large number of people were killed; it looked to be the work of a beast with claws or a very large man with a cestus, apparently striking randomly.”  Dame Brionna paused, upset by the fact that she hadn’t investigated sooner.  “But one of the victims makes it look like it was not in fact random.  His Eminent Grace, the Very Reverend Clarence Williams, Bishop without portfolio, was brutally murdered.”

Alistair swore quietly.  Seeing the puzzled look on Kit’s face, he explained, “His Eminent Grace was my Grandmother’s personal chaplain.”

“It looks like it was a set-up,” continued Dame Brionna.  “We thought it was a fracas in a tavern, but the tavern owner, Darren Sutter, was a childhood friend of Bishop Williams.  Master Sutter’s son was having a coming-of-age ceremony.  The Bishop, Master Sutter, and Sutter’s son were all among the dead.  They mutilated the Bishop’s body, and he was just wearing simple clerical robes, so the first investigators did not realize who he was.”

“Why would they want to kill one of the Archduchess’s personal circle?” asked Kit.  “Wouldn’t he have been planning on following her shortly anyway?”

“Probably not,” replied Dame Brionna.  “The Church has always condemned that tradition.  It’s unlikely that he would have committed suicide.  In all likelihood, he would have retired from public service but remained a quiet leader within the Church.”  

“Were there any witnesses?  Survivors?” asked Alistair.

“Not that we know of, your grace.  Master Sutter’s wife, Virginia, and his daughter, Sparkle, are both missing.”

“Sparkle?  That’s an unusual name,” said Kit.  “I wonder if Master Sutter’s wife had elven or fey blood… that might explain why they were taken.”

“Were there any other disappearances?  Were any other women present killed?” asked Alistair.

“The report doesn’t say.  We’ll have to ask Lieutenant Sister Constance Simmons of the Order of the Silvery Veil.  She was the officer from the Evidentiary Division who investigated.  She counted twenty-five dead total, many of them eviscerated.  Their innards were scattered about the room.  She was the one who concluded that it had to be a beast with six to eight inch claws, or an ogre-sized man with a cestus.”

“Or a demon…” said Kit.

“Indeed.  I suggest we send for her to get her full report directly.”

“By all means.”

[As a bonus, I've attached the Order of Battle mentioned at the beginning of the session.]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A guard was quickly sent to bring the investigator.  Dame Brionna thought for a second.  “They may have killed the bishop because of what he knew… As the Archduchess’s personal chaplain, he would have heard her confessions, as well as those of some other members of her household.  That could include information about some of the conspiracies we’ve been facing.  He couldn’t break the confessional seal, of course, but he might still have been able to use what she had said under other circumstances or that wasn’t strictly confessional to aid us.”

Kit frowned.  “But then they may have already cut off our ability to find out vital information about the plot.”

“And we should think about protecting the confessors of other key people.  Did Bishop Williams hear your father’s confessions, your grace?”

“No, at least not generally.  Father Waters was my father’s personal chaplain and his usual confessor.”

“Guard!”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Send a detachment of guards to find Father Waters and secure him.  Take him into protective custody-- we think he may be a target of an assassin.  Keep him safe, and bring him to the palace.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Dame Brionna nodded with satisfaction.  “What about your grace’s confessor?”

Alistair looked slightly embarrassed.  “I can’t say that my confessions have been terribly frequent of late.  As a child, of course, both Bishop Williams and Father Waters heard my confessions on occasion, mostly Father Waters.  But it’s been several years since my last confession, and the last few were rather… perfunctory.”

Dame Brionna’s lips twitched downwards towards a frown.  “We’ll have to rectify that before your coronation, your grace.  But at least that means there isn’t another confessor to worry about.”

Alistair didn’t even bother trying to appear contrite about the infrequency of his confessions.  At least, he mused, the confession before the coronation would surely shock the poor priest assigned to handle it-- the last half decade had been more than a little exciting.

“We also need to figure out what happened to Sparkle and her mother,” said Kit.  “We might still be able to rescue them.”

“I’d also like to confirm whether they had elven blood.  If this is part of the same kidnapping scheme we faced in Enclaves, I want to know.  Dame Brionna, could you send for the local parish priest and his parish book?  That should give us some information about Virginia Sutter’s ancestry.”

“Of course, your grace.  Father Bertram Brockenhausen Drumm, the rector, is also relevant to the investigation in another way.  He identified Bishop Williams while performing the rite of extreme unction over the dead.”

“All the more reason to speak with him.”  Another group of guards marched out of the palace to bring him.

A few moments later, a lieutenant in the Archducal Guards burst into the chambers with a detachment of guards.  “Is everything right here?  You are well, your grace?”  The lieutenant quickly looked around the room, satisfying himself that there was no crisis.

“Everything is fine, Lieutenant,” replied Dame Brionna.  She had already noticed this lieutenant; he had struck her as particularly intelligent and competent, but unlikely to advance further because of his completely common birth.  “What’s the matter?”

“Captain, the Knight Guardian of the Pillow was just found dead.”

“Suicide?”

“No, Dame Katherine.  He was disemboweled.  It was clearly an assassination.  And the assassin is still at large, which was why I wanted to check on his grace.”

“Good work, Lieutenant,” said Dame Brionna.  “Please take your guards to Princess Cecilia’s chambers and ask her to come here, along with the guards we have regularly posted to defend her.  We’ll need her sight to make sure that the assassin cannot sneak into the Archduke’s presence.”

The lieutenant braced to attention and hurried out to carry out the command.

“Another disembowelment?” asked Kit.  “I think we need to assume that this assassin is the same one who killed Bishop Williams.  Probably a demon that frenzies when it attacks, or some sort of ritual killing…”

“Or an effort to prevent resurrection,” replied Alistair.  “If either the heart or the brain is destroyed, resurrection is completely impossible.  Spreading around the victims’ intestines could conceal the destruction of the heart fairly effectively.”

Kit nodded.  “That makes sense.  But now that we have another victim, we have a lead on their motive.  If they were trying to conceal information, it was about something that Bishop Williams and the Knight Guardian would have both known about.  Would Bishop Williams have been on the trip to Tarsh when the Eldar amulet was stolen?”

“Without a doubt,” replied Dame Brionna.

“Then we need to find out who else was on that trip with her.  Everyone on that expedition has to be treated as a potential next target.”

“And as a possible assassin.  One of them may have betrayed the rest.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A few minutes later, Abigail returned with the Master of Protocol.

“Do you know all of the people who were on the trip to Tarsh?”

“Of course, your grace.  Her grace your grandmother, may she reside in light forever, brought only the smallest group of attendants on that embassy.  In addition to her grace, the embassy consisted of Bishop Williams, three ladies-in-waiting, the Knight Guardian of the Pillow, Lieutenant Zachary of the Archducal Guard, and three guards.  Her grace and I selected all of her companions for the trip, except for the three guards.  Lieutenant Zachary chose which guards would accompany her grace.”

“Who were the ladies-in-waiting?”

“Lady Cecilia, Lady Zenia, and Lady Brenda.  Such an unpleasant trip…  Poor Lady Brenda died of a burst blood vessel in her brain while in chambers in Tarsh.”

“Lady Cecilia… not Alistair’s aunt Cecilia?”

“No, Dame Katherine.  Cecilia is a common name among our noblewomen.”

“Did Lady Brenda have a particular role in the embassy?”

“Yes, Dame Katherine.  She was the Archduchess’s wardrober.”

“What of the other two ladies-in-waiting?”  asked Dame Brionna.  “Did they also have specific duties?”

“Yes, of course.  With such a small group, every person had to have a role.  Lady Zenia had charge of the accommodations and the private purse.”

“And Lady Cecilia?” asked Alistair.  Seeing the Master of Protocol’s reluctance, he added, “Tell us her role in the expedition.”

“Very well, your grace.  Lady Cecilia was the representative of the Mouth on this trip.”  The Master of Protocol was slightly surprised when everyone relaxed slightly at that news.

Dame Brionna asked, “What families are Lady Cecilia and Lady Zenia from?”

“Lady Cecilia is from a minor noble family in the Duchy of Canberry proper.  I would have to consult my books to remember which one… a family of manor lords from one of the outlying counties.  Lady Zenia is a Brightspan, from a collateral line.  I believe that she is a niece of the current Duke.”

The group exchanged meaningful glances.  “Thank you, Master.  Please wait in one of the adjoining chambers in case we have further questions.”

“As your grace wishes.”

“I’m thinking Lady Cecilia first,” said Kit.  “As the Mouth’s representative, she’s more likely to know useful things.  And the more we know before we talk to Lady Zenia, the better.  We have to assume that she’s a traitor.”

Alistair nodded, and Dame Brionna stepped out of the chambers.  A large number of guards watched several of the adjoining suites.  As Dame Brionna stepped out, the talented lieutenant who was organizing things saluted.  “Ma’am.  As the people you’ve sent for arrive, I’m putting them in separate secure rooms, and placing guards with them and outside the room.  To protect them from outside threats, and to make sure none of them can threaten or influence the others.”

“Very good, Lieutenant.  Has Lady Cecilia arrived yet?”

“Yes, Captain.  Shall I send her in?”

“Please.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Before the next update, I think it's worth noting that the campaign has started becoming darker and involving more mature content, in a moving from PG to PG-13 kinda way.  There isn't a lot of onscreen unpleasantness, but there is some very unpleasant offscreen but important stuff.  So if you have a low tolerance for ick, you should be forewarned.  This update doesn't include any of the unpleasant stuff, but others coming up soon do.

----
A few moments later, a thin noblewoman with surprisingly ordinary features entered.  She curtsied deeply.  Her expression was respectful, but her eyes were active, darting around the room and studying each of Alistair’s companions closely.  “Your grace?”

“I understand that you were the representative of the Mouth on the mission to Tarsh.”

Lady Cecilia nodded, know understanding why she had been summoned.  “Yes, your grace.  Such a trying expedition…”

“Why did the Archduchess even make the expedition?” asked Kit.  “Tarsh has valuable trade, but it’s so far away, on Khamista.  Surely the trade between Canberry and Tarsh is minimal.”

“All correct, Dame Katherine.  Trade negotiations were the ostensible reason for the state visit, but actually a very minor concern of Amelia’s.  Her concern was about the stability of Tarsh.  The Blood War, when the various noble families fought amongst themselves to determine who would rule the Empire, was terribly destructive and left Tarsh weakened.  The current Emperor, while reasonably secure in his throne, does not have a stable empire to support him and his eventual heir.”

“But how can the stability of a realm on another continent affect Canberry?”

“Directly, very little, Dame Brionna.  But just as the fall of the South Kingdoms gave the forces of evil a much stronger advantage on Drucien, even though the South Kingdoms were never an active force for good, so Tarsh helps to stabilize the situation on Khamista and deny the skaven, Shadow, and other forces the opportunity to expand.  The goal of the embassy was to shore up the Empire of Tarsh as a bulwark against those forces.  Our trade will help some.  But our support and recognition for the current emperor will help more.  And Amelia always was one to think about things beyond just the Archduchy.”

“What can you tell us about the visit?” asked Alistair.  “Anything unusual?”

“Indeed, your grace.  Even before Brenda’s death, there were signs of trouble.  I think there was some sort of evil magical effect.  It had something of the appearance of a disease spreading among the dignitaries, but I believe that it was more than that.  The King of Stream’s End had been sickened, but also began acting strangely.  He may have briefly lost his mind.  On the same night as the King’s worse sickness, the Knight Guardian took ill-- some sort of stomach flux.”

“Why did you suspect magic instead of simple illness?”

“A comment by the Ambassador from the Eldar Wood.  He mentioned that one of his wood elf companions was made ill by the ‘aura,’ although he himself was immune to its effects.  And then poor Brenda simply died in her chambers.”

“Did you notice any other effects of this ‘aura,’ Lady Cecilia?”

“I’m not certain, your grace.  There were other things amiss, but that may have been from more mundane causes.  Our Ambassador to Tarsh has not been faring well.  He had definitely drifted from the light, and he was a weak-willed man.”

Kit frowned.  “It doesn’t seem like the Archduchess to appoint an ambassador with a weak will.”

“No, Dame Katherine.  In his youth, when he was appointed, no one would have described him thus.  He is a Tusslefield-- Aaron Tusslefield.  He angered his family greatly many years ago; he refused to participate in the political marriage they had arranged and eloped instead.”

“So the Ambassadorship provided a convenient way to use his skills, honor his family, and keep him far away and out of sight.”

“Exactly, your grace.  An honorable exile of sorts.  But he’s a changed man, whether from the aura or from other causes.  Clarence-- Bishop Williams-- ordered that a new chaplain be sent from Canberry, hoping that more vigorous religious guidance would help.”

Alistair glanced at his friends.  “Bishop Williams is the reason we asked you here, Lady Cecilia.  He was murdered two nights ago.”

Lady Cecilia sucked in a deep breath.  Pain showed around her eyes, but her face retained a certain sense of focus and her voice did not waver.  “I see.  Do you know who killed him?”

“We’re not certain yet.  But we think that it had to do with the embassy.  The Knight Guardian has also been killed.”

Lady Cecilia nodded.  “I can see why you would draw that conclusion.  The few of us on that embassy grow fewer by the day.  Unfortunately, I can think of little more to hint at the details of the killings than what I have already mentioned.”

“Do you know… how powerful would an assassin have had to be to kill Bishop Williams?”

“It would depend on the circumstances, Dame Brionna.  Bishop Williams rarely wore his armor or prepared for battle, but he could command extraordinarily great powers through his faith.  If he had the opportunity to use his spells, it would take a mighty attacker indeed.”

“How powerful were his spells?”

“I have seen him invoke _Miracles_ when extreme circumstances demanded it.  If I were planning an attack on a comparably powerful priest, my goal would be to prevent him from ever having the opportunity to cast.  It would be the only reliable way to succeed.”

“Thank you, Lady Cecilia,” said Alistair.  “If you would wait in one of the adjoining chambers… we want to keep you safe and may have further questions.”

“Of course, your grace.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The guards quickly returned Lady Cecilia to her room and brought Lady Zenia in.  Before Lady Zenia entered, however, Kit focused her mind and reached out to sense thoughts.

Lady Zenia appeared much more nervous as she entered.  Kit smiled; she could read the lady-in-waiting’s surface thoughts cleanly.  Lady Zenia dropped a perfect curtsy.  <<If he means to dismiss me from the palace, I’ll know soon enough…  I shouldn’t have thought he would need so many guards for that, though.>>

“Lady Zenia,” Alistair began, a trifle cold.  “We wish to discuss some recent events with you.  Do you know anything about the death of Bishop Williams?”

The sudden direct question flustered the lady-in-waiting.  After a moment, she stuttered out,  “His death, your grace?  I didn’t even know he was dead…”  Even without psionics, Alistair and Dame Brionna could tell that the news had frightened her.

Kit sent a message to her friends.  <<She seemed honestly surprised and scared.  Her thought when she heard the question was “They killed him?”  But she also knows more… she pictured one of her Brightspan relatives when she thought that.  Not Sir Derrick, or I think the Duke, but there’s a definite resemblance.>>

Kit focused her gaze on Lady Zenia.  “You may not have known she was dead, but I think you know who killed him.  How does his death connect to the Duke and Duchess of Brightspan?”

Lady Zenia went from scared to terrified.  “It has come to me, even in my chambers, but the great danger is going south, and it's in the form of my cousin.”  At the end of that statement, her head snapped backwards with a sickening crunch and she collapsed to the ground.

Kit switched her focus from reading Lady Zenia’s mind to sensing auras.  “There was something here… I can sense a fleeing psionic aura…”

“Send for Lord Silverleaves’s Farsensor,” responded Alistair.  “We’ll need him to assist in this.”  No sooner had Kit reached out her mind towards the elven voller than the Farsensor appeared with a clap of displaced air.

Dame Brionna, meanwhile, dove towards Lady Zenia’s body and began pouring Glor’diadel’s healing into the luckless lady-in-waiting.  “She’s still alive, but I’m not sure I can save her.  She’s still under attack-- something’s draining her life even as I try to restore her.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed.  “Yes… There’s something lurking over her.  I can barely see its mind…”

Alistair reached quickly into a pouch and then threw his small orichalcum token near Lady Zenia and Dame Brionna.  It clattered harmlessly onto the floor.  His best guess at a target was not nearly good enough.  Kit, however, reacted almost instantly, scooping the orichalcum up on a bounce and flinging it again in a single smooth motion.  Even with the vagueness of her sense of the mind, her aim was true and a great flash and boom revealed when the orichalcum hit its target.

A great eight-foot tall rat-beast appeared, its claws still touching Lady Zenia’s neck.  The blast from the orichalcum had torn a large hole in the back of its torso, and it collapsed to the ground, dead.  Alistair reached down and picked up what was left of the orichalcum, less the half-ounce that had been consumed.

“The life drain has stopped, your grace, but her neck’s still broken.  I’m not sure my skills can save her.”

Alistair threw open the door to the hallway.  “We need a priest!  Now!”

Moments later, Father Waters entered the room.  Father Waters was a middle-aged priest, with the hearty physique of a priest called on as often to deliver Glor’diadel’s judgment on the battlefield as his wisdom in a pulpit.  His vestments displayed the signs of the Order of the Misty Dawn, a militant order of priests in the Church.  He had a somewhat confused look on his face, no doubt from having been taken into custody by a group of palace guards and then being told to rush into the Archduke’s chambers in an emergency.

Alistair gestured.  “She needs healing desperately, or else she’ll die.”

Father Waters knelt by Lady Zenia’s form and muttered a short but powerful prayer.  “I have cast _Heal_ upon her.  She will live…  But there is nothing I can do about the spinal injury.  She’ll need several months in skin under the care of a skilled redactor to cure that.”  His voice drifted off at the end of his statement as he stared at the rat-beast.  Kit sent Abigail to fetch Lady Constance Deepingwell; though demons were strictly speaking out of the diabolist’s area of expertise, she still would be the most useful person to examine the body.

“Thank you, Father,” said Dame Brionna.  “Now, the only question is how that thing penetrated the palace wards.”

“Simple,” replied the Farsensor.  “Your wards against magical teleportation are quite secure.  But there are no comparable defenses against psychoportation.  That creature was able to psychoport in the same way that I was.”

“We need to fix that.  Are there ways to ensure that no future enemies can enter psionically?”

The Farsensor’s eyes rolled back in his head for a moment.  “There.  I have erected a temporary barrier.  A full warding will be necessary for the future, and it will need to be regularly renewed, but none will enter against my will for the time being.”

“Would you be able to teach me how to create the psionic wards?” Kit asked.

“With some time, yes.  But there is another matter that we should discuss.  The attack was not coincidental.  That creature’s master was monitoring the young lady and had a means to target her.”

“Do you know how?”

“I believe so.  May I probe her mind to be certain?  Ordinarily I would not intrude to this degree, but it seems wise.”

“Will it hurt her?”

“No, your grace.  Especially while she is unconscious, I will be able to probe her mind without any permanent damage to her.”

“Then do what you must.”

The Farsensor placed his hand on Lady Zenia’s forehead.  After a moment, he looked at her abdomen, before shifting his focus back to her face.  “I am now certain.  She is pregnant, although not willingly.  The child allows its father entrance.”


----------



## Fulcan

*Awesome*

A very fun read.  Thanks for sharing.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, Fulcan!  Glad you're enjoying it.

----

“Will the wards stop it?  Or would moving her to one of the lead-lined rooms?”

“No, simple barriers would not suffice.  There are specific protections that can be raised, and I have put them in place.  But this is a powerful link for the child’s father.”  He concentrated further.  “She is completely unaware of the pregnancy, or the power it gives him over her.  All that she knows is that she was raped by her ‘cousin,’ although it was clearly a demonic power, not a human, that sired the child.”

“That fits the Brightspans,” Kit muttered darkly.  “What does she know about her cousin?”

“She believes that he has some hold over his father, the Duke of Brightspan.  She also knows that he has gathered a large force to the west, heading south…  And the image she has of her cousin… most unusual.  I have almost never seen an overlay like that before…”

“Could you show me?”

“Yes, I’ll project it into your mind.  Be ready.  There are many memories and emotions tied up in it.”  The Farsensor and Kit locked eyes for a moment.

Kit shuddered.  Seeing Alistair and Brionna’s worried looks, she stammered, “I’ll be alright.  Don’t touch me!  I just need some time…”

The Farsensor continued, apparently unperturbed.  “Notice that when she pictures him, an image is overlaid on the image.  A human image, and an almost human image underlying it that seems almost feline.  But not a hell feline, or a normal feline…”

“Rakshasa?”

“Perhaps…”

“Master Farsensor, what can you glean from her mind about the trip to Tarsh?” asked Kit.  “We think that her attacker wished to cover up some matters about that trip.”

“Interesting…  A bishop of Paranswarm had a great gift from the Noldar stolen from his holy symbol while they were in Tarsh.  The thieves murdered the Bishop during the theft.  It was something of a scandal.”

“At the same time as they replaced the Eldar amulet the Archduchess carried with a fake,” said Dame Brionna.

One of the Farsensor’s eyebrows raised slightly.  “Ah.  So that was why Amelia faded so fast in the last days.  Without its sustaining power, there could be nothing to hold back the effects of age.  I had wondered…”

Alistair grimaced.  “Master Farsensor, we would appreciate it if you kept that information to yourself.  We value that gift from your people highly and are doing everything we can to recover it.  We would not wish the Forest to think that we did not show proper respect for its generosity.”

“I can hardly see how it would be treated as an insult.  You have done nothing wrong and are seeking to recover the amulet.  It is the thieves who have insulted us.  Nonetheless, I can see how some would disagree.  I will inform the ambassador and my queen; you need have no fear of their responses.  Beyond that, it will remain a secret.”

“Thank you for your discretion.”

“But it is a great loss.  The jewel in question was created by energizing psionic crystals by a firstcomer for the purpose of sustaining life and preventing decay.  And with a Noldar crystal stolen at the same time…  If it were the exact opposite of Amelia’s crystal-- that’s extraordinarily unlikely, of course…”

“And yet we have reason to believe that they are precise opposites,” said Alistair.

“Indeed?  If they are and were fused together in the appropriate ritual, nearly anything would be possible.  I do not wish to seem disrespectful, but there are those who say that only the two first gods truly live for all time.  Among my people, extending life and achieving divine status does not have the allure that it does among yours and others.  But with a pair of precisely opposite artifacts of the firstcomers, even a minor demon could be raised to a level of power comparable to a god. Not as powerful as your god, quite, but on the level of a demon lord or archdevil.”

“That matches the goals of the creature that we believe is responsible.  Thank you for your aid, and we assure you that we will recover the crystals before they can be misused.”

“It would be well if you did.”

Seeing that he had answered their questions, the Farsensor began turning to leave.  Alistair held up a hand.  “One moment, Farsensor.  Would you mind if I asked you a question about some of your fallen kin?”

“I would not, and if the question does not pry too deeply, I will answer if I can.”

“We have reasons to believe that one of Quinliart Mordiquendarim’s closest kinswomen has been involved in the kidnapping of children.  Some of these kidnappings have been in the City of Enclaves, within Region 9.  Do you have any sense of how Setilina might respond if she were informed of it?”

The Farsensor nodded.  “She would be most unhappy.  Setilina has always been cleaner than most of her brethren.  Unauthorized slaving within her niece’s region would anger both her and her niece greatly.”

 The Lieutenant of the guard poked his head inside.  “Captain?  Lady Constance insists that she be allowed in.”

Alistair replied, “Excellent, she’s here.  Send her in.”  Turning to the Farsensor, he continued, “Thank you for all your help.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Constance entered, “You sent for me, your grace?”  She stared at the strange corpse on the ground.  “Yes, I can see why you would have…”

“Do you know what it is?” asked Dame Brionna.

“It’s a rat-lord.  It must be a creature of Clan Muldar and connected to the Horned Rat.  This creature was bound by magics-- I can still see the residue.”  She knelt for a moment, looking first at its claws and then lifting its head with her staff before letting it fall back to the ground with a dull thud.  “But not a pure blood.  It is a mix of rat-lord and vrock.”

“Vrock?” asked Kit.

“Vulture demon,” replied Alistair.  “Very nasty.”

As they all examined the body, Kit nodded at the claws.  “Eight or nine inches long; this could easily have been the creature that killed Bishop Williams.”

Lady Constance looked up sharply.  “Bishop Williams is dead?”

“Assassinated.  Probably killed before he could react.”

Lady Constance shook her head slightly.  The bishop wasn’t a friend, exactly, but they had had a cordial relationship.  And too many of her colleagues in Amelia’s inner circle were dead or would be within a few weeks.  “Yes, this could easily have done that.”  She slipped a heavy gold ring off its finger.  “This should go to the Treasury, for use when it’s needed.  A Ring of the Assassin.”

Kit looked up in intense interest.  “A Ring of the Assassin?  What does that do?”

“It allows one who is not trained as an assassin to learn how to kill instantly and reliably from stealth, as they do.”

Kit nodded.  That could be a useful thing to have available to her or her people.  She then asked, “Lady Constance?  Can you receive mental images?”

“Of course.  Why?”

“I wonder if you can tell us anything about the strange effect on this mental image.”  Kit concentrated and sent the image of Lady Zenia’s cousin, with its cat-like underlay, across to the archmaga.

“How unusual… If it were not impossible, I would almost think that it was the Abomination of Shur.  But the Abomination’s apotheosis failed, and it was destroyed in the aftermath.”

“We have reasons to believe, Lady Constance, that its destruction was not as complete as we would have hoped,” replied Alistair.  “Other intelligence suggests that it still plots to complete its elevation.”

“Foul news, indeed.  But even if some remnant of it survived, it should have been dispersed and crippled.  It should have been more than a century before it could act again.”

“Could it have moved into a different form?  Possessed the Brightspan son, for example?”

“Not against his will.  If a ritual had been prepared, however, and he willingly allowed it to come in through a summoning at the moment of its discorporation… perhaps.  It would have required great skill and preparation.  But I could have accomplished something similar if it were a devil that had been discorporated.”

Dame Brionna’s distaste towards Lady Constance’s diabolism hardened.  Out of all of the Archduchess’s close associates, why had she been the one to choose not to suicide?  “Lady Zenia has been impregnated with its spawn.  That’s how this demon was able to penetrate the wards.”

“Yes, I see… Very cleverly done.  They have also magically slowed the pregnancy’s progression, allowing them to use the fetus’s magical effects for as long as possible.”

“Can you help her through this?  Perhaps allow the child to escape the evil influence of its father?”

“I’ll do what I can,”  replied Lady Constance.  “I should be able to at least protect her from it.  Whether the child can be saved… less clear.”

Alistair stroked his chin thoughtfully.  “If there is a magical connection between the child and its father… would you be able to use that to launch an attack on its father?”

Lady Constance nodded.  “I could.  It would discomfit the father’s host… if the host were particularly weak, or had been weakened, the attack might kill.  But under ordinary circumstances it would probably just incapacitate it briefly and sicken the host.”

“Good.  We’ll save that as a possible attack if the Abomination attempts another ritual.”

“If I may take her to my lab?  The sooner I have access to my full capabilities the better Lady Zenia’s chances will be.”

“Of course,” replied Alistair.  “Take care of her.  She has suffered greatly through no fault of her own and simply because she was a loyal servant of the Archduchy.  I would not wish to see her harmed further for that.”

Lady Constance nodded gravely and summoned an invisible form that carried Lady Zenia off to the chambers of the coven.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“With that dealt with, perhaps we should turn back to the murder, your grace.”

“And the kidnapping…” added Kit.  “I still want to see if we can rescue Sparkle.”

“Let’s bring in Father Brockenhausen Drumm, then.  As the parish priest, he’ll likely know if Virginia Sutter had any non-human blood.”

The lieutenant led in a parish priest, clearly dazzled by his surroundings and baffled by the guards.  After a moment, Father Brockenhausen Drumm realized who he had been brought to see and dropped into a bow so deep that it was almost a genuflection.  “Your grace…”

“Rise, Father.  We want to ask you a few questions about the attack at the tavern in your parish.”

The priest shuddered.  “Massacre, more like, your grace.  But I should have known you would be seeking to punish those who did it.”

“Indeed.  We wanted to know… did Virginia Sutter have any elven or fey blood?”

Father Brockenhausen Drumm looked up in surprise.  “Why, yes, your grace.  She was half-sidhe.”

“So Master Potter’s children had strong fey blood.”

“Begging your pardon, Dame Knight, but only his daughter.  Virginia was his second wife-- his first died shortly after the birth of his son.  Virginia was a good stepmother for the son, mind you, but Sparkle was her blood-daughter.  I did wonder a bit about her… does a part fey child have a proper soul?  But I’m just a parish priest, not a bishop or theologian, so I baptized her all the same.  I’m sure Glor’diadel still watches over her, regardless…  I never really felt the need to make an issue of it.”

“I’m sure that Glor’diadel does watch over her,” Alistair replied.  He then leaned over towards Dame Brionna.  “Make a note to have the Archbishop of the Sun send a theologian to discuss this with the priest afterwards.  Can’t have possible heresy within the capital.”

“Of course, your grace.”  Dame Brionna smiled, pleased at what she took to be concern for orthodoxy, but was actually a simple sense of mischief on Alistair’s part.  He was pretty sure that Father Brockenhausen Drumm would have a lively time of it but then be vindicated ultimately.

“Thank you, Father,” said Kit.  “Please return to the room where you were waiting in case we have further questions.”

“Of course, your… uh… your ladyship.”

“Lieutenant Sister Constance next?”  suggested Alistair.

“I think so, your grace,” said Dame Brionna.  “Now that we know why the wife and daughter were taken, I want to confirm the other details of the slaughter and find out if there were any other survivors.”

Lieutenant Sister Constance of the Order of the Silvery Veil entered.  She was a tall, sturdily built woman, wearing the severe habit of her order, including a silver veil that completely concealed her face.  She also wore the badge of her rank in the Metropolitan Constabulary.

After the preliminaries, Dame Brionna focused on the key issues.  “Sister Constance, did you see any signs that were survivors or people who escaped the massacre?”

“No, Dame Brionna.  Based on the way the bodies were found, I consider it unlikely.  I believe the attacker or attackers made deliberate efforts to cut off escape.”

“What of signs of kidnapping, that people had been taken out alive?” asked Kit.

“None except for the two missing persons.  If we did not know that the mother and sister had been there, I would not have seen any signs of kidnapping at all.”

“Did the attacker kill the rest of the women that were present?” asked Alistair.  “Were there women among the dead?”

“No, your grace, but it was a coming-of-age celebration.  They follow the old ways; all men except for the immediate family.  Very traditional, and the ratio I would have expected.  If it had been the daughter’s celebration, her brother and father would have been the only men present.”

Alistair muttered, “If you ask me, a boy can’t really come of age without women present…”

Dame Brionna surprised everyone by chuckling a little.  “Surely you only need one woman for that sort of coming of age, your grace.”

“No.”

Dame Brionna blushed and cleared her throat.  “Getting back to the murder… Please examine this body.  Would you say that its claws are consistent with the wounds you saw?”

Sister Constance examined the rat-lord vrock carefully.  “It looks perfectly consistent with the killings.  The right height and general musculature, consistent claws.  It could easily have done the killings.”

“Were there any distinctive patterns to how the bodies fell?”

“Yes, Dame Brionna.  The Bishop was probably killed first, although we did not immediately identify his body.  A small cluster of people died right around him, probably trying to defend or avenge him.  There was then a cluster of people by the door.  Finally, there was a group of bodies in the family’s living quarters.”

“So… the creature assassinated the Bishop, killed anyone who got in its way, then rushed to the door to cut off escape and kill the witnesses, before doubling back to get the survivors who had fled into the living quarters?” hypothesized Kit.

“My analysis precisely.  The group in the living quarters may have been defending Mistress Sutter and her daughter, but there was no unambiguous evidence of that..”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair thanked Sister Constance, and the coroner, the Reverend Canon Devon Hastinghunter, was sent in.  His account matched Sister Constance’s, but with one addition.  When he examined the claws, he went into his bag and withdrew some careful sketches on parchment.  After a few moments, he looked up.  “This was the murderer.  I’m sure of it… the claws are a perfect match for the claw marks at the scene.”

“You measured them?”

“Absolutely, Dame Brionna.  You have to be sure when dealing with monsters.  Least, that’s what the church’s training says… I can’t say I’ve investigated any demon killings before.”  He paused in thought.  “Hmm.  I suppose the killer could be a demon that has the precise same size and shape as this one.  You can’t be as sure that wouldn’t happen with magical beings, although I would have thought that more likely among devils than demons.  But look at the claw on the smallest finger… I had wondered how that was done.”

“How what was done, Reverend Canon?”

“The victims, or at least some of them, had their brains stirred.  Something sharp and curved was inserted through their ear canals, and then moved about to stir the brain.  Quite lethal, and it would be very subtle without the disembowelment.  The long, narrow, and curved claw on the fifth digit of each of the demon’s hands was probably the murder implement.”

“Was there an obvious entry wound at the ear?  What would it have looked like if only the brains were stirred?”

“No, the entry wound was quite small, your grace.  If it had only made that attack… I should think it would have looked like a massive stroke.”

“But still sufficient to kill and prevent resurrection?”

“Oh, definitely.  I hadn’t thought about the resurrection point, but with the brain destroyed it would be quite impossible.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  All the pieces in the murder of Lady Brenda were falling into place.  They thanked the coroner and sent him off.  “Your grace… I’d like to bring in Lieutenant Zachary.  We’re running out of leads with the Pottersflat murder, and we need to know whether he was just incompetent or actively compromised.”

“I agree.  That means we need Aunt Cecilia to look him over.”

After Aunt Cecilia entered the room and the situation was explained, they sent for Lieutenant Zachary.  Kit attuned her senses to detect thoughts just before he entered.

Lieutenant Zachary entered and saluted smartly, his uniform perfectly arrayed with every button and decoration gleaming.  “Lieutenant Zachary, reporting as ordered, your grace.”

“Oh, he isn’t corrupt at all,” Princess Cecilia said nonchalantly.  “He hasn’t more than six brain cells to rub together, but he’s as loyal as he can figure out how to be.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lieutenant Zachary did a remarkable job of maintaining his composure in the face of those statements.  He didn’t entirely succeed, but came much closer than Alistair thought he could have managed under similar circumstances.

“Lieutenant Zachary,” began Dame Brionna, “we’d like to discuss the matter of the trip to Tarsh.  I understand you picked the guards who accompanied her grace?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“What criteria did you use to pick them?”

“The most presentable ones, Captain.  We were representing the Archduchy on a state visit; the Archduchess’s guards had to have impeccable grooming and bearing.”

Alistair winced at the not unexpected reply.  “Where did you post your guards on the night Lady Brenda died?”

“I had two guards with Amelia, the Archduchess Amelia, one outside the door to our suite, and one patrolling the large ceremonial garden.  I was one of the guards with the Archduchess, of course.”  Kit was struck that his thoughts perfectly matched his statements.  Often, that would be a sign of a well-trained mind, trying to avoid giving anything away.  In his case, she thought it more likely that he simply was incapable of maintaining two separate thoughts at once.

“And did the guards notice anything unusual?”

“I can’t say truthfully that they noticed anything, your grace.  One of the guards, the one in the ornamental garden, had some sort of night terror.  He claimed to have seen a gorilla thing going into the apartment.  But we searched the apartment and found no sign of a gorilla monster.  So it must have simply been his weak nerves, in a country without the Light of Glor’diadel.”

With a withering tone of voice, Alistair continued, “Look at the demon corpse there.  Do you think that might have been described as a gorilla like monster?”

“I suppose so, your grace…”

Dame Brionna frowned.  “I’m sure you have noble blood… which family are you related to?”

“Yes, Captain.  The Baron of Mossbark, Captain.  I’m his cousin.  I don’t know that he would remember me, Captain, but I am his cousin.”

“I think we could afford any ill-feelings from the Baron of Mossbark, your grace, and he can’t stay in the palace guard.”

“If there even were any.  It sounds like his cousin will hardly notice.”

Dame Brionna nodded and focused her attention on Lieutenant Zachary.  “You should begin packing your bags.  Your reassignment orders will be ready shortly.  I think we’ll station you in one of the mountain postings.  The giants are always a threat, and we need brave soldiers to force them back.”

“Yes, Captain.”  Lieutenant Zachary couldn’t quite keep the hurt and confusion from his face.  He knew that he was being dismissed, and because of something in Tarsh, but he still didn’t really understand what.

“Dismissed.”  After Lieutenant Zachary left, Dame Brionna blanched.  “Wait… he called Her Grace the Archduchess ‘Amelia.’  Kit, were you able to read his thoughts?”

“What little there were.”

“When he thought of the Archduchess… there wasn’t anything unusual there?  He is a handsome man, and I just thought…”

“No.  Admiration, and the high degree of personal loyalty and familiarity that most of the Archduchess’s circle have.  But nothing like that.”  Kit glanced, almost involuntarily, at Alistair.  “Trust me, I’d know.”

“Good.  I suddenly had the fear that he had been a special friend of the Archduchess, and I would have felt terrible about sending him to likely get killed if he were.”

“Indeed.  We would have had to have found him a safe posting outside the palace if he were,” said Alistair.  “By the way, Dame Brionna, we need to weed out any other officers like that from the Archducal Guard.  Times are too dangerous for guards who think their duties are ceremonial.”

“Yes, your grace.  I was planning to handle that.  But things have been so busy…”

“It wasn’t criticism.  You’re doing a fine job.  But it’s something to deal with for the future.”  He paused.  “But now we need to figure out how to trace the demon back to its allies.  They must be near the capital still…”


----------



## Orichalcum

It's worth noting that we later learned that Lt. Zachary is the highest ranking officer in the Guard who won't be commiting suicide in Amelia's honor shortly. In other words, without Brionna, he'd be the new Captain of the Guard. The mind boggles.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna turned to Kit.  “Does the rat-lord look like the one who took Princess Anastasia?”

“It looks somewhat similar, but some of the features were different.  I’m not sure that wasn’t just a rat-lord, without the demon part.”

Alistair blinked.  “You don’t suppose that Anastasia was taken because of elven blood?”

Dame Brionna shrugged.  “We need to consider the possibility.  Do we know if the Hanalian royal family has any non-human ancestors?”

“I doubt it… Queen Thyastis’s emphasis on a human empire doesn’t make it likely.  And if she did have any non-human ancestors, elves wouldn’t be my first guess.  But there is the question of who her children’s father is.  My understanding is that most people agree that it’s not the Prince-Consort, but no one knows who their father is.”

“So we have to keep worrying about the possibility, even though it was probably just politics,” Kit said.  “But we still need to figure out where they took Sparkle.”

“What about the ring?” asked Dame Brionna.  “I think some psions can trace the people who’ve had an item.  It could give us a target to scry.”

They asked the elven Farsensor if he would be willing to help.  The fact that the targets were elven children only made him more willing to assist.  The heavy gold ring rested on his outstretched palm.  “Yes… the rat-lord got the ring from a strong man, a warrior, a half-orc… the half-orc took the ring from a wizard, who made it.  The wizard died at the half-orc’s hand.”  He paused.  “There is no more I can read from this ring.”

“Maybe we’re not being direct enough,” said Kit.  “Could you scry on a quarter-fae child named Sparkle Sutter?”

“Where is she?  And do you have a mental image of her?”

“Probably within the city.  Definitely not more than a few days travel out.  We have never met her, but her parish priest is here and knew her well.”

“That should be within my power, then.  It is difficult to scry on one with only indirect information, but the fae blood should help.  With the close range, I should be able to find her as long as the priest can picture her clearly.”

A few minutes later, the Farsensor nodded.  “I have her.  They are in … I do not know what it is.  Below ground, with a great deal of natural waste around, and moving water.  Below Pottersflat.”

“In the sewers,” Kit said.  Seeing the Farsensor’s confused look, she explained what sewers were, leaving him quite horrified.

“She is in this sewer.  The area is warded, both magically and psionically, although not sufficient to prevent me from reading it lightly.  Their psion is no more than master level, perhaps less.”

“Are there other children there?”

“Three others, all with strong elven blood.”

“If it’s in the sewers, my people will have the most information,” said Kit.  She slipped out, returning a few minutes later with a man who looked extraordinarily uncomfortable.  He made a vague gesture of respect towards Alistair, ignored Dame Brionna completely, and waited for Kit’s question.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> “In the sewers,” Kit said. Seeing the Farsensor’s confused look, she explained what sewers were, leaving him quite horrified.




So should we enquire about Elven sanitation?   

Still loving this storyhour. Keep up the good work.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I figure the elves just don't need sewers because of the lack of significant urban populations.  I'm glad you're enjoying the sh.

----

“Do you know of anything strange in the sewers beneath Pottersflat?”

“Yes’m.  That’s where one of those three places are.  The ones I mentioned before.  That’s the worst one.”

“Right.  Do you know anything about what’s there?”

“Not much.  There are some moving statues that guard it, and there’s a demon, but nobody’s seen it and lived to tell.  If you try to go in to the center of the area, you die.”

“If nobody who’s seen it has lived, how do you know there’s a demon?” asked Dame Brionna sensibly.  The rogue seemed relieved that he had already decided to ignore Dame Brionna completely.

“Have you seen anyone around there?  Any traffic?” asked Alistair.

The rogue kept talking to Kit.  “About a dozen people, I’d say.  Hard to be sure, because we have to just count them as they’re coming and going.”

“Humans?” asked Kit.  “Anything distinctive about them?”

“They look like normal humans,” he said.  “Like common folk.  One of ‘em is terrible ugly, though.  Practically green skinned, and all those warts…”

“Probably a hag,” said Alistair.

“Oh, she’s definitely a hag.”

“His grace meant that technically,” said Dame Brionna.

“There are technical hags?  Well, I guess she’s a technical hag, then, she’s so ugly.”

“We need to send strike teams,” said Alistair.  “Hit all three spots at once, so we don’t give them any warning.”

“If they’ll be fighting demons, the Knights of Valor and other church knights should lead the attack,” commented Dame Brionna.  “And we should ask some of Her Grace’s Companions if they wish to go-- if they plan on suicide, they may as well take the danger of one last fight with the blessing of Glor’diadel instead of heresy in darkened chambers.”

“Indeed.  We’ll also ask Lady Constance if the royal coven can provide magical support.  Master Farsensor, would your people be willing to provide some psionic support?”

“We would be most happy to, for such a cause.  I will send my captain to the location where we know there is a psion-- he is a gray elf, not one of the Eldar, but he should be more than a match for any human psion-- and a high elf psion to each of the other two.”

“You should be careful, Master Farsensor.  We believe that this may be a plot under the aegis of Drucilla, a Noldar of the Moriquendarim.  I would not expect her to be present, but if she is, her powers might be too much for your psions to handle.”

“I find it hard to believe that there is Noldar involvement, at least directly.  I assensed the psion’s power, although imperfectly, and he was not strong enough.  But if the person we believe to be a human psionicist is actually a Noldar-- and should he actually be a Noldar, and not merely a Mordhel-- I will go to my captain’s aid.  He would be unlikely to be able to stand against a Noldar.”

Kit arranged to have her people lead the strike teams into position.  They were not thrilled to be guiding Knights of Valor and militant priests, but they obeyed her command, and she assured them that she would not permit them to be seized or harmed.  The elves placed a glamour upon the Knights of Valor and the church troops to prevent them from giving away the attack too soon-- the Knights of Valor have many virtues, but subtlety and an ability to blend in with people who might enter the sewers of Canberry are not among them.

All told, better than a hundred troops participated in the attacks.  With such a weight of numbers, and a carefully balanced force with no holes in its preparation, the outcome was preordained.  Nonetheless, the battles were bloody.  Not even the Knights of Valor could arrange proper cavalry charges in the sewers, and so the battle was fought at arms reach with swords, knives, and spells.  The demon-worshippers attempted to kill their prisoners when their defeat was clear.  One of the Knights of Valor struck a dagger from the hand of one of the demonists moments before he would have killed Sparkle, and one little boy tripped the thug trying to kill him, buying time for the Knights to rescue him.  But the other three children were dead by the time the battle was won.  Dame Brionna insisted that they be raised.

The attack destroyed the physical forms of all three of the demons, although the arcana made the Knights of Valor pay a high price in blood first.  The hag managed to escape by diving into the water and swimming away.  Against the humans, the attack had better luck:  not one of the demonists escaped, and the gray elf captain took the psionicist alive for questioning.  The Knights of Valor also brought back three prisoners from the rank-and-file that they had battered unconscious once the enemy’s resistance had broken.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Eldar psionicist examined the three regular prisoners quickly.  “They have little in their minds, your grace.  They are deeply deranged and full of hatred.  They have been trained to focus that hate on you.”

“Do they know of other demon-worshippers?”

“As far as they know, we have taken most of them.  There was one additional cell besides the three in the sewers, but they do not know where it is or who is in it.  I do not think they have any additional information.”  The Eldar looked at Alistair.  “What do you intend to do with them?”

“I don’t think there’s any choice but to execute them.”

“If you wish, I could stop their hearts painlessly.”

Alistair nodded, and the demon-worshippers slumped, instantly dead.

After a few moments, Kit said, “Perhaps the psion will know more…”

“Indeed.”  The Farsensor focused his attention on the psion.  The Eldar’s eyes widened in surprise that instantly gave way to anger.  “You dare to raise a shield?  Against me?” Kit could feel a wave of energy as the Eldar contemptuously ripped through the human psion’s defenses.  Dame Brionna watched, slightly alarmed but carefully learning a valuable lesson.  In their own way, the Eldar are as arrogant and convinced of their own superiority as their fallen cousins.  The Eldar’s lips curved into a cold smile.  “Oh, there is a lot more here.  It *thinks*.  It has met the one you call Drucilla; she finished its training.  His training started with the Society of the Powers of the Mind.”  Alistair recognized that as the name of one of the many human schools of psionics that offer training to the gifted for a high price.  “It has met with other conspirators as well.  And I see a young man's face; a familiar young man... is this not the young man I showed you before?  But without the second image.  In a city... not this city... buildings of white stone."

“Buildings of white stone?” repeated Kit.  “That sounds like Brightspan City.  I’ll form a mental image of it.”

The Eldar quickly read Kit’s image.  “Yes, that city.”

“Did he meet the Duchess?  Or the Duke?”

“He met only the boy, not any other members of the family, but there is a sense of great struggle, almost war around the boy.  This one spies for him, particularly on a female, an older female.  For this one it is all cold calculation.  He believes that what comes is inevitable, so he sees it as like breaking a warm loaf of bread and putting jam on it for himself.  What an odd image…  I'm going to try to draw out the details of his plan; if I fail, he will die."  The Eldar stopped speaking as he concentrated on the more difficult task.  After a moment, the elflord smiled.  “It was a planning meeting.  He was there, in his physical body.  The others-- the young man; a skaven, accompanied by a great beast, a rat-ogre; a human woman, young, a natural channel; Drucilla, and a group of five men and women-- three are southerners, from the Sunken Lands, the last two could be anybody; and then a military commander coming in and then leaving.  Let me see… yes, the commander was the commander of the Brightspan field army."  The Eldar's face twisted, as if he had just bit into a lemon.  "This one I will not kill.  It would dirty me."

"What of Drucilla?” asked Alistair.  “Can you tell if she is indeed a Noldar?”

“I agree that she's Noldar.  But I can't imagine why she would be involved.”  The Eldar shook his head.  “Unless she were damaged…  One in a hundred children born to the Noldar might be mind-blind, and another might be marginal.  We care for our unfortunate children as best as we can, but the Noldar expose their mind-blind, or cast out their marginal.  If she had just enough psionic power that they let her live, but were cast out, she might have become involved in this insanity.”  The Eldar shifted his attention back to the psion.  “There is no more useful information to be had from him.”

“Thank you for your aid,” said Alistair.  “We will have him disposed of properly.”

“Good.  It is a foul creature.  Unless you have further need of me, I will return to my ship.”

Once the Farsensor had left, Kit shook her head.  “I think he was a little too reluctant to realize that an elf, even a Noldar, might make an alliance with the forces of Borsh’tro.  We already had plenty of reason to believe that Drucilla is a close ally of Quinliart.  There’s no reason to think that she is not a true Noldar.”

“No, but the more fastidious Noldar may be upset about this.  I think it’s time to let the Controller of Region 9 know about Drucilla’s activities, through her aunt.  At worst she’ll be angry; at best, it will mean open conflict between the Regions.”

Kit nodded.  “Any conflict we can produce among the Noldar has to help.”

Even Dame Brionna grudgingly nodded.  “I wish we didn’t have to deal with any of the Noldar.  But we have to deal with Drucilla somehow, and we don’t have the power to fight her directly.  Just, please, be careful, your grace.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Setilina Curini’rim accepted the Archduke’s invitation to a private dinner.  She swept into the dining room in a crystal laced gown, wearing a restrained but beautiful crystaline coronet, as befitted her status as a Noldar princess.  “Your grace, thank you for inviting me to this dinner.  I thought that this might make a suitable occasion to present my gift to you.”  She held out a headband.  “I have created a crystal horse as a swift and tireless mount for you.  It has the libraries of knowledge that it ought to and is bonded to you, but I have not created a personality, as that should be formed as it interacts with its rider and responds to what you desire in a steed.  You will find that it will serve you devotedly and ably in the decades to come.”

“Thank you, Lady Curini’rim.  You honor us greatly with your generosity.”

Dame Brionna, for her part, desperately hoped that Alistair would never feel the need to try out this particular gift.  Setilina had seemed polite but trusting a Noldar construct with your safety is insane.

Alistair made polite small talk with Lady Curini’rim for the first several courses of the dinner.  By the time he thought they had talked barely long enough to dare to move to substantive business without insulting the Noldar, Kit was utterly bored and miserable, never daring to open her mouth but needing to remain in case something vital was said.  Dame Brionna’s nervousness steadily rose as the strain of being on alert in the presence of an enemy for more than an hour took its toll.

“Lady Curini’rim, we hope you might deliver a message from the Archduchy to the Controller of Region 9.”  Alistair held out a parchment roll, sealed with the Great Seal of the Archduchy.  “Of course, we will also tell you what the message says.”

Setilina took up the scroll and it disappeared instantly.  One of her eyebrows rose slightly in mild curiosity.

“We have received positive knowledge that members of Quinliart’s immediate family are conducting slavery operations within Region 9, in violation of your niece’s ban.  The image you identified as Quinliart’s cousin was taken from a hag that we personally stopped in its slaving operations in Enclaves.  The hag is now in our power and would confirm that the Noldar we know as Drucilla ordered the slaving operations.”

“That is news that she should hear directly.  If I may bring her here?”

“Of course, your excellence.”

The Noldar concentrated.  A small disc appeared, similar to the one that had appeared before the parchment disappeared, but with a miniature elven form on it.  The disc then expanded, and a full-sized Noldar lady stepped off it.

Alistair’s throat caught at the sight of her.  She was likely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  Her skin had the pearly white coloration of the Noldar-- an actual white, not the pinkish tone that is called white among humans.  She wore a diaphanous gown that sparkled with many crystals and pearls and did more to suggest than to conceal.  Alistair also recognized the rings on each of her fingers and toes as summoning rings of substantial power.  Her body was perfectly formed, slender in the elven way but with unmistakeable strength.  And she was utterly perfect and without flaws.  After a moment of simply staring, Alistair managed to speak.  “Welcome to Canberry, your ladyship.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Thank you.”

Alistair embarked on another extended round of small talk, but after only a half-hour or so, Setilina took pity on him and said, “Perhaps it is time to move on to the matter that we brought my niece here to attend.”

The Controller of Region 9 looked at Alistair curiously.  “You are remarkably direct, mentally, even when observing polite forms.”

“It isn’t very polite to read them, my dear,” observed her aunt, although perhaps with more amusement than criticism.

“If I am focused, it is because we have important matters to discuss, your ladyship.  My understanding was that Region 9 has forsworn slaving.  We applaud this decision, and it opens up the possibility of trade with Canberry.  But we cannot trade with those who claim that they have banned slave-taking and yet tolerate the operations of other Zorplona-Aragoni within their region.”

The Controller glared.  “I have always believed that slavery is a waste of life.  I do not permit any slave-taking operations within my Region.”

“That was as we hoped, your ladyship.  But we have personal knowledge of a slaving operation under the auspices of a Noldar known to us as Drucilla, a close kinswoman of Quinliart.  We dismantled part of her operation, and found that the hag that had been running the operation was her personal minion.  Your aunt identified as Quinliart’s kinswoman the image we drew from the scrying mark the hag placed upon a djinni bound to my service.”

Not even Kit could tell if Setilina confirmed this mentally, but the Controller seemed to have no doubt about its truth.  “How dare they?” she raged.  “Region 9 is mine to order as I see fit, and I have forbidden it.  For them to both intrude and violate my express command…  It will mean a war of assassins.”

“We have reasons to believe that it is worse than merely slavery, as well.  She has aligned herself with the forces of Borsh’tro.  Our intelligence shows that she works with the Skaven and the remnants of the Abomination of Shur.  We believe that she specifically sought to enslave children with elven blood, to use in a ritual to elevate the Abomination to demon lord status.”

“Heresy!” cried the Controller.  She twisted on one of her rings, and a hound-headed, heavily muscled bipedal being appeared almost instantly.  “Commandant, you will prepare twenty battle-barges for an assault on Quinliart’s facility in the mountains.  Equip each battlebarge with a full unit of elite drow troops, and stiffen them with a force of daemons.”

The creature, presumably a powerful daemon itself, nodded, growling assent in some unearthly language.  Its lips pulled back, baring a fierce set of teeth as it anticipated the battles to come.  The Controller twisted her ring again, and the Commandant disappeared.

She faced Alistair.  “They will be punished for their insubordination.  You have my personal word that no slaving will take place in Region 9 as long as I live.”

Alistair nodded respectfully.  “We thank you for that commitment, confident that you will carry it out.”

“If I may, I should return to Enclaves.  I have preparations to make for the prosecution of the rest of this war.”

“Of course, and we thank you for meeting with us.”

The Controller disappeared in a clap of air.  Alistair’s eyes lingered on where her beautiful form had been.  Dame Brionna had noticed the clear effect the Controller had on Alistair with growing horror.  Keeping an eye on the Archduke’s wenching was one thing, and not too difficult as long as she could screen the women that might catch his eye.  But if the Noldar pursued him, what could she do?  Kit, on the other hand, continued to demonstrate the blindspot she sometimes had towards Alistair’s behavior.  She certainly knew that his eye wandered, but she rarely noticed just how often he followed his eye.

“You have done us a great service,” said the Princess of the Cuniri’rim. “Neither I nor my niece will forget that you shared this information with us.”  She then stopped talking, but her voice continued in Alistair’s mind alone for another second.  <<I would be careful of your interest.  Previous humans who she has taken haven't survived the experience.>>  Whether she knew that statement would only increase Alistair’s fascination was the furthest thing from his mind.

* * *

The following day a flotilla of flying boats descended upon the Noldar mountain fortification near Furrows.  The boats attacked with a great deployment of weapons far beyond human understanding, and then a small army of drow and daemons descended to war upon the survivors.

End of Session 7


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Session 8:

Determined to start a new morning routine for the archducal household, Dame Brionna came in the early morning to fetch Alistair for the morning services.  She found a small crowd waiting patiently outside his bedchamber-- two assistant chamberlains, one with attire for the day, the other with a large breakfast platter, and an assistant to the Privy Secretary with a collection of scrolls and a small desk.  Dame Brionna glanced over the group for a few moments and realized that they would wait until the door opened from within.  As the Captain-Presumptive of the Archducal Guard, she felt that maintaining a sensible schedule for the Archduke fell within her prerogatives.  She wrapped briskly on the door.

Alistair’s voice answered sleepily, “Yes?  What is it, and can it wait?”

“No, your grace.  The chamberlains have brought breakfast and attire, and the scrolls from the Privy Secretary for your grace’s morning briefing.  And your grace should dress quickly-- we don’t want to be late for morning chapel.”

An even more disgruntled Kit rolled over in the bed.  “Just give me a few moments, I’ll head back to my room.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” replied Alistair languorously.  “The household staff are discreet, and they should get used to this.”

Kit paused for a moment, discomfort with the idea of servants coming in to Alistair’s bedchamber while she was still there warring with a desire to stay comfortably in bed.

Dame Brionna called in through the door, “There’s plenty of breakfast…”

Kit bit her lip.  “Fine,” she muttered pulling the sheets up to a modest level.

“Enter,” said Alistair.  If he felt any discomfort at robing in front of a group of servants and Dame Brionna, he concealed it well.  As the secretary set up the desk and scrolls, he looked them over.  “My morning briefings are brought before chapel?”

“Yes, your grace.  Your grandmother always insisted that they be ready when she awoke, but never read any but the most urgent until after services.”

“Yes, I can imagine.  We will be following a new pattern.  The morning briefings will be delivered and read before chapel, so if there are pressing matters that have not been marked as urgent, we may nonetheless attend to them immediately.”  Dame Brionna frowned slightly; reading the messages before chapel would often mean missing chapel, which was likely precisely what Alistair wanted, but she could not argue with his reasoning.

“Yes, your grace.”

Alistair quickly began breaking the seals on the messages and reading them.  Most were relatively standard.  There was a report from Alonzo Strawberry listing the last night’s major crimes:  murders, major thefts, and other felonies.  Canberry has always been good about keeping track of people, and almost everyone is at least listed in a parish roll somewhere.  Alistair scanned through the report.  “The number of murders seems high.”

Kit shrugged.  “People get killed, m’lord.  More in the poorer parts of cities, but murders happen.”

“I know that.  But still… seven last night alone?  And multiple murders every night since we arrived?  That seems too many for a city the size of Canberry City, especially with the number of guards and the watchful eye of the Church.”

Dame Brionna nodded thoughtfully.  “I agree, your grace.  We would expect some murders, but this is more than I would have thought.”

“Any patterns to them, m’lord?”

“Let’s see… concentrated in two of the poorer areas.  We don’t have any districts with true penury, like Cabbage Heights, say, in Enclaves.  But there are some that are less well-off.  One is directly on the other side of the wall from the Temple Ward, the other is just outside the Merchants Ward.”  Most of the poor of Canberry City live outside the inner city, with its five wards, in the many wards between the ancient inner city walls and the great outer walls that protect the city now.

Dame Brionna glanced at the sheet.  “Interesting.  Most of the dead are unmarried, young women.  That could suggest more demonic involvement.”

“You think they may be being killed for ritual purposes?”

“Virgins are traditional for such things, your grace.”

“I would have hoped that clearing the sewers out would have ended that sort of threat…  Let’s see what the rest of the scrolls say.”

The Chamberlain sent a message that the Holy See of Paranswarm had unexpectedly sent a representative to the coronation, apparently the Archbaroness of Mandrath.  Another document listed the quarterly tax income, basically saying that the treasury continues to be flush.  Another message, from the minister of trade, detailed a steady and substantial drop of the trade of spices, dried and smoked fish, and meats from the South.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The last message, under the seal of the personal arms of Field Marshal Sir Derrick Brightspan and with the slight charring at the edges that marks teleported parchment, provided a battle report from his campaign against the barbarians.  They engaged elements of the barbarian horde yesterday.  The barbarian horde had substantial surprising cavalry support, including lancers, a type of unit the barbarians had traditionally lacked.  After three charges, the barbarians broke, but Sir Derrick withheld pursuit to tend to his own wounded and pursue slowly.  The barbarians have also assembled a small number of primitive fortifications-- stockades and the like.  Sir Derrick requested permission to burn fortifications if the civilians refuse to quit them.

“He delayed pursuit to tend to his wounded?” asked Kit.  “That doesn’t sound like what we know of Sir Derrick.”

Alistair focused on the signature.  “It wasn’t entirely his choice, I think.  The signature isn’t his, and matches the notation at the bottom from his private secretary.  If his private secretary is signing his correspondence, Sir Derrick has probably been badly wounded.”

“You’re not going to give him permission to burn fortifications with civilians inside, are you?  It would be a slaughter.”

“Your grace, it may be necessary,” responded Dame Brionna.  “The army cannot afford to leave possible foes behind it, but if they take the time to besiege each until it falls, their advance will be horribly delayed.  And the sieges will not be bloodless, either.  I do not relish the possibility, but it may be necessary.”

Alistair closed his eyes for a moment.  “We can hope that if he does start burning fortifications, he would only need to burn a few before the other civilians were more sensible.  Still… I won’t order that if I can avoid it.  We’ll consult with Field Marshal Broadfields.  If he agrees that it is necessary, we don’t have much choice.”

“Field Marshal Broadfields always attends the morning services, your grace.  We still have time to attend and speak with him afterwards.”

“Fine.  It will be useful to make an appearance for political reasons, anyway.”

The three all made their way to the palace chapel.  As this was simply an ordinary day, the chapel was far from capacity, although there were still a score of congregants.  About half of the worshippers were nobles and high officials of the Archduchy, entitled to attend the Archduke’s chapel because of their rank.  The balance were a group of wealthy and highly favored nobles with standing invitations as a sign of the Archduchy’s favor.  Alistair ignored the views of the other congregants and proceeded directly to the Archducal pew, where he ran through the pre-service rituals in a small, private, but precise and easily visible, way.  Kit’s sharp ears could hear the murmurs of pleased surprise from the merchants-- they had not expected to see Archduke Alistair in church except on festival days and perhaps for the weekly great Mass.  Perhaps he was more faithful than the rumors suggested?  Kit relayed this mentally to Alistar, who maintained his solemn face while feeling pleased about the politics.  The nobles seemed much less surprised by his presence, and much less impressed.  But then, they had a keener awareness of why their liege might attend church regardless of his personal feelings; some of them were probably simply keeping up appearances, themselves.

The chaplain ran through the morning service efficiently, including the required liturgy but cutting every optional portion and keeping things moving.  Upon arriving, Dame Brionna had quietly mentioned to the priest that the Archduke preferred the daily services to be quick so that he could return to his duties, and the priest understood and obeyed.  Alistair again made a show of participating fully, while creating the impression that this was a personal devotion not intended for the eyes of others.  Kit did her best to follow along, still feeling somewhat uncomfortable in a Glor’diadelian church.  Only Dame Brionna participated fervently and without either show or discomfort; her only complaint was that the Archduke’s preference for a quick service ran directly contrary to her own.

After the service, Alistair caught Marshal Broadfields eye and made a small gesture to wait.  He then mingled through the others who had attended the service, making small talk, discussing the day’s scripture readings, and in general trying to inspire personal affection and loyalty while creating an impression of great piety and devotion to duty.  Kit, listening to the thoughts of the various merchants and nobles that Alistair spoke to, heard both the surprise but also the tremendous shift towards positive feelings in their thoughts.  She nodded to herself; Alistair certainly knew a thing or two about making people like him.  [A 37 on his Diplomacy check didn’t hurt, either.]

As the remainder of the congregants dispersed, Marshal Broadfields made his way over to Alistair and his companions.  After moving to a more private chamber, Alistair passed Field Marshal Brightspan’s message over.

“We suspect he may have been injured, based on the uncharacteristic message about pursuit.”

“Certainly.  It suggests that he was badly wounded, in fact.  If he were simply forced to withdraw from the front, he would still send his army forward.  But if command had passed to one of the generals beneath him, the more tentative approach is easily explained.  This poses a tremendous danger to the empire; if he cannot resume command quickly, the campaign could be greatly prolonged, with a much higher total loss.  And if he dies… some of the generals in his army should not hold their ranks.  It is possible they could even manage to lose.”

Alistair nodded.  “You’ll need to be ready to teleport out and assume command.  We’ll do everything we can to aid his recovery, but if he does not recover, we need a competent general in charge.”

The field marshal nodded.  “Yes, your grace, that makes sense.  I’ll review the reports in more detail and make my preparations.”

“What of his request for permission to burn the fortifications?”

“Unquestionably correct, your grace.  Bypassing the fortifications or besieging them without burning them are both untenable options.  The strategic consequences of either would be to slow our advance and weaken our army-- precisely the opposite of our goal in striking a hard blow against the enemy to break their will to fight us.”

“Very well, then… he’ll have his permission.  I only wish we did not need to; many civilians will die as a result.”

“Your grace, that was inevitable when they took to the fortifications and refused to surrender when beaten.  You should also know that the use of fortifications is unusual among the barbarians.  Traditionally, they have only had light mobile shelters, without actual settlements or fortifications.  I suspect that this is another example, like the lancers, of the khan adapting to improve their techniques.  It is a dangerous trend.  And it makes the over-caution of the more junior generals more problematic.  We should not give them time to adapt further.”

“We need to shore up the chain of command, your grace,” commented Dame Brionna.  “It’s all well and good to rely on Sir Derrick, and to send out Marshal Broadfields if he is slain, but we need the other generals to be capable and aggressive enough as well.”

“Indeed.  Do you see anything inadvisable in promoting the most aggressive and skilled officers?  We could include that in Sir Derrick’s orders as well.  It should both strengthen the top of the chain of command and inspire the rest of the officers.”

“A wise plan.  Do you know if there are any of the Elite Hand with the army?”

Alistair did his best to conceal the fact that he had no idea what Marshal Broadfields was discussing.  “We would have to check.”

The field marshal nodded.  “If there were any there, if they could… discomfit some of the least effective generals, it could provide additional room for Sir Derrick to remake his command.”

Dame Brionna found herself grudgingly impressed with Marshal Broadfields’s practicality.  She couldn’t fully approve of what he was discussing-- the Elite Hand are the Canberran military’s best spies and assassins, and “discomfiting” less effective generals could easily mean arranging fatal accidents.  But the army needed to be able to win this war and the possible future wars, and if that meant some generals would die in the meantime, so be it.

Alistair thanked the field marshal for his advice.  Back in his quarters, he turned to Kit and Dame Brionna.  “I think we know about everything we need to before responding to Sir Derrick.  But I’m also planning on giving him some more specific instructions about how to handle the Khan.”

“It sounds like the barbarian’s whole effort centers on the Khan.”

“Indeed.  And he has no clear heir-apparent, either.  Five children, all under the age of eight, four full siblings, thirteen half-siblings by his father, and two half-siblings by his mother.  If he dies, the barbarian horde is likely to degenerate into infighting over the succession.”

“Are you thinking of trying to have him killed, your grace?”

“In part.  If Sir Derrick has the opportunity to kill the Khan on the field of battle, he should take it.  Pressing hard in a single battle at the Khan’s personal guard could end the war,” Alistair said.  “At the same time, the Khan seems like an effective and foresighted leader.  I also plan to ask Sir Derrick to reach out through diplomatic channels, during discussions of exchanging wounded or truces or the like, to ask the Khan to agree to meet me personally.  Of course, during any diplomatic communications we could do nothing to harm him.  But if he could be persuaded to ally with us instead of fighting us, we could use a leader of his caliber.  And I wouldn’t mind adding an eighth duchy, either.”

Kit and Dame Brionna agreed with Alistair’s plan, although perhaps with less enthusiasm and confidence than he brought to it, and Alistair quickly dictated a letter to Sir Derrick for teleportation out to the front.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

With the war planning dealt with, the Archducal Council, as Alistair and his friends were fast becoming, began planning the rest of its day.  Dame Brionna focused on the need to investigate Lady Mayor Overfifer and her son’s surprising relationship with Cassandra of Caligshire, although of course it must not look like an investigation.  She also noted the desirability of a meeting with the Princess of Stormreach, to begin investigating whether she would be a suitable wife for Alistair.  Kit resolutely ignored that but passed the word out through her organization that the Mouth wanted a meeting with the Elite Hand.  For his part, Alistair wanted to bring matters to a head with the Duke of Brightspan and also wanted to meet with the ambassador from Hanal about a host of matters.  Invitations with the force of commands quickly issued.  Lady Overfifer and her family were to join the Archduke and his Council for tea; dinner would be a formal but private affair with the Hiercov of Magdad, ambassador of Hanal.  Over the next few days, each of Alistair’s vassals in his capacity of Duke of Canberry proper were to join them for tea, while the Duke of Brightspan would attend a formal lunch, “at His Grace the Duke of Brightspan’s convenience but no later than two days from today.”  Treating her as of ambassadorial rank, Alistair invited the Princess of Stormreach to the following day’s dinner, in keeping with the pattern he had established of dining with the Noldar ambassador and the Hanalian ambassador on the preceding days.

Lady Overfifer arrived promptly at the appointed time, wearing the most severe outfit for tea imaginable on anyone besides a nun.  Her black gown concealed her form effectively, leaving no more than a quarter inch of neck visible and covering her arms completely to past the wrist.  Presumably, she had legs somewhere beneath the gown’s skirt, but the Council could only guess.

<<I have a clear read on her thoughts,>> Kit sent.  <<Nothing so far but apprehension and a hint of curiosity.  What do you make of her clothing choice?>>

<<I knew she was a widow,>> Alistair thought back.  <<But she seems to still be in mourning, even though it’s been years.  Her husband took an active role leading the constabulary and died violently in the service.>>

“Your grace,” said Lady Overfifer, executing a perfect curtsy.  “May I present my sons?”

Her three sons each bowed in turn.  Kit suppressed a laugh as she read the thoughts of Wade, the oldest at 14.  <<That must be the Archduke’s girlfriend.  I can see why… she’s *stacked*.”  Used to being the center of men’s attention, Kit was merely amused by the boy’s response, not offended.  Henry, the middle son, was slightly interested in his surroundings, but already beginning to dread the long and tedious conversations among adults that his mother engaged in so often.  The youngest son, eight-year-old Sven, struck Kit as the most remarkable.  He was precocious; taking into account his age, he was almost certainly the smartest of the Overfifer sons.  And everything about a visit to court fascinated him-- the surroundings, the people, the prospect that they might talk about matters of importance that he would only partially understand but would try his best to figure out.

“We are pleased to welcome them to the palace.  Your family has always served the Archduchy loyally and well, and we anticipate that one day your sons will serve as well as you have.  We asked you here to discuss if there are any matters that you believe that the Archduchy should know about, or matters of concern where you would wish our aid.”

Kit sent to Alistair, <<She’s relieved to hear you say that.  It seems that she had worried that with the death of the Archduchess, she had lost her connection to the Archducal government.”

“Thank you, your grace,” replied Lady Overfifer.  “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing reports on the principle issues that face the city.”

Kit glanced shrewdly at Henry.  “M’lady, perhaps your younger sons might prefer to spend some time in our gardens?  I’m sure my page would be happy to befriend them, and they wouldn’t have to listen to these matters.”  <<And Abigail will be able to find out if Henry knows anything more effectively than we could…>>

“Thank you, Dame Katherine.  I’m sure that Henry would quite like that.”

“Mother, may I stay?” asked Sven.  “I promise I’ll be quiet.  But I never get to come to things like this, and I’d like to stay here.”

“Yes, dear, that will be fine,” Lady Overfifer replied, smiling indulgently.  She then reverted to her serious mien as Henry left.  “I am concerned about the state of the city guard.  We do our best, but our resources are limited and the guard has been pressed to its limits lately, especially with your grace’s impending coronation.”  Alistair and Dame Brionna discounted this concern somewhat-- the Overfifers always believed that the city guard needed expansion, strengthening, and further training.  Lady Overfifer handed across a second piece of parchment.  “We have also had some problems with grain spoliation.  Rats infested four of the warehouses.  At first, we feared that all of the grain had been spoiled, but the remaining warehouses remain safe.”

“Where are the warehouses with the spoliation?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Any pattern?”

“All were located just south of the Merchants Ward.  The warehouses in the Merchants Ward are sealed more tightly, and the rats could not get in.  But it is worse than just the loss of grain.  Someone has been killing my rat catchers.  I can’t imagine that’s random chance, your grace, so it must be a plot against the grain supply.  I have considered asking the Temple for support, but I worried after the battle in the Cathedral that it was pressed to the limit, even assuming the Archbishop took my concerns seriously.”

Alistair nodded.  “We knew that the Skaven were attacking within the city-- it should be no surprise that they would go after the food supply, or the rat catchers for that matter.  I would have hoped that the bounties would have done more to control that…  We’ll have to consider what more can be done.”

Lady Overfifer continued.  “Unfortunately, the last matter I have to discuss is the most serious, your grace.  This is a study of the increased number of kidnappings and murders over the last four months.  There are some dismaying patterns.”

“We know,” said Dame Brionna.  “Most of the victims are young unmarried women.  I’m worried that the deaths are part of an occult plot.”

Lady Overfifer nodded.  “I noticed the same pattern, myself.  If it is the work of a chaos cult, we will need to increase the support of clerics throughout the city.”

Kit added mentally, <<Everything about her seems on the up and up.  No signs she’s concealing anything, and she’s honestly concerned about the threats.  Hard to believe in the head of the city constabulary, but there you go.>>

Alistair scanned the parchment before responding.  “Last night, we moved against several demons that had set up operations in the sewers.  We had hoped that that would bring the killings to a close.  It doesn’t appear to have, but if we are very lucky, the murders last night were the last before our raid.”  Alistair coughed a little.  “We regret not coordinating the raids with your forces, but we had not yet had the opportunity to verify that you could be fully trusted.  We have no concerns on that front, now.   Prepare a letter to the Archbishop asking for more clerical support for the watch and for the use of some of the church knights, if they can be spared.  We’ll endorse the letter.

“Thank you, your grace,” Lady Overfifer responded.  “The city appreciates your support.”

“We understand that Canberry City is the heart of the Archduchy in more ways than one.  We should meet regularly to discuss issues in the city.  Perhaps once a fortnight, or more frequently if you wish or have urgent matters…”

<<Make it public… Raising the notion of private meetings makes her nervous, thinking of your reputation and the fact that she’s a widow.>>

“Perhaps you could attend a regular lunch with my Council, and of course any advisors of yours that would be helpful?” asked Alistair.

“I would be happy to, your grace.”

“We should also discuss possible areas of land within the city for a construction project I intend to start.  We will be building three new schools, to train magi, priests, and psions in an effort to strengthen the Archduchy’s resources, and each will need significant space for its campus.  We would like your aid in choosing sites.”

“With pleasure, your grace.  The schools can be used to replace buildings that are going to waste, and the faculty and students will help reinvigorate poorer areas in the City…”

“Our thoughts exactly, although we must also be careful to not place them in areas that would harm the ability of the schools to recruit faculty and students.”

“Of course, of course.  Let me see… I will have to consult my maps and discuss the matter with some advisors…”

Kit’s eyes suddenly widened.  “There’s a new mind active on the far side of the wall.  And as soon as I sensed it, I lost my mindlink…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

By the time Kit finished her statement, Dame Brionna had already drawn her sword and moved towards the door to the next room.  “Please stay here, your grace… this should only take a few minutes.”  Kit followed quickly in Dame Brionna’s wake and the two of them swept into the next room.  The room was empty except for a servant cleaning the wall.  Dame Brionna only remembered the servant vaguely, but she was plain enough to have been assigned to the 
Archduke’s chambers.  Kit could even remember her name, Aurelia.

The servant looked up from her work scrubbing the floor, and leaned back from Dame Brionna’s brandished sword.  “Is everything well, m’lady?  Nothing has happened, has it?”

“Has anyone else been in this room recently, Aurelia?” asked Kit.

“No, m’lady, just me.”

Dame Brionna lifted a sun disc in her off-hand and concentrated.  As the power of Glor’diadel flowed through her, she sensed an unusual presence of evil with Aurelia.  Aurelia herself was not evil, but there was evil on her, and not radiating from any object, either.  The paladin concentrated and became positive:  something was riding Aurelia, not quite possessing her, but traveling with her.

“Aurelia, have you ever been to Brightspan? Or Caligshire?”

“I’ve never been, m’lady, but my great-aunt grew up in Brightspan.  Said the city was lovely in the setting sun.”  Puzzlement covered Aurelia’s face at the question.

Dame Brionna nodded to herself, seeing a pattern with Lady Zenia.  “Are you with child?”

Aurelia blushed at the sudden change in topic.  “We don’t know… it’s too early to be sure, but I hope so.  Can you tell?”

Kit looked sharply at Dame Brionna, realizing what she must have detected.  Dame Brionna continued, “Are you married?”

“Yes, m’lady.  To Trevor, one of the Archducal Guards, m’lady.”  A note of pride came into her voice at that.

Dame Brionna stuck her head into the hall.  “Send for Trevor.  I need to speak with him.  And double the guards on the Archduke’s chambers.”  Trevar was a good lad.  A commoner member of the Guard, Dame Brionna thought of him as bright enough, but he had no prospects for further advancement without a drop of noble blood in his veins.

Kit spoke in a soothing voice, seeing the alarm on Aurelia’s face.  “You needn’t worry.  Neither you nor Trevor has done anything wrong.”  She hoped she was telling the truth.  “We just need to ask a few more questions of each of you.  Tell me about your great-aunt, from Brightspan.  Has she done anything unusual lately?”

“Not more than normal, m’lady.  She’s always done silly things, though.”

“What sorts of silly things?”

“She goes to seances, m’lady.  Always trying to talk to my great-uncle, though he’s been dead for years.  And she always wants me to go with her.”

“And have you gone to these seances, Aurelia?”  Dame Brionna made the question sound like an accusation, and Kit saw the calm that she had been encouraging slip away.

“Once or twice, m’lady.  There’s nothing much to them, and she was bugging me so.  I just wanted to make my great-aunt happy, m’lady…”

Kit intervened.  “That’s fine, Aurelia.  I think we should send for Lady Constance-- if you sensed something, it’s probably a matter for her to deal with.”

“And a priest who can dispel evil, to force whatever it is to stop riding her.”  Dame Brionna quickly sent one of the guards to summon Lady Constance and a powerful cleric, as well as giving orders that a priest and a guard were to locate Aurelia’s great-aunt in the Harrows Hill neighborhood and take her to the Cathedral.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After a few minutes, Lady Constance entered the room.  She gestured at Aurelia and then said, “Yes, I can see why you called me.  The rider is clear.  They have implanted a thought demon, riding along with her fetus.”  She scrutinized the magical patterns.  “Probably about three days ago.”

“A thought demon?  What is that?”

“Thought demons are minor demons, but they are particularly effective against psionics.  It is incapable of taking a physical form and is a servitor at the bottom of the demonic hierarchy.”

“Can you remove it?”

“Not without grave risk to the fetus.  It would be better to have a priest exorcise it, which should be simple enough.  But you must make sure that there are no pregnant women within 200 yards, or it will simply switch hosts.”

The sergeant on duty outside the Archducal chambers knocked and entered.  “Guardsman Trevor has arrived, Captain.”

“Send him in.  And have a sweep of guards make sure that there are no women who are or might be pregnant within 200 yards of this chamber.  If there is any doubt, have them moved.”

Trevor came to attention and saluted and then noticed Lady Constance and the scared look on his wife’s face.  “What’s the matter?  Is Aurelia in danger?”

“No, Guardsman,” replied Dame Brionna.  “She is under a magical effect, but we will have it dispelled.”

He relaxed.  “How may I serve, Captain?”

“We would like to know more about Aurelia’s great-aunt.  The one with the interests in seances.”

“Well, you see…”  Trevor looked apologetically at Aurelia.  “Frankly, ma’am, she’s gone crazy in her dotage.  She means well, but she’s not all there.  And she’s become obsessed with a medium.”

“Do you know the medium’s name?” asked Kit.  “Or where she keeps her shop?”

“No, m’lady.  And she doesn’t have a shop.  But all the old women know how to find her, by word of mouth.”

“Was there a séance three days ago?”

Trevor blinked.  “Yes, m’lady.  A special one, with about twenty women.  Aurelia’s great-aunt insisted that she go, and I walked her over.”

“Were there any other pregnant women there, besides Aurelia?”

“Aurelia definitely is?”  Excitement and pride flashed across Trevor’s face, but Dame Brionna’s firm gaze quickly brought him back to focus.  “I do not know for certain, but I think that Brenda is, and I saw her there.  Brenda is a tavern maid at the Golden Antler, where they held the séance.  She looks it again, and she almost always is.  She has eight already, Captain, and it’s been a year and a half since her last…”

Dame Brionna’s eyes narrowed.  “The séance was at a tavern?  How often are the seances there?”

“More often than not, Captain.  I think the medium may be related to the owner, although as I said, I don’t really know her.”

One of the senior palace priests entered the chambers.  “You wished to see me, Dame Brionna?”  As he saw Lady Constance, he frowned, and she glared back at him.

Dame Brionna gestured at Aurelia.  “We hoped that you could help her.”

The priest made a minor prayer to Glor’diadel and then took a half-step back.  “I see.  Yes, I should be able to cast it out without great difficulty.”

Kit inclined her head towards Lady Constance.  “We hoped that you could work with Lady Constance.  If she can bind it after you cast it out, we’ll be able to gain some badly needed intelligence.”

The priest swallowed hard.  “I can’t say I approve of working with people like that.”

“I don’t approve of working with pompous fools, either,” Lady Constance replied.

“Please, Father, Lady Constance… The Archduchy needs this information.  If you do not work together, other demons will likely go undetected.”

“Very well.  I will work with her if she’s willing to accept my aid.”

Lady Constance and the priest began quietly negotiating the terms of their cooperation.  She wished to perform the ritual in her lab, where it would be easiest to bind the creature, and he responded that he would need to sanctify the area where the exorcism would take place, which she would permit as long as he did not disturb any of the long-running experiments and spells she had in place, and so forth.  They led Aurelia away, still negotiating, while Trevor tagged along with a look of terror on his face.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Back in the conference room, Alistair turned to Lady Overfifer.  “Perhaps you should take a guard or two and check on Henry and Abigail.  Someone should make sure that they are safe, but I don’t think the guards would be happy if I left this room.”

Lady Overfifer nodded and quickly headed out.  Once she was safely out of earshot, Alistair faced her eldest son.  “Have you started seeing anyone, Wade?  You can tell me.”  Alistair made the last statement a _Suggestion_.

Wade startled at the sudden question, but then “realized” that Alistair would be a good person to talk to.  He would understand the things that Wade knew his mother would not.  “Cassandra… she’s wonderful.  I mean, there are other girls that I have fun with-- servants and the like.”  Alistair nodded understandingly.  “But Cassandra is different.  I’m learning what love means because of her.”

“How did you meet?”

“We danced together at a formal ball.  I didn’t want to and hated it at the time.”  Wade shook his head in disbelief as he remembered his foolishness.  “But afterwards, as I thought back on it, I realized how special she is.  Since then, we’ve exchanged letters.  But the best is when she is here in the capital and we can talk.”

“What do you talk about?  Does she ask you many questions?”

“We talk about all sorts of things.  She asks me a lot of questions about Canberry City.”  Wade leaned in conspiratorially.  “I think that’s probably because she loves me and knows that I’ll be Lord Mayor some day.”

Alistair prodded a little further.  Wade was obviously deeply smitten, although somewhat oddly.  He talked about his physical exploits with other girls, but Alistair was not even sure that there was any physical intimacy between Wade and Cassandra, although lust was clearly part of Wade’s feelings towards her.

After a few minutes of talking, Alistair cast another spell to confirm that Wade had been enchanted.  In addition to the aura of his _Suggestion_, Alistair could see a very subtle enchantment-- so subtle that he probably would have missed it altogether if Wade had not been discussing Cassandra while Alistair examined him.  It was an extremely powerful suggestion effect, more powerful and yet more subtle than any that Alistair had ever seen before.

Dame Brionna and Kit returned.  As they began to report, Alistair held up a hand to stop them.  “Wade, there are matters of state that we must discuss in private.  If you would be so good as to step into the next room for a few minutes?”  Once Wade had left, Alistair explained, “I confirmed that his romance with Cassandra is the result of a magical compulsion.  He’s been passing intelligence to her, I’m almost certain.  And the compulsion is very powerful.”

“Do you know how bad that is?” Kit asked.  “What information did he have access to?”

“I don’t know.  The suggestion that I used to get him to talk about his relationship with Cassandra did not reach that far.  But the Lady Mayor should be able to tell us.”

Dame Brionna stepped out into the next room and brought the Lady Mayor back in.

“Lady Overfifer, I regret to say that one of your son’s is under a magical effect.  He is not complicit, and I’m certain that we will be able to have the curse removed, but Wade has been passing intelligence to the enemies of the Archduchy.  I have confirmed this personally.”

The Lady Mayor paled.  “I see, your grace.  Now I understand fully why you did not inform me of your operations within the City.”

“How bad is it?” asked Kit.  “Assume that he broke into chambers in your townhouse that you would normally keep locked and may have eavesdropped in meetings there.  How much would he have been able to learn?”

“Virtually everything of importance to the City.  Even without doing more than opening a desk lock, Wade has access to all the documents in the house, including detailed maps of the sewers and of the ward structures, lists of all the ward leaders, councilmembers, officials, budgets...  I have always hoped that he would show an interest in learning to perform the tasks involved in running the city.  And even within the house, there are copies of all of the official documents.”  The Lady Mayor paused.  “I do not leave my work much these days.”

“Even with the curse removed, it would be wise to remove Wade from the City for a time,” said Dame Brionna.  “Besides, it may be good for him anyway.  He is of an age where being in an environment where he is expected to take on duties as a squire should help.”

“Yes.  I should have fostered him already, but it is hard for me to think of sending my family away.  But I will try to foster him with the Earl of Broadfields.  Our blood ties are weak, but the Earl has always remembered them.  And I am most sorry to have failed your grace this badly.”

“Do not blame yourself, Lady Overfifer.  As I said, it was powerful magic.  There was nothing that either you or Wade could have done.  We will remember the loyal and able service you have always given us and not hold the harms your family has suffered in our service against you.  Wade will do well in fosterage with the Earl, and when he returns, all will be forgotten, and he will be welcome in our service.”

“Thank you, your grace.  On the subject of my sons entering your service…  As you know, my family does not have extensive familial relations.  My youngest boy is very keen for the nation.  If a proper posting could be found for him as a page—he is a third-son—it could be very helpful for his future.”

Kit sent her own, extremely positive assessment of Sven to Alistair mentally, and he nodded.  “Of course, Lady Overfifer.  We would be happy to grant him a position as one of the Archducal pages.”

Her eyes widened.  “To be placed here is beyond what I had hoped for but would be exceptionally welcome.”

“All of you sons are good boys, m’lady,” said Kit.  “But it is clear that Sven is special, gifted with talents that deserve to be developed as best as they can be.”

“I have always thought so but did not know that you would agree so quickly.”

“It is the least we can do for your family, and it will aid the Archduchy as well.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Constance and the priest returned, entering without knocking over the protests of one of the Archducal Guards until Dame Brionna gestured at him to return to his post.  The priest and the diabolist continued bickering, although increasingly good-naturedly, until they stood directly before the Council.  “Your grace, this is the thought demon.”  Lady Constance held forth a small crystal jar, filled with a swirling grey mist.  “Once it is opened, I will force it to answer your questions before it is dismissed.”

“Aurelia and her baby are well?”  asked Dame. Brionna.

“They are,” responded the priest.  “It was a weak creature, well within my powers to cast out.”

“How many questions will we be able to ask?” asked Alistair.

“Eight, your grace.  And they should have simple answers.  While I can compel it to answer any questions, it is unlikely to understand more difficult questions.”

The group discussed for some time before assembling a list of questions that satisfied them.

Alistair nodded to Lady Constance who drew a pentagram on the floor, and then shattered the jar on the stone floor and began chanting.  “In the name of Tasha of the Teeth and Lilith, Queen of Hell, I command you.  Answer these questions truthfully and fully as best as you can.”

“Who is your master?”

A clear thought sounded in the heads of all who were present, with a slightly unpleasant feel to it.  <<The Archdemon known as the Devourer of Light.>>

“Who summoned you?”  

<<The archmaga Drusilla.>>

“How many other thought demons were summoned?”

<<One.>>

“Are there other types of demons that you work with?”

<<Yes.>>

“What types?”

<<Two great battle tanar’ii, mightier than any I have see.>>

“Where are they?”

<<They ride two others until we recite the manifesting phrase that will manifest them on the Prime.>>

“Who are the people they ride?”

<<Two infants within this city.>>

“What is the timing on their manifestation?”

<<When I had all the information I was sent to find.>>

With each passing question, the thought demon swirled outwards ever further.  When the eighth question had been asked, it pressed at the very edges of the magical barriers Lady Constance had created.  She gestured at the demon.  “Now learn what it is to oppose me, and suffer the wrath of Lilith, Queen of Hell, and get thee back to the Abyss.”  She twisted her hand as the portal opened and the form of the demon unraveled so that only a lowly larva passed through to the Abyss.  “You need not worry that it will report anything that it has not already, your grace.  That larva retains nothing of what it once knew.”

“What do you know of the Devourer of Light, Lady Constance?” asked Dame Brionna.

“You must recall that demons are beyond my main area of expertise.  I have heard its name, so it must be powerful, although I do not recall any details.  It is likely a Baron or Count, from what little I remember.  I would have to consult my texts to learn more.”

“Please do so, Lady Constance,” replied Alistair.  “And thank you for your aid.  Before you leave, there is one more matter we would like to ask your assistance with.  There is a young man under a geas, and we hoped you could remove it.”

Lady Constance nodded, and they led Wade back in.  Wade looked terrified as Lady Constance cast a spell to see the magic effect upon him, although oddly he seemed terrified by any magic being cast on him, not merely because of Lady Constance’s unsavory reputation.  As she looked at him, her mouth fell open.  “Great powers of Darkness and of Light...”  Dame Brionna noted that she had never befor heard Lady Constance invoke powers of Light, even as a curse.  Lady Constance continued staring at the magic effect.  “I believe I can remove it, but it will take several hours; the whole enchantment stinks of rune singing.  That would be Noldar work, although fortunately not a strong one.”

“You believe that you can remove it?  Will the process be safe for Wade?”

“Oh, yes, your grace.  For him, the effect will either be removed successfully, or it won’t.  For me, we shall see… if I make a mistake…”

“Would assistance make you more likely to succeed?  Perhaps Lord Silverleaf’s psion or Lady Meredith?  We could ask either if you believe that it would help.”

“This is strictly magic, and I doubt that the elven psion would be of much aid.  But working with Lady Meredith would make me much more likely to remove it safely, and she will surely agree to help.”

The two archmages set to work on the enchantments, each using a radically different style of magic.  Much as the process fascinated Alistair, Dame Brionna insisted that everyone except the two archmages remained at a safe distance, watching from the far end of a long chamber.  Lady Constance narrated her efforts as she worked, as much to keep her focus as for any other reason.  “Yes… a very clever layered compulsion.  I do not think I’ve ever seen one so carefully done.  The top layer is simply a connection of devotion; they just reinforced his natural lust as a young man meeting an attractive girl into complete obedience.  The second layer forces him to read his mother’s records late at night.”  As she unraveled this layer, it triggered a flood of memories Wade hadn’t been able to recall, and he twitched in pain, confusion, and shame.  “And this one here… once every fortnight he reports to a rotund woman, with long braided hair.  The last one is screaming for help even as this is going on.”

“Can you tell how much he has reported, or anything they seemed focused on?”

“He has been reporting for nearly a year.  At times, he has reported all the guard depositions in the City, most recently focusing on the guards in the central City.  He has also reported on grain shipments over the last year; the trading markets; and evening cathedral services.  In his most recent report, he specifically listed the names of servants who work within the palace.”

After some hours of effort, Lady Constance and Lady Meredith finished their work.  As they unravelled the very last bits of the enchantment, the protective ward at least partially triggered.  Black lances of obsidian shot forth from Wade, each lance dripping with a foul black ichor.  A total of six lances erupted, and Dame Brionna was very glad that she had kept Alistair, Kit, and herself at a safe distance.  Three lances struck at each Archmage.  Lady Meredith’s protective wards deflected hers, but two lances slammed into Lady Constance, carrying her to the ground.  She cried out in agony as the poison burned at her, although one of the lances had passed clean through her before its poison could reach her.  Dame Brionna darted forward and brought the power of Glor’diadel to heal Lady Constance.  With her full healing ability, she was barely able to keep Lady Constance alive as she swabbed out the wound and aided her against the poison’s slower effects.  After she stabilized, a group of devils came to bring her back to her chambers on a stretcher.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Having dealt with the magical effects on Wade, the Archducal Council turned to matters of diplomacy.  By the time the Hiercov of Magdad arrived, Alistair, Kit, and Brionna were all dressed in finery, and Jet had laid out a luxurious dinner.  The Hiercov entered, and they quickly ran through the expected pleasantries and formalities.

<<I have a clear read on his thoughts,>> sent Kit.  <<But he seems to be fairly guarded.  So far, I’m only reading general curiosity about you and your intentions.>>

After a minute or two, Alistair turned the conversation towards business.  “Your grace, there are several matters of mutual interest that we should discuss.  As a preliminary, we should inform you of a recent development in our diplomatic relations with other realms.  We have long had an alliance with the Forest of Singing Leaves, but we have just agreed to extend that alliance to include Tang and Masque as well.  Each of the realms involved has agreed to respond to an attack on any as an attack on all.  Of course, the alliance’s primary concern is defending against any lingering threats from the Skaven in the former Confederacy of the South Kingdoms, but we thought that it would be wise to avoid any confusion and to reassure Empires such as yours that we have no offensive intentions.”

“Of course, your grace.  While your defensive arrangements are of no concern to our Empire, we appreciate the courtesy.”  The Hiercov gave no signs of surprise or discomfort as he responded.  Kit could clearly read his thoughts, however:  <<Well, well.  They are taking the steps they need to protect themselves.  Much faster than I would have thought, as well.>>

“We also wish to pass on a message to Her Hanalian Majesty.  We know that the hobbits are no longer welcome in your Empire and reports have reached us that are most distasteful.  We have more farmland than we can use currently and would be happy to receive any refugees that Queen Thyastis wishes to leave her lands.  But I should warn you that we will not countenance atrocities.  We wish only peace with Hanal, but if the rumors of massacres were confirmed, we would have no choice but to take actions to defend the hobbits.”

“I will inform Her Majesty of your position.”  The Hiercov’s face remained impassive.  <<He seems to actually care about the hobbits…  I might be able to get her to go for that and put an end to the slaughter, at that.  The threat will make it harder, though; the crazy old biddy won’t react to that well at all.>>

<<He’s worried about the threat.  Better to go with just an offer…>> Kit sent to Alistair.

“Thank you.  We leave it to your discretion, of course, to decide how much of our position Her Majesty must personally consider, and how much your grace should simply understand as one of the great nobles of Hanal.  As long as she knows that we would welcome any that she wishes to remove from her realm, whether hobbit or otherwise, we will be content.”

“Thank you, your eminent grace.”  The Hiercov nodded.  <<That will make things much easier.  And he’s either better at reading people than I would have expected, or I’m being less careful than I should be.  He adjusted based on just a bit of inflection in a mere formality.>>

“We also wish to discuss the presence of Hanalian troops to the south of our borders.  While we appreciate your Empire’s interest in suppressing the slave taking there, Canberry views that as our responsibility.  We consider the refugees to the south of our borders as a matter for our concern, and not for imperial powers to meddle with.”

<<An alliance and then clear signals about their imperial aspirations… Canberry will be more active under this new ruler and will bear watching.>>  The Hiercov smiled.  “We understand.  As an official matter, Hanal has no interest in interfering with your sphere of influence.  But youth can be impetuous, and young souls care about the less fortunate…  We sent some troops to aid in defending the refugees from the slavers, but then the Princess Anastasia took it upon herself to intervene.  We have since lost contact with her, as well as with the Cov, or Duke, of Snannerkaz, who led the search for her.”

“Divination magic has not turned them up?”

“No, your grace.  We were able to track the Cov with divination magic at first, but shortly after he passed along a message from your government that further troops assisting in the search would not be viewed kindly, he disappeared.”

“Is there any danger that he is involved in some plot against the Princess?  Can you trust his efforts?”

“While their relationship has a political element, the Cov of Snannerkaz has a great feeling for Her Highness.  I cannot imagine that he would ever do her harm.”

<<I told you that,>> sent Kit, irritation coloring her message.  <<Once I met him, I could tell that we could trust him.  Should I tell the ambassador what we know about her disappearance?>>

<<I’m sorry, but I wanted to see if the ambassador agreed.>>  Alistair thought back.  <<Why don’t you relay the information through me?  The less he suspects your involvement, the better.>>

Alistair began talking, repeating Kit’s mental statements.  “Some of our agents worked with the Duke of Snannerkaz in his search.  They were able to get some leads on Princess Anastasia’s whereabouts, although we were not able to rescue her.  Unfortunately, she was ultimately carried off by a rat-lord-- we did not have enough forces present to be able to fight it.  We do not know where it took Her Highness, but she is in the hands of the Skaven, or at least was when last we knew.  We can only hope that Snannerkaz has been able to rescue her.”

The ambassador shook his head and frowned.  “Grim tidings, your grace.  We must hope that she can be rescued, and without them performing any of their rituals upon her.  Perhaps Snannerkaz has deliberately gone silent while he attempts a rescue…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We can only hope.  If there is anything Canberry can do to assist in her safe recovery, you must let us know,” replied Alistair.  “What of the issue of Queen Thyastis’s succession, long may it be until that day?”

<<At least long enough for Princess Anastasia to make it back…>> thought Kit.

The ambassador rubbed his chin.  “It is an unclear situation, your grace.  Princess Anastasia is the more competent of the daughters, and a number of the covs and hiercovs prefer competence to the most perfect matrilineal line.  Assuming she returns safely…  the heir-apparent is troubled.  The Temple is unlikely to permit a long discussion over the issue.  Moreover, the Archbishop will not convey the holy blessing upon the heir-apparent.  If she does nothing that would cause her to be interdict before then, the Archbishop will suggest that she step aside into an advisory role.”

“Could she resist the Archbishop’s urgings?” asked Dame Brionna.

“In other times, perhaps.  But the Archbishop is high in the confidence of the Inquisitor General of Northern Drucien.  The cleansing of certain groups within Hanal was painful.  I do not think she would see fit to question the wisdom of the Archbishop.”

“What if Princess Anastasia has not returned, your grace?”  asked Alistair.  “Could the crown then pass to one of the Queen-Empress’s sons, or to one of the heir-apparent’s children?”

“Neither is possible, your grace.  The heir-apparent’s children thus far are all feeble-minded.  And while our succession lines favor the males within the noble houses, the imperial line is strictly matrilineal.  A younger daughter could succeed over an elder, but never a son.”

<<And with a tradition of each Queen-Empress executing her sisters to eliminate any threats to her reign, the princesses won’t have any female-line cousins who could inherit in their place,>> sent Kit.

“So there would be no heir available at all, then.”

The ambassador nodded curtly.  “In the short-run, if the heir-apparent has no competent children and the Queen-Empress dies before Princess Anastasia returns, it would mean civil war for three to six months.  Thereafter, the Temple would intervene, and the Holy See would select a successor from the various hiercovs and hiercovates.”

“All the more reason for us to search diligently for Princess Anastasia.  In these troubled times, the destabilization of any of the powers of southern Drucien would give far too much advantage to the Skaven.”

“I agree, your grace,” replied the Hiercov.  “I am greatly encouraged to hear that you realize that as well.”

With the serious conversation largely concluded, the group proceeded with a pleasant dinner, chatting amiably.  At a convenient moment, the Hiercov drew two pieces of parchment from his sleave and casually passed them across to Alistair.  “Her Majesty wished me to pass on these tokens of the coronation gift.  The actual gifts should arrive within six months.”

Just as casually, Alistair handed the scrolls off to Dame Brionna, who carefully unrolled them and then tilted them so that Alistair and Kit could see.  The scrolls were the plans for a dreadnought-class voller and an accompanying fleet of six battle-barges.  As Dame Brionna looked over them, her smile took on a slightly rigid appearance.  Why do all of the other major powers have so much more airpower?  We can build a few, but they can give powerful vollers as gifts to their potential allies just to intimidate them.  We need to increase the size of our fleet…

Alistair smiled.  “Please convey Canberry’s gratitude to Her Majesty for such a generous gift.”

“Of course.”  The Hiercov smiled and continued with his meal.  <<The Archduke conceals his emotions well.  The implication of our power clearly impressed them-- the reaction of the Captain of his Guard showed that clearly.  But there’s no hint of consternation in his expression.  Another thing to bear in mind for future meetings…>>

Around 9:30 or 10, as the dessert course wound down, a rap on the door interrupted the dinner.  Dame Brionna opened the door on a very nervous young man in the uniform of a city patrolman.  They conferred briefly in a low voice and then Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “My lord, I fear that there are matters you should attend to immediately.  My deepest apologies, your grace.”

Before Alistair could even begin the ritual apology, the Hiercov stood up from his plate.  “On behalf of the Empire of Hanal, best wishes for your coronation and reign.  And please accept my personal regards and my thanks for the opportunity to begin friendly diplomatic relations.”  He bowed, respectfully but with an awareness that his rank nominally equaled the Archduke’s and exited.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna closed the door firmly behind the ambassador.  “There appears to be a small war going on near the townhouse of Caligshire; two small flying crafts dropped in over the walls about a half-hour ago.”

“We tried to intercept them, your grace, but we couldn’t see them after the first sightings.  The men were slipping through the night with a deftness that we had never seen.”  The patrolman appeared to view this as a personal failing.  “We could only barely see them, your grace.”

<<Sounds like the Noldar are dealing with Drusilla,>> Kit thought.

“Do not try to engage them,” said Alistair.  “You will not succeed, and your losses will be high.”

“But have the city guard evacuate civilians from the surrounding area, and guard the storm sewer exits,” added Dame Brionna.  “There are likely to be skaven fleeing the townhouse, and we want to stop them all.”

“Uh, yes, your grace, Captain.”

Kit nodded.  “And send a large number of guards to arrest everyone at the Golden Antlers tavern.”  She looked at Alistair and Dame Brionna.  “With the attack going on, we don’t want to give them time to regroup or let the demonist escape, and if they arrest everyone there, they’re bound to get her.”

“Right,” replied Alistair.  “And bring as many mages as you have there-- the guards will need magical support.”

“Yes, your grace.  I’ll tell them that both of the city guard mages are to go there.”

The patrolman hurried out to deliver the orders.  A few minutes later, a young gentleman entered and saluted.  His uniform clearly marked him as a junior officer, but none of the members of the Archduke’s Council recognized its style.

“Yes, ensign?”

“Captain Fitzgerald has sent me to report, your grace.”

“Captain Fitzgerald?”

“Of the Air Guard, your grace.  Our voller has been patrolling the city, and we have identified unknown airships conducting military operations within the city.  Captain Fitzgerald requests permission to engage.”

“Denied.  Under no circumstances is he to engage as long as the military operations remain centered on the Earl of Caligshire’s townhouse.”

The ensign seemed perturbed by this response, but replied, “Aye-aye, your grace.”  His eyes rolled back slightly in his head and then focused again.  “I have passed your orders on to Captain Fitzgerald.”

A shadowy drow figure flickered in to the room.  The drow bowed politely to Alistair.  “Your grace.  As you presumably know, we have attacked the forces of Drucilla and Region 6 in the city.  I fear that we need to discharge our energy lances at her compound.  Our psions did not fare well.”

“Will there be damage beyond the compound?”

“No, your grace.  Our energy lances will inflict heavy damage on the compound, but we should be able to avoid damaging the surrounding area.”

“Very well.  You may do so.  Ensign, inform Captain Fitzgerald to expect the unknown vessels to use energy lances.  The order to not engage remains in force.”

“Very good, your grace.”  The Ensign paused.  “Captain Fitzgerald acknowledges your command.”

The prepared attack force including two Noldar vollers brought overwhelming force to bear.  Drow commandos engaged the defensive forces in the Caligshire townhouse, led by three psions who attacked Drusilla herself.  They succeeded in preventing her flight, but even a relatively weak Noldar proved to be more than a match for them, and all three psions died.  About twenty minutes after the initial attack, both ships fired several volleys from their energy lances, smashing through the last of the defenses.  The energy lances inflicted substantial collateral damage on the Earl’s compound, but drowan accuracy confined the damage to his estate alone.  Dozens of Skaven gutterrunners fled through concealed exits into the sewers, but with the city guard ready for them, none escaped, although many guards lost their lives in stopping them.  The destruction of the colony of Skaven beneath Drusilla’s chambers eliminated the last significant group of ratmen within the city.  As the city guards finished off the last of the Skaven, they saw the same shadowy figures, most now wounded and some carrying dead companions, board the airships.  Searches of the compound confirmed that Drusilla, the Earl, and his entire immediate family were among the dead.  The Archducal Council sent word to the Duke of Furrows; with the deaths of the obvious heirs, the Duke would need to sort out his vassal’s succession.

The detachment sent to the Golden Antlers carried out their orders with vigor.  All of the patrons surrendered immediately.  The owner also surrendered.  The owner’s wife, however, fought to the death, summoning bound entities that dismembered six guards before they cut her down.  Lady Constance and an exorcist easily bound the thought demon riding Brenda’s fetus, although the interrogation would have to wait for another day.  Her report included an amused note.

“Based on the demonist’s notes, I confirmed that the two bound tanar’ii are both mariliths.  They are bound to ride harmlessly on two infants within the city until the command phrase is given.  And the only entity capable of giving the command phrase is now a mere larva with no memories.  I think they will have a frustrating time simply waiting the decades for the two infants to die, allowing them to return to the Abyss.  --Lady Constance Deepingwell”

End of Session 8


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A brief note before beginning the next session's write-up:  this next session was played at a game day Orichalcum and I hosted.  We had a different mix of players than we usually do, and I figured that playing Alistair might raise the barriers to entry a little higher than normal.  So while Orichalcum played Dame Brionna, I made a new character, as did another player who was playing in the campaign for the first time.  I'm also going to present the session a little out of order to make it easier to read.

------
Session 9:

A young church knight entered Dame Brionna’s office and saluted.  “Captain, the Archbishop wishes to pass some information on to the Archducal Guard.  I believe that you know that approximately twenty people have snuck into the Outer City and begun conducting operations of a sort?”

Dame Brionna nodded.

“We now have a lead.  A boy reported a conversation with his parents.  They met one of these strangers, and the man gave them very specific instructions.  He gave them a strange vial and asked them to fling it at the foremost people in the coronation procession.  They were to throw the vial at the arch to the Inner City.  And for this task, he offered them a whole month’s wages.”

“Thank you, and pass our thanks on to the Archbishop as well.  We will need to look into this. Were there signs linking them to any particular foreign power?  What currency were they paid in?”

“A mix, Captain-- they are either just using whatever currency they have, or more likely seeking to conceal their backers.”

“Thank you.  I’ll take care of this matter.”  Dame Brionna hauled herself to her feet, exhaustion from the weeks without adequate rest manifest in her motions.

“The Archbishop recommends that you use a tracker in your investigation.  He also mentioned that the Order of the Silvery Veil has a young woman who might be helpful, at their main convent and hostelry.”

* * *

A young man approached the gate into Canberry City.  Jacques Forrester had come from the city of Quickford in the Earldom of the same name, looking for work and better opportunities that would allow him to provide for his many siblings.  But he never expected to find work as quickly as he did.

As he walked past the board guards and paid his gate fee, a guard in fancier livery gestured at him.  “You there.  Come here.”

He walked over to the guard.  “Uh, yessir?”

“What brings you to the City?”

“I hope for work, sir.”

“And I understand that you can track?”

Jacques paused in confusion.  “Aye, I can and quite well, but how…”

The guard nodded at a woman in plain robes.  “My companion identified you as trustworthy, reliable, and possessed of the skills we need.”

“Oh.”

“And you can track in both cities and the wilderness?”

“Aye.  It’s not the same thing, y’know… tracking in a city is much more about talking to the right people, tracing where they might have gone, that sort of thing, than it is about following footprints and signs of campfires like in the wilderness.”  Jacques wondered whether the guard understood, or even cared, based on the blank expression he got in response.

“Would you accept work for the Archduchy?”

“Aye…”

“Then you should meet with the Captain.  She’ll need to approve you.”

The guard led Jacques directly to the fanciest section of the City and into the mighty palace itself. As they walked through the City, Jacques thought about what sort of pay he might be able to get for this.  As he entered the palace, with its marble walls and gold decorations, he concluded that his estimate had been far too low.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The guard led him to Dame Brionna’s office, saluted, and departed.  Without preamble, Dame Brionna held up her holy symbol and concentrated before nodding.  “You’re not evil, and I understand you can track and are loyal to the Archduchy?”

“Aye, I said as much to the guard.  I take it you need to hire a tracker?”

“Yes.  The Archducal Huntsmaster position has been left unfilled for several years-- Her Grace the late Archduchess did not do much hunting in the later years of her life.  And so now that we have need of a tracker, we need to hire one.  Or at least one… I suppose if you get killed we’ll need to hire a second.”

Jacques coughed.  “Yes, I suppose you would.”

“Don’t worry, your family would be taken care of.  Make sure you give the clerk information on where they can find your family for the pension.  With all the deaths lately, we’ve needed to find many families for pensions, and too many of the records are out of date or just missing…”

Jacques looked at the knight’s bloodshot eyes and her nervous fidgets and concluded that things in the capital were more exciting than he expected.  Still, the pay would presumably reflect that.  “So, if I assist you in this matter, would it be possible to become the new Archducal Huntsmaster?”

“I suppose so.  As long as you live and do well…”  Dame Brionna paused.  “And Alis… His Grace the Archduke will probably want to go hunting at some point, and then we’ll need to figure out how to keep him safe on a hunt… At least we can probably keep him too busy until after the coronation…”

“I assume the Archducal Huntsmaster has respectable pay?”

“Oh, I’m certain.  Probably about equivalent to a Lieutenant in the Archducal Guard, I should guess.  And there’s probably apartments set aside for the Huntsmaster in the palace, although I’ll have to look into that in more detail.”  If it matters, she thought morbidly.

Jacques paused… probably best to simply accept rather than haggling.  “Tell me what I need to do.”

“First, I need to introduce you to the Archduke’s aunt, and you’ll need to speak to a clerk.  Then we’ll be heading to gather another person to help in this investigation.”

* * *

Dame Brionna and Jacques arrived at the convent of the Order of the Silvery Veil.  The sister at the gate, in the Order’s characteristic habit with a long silver veil completely covering her face, escorted them without a word to the prioress’s chambers.  Dame Brionna was slightly surprised that the Abbess herself did not greet visitors from the Archduke, but assumed that she must be attending to some necessary duties.

“We’re so glad you came quickly, Dame Knight.”

“We understand that you have someone who the Archbishop thinks could assist our investigation.”

“Yes…  Sister Charity!” called the Prioress.  “I should warn you, she can be trying, but she means well.”

Another nun entered, followed shortly by a young woman, perhaps fourteen, with several scars and healed injuries on her face, wearing the shift of a novice but without the veil that even a newly arrived novice would wear in the Order.  The girl glanced briefly at Jacques, and then carefully looked Dame Brionna up and down, noting the heavy armor, fine weapons, and signs of wealth, rank, and status.  She promptly drew the heavy kitchen knife from an improvised leather sheath at her belt.  “If you try to enslave me, I will kill you or die trying.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Some distance to the south of the Archduchy of Canberry lie the Spice Lands.  To outsiders, the Spice Lands are generally viewed as one realm.  Small governments may squabble over internal boundaries, but the Lands are only noted for their trade, and all of the regions within the Lands produce valuable spices.  The view from within the Lands, however, is a different matter.

After the fall of the South Kingdoms, a vast number of refugees streamed north.  Most of the refugees were adults in the prime of their lives; traveling with children or the elderly frequently meant being overtaken by the Skaven hordes and enslaved or worse.  But some children nonetheless escaped, carried by relatives, friends, or the simply charitable.  Among them, a young girl named Ilsbet made her way north.  Her family had almost nothing in the South Kingdoms, but they left with even less, making their way north with only the clothes on their back and what they could carry in their hands.

But even beyond the reach of the Skaven, dangers abounded.  The lands between the South Kingdoms and Canberry are wild, with numerous monsters and monstrous people.  And slavers viewed the refugees as easy prey.  Years later, Ilsbet’s shattered memories of her trip north after the fall of her homeland left the details of her enslavement hazy.  After all, she was no more than 7 at the time, although her precise age was also lost in the confusion.  But however she was separated from the cousin that brought her north, she became a slave to the Seachen.

The Seachen are a peculiar human people within the Spice Lands.  They have a reclusive land, with one major city and surrounding settlements.  Seachen society is rigidly matriarchal; indeed, they expose most males at birth and castrate many of the rest.  Only careful genealogical records kept by a dedicated order within the Seachen allow them to maintain a healthy population with the small pool of males kept for breeding purposes.

Slavery is always a vile experience, and Ilsbet’s experience was worse than most.  A petty spice merchant, among the poorest who could afford slaves at all, purchased her.  As the only slave in the household, the work expectations were tremendously high, and when she inevitably failed to carry out all of her duties, the beatings were awful.  Even when she did all that she should, she was often beaten just for sport.  And the cook, a freewoman servant, made things that much worse, taking out her resentment at her own low lot in life on Ilsbet’s back.  Severe bruises were a near constant experience, and her face and body bore the scars of particularly severe beatings, burns, and other abuse.  Only the eunuch servant and seneschal treated her at all well, but he had no influence to protect her from the rest of the household.

The sole saving grace was that Ilsbet was far more intelligent than she ever let on.  She had never been taught to read by her own family, but she taught herself from her mistress’s books.  First she read the histories and stories, and then later she studied the tomes of magic and spellbooks that her mistress had as a minor wizard.  Confident in Ilsbet’s ignorance, her mistress never considered that when Ilsbet cleaned the eight or so books in the library, she carefully studied each one.  Her view of the world remained limited-- while the books had some history of the outside world, everything she heard and read was from the skewed perspective of the Seachen.  Even her exposure to religion consisted only in perfunctory lessons about the Seachen state religion, a strange faith dedicated to dead gods and attempting to return them.  But her mistress was not particularly pious, and she never worked on the great excavation to which many other mistresses sent slaves to serve their faith.  Indeed, with her shaky faith in Berta shattered by the fall of the South Kingdoms and the only other religion she had seen providing no compelling arguments for faith, Ilsbet was that rarest thing on Aphonion:  an agnostic, devoted to no god even though she knew of their existence.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

When Ilsbet was a teen, the time was finally right.  She had managed to avoid beatings long enough for her bruises and injuries to heal, and she arose quietly in the midst of the night.  Ilsbet first gathered the spellbooks and other most valuable books into a backpack, and then snuck back to the kitchen, where she normally slept on the hard stone floor.  She picked out the cook’s best knife, a long and heavy triangular blade, to take with her for defense.  She then built a high fire in the fireplace, using the less valuable books and her mistress’s financial records as kindling, and, with a smile on her face at the cook’s future wrath, threw the remainder of the cook’s knives into the fireplace.  Burning the house down completely appealed to her, but she concluded that the risk of recapture and torture would be too high.  And while she feared that her mistress would make the eunuch servant suffer for her escape, she had no wish to harm him directly, much as she would have like to harm her mistress and the cook.

Traveling in the night and through the morning twilight, Ilsbet slipped out of the Seachen city.  Her readings had told her a smattering of the realms beyond the Seachen lands, and she concluded that her best choice was to head northwards-- south led mostly to her childhood homeland, now in the claws of the Skaven.  And so she followed the road northwest, hiding whenever fellow travelers passed by and finding hiding places in which to sleep.

At the end of the third day of travel, a strange voice spoke to her from off the trail.  “Sssssee… a ssssmall one travelsssss alone.”

Ilsbet could not see the speaker.  She could dimly see its glowing, red eyes from the bushes.  She considered drawing her knife, but decided that it might provoke whatever was speaking to her.  Instead, she cast _Prestidigitation_ to create a circle of dancing lights about her.  “I travel alone, but I have power.”

There was laughter in the voice’s words.  “Power, but no teeth.  And yet, sssspirit.  Are you a friend of the Seachen?”

Ilsbet thought for a moment.  If she were truthful, and the voice was an ally of the Seachen, she would be doomed.  And yet, if that were the case, the odds were strongly against her already.  Best, then, to be truthful and hope.  “I am no friend of the people who have enslaved and beaten me.  If any try to return me to slavery, I will kill them or die trying.”

“Yessss…” the voice replied.  “And the Seachen on the road behind you, they hunt you for your esssscape…”

Ilsbet swallowed hard.  “I did not know they pursued me, but I am not surprised.  If I cannot elude them, I will kill them.”

A strange form emerged from the bushes.  It had a comely human torso, but with a long tail in place of legs.  A powerful bow remained slung around its torso.  “Come, little one.  I am Seache.  As you are an enemy of the Seachen women, I will take you to a place where you will be ssssafe and can ressst and regain your sssstrength.  And then we will sssssee what can be done to dissstract your pursuersss.”

The form turned and slithered through the jungle away from the road.  Having already committed herself, Ilsbet followed cautiously, wondering at Seache’s name with confusion.  After perhaps an hour’s travel, she arrived at a small log cabin.  Seache opened the door and gestured for her to enter.  Several others of his kind looked at Ilsbet with curiosity as she entered.

“She isss an enemy of the humanssss who have ssstolen our landsss and our sssecretsss,” Seache explained.  “Thisss makesss her a friend of oursss.”  He placed his hand lightly upon Ilsbet’s forehead.

One of the other creatures in the cabin picked up a bowl near the fireplace.  “Come, eat.”  It ladeled porridge from the cook pot into the bowl.  Ilsbet eagerly dug in to her first hot meal in days, since she hadn’t dared to light a fire-- the first respite from the jerky and now-stale bread of her backpack.  The porridge was nourishing, but very bland, especially by the standards of the Spice Lands.  While it had a pleasant consistency, as far as Ilsbet could tell, it had no taste at all.

“You may ressst here for the night.” Seache said.  “I will go lead your pursuers off your trail.”  From the way that Seache carefully readied his bow and adjusted the arrows in his quiver, Ilsbet suspected that Seache intended to lead her pursuers into their graves.  That prospect suited her fine.

Ilsbet fell asleep before Seache returned.  In the morning, she awoke and found him calmly sitting by the door.  “You may travel sssafely for a time.  But I would ussse hassste.  Thossse will not threaten you, but othersss may come in time.”

“Thank you,” replied Ilsbet.  “I will always remember this aid.”

Seache smiled.  “We know.  And we will always remember you and keep an eye on your progress as well.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The next several days passed uneventfully.  At one point, a herd of antelope charged across the path, pursued by a great cat, but Ilsbet stayed out of their way and watched as they passed by her.

The Seachen lands lie in a great bowl, with mighty bluffs rising up along its borders to lead to the level of the rest of the Spice Lands.  Towards the end of the fifth day of her escape, Ilsbet entered the switchback path that climbs one of the bluffs to the fort that guards the northwest approach.  The trail was long and arduous, but by the end of daylight, she had reached the gate.

One of the guards at the gate held up a hand.  “Halt.”  She looked Ilsbet up and down, noting the rags on her.  “What business brings you to the edge of our lands, slave?”

Ilsbet hefted her backpack, glad that if her pursuers had been slain, news had yet to reach the border forts.  “My mistress has sent me to travel abroad and deliver messages and goods to her trade partners.  It was not my place to ask what she sent or why.”

“No,” agreed the guard.  “It seems a shame that she would send you abroad without guards, where you are sure to be assaulted and gang-raped by the men of the outside world, and likely killed.”

Ilsbet paused; she knew that was what they said the world beyond the Seachen lands held, but she viewed that peril as still better than the hell that had defined her life as a slave.  “It is her right to do with me as she wishes, even if I am raped and murdered.  I did not question her orders.”

“It is indeed her right.  It just seems a waste,” the guard said, before shaking her head as if to clear away the thought. “There is an inn within the fort, to the left as you enter.  You will be able to get a dinner there, and a space in the common room for the night.”

In case she was being watched, Ilsbet went in to the inn as a slave actually on a trade mission would have.  While there, she even took advantage of the opportunity to eat a real meal.  Her rations would last her another week, at least, but any extra meal was a little more time before she would go hungry, and after days of cold jerky, even the mediocre stew was welcome.  After the dinner, Ilsbet slipped out of the inn through the side-door onto the alley that served as the inn’s privy.  She then slipped to the end of the alley, and carefully picked her way from shadow to shadow until she reached the fort’s north gate.  The gate was still open, although she knew that it would be closed soon.  The guard contingent on the approach from beyond the Seachen lands was much heavier than the pair guarding the entrance to the valley, but they paid her no mind as she walked casually through.  Their duties were to guard the fort against intruders from the north, not to prevent escape.   Ilsbet would have liked to start the trip into foreign lands at the beginning of a day, but even one night in the inn would greatly increase her risk of recapture.  With freedom so close at hand, she could not take that risk.

She traveled several hours, deep into the evening and through the early hours of night to put distance between her and the fort before scratching out a rough bed of moss and leaves.  But no hunters roused her at night, and as day gave way to day, she began to believe that she was actually free.  But while free, she was not safe.

In the middle of the night after the third day of travel past the fort, she woke with a start at a pain in her neck.  A large spider, nearly two feet in diameter, had stung her with a vicious double stinger.  Ilsbet fought the pain and murmured the words to a _Scorching Ray_, but between the surprise, the confusion of suddenly awakening, and the pain, she garbled enough of the words and gestures to prevent the spell from taking effect.  But even if she did not succeed in killing the spider, she certainly frightened it.  In long jumps, it bounded away from her, suddenly convinced that its prey was not as helpless as it had thought.

Ilsbet rubbed at the puncture.  The wound had not really hurt her, but she was fairly certain that the spider had poisoned her, even though she could not yet feel any effect.  Just to be on the safe side, Ilsbet cast an _Invisibility_ effect.  If the poison did weaken her, she wanted the best chance to hide that she could get.  Within minutes, the precaution paid off.  A wave of nausea wracked her body as the poison nearly overwhelmed her, and she collapsed into a feverish unconsciousness.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

She did not regain consciousness for the entire next day.  Finally, in early night, her eyes opened, although she remained too weak to move or to defend herself.  She continued resting and then looked with fear into the shadows of the woods as something rustled towards her.  But the fear turned to relief when another of the half-human, half-serpent creatures ducked under a branch and moved towards her.  Its gaze lingered on her forehead.

“You are a friend of my forest brethren,” it observed.

“Yes… they protected me when I escaped from the Seachen.”

The creature’s face twisted at the word.  “The women who stole even our sacred names for their own purposes when they took our lands.”  It then bent down and looked at her neck.  “You have been poisoned.  I will draw the poison from you.”  It placed a hand lightly upon her shoulder and concentrated.  Ilsbet assumed that it must be applying redaction psionics; its actions did not seem like any magic, whether for healing or other purposes, that she had ever seen.  After a few moments, it settled back, looking very tired.  “There.  That should make you better.  The poison was powerful, but it will afflict you no more.”

Ilsbet felt enormously better and was able to assist as the creature quickly built a campfire.  It produced a small pot out of its pack and proceeded to brew tea of a sort.  The creature boiled water, carefully checked the leaves within a small, porous pouch, dipped the pouch in the water for no more than a second, and then carefully put the pouch away.  It sipped at its cup and smiled and relaxed, apparently enjoying the tea greatly.  Ilsbet politely sipped at the very slightly discolored water in her cup and realized that the tasteless porridge made more sense if this was what they thought of as tea.  After the tea, the creature gestured for her to sleep and kept watch for the rest of the night.

“I cannot keep watch over you myself,” the creature said.  “But I will bring you to those who can.  There is a group of knights from one of the northern lands nearby.  They will keep you safe.”

After less than a day of travel, the kindly creature led Ilsbet to a trail.  A mounted company of approximately two dozen troops reined in their horses as the unusual pair emerged from the woods.  One of the knights, who Ilsbet presumed to be the leader based on the fancy pennant on his lance, rode forward and held up a hand in greeting.  “Well met, forest lord.”  The knight had a gray beard and a calm, easy manner.  “Who is your companion?”

“She flees slavery and could use your protection.”

“Then she will have it, and gladly.  We will escort her on our return to Canberry.”

Ilsbet’s eyes narrowed.  She drew and brandished her knife.  “If you try to rape or enslave me, I’ll kill you or die trying.”

The knight-banneret leaned back in his saddle; offense and laughter warred on his face, finally giving way to bemused consternation.  “My dear girl, we are knights in the service of Glor’diadel and the Archduchy of Canberry.  You need have no fear of slavery, as we are here to fight the slavers in the name of the Archduke.  And as for the rest, you are in no danger of assault of any kind in this company.  You are welcome to our safety, but you may leave our company whenever you wish.”

The Seachen lord spoke to Ilsbet.  “You may trust his word, little one.”  He faced the knight again.  “The humans who defile the name of the Seachen have harmed her badly.”

“The witch women of the forests?  I knew them to be a strange folk, but had not thought them evil.  Are you from their lands?”

“No.  I am from Seareach, in the South Kingdoms, not from the Seachen lands.  They enslaved me as we tried to escape from the rat monsters.  But the Seachen are as evil as any of the rats ever were…”

“Be that as it may… we are on the way back to our homeland of Canberry.  If you wish, you may accompany us.”  He gestured at several riderless horses.  “We have lost three of our number fighting the slavers, and thus we have the horses to spare.  We will not let any return you to servitude, whether they be your former masters or other slavers in the area.”

Ilsbet nodded curtly and mounted one of the spare horses.  She thanked the Seache lord, who nodded his head and slipped back into the woods.  Then the knight-banneret wheeled his horse, and the column began riding northwards.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The journey back to Canberry was uneventful.  Ilsbet largely kept to herself in camp, but gradually relaxed a little around the knight-banneret.  Most of the younger knights had the sense to steer well clear of her and her ever-ready knife.

After several days of travel, they turned onto better maintained roads through larger settlements.  Ilsbet noticed that the knights kept their lances more ready, not less, and tensed whenever they saw other companies on the road.  “Are we passing through a foreign land?”

“Not exactly.  We are in the Duchy of Brightspan.  The Duke of Brightspan is a vassal of the Archduke of Canberry, just as my lord the Duke of Broadfields is.  But where Broadfields is ever loyal, we dare not trust Brightspan fully.”

Ilsbet drew her knife.  The corners of the knight-banneret’s lips twitched upwards, but he said nothing.  “Do you expect war, then?”

“I think we will avoid that, even with the new Archduke.  If the Archduke’s father had lived to inherit… he was a womanizer, but a good man, and he had the respect of the nobles.  There would have been no danger then.  With young Alistair, though, matters are more difficult.”

“If the Archduke’s father had inherited… your realm would let a male inherit?” Ilsbet asked increduously.  “Oh, but you said he womanized himself.  I can understand why, in the absence of a proper heir, you might let a male become legally a woman to inherit.”

The elderly knight barked in laughter.  “I think he would have been very amused by that.”  He decided that trying to explain would be more effort than it was worth, and they simply rode on.

After a few days of riding, they left Brightspan, and the knights relaxed in safe lands.  A few more days beyond that brought them to the outskirts of Canberry City.

“This is the capital of Canberry.  You will be able to find help resettling here.  Until you can make arrangements of your own, you may stay either in an inn I know of that frequently takes in poor young men and women newly arrived-- they will ask you to help with the kitchen work and the like, but nothing worse-- or at a hostelry for young women run by the nuns of the Order of the Silvery Veil.”

“The hostelry,” replied Ilsbet.

Taking it as a question, the knight began to explain,“A hostelry is a place of lodging…”

“I know what a hostelry is,” snapped Ilsbet with a sharp tone in her voice.  “I was saying that I wanted to stay there, not at the inn where there are males as well.  It would be safer.”

The knight nodded, thinking of the curious glances that Ilsbet had cast at the young male knights in camp.  “Yes, I can see how you would view it as safer.  Much less danger of meeting someone…”  He broke off at her frown and simply guided the column to the hostelry.  Ilsbet thanked him for his kindness, doing her best to be civil and friendly.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

And so, a few days later Ilsbet was meeting Dame Brionna and brandishing her kitchen knife at the knight.

“Ilsbet!” said the prioress sharply.  “Dame Brionna is a Knight of Valor and the Captain-Presumptive of the Archducal Guard.  She would never try to enslave you.”

Dame Brionna noted that Ilsbet held the knife somewhat awkwardly.  She had to restrain herself from drawing her sword and knocking it out of the child’s hand, because she was sure that the grip would not hold against an actual attack.  But she also noticed that the girl’s left-hand was carefully raised with its fingers curled in a peculiar way.  Dame Brionna was almost certain that in an actual fight, the child would rely on spells, not her knife.  “I would never enslave anyone.  Slavery violates the law of Glor’diadel and of the Archduchy, and I have spent much time fighting against the slavers that menace the refugees from my homeland in the South Kingdoms.”

Ilsbet paused.  “You are from the South Kingdoms?”

“Yes, although it has been many years since my family fled.”

Ilsbet nodded.  “We fled Seareach when the rats came.  That was a long time ago.”

The prioress smiled at the détente, although she would have been happier if Ilsbet sheathed her knife instead of simply lowering it.  They had tried so hard to convince the refugee that she did not need the knife with her here, but Ilsbet would not hear of it.  “As I believe you can surmise, we think that Ilsbet’s skills may be better used in the service of the Archduchy than here.  She puts a great strain on our discipline, and yet she has such potential…”

Dame Brionna held up her holy symbol and concentrated.  She disliked the slight sneer on Ilsbet’s face at the sun disc but nodded nonetheless.  “We can work with her, if she’s willing.”

Ilsbet nodded.  She then turned to Jacques and pointed the tip of her blade at his chest.  “If you try to rape me, I will kill you.”

“Deal,” responded Jacques.

Ilsbet nodded again and sheathed her knife.  The two nuns visibly relaxed.  Sister Charity, relieved of the burden of her ward, said, “I assume this is to do with the Reverend Mother?”

“The Reverend Mother?” asked Dame Brionna.  “What about her?”

Sister Charity’s eyes widened behind her veil.  “You didn’t know?  She was slaughtered in the Chapel this morning.  I thought that was what you wanted to investigate…”


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Just thought I'd drop in to say I'm still enjoying this immensely. Keep up the good work ...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, HOHB!

BTW, I thought I would make clear that in the session I'm currently posted, I play Ilsbet, Orichalcum plays Dame Brionna (as usual), and Jacques (pronounced in the British fashion:  dzhak-wees (I'd use IPA, but I don't think I can)) is played by a player who is not in the regular group and rarely posts here, but I think uses Sweet Cream as his handle.  The extended segment with Ilsbet alone was played in a slot where I was the only player, before the slot with Dame Brionna and Jacques began; I reversed the order of presentation to make it easier to follow the characters the readers know.

Okay, back to your regularly scheduled storyhour:
---- 

Dame Brionna made the sign of the sun.  “It was not, but I think we’ll look into it first, now.  Who was the last to see her?”

The Prioress answered.  “She was meeting last night with penitents.  I do not think that anyone saw her before she arrived in chapel this morning.”

“Can we see the chapel?” asked Jacques.  “We may be able to learn something about who killed her.”

“Of course.”  The Prioress led them into the convent’s chapel.  The body had been removed, but the blood stains made it clear where the Abbess had died.

“What were the wounds like?”

“She was clawed apart, Dame Brionna,” replied the Prioress.  “As far as we can tell, the attacker had tremendously strong limbs and vicious claws, dismembering her with the force of her blows.”

“Aye, that would make sense…” said Jacques.  “If you look carefully, you can see the marks where its claws struck that beam across the vault.  Perhaps ten feet off the ground, probably as one of its swings carried through her and above its head.”

“So the creature was probably about eight feet tall,” Ilsbet added.  “It could be a little shorter, especially if it has arms longer than a human, or somewhat taller if it stooped to attack but still swung through.”

“And these are its tracks…  rat-tracks, from the looks of it, but they’re huge, and the gait seems wrong for four legs…”  Jacques followed the trail to stairs to the basement.

“Rat-lords and rat-ogres walk on two legs,” said Dame Brionna.  “Probably too small for a rat-ogre, though, and I would be surprised if there were another in the City.  But a rat-lord could be the right size and can sneak about the town more readily.”

As the group approached the stairs to the basement, Ilsbet paused.  “How powerful would the Abbess have been in combat?”

The Prioress blinked.  “Mother Superior was very elderly, of course, and never physically strong.  But she received great blessings from Glor’diadel and had powerful magic.”

“Then maybe the three of us should hesitate before seeking out an eight-foot tall rat-monster that could rip her apart.”

Dame Brionna nodded, although with a sad look on her face.  “And so we’ll have to ask more guards to die…  But you’re right, it would be too dangerous.  Prioress, could you have one of the sisters carry a message to the palace as quickly as possible?  I’ll send for a detachment of guards and a mage.”


----------



## Quartz

Colour me well impressed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“While we wait for them,” said Jacques, “could we see the Abbess’s chambers?  There may be indications about why she was targeted.”

The Prioress led them to a single large room.  While much larger and nicer than the cells of the other nuns, the room was still simple and no more than ten feet by fifteen feet.  While the room contained a simple bed folded against the wall, two plain wood chairs, and a book shelf with a collection of a dozen or so books, an enormous metal desk dominated the attention of anyone entering.

Jacques headed directly to the desk and looked it over.  “There are scratch marks at the locks and some scratching at the drawers, as if something tried to force them open.  Based on these prints on the floor, I would say the rat-lord came here first, tried to open the desk, and then went to the chapel.”  He knelt and looked more carefully.  “The locks are very good;  I don’t think it succeeded in opening them.”

The Prioress nodded.  “The desk was a gift from Dain’s master crafters.  They gave it in thanks after the Abbess saved a dwarven diplomat many years ago.”

“Can you open it?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Do you know if it has traps upon it?” Jacques asked the Prioress.

“I shouldn’t think so.  The dwarves sought to give her a secure desk, not to endanger her.  And I’ve never seen her disarm traps before opening it.”

“Then I should be able to manage.  It may take some time.”

Alone among the group, Ilsbet ignored the desk and headed directly to the book case.  She quickly rifled through the books.  About half were books of scriptures, meditations, and theology, which she glanced at quickly and then tossed aside.  The other half were more interesting.  “She was a mage.  Based on her spellbooks and the complexity of some of these books on magical theory, I would guess that she was a powerful one as well.”  She looked at the Prioress.  “May I have these books to read?”

“I suppose so…”

Ilsbet immediately began loading the books into her pack, along with the several books already there.  Dame Brionna frowned.  “Ilsbet, I think you can leave the books here.  They will let you come back to read them, and there will be plenty of time to read them later.  Bringing them now will just weigh down your pack.”  Ilsbet’s eyes narrowed as she looked back at Dame Brionna, as if she suspected some sort of trick.  But she grudgingly put the books back.

“Ah.  There we go,” said Jacques after several minutes of work, sliding the desk’s drawers open.  “Very nice locks, indeed.”

The main drawer held a stack of books and papers.  The group worked through each one.  The first was the convent’s ledger.  Dame Brionna shook her head as she read through it.  “They rely on continuous donations to make ends meet.  Every month there is a shortfall based on their resources and holdings, and every month they manage to get just enough gifts to cover their costs.”

The second book was a black leather-bound tome, with a golden seal of Glor’diadel embossed on the cover.  As they opened it, it became clear that it was more a codex of individual pieces of parchment than a single text.  Jacques could make nothing of the writing, but both Ilsbet and Dame Brionna could follow it.  “Scrolls, all healing, I think.  And some are very powerful…”  Dame Brionna shifted it aside, along with a battered scripture book that the Abbess had probably used since her novitiate.

A collection of letters sat below the books.  Dame Brionna sucked in her breath as she saw that the top one was written by Archduchess Amelia, in her own hand.  The letter addressed the Abbess as a personal friend and asked her to investigate some matters on the Archduchess’s behalf.  It informed the Abbess that it was “clear that the City has been pierced,” and asked her to observe and report on an extensive list of clergy and nuns of the Order of Blessed Hope.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We have already confirmed that one of these priests had been corrupted, as well as the Mother Superior of the Order of Blessed Hope.  They have been dealt with.  But the rest…”

“Let’s see if there is a reply from the Abbess.”  Ilsbet pushed through the letters and drew forth a letter back, with a clear notation that it had been delivered to the palace.

The letter detailed the Abbess’s findings.  She confirmed that all six of the clergy that the Archduchess suspected were indeed corrupted, as well as the Mother Superior of the Order of Blessed Hope and five of the seven nuns on the list.  The Abbess was confident that the other two nuns were in fact clean but noted that there were thus probably two unknown members of the coven devoted to Borsh’tro.  The coven almost certainly had thirteen members to mock the organization of the elven druids devoted to Eiru.  The letter also stated that the coven had not performed summoning rituals, but appeared to be assisting skaven in infiltrating the City.

“We’ll need to arrest all of the rest of these,” said Dame Brionna.  “I just hope that not too many people die in the process.”

“And we need to find the other two coven-members,” added Jacques.

“And their spares,” said Ilsbet.

“Why do you think they have spares?”

“People die when they get involved in demon-worship.  Any sensible coven would keep some apprentices to replace members who died.”

“I don’t know,” said Dame Brionna.  “I would think they would be too worried that the spares would be a threat.  They might try to kill their way into the coven.”

“So?  I doubt Borsh’tro would discourage that.  And as long as the people training the new apprentices figure that they’re not the weakest members of the coven, they still end up ahead, with a stronger group afterwards.  I suppose there’s some danger that an apprentice would kill a member and die in the process, but wouldn’t they view that risk as acceptable?”

Dame Brionna and Jacques exchanged a perturbed look.  After a moment, Jacques responded, “I still think they may prefer a safe coven rather than take the risk of war within  They could always recruit replacements after a death, and each time they recruit a member they risk discovery.  But we should at least start by finding the remaining members we know exist, before we worry about any possible replacements.”

Ilsbet nodded, and began searching the desk more carefully.  “There appears to be a concealed drawer back here… the space isn’t accounted for by the drawers we can see.”

Jacques looked in again, felt around carefully, and finally pulled a hidden catch and opened a metal panel set flush into the back of the main drawer.  He drew out to gold rings, each glowing dimly with an internal light.  

“Definitely magic,” said Ilsbet after a moment, “although it’s not clear what they do.”  She looked them over more carefully.  “The writing on this one is in Engarthan-- the Eldar runic script.  It says the ring is to bring health.  No indications of what the other does.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

They finished their search, but without any additional discoveries.  As they were about to leave the room, a nun entered, looking quite miserable.  “Prioress, we have a new arrival.  She says that she needs to speak to the Knight Captain.”

Without waiting for permission, a woman of about thirty entered.  She had a manner of command about her and held out an ornate scroll with the Archducal seal at the bottom as she entered.  “I am Dame Agatha.  My mistress, Lady Constance Deepingwell, sent me to assist the detachment of guards you requested.”

Dame Brionna carefully studied the scroll; as soon as she knew that Dame Agatha was one of Lady Constance’s apprentices, she knew what it was:  a license granting Dame Agatha permission to practice diabolism within the bounds of the Archduchy in service of the Archduke, with a set of explicit prohibitions against unauthorized animal sacrifices, any human sacrifices whatsoever, training unlicensed diabolists, and so forth.  After she satisfied herself that it was in order, Dame Brionna nodded curtly.  “Very well.  We believe there is a ratlord in the basement.  We will need your assistance, along with the guards, to destroy it.  If we could take it prisoner, that would be desirable, but it is likely too dangerous.”

They organized the guards in the chapel, and then charged down the stairs.  As they expected, an eight-foot tall rat-lord lurked below, still gnawing on some viscera torn from the Abbess.  The battle was short and intense.  Dame Agatha summoned several devils and then supported them with direct spells; her magics almost dealt with the battle single-handedly, while the guards served mostly to prevent the rat-lord from charging Dame Agatha, while Dame Brionna and Jacques added a few extra blows to the monster and Ilsbet struck in with magical rays.  When the rat-lord fell, they had not even lost any of the guards, although several had grievous wounds that would require treatment by the nuns above.

As Dame Agatha dismissed her devils, Ilsbet looked at the diabolist with respect.  “Your spells and summonings are most powerful.”

“Yes.”

“Can you teach others how to wield as much power as you do?”

Dame Brionna practically spluttered in response.  “You can’t want to become a diabolist, Ilsbet…”

“But she is a very powerful mage...”

“You must understand,” replied Dame Agatha, “becoming a diabolist is not the same as simply studying other forms of magic.  It involves reaching a deal with a powerful devil.  Becoming a diabolist is not a decision to enter into lightly.”

Ilsbet looked unimpressed by this admonition.  

Dame Brionna urged the diabolist, “Tell her what your deal is,” confident that Dame Agatha’s deal would not seem very desirable.

“In exchange for granting me power during my lifetime and allowing me to summon her minions, I have promised Lilith ten thousand years of servitude in Hell after I die.”

Jacques looked at her in horror.  “That doesn’t seem like a very good deal…”  The diabolist looked back at him impassively; if she regretted her decision, she would not say so.

“So, you see, being a diabolist is agreeing to become a slave,” said Dame Brionna.

Ilsbet made a face.  “I will not become anyone’s slave, no matter what they may offer.”  She turned away from the diabolist, admiration having quickly turned into something akin to contempt.  Dame Agatha smiled.  Recruiting a protégé of a Knight of Valor as her apprentice would have created far more trouble than it could possibly have been worth.

Dame Brionna thanked Dame Agatha and the Archducal Guards and sent them back to the palace, with instructions to coordinate with the Archbishop and send new detachments of troops to arrest all of the corrupted priests and nuns.  The Prioress and the other nuns of the Order of the Silvery Veil went back to their daily tasks, while Dame Brionna, Jacques, and Ilsbet conferred as to what to do next.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna sighed with relief.  “At least we didn’t lose more guards here.  I hope the arrests are not too dangerous.  So many dead…”

“With all of the problems Canberry has been having, it’s all the worse that neither the Archduke nor his father had any sisters who could rule properly,” said Ilsbet.  “I wonder if that’s part of the reason for the troubles.”

Dame Brionna looked at her in confusion.  “But the Archduke’s father did have sisters.  And so does Archduke Alistair, or at least a half-sister who is part of the Archducal family.”

Ilsbet became aghast.  “But if the last Archduchess had proper female heirs, why would you let breedstock inherit?”

“Here in Canberry, the eldest child traditionally inherits, regardless of sex,” explained Dame Brionna.

“But… but… that’s lunacy!  You cannot expect breedstock to even manage their own affairs, let alone to rule.  And how can you ask the great ladies of the realm to be loyal to the commands of a male?”

“You must stop referring to His Grace as breedstock,” Dame Brionna said, annoyance creeping into her voice.

“But he is a male, and males are either breedstock or eunuchs.”

Jacques cleared his throat.  “Here, we would not use the word ‘breedstock’ to refer to any person, only to animals.  And both women and men can fill all manner of roles in society, from commoners up to the Archducal throne itself.”

“But why then did his father need to womanize himself?  I thought that was so that he could inherit.”

“Womanize himself?”

“Yes… I was told that he was a womanizer, and I realized that he must have been womanized to make him eligible to inherit.”

Dame Brionna frowned.  “The Archduke is a womanizer, but that’s not what that means.  He is still a man, both legally and factually.”

“Not the Archduke, his father,” said Ilsbet sharply.

Dame Brionna sighed.  “Him as well.  But a womanizer is a man who… who has many women… friends.”

Ilsbet thought about this, and her eyes narrowed as she thought about what Dame Brionna must mean by women friends.  “I can’t believe you would serve a mass rapist!”

“No!” cried Dame Brionna.  “The Archduke doesn’t need to rape…  I mean, the Archduke is not a rapist.  His women friends are all quite willing.”

Ilsbet remained unconvinced, dropping her hand unconsciously to the hilt of her knife.

Dame Brionna saw the gesture and placed her own hand deliberately on her sword.  “And I must warn you, if you do meet the Archduke, you must not draw a knife in His Grace’s presence.”

“Then he had best not try to rape or enslave me.  I’ll kill anyone who tries, whether Archduke or churl.”

Jacques held up a hand.  “Perhaps it would be best if she did not ever meet the Archduke.”

Ilsbet nodded.  “Perhaps.  If you must be so insane as to allow a male to rule this land and carry on lasciviously with many innocent women, I have no wish to meet him.”

“That’s all settled, then,” said Jacques.  “Now, can we focus on the matters at hand?"


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“I don’t understand why the Archduchess did not have the corrupted clergy dealt with,” said Dame Brionna.

“Perhaps the message arrived after her death?”

“But then it would have been delivered to us.”

“Then perhaps it was intercepted.”

They quickly went to the Prioress’s chambers.

“Reverend Mother, how would the Abbess have sent a message to the Archduchess?” asked Dame Brionna.

“She would have sent one of the sisters with it.  Because the Abbess was close to Her Grace, her missives would be sent directly to the Privy Secretary,” said the Prioress with a touch of pride.

“The Privy Secretary…” echoed Dame Brionna, looking up as she tried to remember who filled that office.

“Yes, Lady Deborah Brightspan,” added the Prioress helpfully.

“Brightspan!” gasped Dame Brionna, beginning to draw her sword in horror.  “Quick!  They will need your best horses.”  She gestured at Jacques and Ilsbet.  “We must ride for the Palace at once!”

The trio rushed across the City.  Dame Brionna barely reined her horse in as she charged up the great marble steps to the front gate, gesturing at the guards to let her companions pass as well.  As she rushed in, she ordered the alarm sounded and gathered a detachment of guards to accompany her.

They rushed to the Privy Secretary’s office, Dame Brionna resolutely riding her warhorse through the palace halls.  Jacques knelt before the door and looked carefully at the frame and the lock.  “No signs of traps.”

“Wait!” called Ilsbet.  She cast a spell.  “There is a rune on the door, with power.  An abjuration… probably a magic trap.”

“If I may perform one more service,” the old sergeant commanding the guard detachment said.  The black cloth tied around his arm announced his intention to follow the Archduchess into the light soon enough anyway.  Dame Brionna closed her eyes for a long moment, and then nodded heavily.  “Stand back, lads.  Best if only I face the danger.”  The guard flung open the door, grimacing in pain as energy crackled around him.

“Surrender in the name of the Archduke and the Lord of Light!” shouted Dame Brionna as the sergeant led his squad into the office.

The Privy Secretary looked up in surprise.  She was bent over an open area of the stone floor, carefully drawing a large symbol in chalk.  Several candles already burned at strategic points around the unfinished pattern.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Ilsbet immediately gestured, casting a trivial magic to snuff the candles and disrupt whatever ritual was in progress.

Moments later the guards surrounded the Privy Secretary and pummeled her unconscious, carefully keeping her alive for questioning per Dame Brionna’s orders.  Jacques and Dame Brionna both worked with the guards binding and searching Lady Deborah; she might be unconscious, but best not to take any chances once she awoke.

Ilsbet looked up from the sigil, which she had been staring at intently.  “Are there teleportation wards in place here?”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “Throughout the Palace grounds.  Why?”

“It explains what she was doing.  She was in the process of creating a gate, primarily I think as an escape route, although if she had succeeded, she might well have left a nasty surprise behind.”

Jacques smiled and nodded to Dame Brionna.  “I think it’s just as well that we hurried here as quickly as we did.  She probably expected a longer delay between the first arrests and tracking it back to her.”

“And a longer delay dealing with the rune,” said Dame Brionna with satisfaction.  “If we had waited to dispel it, she probably would have escaped.  Good work, sergeant.  After you take her to the dungeon, please ask the Lord Chamberlain to prepare a list for me of everyone within the palace related to the Duke of Brightspan.  I don’t want any more surprises like this one.”

While the guards carried Lady Deborah away to the dungeon for interrogation, the trio began searching her office.  The desk contained copies of all of the correspondence to and from the monarch, including some letters, such as the one from the Abbess, that had never been delivered to their intended recipient.  They also found some less legitimate records; among other things, there were two lists, one with the names of the coven member (including the missing two members) and the other with a list of close personal allies of Amelia, including her personal chaplain, the Abbess, and several other recently murdered people.  The murder victims each had a mark next to their names.

There were also unsigned letters, some with instructions for Lady Deborah.  Dame Brionna looked at one of these in puzzlement.  It stated simply, “Kill your uncle.”  Flipping through the correspondence, Dame Brionna found no indications that Lady Deborah had ever communicated much with her uncle, the Duke of Brightspan.  But there were many letters from and to her mother, Lady Yvonne Caldra.

While Dame Brionna finished going through the papers, Jacques and Ilsbet searched the rest of the desk.  Jacques lifted the desk slightly and removed the cap from the bottom of one of the legs.  Dozens of old coins of many different types and nationalities poured out onto the floor, although a few made it directly into Jacques’s pockets.  The trio looked at the coins for a pattern, and noticed that while they came from many different realms, they had all been minted in the same year, some two centuries ago.

“Why would they care about that year?” asked Jacques.

“Because that was the date of the unification of the Confederacy of the South Kingdoms,” replied Dame Brionna, who had had that date drilled into her in history lessons in her old homeland.  “They probably remember that date because the Confederacy’s unification frustrated the last effort of the Abomination of Shurr to ascend.  The City of Shurr in the Sunken Lands was ruined in the course of that struggle, and the Abomination was thought destroyed, although we now know better.”

Ilsbet frowned.  “I wonder if that has something to do with ‘the project.’  In the Seachen lands,  many slaves are used to excavate an ancient city.  It has something with the dead gods that they worship.”

“They worship dead gods and are excavating a ruin in the Sunken Lands?”

Ilsbet nodded.  “But if you ask me, worshipping dead gods is even more foolish than worshipping living gods.”

Dame Brionna was too concerned about the possibility that the Seachen were somehow assisting the Abomination of Shurr to worry about Ilsbet’s petty sacrilege.  She thought about the excavation and decided that it was simply one more matter to look into, and went back to flipping through Lady Deborah’s papers.  “Here’s another one of the unsigned letters.  It says that twenty were hired from the Dark Guild of Enclaves and have been sent to Canberry City.”

Jacques whistled in a low voice.  “The Dark Guild is the guild of assassins.”

“I know what the Dark Guild is,” replied Dame Brionna testily.

“But twenty assassins… that’s a huge number for one task.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Never mind that,” said Ilsbet.  “Where are the books?  We’ve searched her whole desk.  They must be here somewhere.”  She began looking around the rest of the room, tapping on walls, checking floor boards, and the like.  She finally cast a detect magic spell, and looked around.  “Huh.  The coins are enchanted.”  She looked around a little more, while Jacques tried mostly successfully to be subtle about dropping the coins he had taken back onto the pile.  “There!  There’s something magical hanging from the ceiling, directly above the desk.  Abjuration and enchantment magic, plus there must be an illusion to keep it invisible.  Her books must be in there.”  She had ignored the coins completely, but the greed in Ilsbet’s voice as she spoke of books disturbed Dame Brionna.  Still, they did need to find out if there were more records…

A rap at the door disturbed them.  The old guard sergeant entered and informed them that Lady Deborah was safely in the palace dungeons.

“I hate to ask you to endanger yourself again…”

“If I may perform a few last services to the Archduchy before I enter the Light, please, command me.”

“There is something invisible suspended from the ceiling.  We believe that it has a magical trap on it.”

The sergeant almost smiled as he clambored onto the desk and gestured for the trio to stand well clear.  He reached out, grasped something, and then his eyes widened.  He muttered a little, reached for his sword, and then shook his head.  “It was difficult to think clearly for a moment there, but I think I resisted it.”

Dame Brionna glanced at Ilsbet, who looked him over for magical effects.  “He’s clean, and the spell is gone.  It must have failed.”

The sergeant reached in, and brought out a hissing, scabrous rat, with bloodshot eyes, patchy fur, and sores on its body and oozing black gums.  He quickly slammed Lady Deborah’s familiar into the ceiling several times before tossing its broken and still body into the corner of the room.  “Best no one else touch that.  Lord Glor’diadel protects me from disease, but I wouldn’t want anyone else taking a chance on it.”  He rummaged around some more and brought two heavy tomes and one slim journal out of the invisible satchel.

After Dame Brionna verified that none of the books were intrinsically evil, she picked up the slim volume while Ilsbet sat in the desk chair and began intently studying the two volumes of magic.  One was primarily a spell book, while the other was mainly a book of magical theory.  Both were heavily devoted to chaos magic.  Ilsbet simply began reading them at the beginning, planning on mastering all within their pages.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna looked up from the other book.  “This is a journal recording all of her missions.”  She read a little more and frowned.  “And most of them are marked as successes.  It begins two years ago, when they seduced the Lord of Caldra to their cause.  But there were some failures.  They’ve tried repeatedly to corrupt Lady Constance, but she won’t have any of it.  And it mentions that their overtures to Region 6 were rejected.”  Dame Brionna swallowed.  “Also that they made two unsuccessful attempts on the late Archduchess’s life.  And then that their allies, under a succubus-- that must be her name-- stole the artifact and passed it and its matched brother in preparation for the final ritual.  Aha!  The ritual is scheduled for the 1st night of the full red moon in the month of Ras, 7 months from now.”

“The full red moon would be propitious for demon magic,” commented Ilsbet absently without looking up from the books of magic.

“Hmm… This does suggest that the Duke of Brightspan is less corrupt than we thought.  There are many disparaging remarks about him, although no mention of the Duchess at all.  And then there’s what I can only call fawning discussion of Lady Deborah’s mother.  She also refers to her as ‘Elfhammer.’  And then a list of briefings of Her Grace… They’ve had access to all the most private information of the Archducal household.”

“Any references to their current operations?” asked Jacques.

“Yes.  Here at the end.  They’re using the Dark Guild to hire many of the poor people of the City to,” Dame Brionna paused in horror, “to throw plague vials at the procession.”

Ilsbet looked up.  “I thought plague was forbidden by the Gods.”

“It is, in the long-term. But it’s possible to have short outbreaks before they intervene.  There would be plenty of time to devastate the City.”

“Do we know what these plague vials would look like?” asked Jacques.  “We need to take immediate steps to recover them.”

“Yes,” said Dame Brionna.  “We received a few reports, although not of what they were.  They are small glass vials, filled with a white, glowing liquid.”

“If you can fund it, I think I’ll start passing the word around on the street through fences and such that I’m looking to buy those vials, as many as they can bring.”

“Will 1500 gold be enough?  We can supply more if you start running out.”

Jacques swallowed.  Yes, he had definitely underestimated their ability to pay if they were willing to throw around fortunes like that.  “1500 should be plenty.”

“And we can have the priests preach that people should turn them in, and offer a public amnesty for anyone who does.”

Ilsbet looked up from the book.  “That seems like a good plan, but I think you might want to separate the two.  The people who will be looking to make a fast coin through a fence are likely to be distrustful if they connect it to the temple.  If you just have the priests preach an amnesty and ask people to bring the plague vials to the temples, and then separately try to buy them on the black market, you’ll get more total.”

Jacques nodded in agreement.  “We don’t want anyone thinking this is a trap.”

“Do you have any available condemned prisoners?” asked Ilsbet.

“What?”

“Some of the vials will have broken by accident.  We need to know what the symptoms are so that we can quarantine people who show signs.”

Jacques looked a little ill.  “She’s right.  And we’ll need to post a paladin to watch, so we can observe without anyone getting sick.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “I’ll take care of it.  And once we have recovered most of the vials, we can use locate object sweeps to get many of the remainder.”


----------



## Quartz

Ooh. That's not very paladin-like behaviour from Dame Brionna.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I hadn't thought about it, Quartz, but it certainly at least raises questions.  You can make a reasonable argument about the greater good and such, which quickly gets into the depths of a "what does good mean" issue.  I'll leave responding more to Orichalcum, although I think one of the things she would note is that Dame Brionna is becoming less paladinly over time as she focuses more on temporal duties.  It'll be interesting to see if that ever results in her losing her status.

----
They quickly implemented the plan.  Jacques coordinated the efforts through the Shadow Guild and fences of the City, collecting hundreds of vials in the worst dives of the City.  Periodically, a paladin, disguised as best as they could manage, came through to recover the box of vials and carry it to the temple for destruction.  Towards the end of the day, a man came in sweating profusely and coughing slightly.  As he slid several vials across to the collection box, Jacques stopped him.  “Show me each of the vials.”

The man raised his hand, fear on his face.  “I didn’t mean it to break…” The industrious man had gathered three vials, but one was cracked.  As he leaned back from the table, he toppled over and fell to the ground, convulsing.

Jacques signaled to two of Kit’s agents who were standing by the door of the tavern.  They passed on the signal to an observer in the street, and then closed the door, stepped inside, and drew viciously sharp short swords.

Jacques stood up.  “Nobody leaves or comes in!  Everyone stay calm.”

“What is this?” cried one of the people on the line.  “It’s a trap!”

“No, that man’s sick… they’re going to leave us to die!”

“Everyone’s going to be fine.  We’re in here with you, y’know.  Once the priests come to remove the disease from us, we’ll be able to leave.  Until then, if you try to leave, my friends will have to kill you first.”

There were loud murmurs of concern throughout the room, but the thieves at the door managed to scare people enough to keep order.

“Now then… whoever can give me the most useful information about the people who gave you these vials and paid you to throw them gets healed first.”

Jacques had to deal with the rising voices of a mob all trying to speak at once again, but this time they were full of helpful information.

End of session 9


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Back to the normal mix of characters.

Session 10
After chapel, the Archducal Council gathered in their usual chamber in Alistair’s wing.  Mahler had returned from his duties with the Exchequer and joined Kit, Dame Brionna, and Alistair for the discussion of the day’s agenda.  Kit held out a scrap of paper.  “My network brought this note to me from the Duchy of Brightspan.”

The note was handwritten, but none of them recognized the hand.  It was short and direct:
The Duke is less of a threat than you think, the Duchess not at all.  But the eldest son is not the only one who has been corrupted.  Nor is the Abomination of Shurr the only threat.  Look beneath the city.  The great threat is traveling painfully underground to Shurr.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “That’s consistent with what we learned when we arrested Lady Deborah Brightspan.  I still don’t trust or like the Duke of Brightspan, but he seems like he may be better than we thought.”

“I still don’t trust him,” said Kit.  “And I’ve looked into that spiritual advisor his wife had.  She’s definitely not Glor’diadelian.  She might be a follower of Mider, but it’s hard to say… it’s hard to tell with them, and we don’t have any ins to their organization.”

“Or she might have returned to the faith of her ancestors.  Or at least of her foremothers,” said Alistair.  When Kit didn’t add anything more, Alistair turned to Mahler.  “How are things at the Exchequer?”

“There is a lot of good news-- the treasury is doing just fine.  But it’s not all well.  The primary thing that’s causing concern is the tremendous reduction in the exotic spice trade.  Prices for any of the major imported spices have spiked.  But while that’s the effect that the wealthy are noticing so far, the spice disruption isn’t the worst of it.  The worst problem is that the import of rock salt, also generally from the South, has also been disrupted.  As a result, we might have serious problems with pickling, canning, and the curing of meat, and that will concern the rest of the population, especially when winter comes.”  The rest of the Council nodded in understanding.  It was currently early summer, but you always focused on how the winters would be.  “Another source is the salt mines in Brightspan,” Mahler continued talking over the low grumbling that produced, “but they are not nearly large enough to supply our needs.  Even leaving aside the question of relying on Brightspan, Canberry has always needed to import large amounts of salt.”

“What about the salt flats in Caldra?” asked Alistair.  “I thought they supplied much of our needs.”

“They produce the wrong sort of salt.  Caldra produces a profusion of granular salt, but it’s not suited for the sorts of preserving tasks for which we use rock salt.”

“We don’t have any reserves laid in?” asked Dame Brionna.  “I would have expected the Her Grace the Archduchess to have prepared for this sort of eventuality.”

“She did, but…  Her policy was to maintain an eight-year supply of all of the vital supplies that could be stockpiled, including rock salt.  But for the last many years, as her health and vigor were fading, her ministers became less diligent, and even sold from the supplies to take advantage of periods of high prices.  The stockpiles are essentially depleted.”

“What can we do about it?  Do the people in the Exchequer have any thoughts?”

“At least, those who are not too busy killing themselves,” added Dame Brionna.

Mahler smiled.  “The Exchequer’s office is probably the least decimated of the high government offices.”

“I guess there’s an advantage to people who have more loyalty to money and themselves as to the Crown,” replied Dame Brionna.

“I’ll go consult with them more fully.”


----------



## Orichalcum

Quartz said:
			
		

> Ooh. That's not very paladin-like behaviour from Dame Brionna.





So, it troubled Brionna. But these were prisoners already doomed to die forvarious heinus crimes. Infecting them with plague was certainly not the sort of quick mercifu death she prefers to deal out to evildoers, but the potentia benefit to hundreds of thousands of innocents weighed against it. 

But yes, there's a reason Brionna is now paladin 5/marshal 3. The noble ideals of a hedge knight errant aren't really compatible with the roles of Captain of the Archducal Guard and  Chief Military Adviser, where she has to weigh the worth of people's lives every day, and Alistair always comes first. 

hence the recent stressed and morbid streak. Cynical paladins are depressing creatures...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Mahler headed to the office of Throckmorton, the outgoing Minister of Trade and one of the few in the Exchequer’s office who would be following the old traditions.  “How could we deal with this rock salt shortage?”

“Well… there are several possibilities in the short-run.  There are other sources of rock salt to the North, so we could ship that in by sea and then move it over land into Canberry.”

“Any possibility of developing more domestic production?”

“No.  Brightspan’s mines just aren’t that large, and even if they can be expanded, that would take time.  If you reach to the north, it might be possible to open trade with one of the Enclaves that maintain salt mines near the mountains.”

“If we brought it in by sea, what would the route be?”

“There are several options.  We could ship it through Tang in the south, the Confederacy of Eastern Cities, or even directly from Masque, assuming you could find someone sane enough to deal with from year to year.  The question is could you get the Archduke to move on it.”

“I think that I could take care of that.  Which of the options seems best?”

“Hmm.  Masque makes the most sense, but there are difficulties in dealing with Masque.  You need to find someone with enough brains to handle a deal for more than a year at a time.”

“What of Enclaves?  If we had some allies, do you think we could deal with someone there.”

“Likely.  Lady Vlatiana Fleetshroud and her husband, or Gavin Skullcrusher Daisytops-- I know, it’s a ridiculous combination, what do you expect when someone converts to Manumist so late in their life….  They’d be our best hopes there.”

“Good.  Anything else I should know about them?”

“Vlatiana Fleetshroud is the head of the League of Shadows, the most powerful thieves guild in Enclaves.  Her husband, a gnome, is the lord of one of the Enclaves… Cabbageheights, I think.  A strange combination, but there you have it.”

“Thank you.  I’ll talk with the Archduke about taking steps on setting up a new salt trade.”

“Mahler… you should understand that it’s not just the salt that’s the problem with the tariffs, although that will hurt Canberry the worst directly.  Those poor people in the South are only now starting to get back on their feet.  If we crush those poor folks with tariffs, it’ll be decades before they recover.  And that leads us back to Brightspan.  I hope the Archduke brings him to heal soon…”

“What about our share of the tariffs?  Could we remit it back to the merchants?”

“Eh.  It might help a little, but… the Archduchy only gets 20 percent of the tariff.  Even without that, the tariff would still be crushingly high.  And there would be nothing to prevent Brightspan from simply raising the tariff even higher and taking that money back to his own pocket.”

Mahler nodded and returned to the Council.  As he returned, Dame Brionna was recounting some of her recent intelligence.

“After we dealt with Lady Deborah Brightspan, I visited His Eminence the Archbishop.  I think we should move up the date of the coronation.”

“That would be awkward, diplomatically,” replied Alistair.

“Perhaps, but the efforts to assassinate you before the coronation are not just about the political instability it would cause.  The coronation is an important magical ritual.  It binds the monarch to the land and the land to the monarch.”

“What does that mean?” asked Kit.

“After coronation, the Archduke will have substantial magical protection, making him harder to injure and substantially more difficult to ensorcel.  Also, a variety of curses and magical effects that could be placed on the land are flatly impossible as long as there is a properly anointed Archduke.”

“Oh.  Then maybe we should move up the coronation.”

“I’m still worried about the diplomatic implications,” said Alistair.  “Could we have a quick private coronation, and then follow it up with a public one?”

“No, your grace.  In order to complete the ritual, you must follow the coronation ritual carefully.  You begin some distance outside the capital, in a sacred grove, and then you participate in a long procession into and through Canberry City, performing specific rites along the way, before the formal coronation ceremony in the Cathedral.  If you do not perform the rituals, you won’t gain any of the magical protection.  And the people watching the procession are part of the ritual-- you can’t do it in secret.”

Alistair frowned.   “There are many delegations that haven’t arrived yet.  Most of the temples that are not aligned with evil are sending delegations, and only a few have arrived.”

“Not to mention some from temples aligned with evil,” said Dame Brionna, thinking about the Paranswarmian nuncio.

“There are also numerous diplomatic delegations from every nation that can send one en route, and many of them will not arrive until shortly before the scheduled coronation,” continued Alistair.  “If any of them haven’t arrived by the time of the rescheduled coronation, they will be horribly offended.”

Kit frowned.  “I’m not sure we can afford to offend anyone right now.  I’m all for a plan that gives Alistair magical protection against harm, but…”

Mahler nodded.  “If we could do it without offending anyone, it would be an obvious choice. Since we can’t, it may not be as big a deal.”

“Not to mention that it’s a show of weakness,” said Alistair.  “We don’t want to admit to anyone that we feel threatened, even though I think we all do.”

“But this could give us a chance to eliminate the threat from the assassins,” Dame Brionna continued.

“Let’s talk with the Archbishop and find out if there are any ways we can make the coronation safer.  From what you’ve said, we’ll need to work with him to deal with the plague anyway.  But for the time being, we need to keep proceeding on the current schedule.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

An Archducal Guard knocked and entered.  “Captain, Your Grace, a squadron of five vollers have been spotted approaching the capital from the east.”

“Are they flying colors?”

“Yes, Captain.  Of the Empire of Tarsh, but with their banners flown at half-mast.”

“I suppose it makes sense that they would send a diplomatic mission to the funeral, since Tarsh was the site of the Archduchess’s last state visit,” said Kit.

“And the flags at half-mast is probably just appropriate mourning,” added Alistair.  “Thank you for the information.  Welcome them and set up appropriate accommodations when they arrive, and contact us if anything unusual comes up.”

“I also wanted to discuss some of the matters of Her Grace’s funeral, m’lord,” said Dame Brionna after the guard left.

“What’s the schedule on that?”

“She’s still lying in state in the temporal stasis for another day.  The funeral is scheduled to take place tomorrow.”

“Is there any danger that they’ll try to desecrate the body?” asked Kit.  “I wouldn’t put it past them, and she deserves better…”

“Nor would I,” replied Dame Brionna, “but I do not think there is much danger.  The body is currently in temporal stasis-- a powerful protection that would be difficult for our enemies to break.  We also maintain an honor guard of Knights of Valor around the clock.  I think Her Grace’s body will be safe.”

Pain evident on his face as he thought about his grandmother’s death, Alistair said, “Thank you for taking care of the details, Dame Brionna.  Are there any things we need to deal with specifically?”

“Yes, Your Grace.  We must begin seriously planning for the deaths among the senior staff.  I discussed the matter with His Eminence the Archbishop, and we expect a total of 54 suicides.  Mostly senior administrators and officers in the Guard.”

Mahler looked up.  “I hope no one is expecting us to commit suicide some day.  I hope you live a long time, Alistair, but when you do go…”

Alistair smiled.  “Don’t worry.  This is one tradition I intend to die with the current generation.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “I also thought that, with the upcoming meeting with the Duke of Brightspan, we might spend a little time thinking about his children.  There aren’t just Sir Derrick and the corrupted heir-apparent.”

“Who else are there?” asked Kit.

Alistair thought for a while, remembering lessons from his childhood.  “There are four legitimate sons.  The heir-apparent we know about, and Sir Derrick is the third.  The second son was sickly as a child, unlike his warrior brothers.  If I remember correctly, he was turned over to a Glor’diadelian school at a young age, on Khamista.  It’s sufficiently far away that I’m not sure I’ve ever met him.”

“And then the youngest son is fostered and clearly fine,” said Kit.  She paused and thought about him for a moment.  “There’s an awfully wide gap between the youngest son and his oldest brothers.  The heir-apparent must be nearly 25 years older than him…”

“Remember, his mother isn’t fully human,” replied Alistair.  “In all likelihood, she’ll still be fertile for another decade, at least.”

“Lovely,” said Kit, malice in her voice.

“And then there are five Brightspan daughters.”

“Right.  My research has turned up some information on them,” said Kit.  “At least two of them are involved in demonism, while another is a diabolist.”

Dame Brionna muttered darkly about why the Archduchess let such a mess develop.

“What about the other two?”

“One of them ran off into the woods,” said Kit.  “I don’t quite know what her deal is.  I think she may have had some religious revelation-- maybe she’s the connection to Mider?  And then the youngest is in Tarsh at the same school her mother attended as a child.”

“Let me guess,” said Dame Brionna sourly.  “The diabolist older sister went there as well.”

“Yes, but not either of the two demonists.”

“How charming.  A finishing school and diabolism academy, all in one,” said Alistair, although he had heard of the school but never of that reputation.  “We should ask Lady Constance about its reputation.  She’ll know if it is orthodox and well-regarded.”

“But only by Paranswarmian standards,” seethed Dame Brionna.  “We really need to build those new schools you’ve mentioned.  Its bad enough that nobles are sending their children to Khamista for education, but to Paranswarmian schools…  Is that all of the Brightspan children?  Any illegitimate children?”

“Two acknowledged sons, if I recall correctly,” said Alistair.  “Both are older-- from before the Duke’s marriage to the Duchess.  I haven’t even heard of rumors of any bastards since the marriage.”

“What do we know about the illegitimate sons?”

“Not a lot.  Both have been given minor positions in the court and seem contented.”

“I think we need to do some scrying on the Brightspan sewers or undercity,” said Kit.  “We can ask Lady Constance to both perform the scrying and to tell us about the school.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Constance arrived promptly.  “Good morning, Your Grace.  What do you wish me to do this morning?”

“We have a scrying that we need performed,” replied Alistair.  “I’m sorry to disturb your morning, but…”

“Nonsense.  Things have been ever so much more interesting since you began calling on my services regularly.  And now that I know of the short route to your chambers, even the travel is not particularly trying.  Plus, your cook makes the finest croissants…  Would anyone like one?”

Mahler happily took one of the pastries and they chatted amiably over breakfast, explaining to Lady Constance that they wished to scry on the Brightspan undercity.

“I was not aware of an undercity, but let’s see what I can find.”  She carefully laid out her scrying mirror and invoked Lilith and other powers of Hell.  “Indeed… there’s no undercity per se, but there are the catacombs.  The catacombs are enormous, with the huge necropolis where most of the city’s dead were interred for generations.”

“Is it still in use?”  asked Dame Brionna.

“Oh, no. It’s been hundreds of years since anyone was buried there, at least officially.  The whole place has become a breeding ground for necromancers; the Duke has had to kill them left, right, and center.  A very distasteful business.”  Lady Constance gestured and the view through her scrying moved through the catacombs at a high speed.  “Someone is active there now.  There is a network of wards-- fairly primitive, and they cover too much space to be very effective.  But there’s definitely coming and going within the catacombs.”

“Undead?” asked Dame Brionna.

“No… whoever they are, they are not dead.”  Lady Constance gestured, and the view followed a corridor deeper into the catacombs and into a large chamber.  A large creature with the head of a wolf dominated the room from a make-shift throne made out of bones, although a cluster of figures in robes moved about the room before it.  “Oh my… a molydeus, possibly advanced.”

“A molydeus, Lady Constance?”

“Yes, a very powerful demon, one step below a demon lord.  That explains the wards, I think.  It has substantial sorcerous power, but lacks the self-discipline to use it most effectively, and so it prepared its wards in a haphazard way.”

“What would it take to summon one?” asked Kit.

“To summon one?” Lady Constance seemed slightly incredulous.  “It would be very difficult, indeed.  They are the most ruthless demons below the status of counts.  To summon one would require a gate, and even then, I do not think it could be compelled.”  Lady Constance thought for a moment and then nodded grudgingly.  “At least, it could not be compelled by a mortal.  A Noldar could, now that I think of it.”

“So the robed figures are not its summoners, then,” said Alistair.

“I should say not.  The cult worships the molydeus.” She gestured again, detecting magic through the scrying.  “And there is a tenuous silver line running to the southeast from the molydeus.  My suspicion is that it is allied with the Abomination.  Why it is under the city escapes me…”

“High rent?” suggested Mahler with a smile.

Kit pointed at the scrying.  “Look, there’s a skaven in the corner.”  The skaven was recognizable, but strangely out of focus.  “A guard, maybe?”

“That thing doesn’t need anything to guard it.  But the skaven may show the key to the alliance.  Can you see the color of the robes?  My eyes are not what they once were.”

The Council stared intently.  “Dull green or tan?” said Mahler.  “It needs more focus.”

Lady Constance waved her hand and the image recentered on the skaven.  Now Kit nodded.  “Yes, they’re a puke green.  And it’s wearing a holy symbol:  a set of three sticks crossed to form a triangle, but in gold.”

Lady Constance nodded.  “As I suspected.  It venerates the Horned Rat in his incarnation as Lord of Pestilence.”  She inhaled sharply as the skaven looked around, and then stared directly at them through the scrying.  Lady Constance dismissed the image.  “I’m afraid that it knows that someone has been scrying upon them, although with luck it does not know who.”

“Thank you, Lady Constance.  Do you have any additional thoughts about the molydeus and the conspiracy?”

“Little, Your Grace.  My only comment would be, to belabor the obvious, there are three demon lords arrayed against us.  By seeing that chamber we’ve seen their hand.”

Abigail stepped into the chamber.  “His Eminence the Archbishop has arrived for an audience.”

The diabolist smiled.  “I think that’s my cue to return to my laboratory.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Archbishop of the Sun entered, wearing a relatively simple set of robes.  Alistair bowed respectfully, although careful to not show too much deference to the representative of the church.  Dame Brionna knelt and kissed the Archbishop’s ring, while Kit simply bowed awkwardly and received a blessing.  Mahler hung further back, not seeking a blessing at all.

“I am glad you called for me, Your Grace, for I have matters we should discuss as well.”

“Indeed?”  replied Alistair.  “We thank you for coming, Your Eminence.  We hope to call on the church’s aid in dealing with a new threat that has arisen within the City.  Some of our enemies, we believe in league with the Horned Rat, have been distributing vials of plague, trying to get unknowing commoners to break them during the coronation.”

“Plague?”  The Archbishop made the sign of the sun disc.

“Yes.  Can you call on Glor’diadel to prevent it?  My understanding was that plague violated the Compact.”

“It does, but the Horned Rat was not a signatory to the Compact; he came to our area in the multiverse after it was signed.  So he can break it, at least temporarily, and we cannot call down the full power of Glor’diadel to stop it as we could if he were a signatory.  Still, the guards that the Lord of Light has placed against plague will control its spread and allow a quick response.  How many vials of plague have they distributed?”

Dame Brionna answered, “We do not know for certain, Your Eminence, but we have recovered about 300 vials so far.”

“300 vials?” the Archbishop echoed, increduously.  “It was their intention to wipe out the entire city, then.”

“I think so, Your Eminence.  We also know that they employed twenty assassins from Enclaves to run the distribution.”

“My news is now much less pressing.  I had thought it odd enough that it was worth consulting with you, but nothing like a threat to the entire city.”

“We would still be curious to hear your news,” said Alistair.

The Archbishop made a short nod.  “Yes.  There was a strike against the Merchants’ Temple, last night at Evensong.  A single figure attacked, and the Knights of Valor present as guards responded with deadly force.  In the opinion of the priest who was present, and who I should note is of a fairly high status in the magical arts, the young man who attacked was in the possession of a dibbuk.  They drove it out of the young man, but it escaped and the young man collapsed.”

“Couldn’t the priest bind it?” asked Dame Brionna.

“With preparation, yes.  But taken by surprise as he was, he could only drive the demon out of its host, not bind it into a narrow area.  And confronted with a priest who could wield great power, the creature fled into the sewers.  Truth be told, we suspect that it first possessed the young man in the sewers-- he was of the lowest possible class.”

Kit scowled in anger but held her tongue.

Mahler asked the Archbishop,  “Who did the fellow attack?”

“That was perhaps the oddest thing.   A young boy, Alonzo, a servant of Lord Davion Aufaugauthala’rim.”

Dame Brionna thought for a moment.  “If it had succeeded, could the dibbuk have switched hosts and possessed Alonzo?”

“Yes, it could have.  And indeed, if there were a less experienced priest on duty that night, no one would have been any the wiser.”

“Then it may have been an attempt to infiltrate Lord Davion’s household, or even to attack him.”

Alistair rose and called in a page.  “Go directly to Lord Davion Aufaugauthala’rim’s residence.  Tell him that we believe that a dibbuk attempted to possess his servant, Alonzo, and that he should be on his guard for attacks on either himself or his household, or for efforts to place spies around him.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Your Eminence, how long will it take you to prepare for the coronation?  How quickly could it be done if we had to move the coronation up?” inquired Dame Brionna.

“We’ve been over this,” said Alistair, a tad exasperated.

“Three days.  There are certain purification rituals I must perform, as well as the logistical matters that would have to be arranged.”

“Best if you focused on the plague threat for now.”

“Yes, I’ll begin invocations about the plague in the cathedral immediately.”

Dame Brionna persisted.  “Your Eminence, what is the significance of the grove where the coronation procession begins?”

“The only mystic significance is the distance.  In order for the coronation rituals to have their effect, the rituals must be performed properly and the Archduke must process along a sufficient distance through the lands, performing the rituals as he goes.  The grove is sufficiently far from the Cathedral that any procession starting there and taking an appropriate route through the crowds that will gather in the City will satisfy the requirements.”

“But there’s no significance to the grove itself?”

“Only tradition.  Which is of course sufficient reason in its own right.”

“Yes, but perhaps not if we expect assassins,” said Dame Brionna.  “We could start the procession elsewhere and avoid any ambushes that they’ve laid, at least until we enter the City.”

Alistair smiled.  “And we can set up a tarpit at the grove.”

Everyone looked at him in confusion.  Finally, the Archbishop asked, “A tarpit, Your Grace?”

“Yes.  Sometimes there are open pits of tar.  Animals will be drawn in by food that’s fallen in the tar, and then when they try to get the food and escape, they get stuck in the sticky mess and die.  So we can set up a ‘tarpit’ of our own, by having a fake procession start from the grove, planning on drawing in any ambushers.”

Mahler looked at Alistair in mock alarm.  “I hope you’re not planning on asking me to pretend to be you again.”

“Don’t worry, wouldn’t think of it.  I think that Lady Constance might be able to supply us with substitutes for the principals, with spells to contain any attackers and keep them from reaching the real procession.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “And if her creatures are destroyed in the process, no harm done.  We’ll need to post actual guards, though, to make it convincing and to prevent the news from leaking.  The best we can do is to fill as many of those slots with people who plan on suicide anyway.”  Dame Brionna looked at the Archbishop.  “Your Eminence, an attack on you is very likely-- our enemies will want to prevent the coronation, and you are one of the two essential participants.  I’d like to position a large group of guards around you, and ask that you stay on sanctified ground between now and the coronation.”

“Yes, those both seem like prudent steps.  Thank you for meeting with me, Your Grace.”

After he left, Kit cursed openly.  “I just cleaned my sewers, and they’re putting demons in them again.”  She slipped out to meet one of her people and instructed them to check it out, both in terms of the dibbuk and its host.  She told them to find out who the boy was, who he was working for, and if possible to find him and bring him in.

While Kit dealt with that, Dame Brionna went over her daily brief from the city constabulary.  It contained a short discussion of the incident at the Merchants’ Temple, although without the information about the dibbuk, and also a special note that all was quiet in Pottersfield.  For the first time in days, there were no murders to report.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Mahler decided it was time to gather information at the Merchants Exchange a little more directly.  The first step was the creation of a new identity, with a safe room in a nondescript room to change guises in.  “Mahler” carefully removed the clothes and make-up that made up her everyday disguise as Mahler-- the only appearance her friends at the palace had ever seen-- and carefully constructed her new identity.  Female, she decided, and middle-aged and portly, about twenty-five years older than her actual age.  She carefully worked the padding into place, and practiced the Enclaves accent and mannerisms she would use.  After carefully checking her appearance in a silver mirror, she headed out.

The Merchants Exchange was a large, imposing building in the heart of the Merchants Quarter.  The marble construction showed the institution’s wealth, but all of the gaudier signs of its finances were inside.  Mahler swept in through the entrance, past the bored looking guards, who looked more prosperous than fit.

A small man crouched over a large ledger sat at a plain desk, just within the building.  “May I help you, madame?” he said in a voice that managed to be both bored and unctuous.

“I should hope so.  I am Lady Sepulva of Enclaves.”

“Ah!” he straightened respectfully, and drew a quick conclusion from her age.  “We heard about your husband’s death and are greatly cheered that you are well.”

“Well enough, I suppose.  I wish to take my husband’s seat in the Exchange.  The family’s interests must be represented, you understand.  I was really just here to visit family, but…”

“Of course, of course.  Just couldn’t stay away from the trade.”  He nodded knowingly.  “That will be 100 silver, for a seat in the third ring as he had.”

“I must pay for the seat?  But surely he had paid.”

“Yes, m’lady, but while the seats in the middle and inner circles are hereditary in perpetuity, the outer circle must pay for their seats annually.  And they are held only by the individual.  Each of the circles is based on proven wealth.  While I’m sure your husband could have afforded to buy into the middle circle, he apparently did not view the expense as worthwhile based on the amount of business he transacted here.”

Lady Sepulva sniffed noisily.  “Well then.  I suppose I must, and we will see whether our business here justifies a change in the future.”  She casually drew forth a platinum piece and slapped it down on the table.

The doorman coughed.  “I’m sorry, m’lady, but you must pay in silver.  I need to count each coin as it enters the box,” he said with a gesture at a sturdy lockbox behind him with a small slot in the top.

Lady Sepulva blustered, but eventually drew out her purse and carefully counted 100 silvers into the box.

The doorman smiled.  “Thank you.  Now, if you could just sign the membership ledger.”  He slid the register across to her, and Lady Sepulva carefully forged a distinctive new signature, with no resemblance to the either Mahler Fife’s or her real signature.

She walked into the great open chamber where the Exchange transacted the business of all of Canberry, and looked around carefully.  The independents, not truly part of the Exchange at all but tolerated because of the money to be made trading with them, stood around the wall at the outer edge of the chamber.  On the floor of the chamber, the outer circle members of the Exchange sat at their tables.  The food merchants, including Lady Sepulva’s late husband when he had attended, faced the east wall.  After a quick conversation with the doorman, she crossed to the table where her husband had sat and took his seat.  

The entire room bustled with continuous trades.  The members of the outer circle bargained with the independents and each other, periodically meeting with a member of the middle circle in their raised area to conclude a major deal.  The middle circle members negotiated with each other, shifting around vast amounts of money and commodities, and periodically sent runners down to favored members of the outer circle.  The seats of the inner circle, in the highest level of the room some two stories above the trading floor, were shielded from view by heavy marble, with the only entrances through gilded gates in a wrought iron fence.  Lady Sepulva assumed that they traded just as actively as the rest of the Exchange, but the only sign was the periodic passage of someone, generally the agent of a middle circle member, through the gate.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After a few minutes, a boy approached Lady Sepulva’s table and laid down a wooden chit with a blazon on it.  Lady Sepulva glanced at the chit and then stared cooly at the boy.  “Yes?  Do you have a message for me?”

The boy’s eyes widened in fear and confusion.  He gestured back towards the chit and then glanced over his shoulder at the middle circle seats, where a banner with an identical blazon stood next to one seat.  As he looked back at Lady Sepulva, apparently hoping that he had conveyed his message, his mouth opened slightly.  She startled at the sight within:  his entire tongue had been removed.

“Very well, I will go see your master.”  The boy visibly relaxed at Lady Sepulva’s words.  Hoping that the pattern here was the same as the protocols she had learned as a child in Enclaves, Lady Sepulva made her way up to the seat of the merchant who had summoned her, while keeping one eye on the area behind her.

A heavy-set but clean and very well kept half-orc sat in the seat by the banner.  He bowed floridly from the waist as Lady Sepulva approached.  “I’m sorry to hear of your loss, but glad to see the seat occupied again.  I did regular business with your late husband when he was here.”

“Perhaps I have heard of you?”  

“I am Septulos of the Eastern Trade Confederation,” he bowed again, floridly.  He then scattered tokens across the table--offering 1 silver 2 copper a head, when 1 silver 5 copper was the going rate.  “Two thousand head?”

Lady Sepulva thought for a moment.  The price of beef in Canberry had been falling, although it was starting to stabilize of late.  It had been declining for years after the fall of the South Kingdoms;  beef was a huge export for Canberry, and the tremendous reduction in demand held prices low.  Even with the declining prices, and even assuming the worst cattle that could be found, the price Septulos offered was too low to be considered.  Which left Lady Sepulva with only one problem:  she wasn’t certain what the norms of negotiation were here.  Hoping they were not too different from in Enclaves, she reached forward and flipped each wooden chit back over to its unmarked side and pushed them back.  “The market is going up, sir.  Supplies will not last.”

“In the spirit of memory of your husband…” he tossed down 1 silver and 4 coppers.

Lady Sepulva turned them over again.

“1 and 6, but when you shear your sheep in the fall, a half copper below market per bail.”

This was getting dangerous.  That price was reasonable, but “Lady Sepulva” had no cattle to sell and was not too eager to spend the rest of the day covering a short sale.  She decided to hedge.  “But I must inspect the cattle first.  Would you present them for an examination by one of my herders?”

Septulos blinked in confusion.  “Inspect them…  but my lady, I seek to buy.  It is your cattle that we’re discussing, so what need would you have for inspection?”  He thought for a moment.  “Ah, this must be some new way to try to push my price further, but no more.  I have made the bid I will offer.  You must either accept it, or leave me to buy my cattle elsewhere.”

They bantered a little further, while Lady Sepulva tried to cover over her error, but reached no deal.  She left Septulos with a promise to return if she felt she could accept his offer.

In search of more information, she sought out the doorman.  “Tell me, who else deals in beef here?”

“Purchasing, m’lady?”

“No… for the time being, I’m more interested in the competition.”

“Ah, of course.  Several of the independents do, although none with herds larger than about 250 head, and some of their cattle are diseased.”  He pointed at the cattle-ranchers.  “At the other extreme, the factor from the Empire of Tang will make deliveries on any order up to about 40,000 head.”  He gestured at a seat in the middle circle.  “And then the man with the eye tic in the outer circle sells at a steep discount, with the worst tired out dairy cows in the Archduchy.”

“Thank you.  It will take me some time to learn the local merchants as well as I know the ones back home.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“You could hire a page, m’lady.  All of the more promising lads around the Exchange would be able to advise you on which merchants are which.  We can’t supply your husband’s preference; that’s illegal here.  No slaves, no mutilation, no out-and-out abuse.  Even the foreign factors who bring their pages with ‘em are forbidden to bring slaves.”

Lady Sepulva thought about the tongue-less boy for a moment; slavery and mutilating pages might be illegal in Canberry, but some of the merchants went awfully close to the line.  “Where are the messenger boys looking for work?”

The doorman led her into a room.  A cluster of boys, ranging from perhaps seven to teens nearing adulthood, looked up at her, in some cases eagerly, in others appraisingly.  Lady Sepulva stepped forward and scattered a few coppers on the table, watching who focused on or even reached for the coins versus who stayed focused on her.  Two of the older boys stayed focused on her, clearly more interested in a larger long-term payoff than in getting a quick coin.  She pulled them aside and questioned each of them.  One of them seemed mostly a guard-type; physically fit and strong, with a certain canniness but no great intelligence.  The other was less physically imposing but more intelligent.  Lady Sepulva hired Clarence, the more intelligent lad, at 5 coppers a day plus the opportunity to earn bonuses.

“How may I help you, m’lady?”

“I’m still settling in and learning the people in the Exchange while I consider what deals to pursue.”

“Very good.  Have you claimed your husband’s letters of credit?”

Lady Sepulva paused.  Of course her late “husband” had to have had letters of credit.  But she didn’t even know how to go about claiming them.   “Could you take care of that, Clarence?”

They returned to the Exchange floor, and Clarence climbed to the highest level, just outside the gilded wrought iron fence barring entrance to the Inner Circle.  He waited patiently at the rail and returned about twenty-five minutes later, with an officious man in tow.

The man looked Lady Sepulva over.  “Lady Sepulva?”

“Yes?  And you are?”

“I am Tharvan, Master of the Exchange.  I’m sorry for your loss.  I was sad to hear of his assassination.”

Lady Sepulva noted that unlike many of the merchants who had only heard vague rumors of Sepulva’s death, the Master seemed confident of his information and believed correctly that her husband had been killed in the coup in their Enclave.  “Yes, it was terrible.  But we must go on.”

Tharvan produced a ledger and Lady Sepulva signed for her letters.  Most of the letters represented cash, and he gave her 2000 round yellow chits and 50 silver chits, all carefully arranged in a box for her convenience.  “And this last letter is for livestock-- 500,000 head, delivered to the Empire of Masque.  Do you wish to claim this letter as well?”

“Keep it in the safe for now, I think.”

Lady Sepulva spent the rest of the afternoon taking an inventory of the people in the Exchange.  The dozen top merchants and the officials of the Exchange filled the Inner Circle.  Only those representing a full merchant on a specific task or those that the Inner Circle summoned could enter their domain.  The middle tier consisted of major merchants and permanent factors, but not within the top dozen.  Most were factors for other nations, including one from Tang, three from the Sunken Lands, several from Masque, and many from Enclaves, although many of the Enclaves based members of the Middle Circle were not physically present that day.  Hanal was conspicuous for its lack of a factor in that circle, whether by happenstance or policy.  Lady Sepulva also noted that, in addition to the seats that had banners next to them but no current occupants, there were many that appeared completely vacant.  When she asked of Clarence, he mentioned that those were the old South Kingdom seats.  They still technically belonged to their old owners, but many of their owners had died without heirs, and even more were broken, without any trade interests left to manage.  All told, the hall could hold about 400 merchants, although only 230 or so were present that day.  As Lady Sepulva considered the volume of trade that the Exchange carried on, it became clear that this was the central Exchange for all of the trade in Southern Drucien; the only larger exchange on the continent was the Enclaves exchange itself.


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Bumpage for a great story- I eagerly devour each update as it comes


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, Look a Unicorn!  Have some more storyhour to devour!

----
After the Exchange recessed, Lady Sepulva noted Septulos approaching.  “Would you care to join me for an ale?” the half-orc merchant enquired.  “It would be good to resume our Houses’ social contact as well as our business.”

Lady Sepulva happily accepted, accompanying Septulos to a nearby tavern where many of the merchants went to drink.  She noted that several other merchants were already there, but Septulos made his way to a private booth in the back with a proprietary manner-- if he did not formally own it, he did for all practical matters.

After a little light conversation, Lady Sepulva began pumping the merchant for information.  “What do you think of the new tariffs?  Quite oppressive, I’d say.”

Septulos grunted.  “Not too bad for us, but very bad for you since you are north.  They can bring goods to us without going through here, but not to you.  And they will suffer.”

“They?”

“The refugees.  They are just starting to get effective production going, beginning their trade.  But the Eastern Cities are not enough to support their growth.  With the Canberry market constricted, and even worse the effects on trade with Enclaves and the North… they will be barely above starving.  A shame… we could use a better trade partner, but we cannot grow their trade on our own.”

“And it also cuts off some badly needed supplies.  You wouldn’t happen to have any interests in rock salt?  I know some local interests who would pay highly for a reliable source, free from the tariffs.”

“Hmm.  I might be able to help them, at that.  But not here.  Leave the Exchange at the Exchange.  Hear, we drink a jack of ale, and talk.  Perhaps we speak of things that influence our trade tomorrow, but we do not trade here today.”

Lady Sepulva smiled and raised her mug in acquiescence.  “Have you heard anything out of Brightspan?  Raising the tariffs must cost them more than it brings in.  Any gossip of the doings there?”

“Not that I’ve heard, no.  But there have been… those who steal people.”

“The Noldar,” said Lady Sepulva in a flat, grim tone.

“No!  Well, they do steal people, but not who I meant. Coming out of Brighstpan, small groups of people have slipped into the east in the last few years, taking certain children-- those of elven blood.  It seems to have ended now.  There were diplomatic requests, but the cities of the east do not have large armies, and to attack Brightspan would be to attack Canberry… that would be suicide.”

“I’ve heard that there are those who think that Brightspan may not always stand as well protected by the Archduchy.  Would that change things?”

“There would be a desire for revenge.  It is not rational to take other people’s children.”  Septulos said the last with a sense of disgust, as if irrational behavior that had no financial value was both the most repugnant and incomprehensible thing he could imagine.


----------



## Quartz

More! More!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Since you asked for more.... 

----

Back at the palace, Alistair and the rest of the Archducal Council prepared carefully for their busy schedule.  The Duke of Brightspan would be joining them for lunch, and then the Princess of Stormreach would be their guest for dinner.  It was hard to say which guest inspired greater feelings of trepidation, though for completely different reasons.

Before the Duke arrived, they carefully planned the luncheon.  In addition to the Archducal Council, Princess Cecilia would join them to be certain that they only needed to fear Brightspan’s political loyalty.  They also asked Father Waters, Alistair’s father’s chaplain, to join them.  If his reputation was accurate, the Duke’s best characteristic was his piety, and a show of faith might have substantial value.  Additionally, avoiding the appearance of Alistair surrounded by a crowd of women would help prevent Alistair’s reputation from creating any more problems than it would inevitably.

The guard at the door announced Duke Gary Brightspan as he strode confidently into the room.  The Duke was in middle age, and had allowed his waistline to expand with his years, but remained a strong and determined figure.  The resemblance to his son was remarkable, even with the heavy beard that the Duke wore.  And even for this private function, the Duke wore his cornet that was almost a crown.

“Your Grace, welcome and thanks for attending upon us,” said Alistair.

The Duke of Brightspan bowed his head slightly-- somewhat short of even the bow that an equal deserved, let alone proper respect for his liege-lord.  “Your Eminent Grace.”

Alistair’s head dipped, barely perceptibly returning the honor and replying in kind to the insult.  “Please join us at the table.  We have much to discuss, but that can wait until after we have said grace and begun the meal.”

“Indeed.”  The Duke drew forward, handing a large wrapped package to Dame Brionna as he took his seat.  While Father Waters stood to say the blessing, the Duke checked carefully that his periapt remained around his neck.  But he then bowed his head in reverence for the prayer, repeating along with each familiar invocation of Glor’diadel.

<<Princess Cecilia is thinking the same things about him that we already know,>> Kit sent to Alistair.  <<He hasn’t a shred of loyalty to the Archduchy, and his resentment towards you borders on hate.  But the prayers are heart-felt, and he’s as nervous about this meeting as we are, or more.>>

<<At least he’s not in league with the demons…>> replied Alistair mentally.  As Abigail brought out the first course, Alistair looked directly at the Duke.  “Your Grace, we have learned that dismaying things are afoot in Brightspan.  There are demons active in your Duchy, including a powerful demon beneath the City, in the catacombs.”

“You know of that?” said the Duke in surprise.  “We have been struggling against it for some time, but I would not have thought you would concern yourself.  It could only be a distraction for Brightspan if our conflict became open.”

Alistair leaned forward, his face serious.  “We know that you have no loyalty to my House beyond fear of our troops.  But my House made a commitment to yours when your father swore loyalty.  And we will never abandon yours.  When you stand against the demons of Borsh’tro, we stand with you, whether you would have our aid or no.”

“My father’s cowardly decision…”  The Duke took a moment to gather himself.  “Yes, we have been fighting the demons.  I have allowed my wife to convince me to let her handle the threat, and her friends have been very effective.”  Doubt shadowed his face as he mentioned his wife’s “friends.”

“Yes, we know of her friends.  How many of them has she brought in?”

“Nearly a hundred, your eminent grace.  And they are effective, even though they are not of the Light.  They have managed to drive out some of those who have been causing difficulties, but not all.”

“Why did you not ask the Archbishop for aid?” asked Dame Brionna with a hint of accusation.

The Duke frowned.  “I’ve consulted with the local bishop, but we’ve been hesitant to ask for additional church support.”

“Why, your grace?” asked Alistair.

“They have my heir.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Rescuing a man's son does tend to engender a certain gratitude...

And shame, when it comes out that his wife is sending children for infernal abomination summoning.

Pride v. Gratitude, which shall win...?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair paused and breathed heavily.  “Your grace, we fear that your heir may be more than merely taken.”

“You think he may be a willing traitor to the Light?”

“Dame Katherine, can you project the image of his son into his mind?”

“With your permission, your grace?”

“You are a psion.  You’re reading my mind.”

Kit detected a wave of terror about it.  She suddenly realized the issue:  his mind had been altered before, and while he could not remember that consciously, it left a subconscious terror of telepaths.  “I am sorry, your grace, but with the threat of assassins, we had to take any step to protect the Archduke.”

The Duke of Brightspan leapt up from the table and gestured angrily at Alistair.  “I have never made any bones of my feeling towards the Archducal family.  If I were to move, it would have been openly.  Your… Archduke took care of that himself.  I will never fully accept the right of this house to rule over mine, but my grandchildren will.”

“Your grace… please,” said Alistair holding out his hand placatingly.  “I had no idea that she would do such a thing.  I never would have permitted it if I had known of her plan.”  Alistair scowled at Kit.

<<I’m sorry!>> sent Kit urgently.

<<Don’t be.>> replied Alistair.  <<You were doing what you had to do.  I’m just sorry for having to leave you to take the blame.>>

<<I understand, and it’s my job to take the blame so you don’t need to.  Besides, I shouldn’t have gotten caught.>>

<<That wasn’t your fault.>>

The Duke of Brightspan continued to glare at both Alistair and Kit, but as Alistair continued speaking in a soothing tone, he gradually returned to his seat.

“I would never have considered the possibility that you might be involved with assassins, your grace, and I hope you won’t hold her poor judgment against Canberry.  I can assure you that she won’t use any of her mental powers on you again.  But we should return to the topic of your son.”

Brightspan breathed heavily.  “Very well.  I think I should speak with my chaplain.”

“Of course.”  Alistair nodded to Father Waters, who quickly rose.  He returned a few minutes later with a scholarly priest, about the same age as the Duke, who entered with a cursory bow towards Alistair.

The Duke of Brightspan stared fixedly at the priest.  “Francois, the things I know you have not dared tell me, by the looks on your face, tell me now.”

The priest visibly swallowed.  “Your grace, is this the time?”

“If there is a time, it is now.”

“The army that your son leads… is in rebellion against you.  But not against him.  He corrupted his commanders years ago.  They are not now far from the edge of the Sunken Lands, and the Seachen have moved a force of riders to try to stop them.  The riders will fail.”

The Duke leaned back in his chair heavily.  “So he is corrupt.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Misery wracked the Duke’s face.  “It is the evil of the catacombs.  My grandfather said that you should raze the city to the ground for the glory of Glor’diadel and for the sake of its people, but once you become duke, you never do.  It’s like a miasma rising out from the catacombs, but I had no interest.  I should have moved my children.”

“You did as you thought best, your grace.  Glor’diadel can ask no more.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Your grace, I can only imagine your pain,” said Alistair.  “But I thought you should know that your grandsons have not been corrupted.  As much as the loss of your son hurts, your house and line will continue to rule the Duchy in the Light of Glor’diadel.”

“You brought them here to protect them from their father’s corruption, not just to make my house subservient to your own.”  The Duke made it a statement, not a question.

Alistair nodded.  “Yes, your grace.  As I said before, whether you will it or not, my house will never abandon yours.  We stand with you against all of these threats, and we will act to defend you from them.  We have taken steps to protect your future heirs, and we will act with you to deal with the threats in the catacombs.”

The Duke gestured at Father Francois.  “Tell him what you think of the dog thing.”

The priest nodded.  “Very well, your grace.  It is a molydeus, and an advanced one.  It is also a powerful wizard.  Several experienced priests tried to eject it from the plane.  The diocese has fewer experienced priests now.”

The Duke continued, “It has been present for eighteen months.  It sometimes emerged to feed.  After it came, the ratmen came as well.  Now we are at an impasse.  We cannot tighten the wards further, but if we send men in, they do not return.  But it cannot leave.  Not my preferred solution, and many of the dead now walk.  They also cannot get out.”

“You are positive of that, your grace?” asked Dame Brionna.

The Duke smiled grimly.  “My wife’s allies seem extremely proficient in preventing things from leaving.”

“Do you know what the molydeus’s goals are?” asked Alistair.  “When we scryed upon it, we saw a thin silver line of energy leading away from it.”

Brightspan’s spiritual advisor shook his head, dejectedly.  “I can’t figure it out.  They’re using the catacombs in a bit of sacred geometry.  But I don’t know what the other points are.”

“We believe that the second point is the ruined city of Shur, in the Sunken Lands, but we do not know where any other points would be.  We believe that it is somehow involved in the Abomination’s effort to advance itself.”

“Indeed?  But then we can make some estimates about the third point.”

“It would form a triangle?”

“Without doubt, and an equilateral triangle at that.  I think the third point must be somewhere in the south…”

Abigail quickly fetched a set of maps of the entire southern half of Drucien.  Francois bent over the maps, carefully measuring and operating a large compass to find the third point.  “Yes.  In the Skaven lands, although only barely.”

Dame Brionna looked at it carefully.  “In the old South Kingdoms.  That’s consistent with the involvement of the Skaven in the Abomination of Shur’s plot.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Yes… but the question is what the Horned Rat would seek to gain.  Another major victory by the molydeus could make it a demon count.  The Abomination seeks to become a demon lord, or more.  But what does the Horned Rat seek to gain?”  Francois fiddled with the compass while he thought.

“We understand that he came to these planes from a far distant world,” said Dame Brionna.

“Yes, he’s not naturally here, not in the way that Borsh’tro or most of the other demonlords have a relation to Aphonion.  The Horned Rat is already a demon lord, by virtue of his power and his status in his own realms, but he has no plane here.”

“Could he seek a plane of his own?” suggested Alistair.

“Perhaps.  But how could this plan get him one?  Unless he sought to take the Prime as his own, but surely he would realize that that plan could not succeed.”

“What about the Shadowlands?  Could he seek to create a new Shadowlands in the south of Drucien?”

The scholar priest blinked rapidly, and then nodded.  “Perhaps.  That would fit his goals and might be within their power if they succeed.  A new Shadowlands, without any Hastur Shadowline to hold back its spread…  If he drew enough power to himself, he might be able to create his own.  From the myths I have heard, that was the Horned Rat’s arrangement in his homeworld.”

“How did he come to Aphonion?” asked Dame Brionna, horrified by the concept of the South Kingdoms being plunged into Shadow.  “Can we send him back?”

The priest looked at her.  “Do you understand the concept of theological avatars?  He is from a different prime, from beyond the outer planes we know as heaven and hell.  He came in a mistake, caught up in a storm of sorcery, but he cannot return, either of his own freewill or through an external act.  But to stay with no place he can call his home... a terrible fate for a powerful demon lord or godling.”  He paused.  “I fear that this sounds only too plausible.  In order for the Skaven, the molydeus, and the Abomination of Shur to work together, they must have struck a deal where all three get what they want.  As I said, it is easy to see what the Abomination and the molydeus seek.  But the possibility of turning the south of Drucien into a giant, ever-growing Shadowlands...  That might indeed draw the support of the Horned Rat for this plan.”

End of Session 10


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Excellent stuff, CP.

I'm really enjoying the different perspective of this storyhour - with the PCs involved in running a country - and the epic nature of the unfolding plot.

Keep it coming ...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, HO HB!

-----
Session 11:

The strain on the Duke of Brightspan’s face was palpable.  “Your eminent grace… it has been most difficult to learn of my son’s involvement, and of the full scope of the threat we face.  If I may, I would return to my house where I can more fully recover.”

“Before you go, there’s one more matter I would like to discuss,”  replied Alistair.  “Our Chancellor of the Exchequer would never forgive us if we did not discuss the matter of the tariffs you’ve imposed on goods from the south.”

The Duke stiffened.  “I can assure you, we forward every copper penny that the Archduchy is entitled to on to your treasury.”

Alistair held up a hand.  “Of that I have no doubt, your grace.  But our concern is not with our share, but with the effect that the tariffs have on trade.”

“Yes, some of the merchants are upset by it, I know.  And I worry about the effects it has on the refugees.  They are just getting their feet under them, and the tariffs make it hard for them to establish legitimate trade.”

“Exactly our concern, your grace.  The refugees need the spice trade to develop.”

“Indeed.  I suppose we could rebate parts of the tariff to merchants from the developing refugee communities.”

“That would be most appreciated, your grace.  May I ask why you have imposed the tariffs? They cannot be profitable for you, either.  Better to receive a smaller tariff on a much larger amount of trade.”

“No, they are not.  But I did not impose them for purely fiscal reasons.  Some of the specialized guards that my wife brought in have caught several spice merchants with contraband.  Ordinary means of deterrence have failed to prevent them from continuing their vile trade, but the guards my wife has hired, while effective, are very expensive.  By raising the tariffs I have been able to reduce the number of caravans to a more manageable number, and I receive enough tariffs on a per caravan basis to be able to hire enough guards to keep a close eye on all of the caravans that do pass through.  What’s worse, one of the merchants poisoned one of our major salt mines while trying to escape from my guards.  They brought the merchant in, but it will take years to leach the poison out of the mine, and it has cost us dearly.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair blinked at this news.  Losing one of the Brightspan mines would make the salt crisis all the worse.  “Have any of the caravans with contraband originated in the refugee lands?”

“No.  They have all come from the Spice Lands.  That’s why I’m willing to reduce the tariff on the trade from the refugees.  At this point, it’s still small when compared to the trade from the Spice Lands, and I haven’t seen any signs of smuggling in their trade, at least beyond the usual efforts to short their import duties.”

“Your grace, may we ask what the contraband was?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Based on your response, it must be very bad indeed.”

“Krif!” said the Duke with distaste.

Alistair and Kit had each heard of krif, although neither knew any details about it, except that it was an exotic and little-known drug with a nasty reputation.  “Ah.  That explains your vigorous response,” said Alistair.

“Indeed.”

Dame Brionna asked, “When did the smuggling begin?”

“About two years ago.  Leastwise, that’s when we first learned of the smuggling.  I suppose there could have been a shipment or more that we missed.”

“Are any of the smugglers still alive for questioning?”

“No.  The ones we took alive were interrogated, confessed that they knew of the krif, and were executed.  And some have been killed while trying to escape.”

“Thank you for informing us of the krif, your grace.  We’ll need to take steps to investigate here.  Do you know where the krif was headed?”

“Not for sure, your eminent grace.  The merchant was bound for Canberry City, but he may have intended to deliver it en route to a contact, or to transship it through Canberry to anywhere north of Brightspan.”  The Duke nodded.  “You should be very careful.  Once krif gets into a given population, it’s almost impossible to get out.”

“Have any of the merchants with the krif been salt merchants?”

“No.  Only the high-end spice merchants, for the luxury market, seem to be involved.”

“Then perhaps you could also relax the tariff on the bulk rock salt merchants.  The Chancellor of the Exchequer is most concerned about the possible shortages of salt for food preservation purposes, and that’s our primary concern with the tariffs besides the effects on the refugees.”

“Yes, I can see how that would be a problem.  Very well, I will reduce the tariff on merchants from the refugee settlements and on all shipments of rock salt, at least as long as they are not implicated in the krif shipments.”  The Duke shook his head sadly.  “I wish my wife did not need to use her special guards; I know the Church does not approve.  But we must stop these shipments, just as we must contain the demon.”

“I’m sure that Lord Glor’diadel will receive her fully into His Light in due time, your grace.  And the Lord of Light is not so rigid as to overlook the fact that her actions serve His cause, even if they use unorthodox means.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“And if you care so much about your family’s salvation, perhaps you should reconsider sending your daughters to schools loyal to Paranswarm,” added Dame Brionna belligerently, provoking shocked looks from Alistair and Kit.

“You forget your place, Dame Knight.”  The Duke of Brightspan made the honorific an insult, stressing his much more exalted rank.  “And what choice do I have?  Not providing them with an adequate education is equally disastrous, for they would seek learning from whatever source they could find, and the Collegium Magica cannot be taken seriously as an option.  I note none of the Archducal family have studied there, either.”

“We are well aware of the Collegium’s deficiencies,” said Alistair.  “One of my first actions as Archduke will be establishing a major new school for mages, dedicated to the memory of my grandmother, as well as a seminary for priests, religious scholars, and paladins.”  He felt no need to mention that the third planned school would train psions.  “We intend to make Canberry a center for the study of magic that will draw mages and students from all of Drucien and even beyond.  It is a shame that magical education has been limited in Canberry up to this point, but they problem will be remedied soon.”

“Indeed?” the Duke responded.  “You intend to have a serious mage’s academy?”  He drew forth a draftbook.  “This is long-overdue, and I will be happy to provide the support of my house to the project.  Perhaps we could endow a program for studies appropriate to my family’s magical interests.”  He passed a draft over to Kit, who boggled at the vast sum it promised-- 50,000 silver-- before regaining control of herself.

“We are most pleased to receive your support,” replied Alistair.  “We will of course not permit the study of diabolism, as part of the point is to train mages under the watchful eyes of the Church.”

“But surely regular conjuration will be studied?  We will fund the wing of conjuration, then.”

“Of course.  All of the accepted magical arts will be taught, and we are grateful for your support.” Alistair thought for a moment.  “Your grace, would you mind if we initially announced a smaller contribution by your house?  I assure you that we will eventually give you full and public credit for the entire sum of your gift, but we may be able to inspire other noble houses to give generously if we first announce an amount that they could match.”

The Duke looked dubious.  “Your eminent grace, few of the families of Canberry have as much ready wealth as mine, besides your house, of course.  I doubt that any of the other houses could make a comparable gift.”

“I know, your grace, but many of them could give 1,000 silver, or perhaps even 5,000.  If we announce that you have given 50, many will feel that their own gifts would be paltry.  But if we announce a gift of 1,000 or 2,500, other nobles may feel the need to match or even exceed it, to demonstrate their wealth, generosity, and loyalty.  We can then announce that you have come over the top with an even greater gift, while maximizing the total donations.”

Brightspan waved his hand.  “As you wish.  I will leave such details to you.  I merely wish to make a contribution, as it would be good to offer a fine education under Glor’diadel’s guidance.”

Dame Brionna smiled in triumph at the outcome.  “Your generosity and piety are famed throughout the Archduchy.”

The Duke nodded, satisfied with the praise, and excused himself.

“Well…” said Alistair.  “That went vastly better than I had imagined.”


----------



## Orichalcum

And once again, Alistair's ego has apparently gotten away with him. This isn't how Dame Brionna remembers this conversation at all.

Her account would go something like this:

"Your Grace, there is one minor request I would wish to make before you go." --DB

"What is it, Dame Knight?" --surprised Brightspan

"It has come to our knowledge that several of your children have been forced to attend schools in Tarsh due to the sorry state of magical education present in Canberry. His Grace the Archduke, as one of the first acts of his reign, is planning on establishing a first-rate magical academy, as well as a seminary for priests and paladins and other schools. It would be a very important gesture of faith in the program - and in Canberry - if you were to enroll your children here in their own country." (And that was a 27 on Diplomacy.) --DB

"You want to open a magical academy here in Canberry?" --pulls out his draftbook. --Brightspan.

Of course, milord can tell the official story however he wants, and Kit and milord were certainly horrified at Brionna's presumption. But it was a calculated gamble on Brionna's part on behalf of one of her favorite causes, and it worked.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I think Orichalcum and I will have to agree to disagree on the account of this.  Dame Brionna may well have been the person who brought up the schools that Alistair is planning on founding, but as I remember it, she definitely started off with a very belligerent comment about where Brightspan educates his children, provoking his defensive bluster about the Collegium and such.  <shrug>  I also want to clarify that I try to write the storyhour objectively, not based on Alistair's perceptions-- it's not a first-person account.  But of course I'm sure I misremember some things.

---
[There’s a slight continuity problem here; it appears from the previous session that the merchant exchange had closed for the day, but in this session Lady Sepulva was still there for an afternoon session.  I think the best rationalization is to assume that the trip to the tavern was during a lunch break, not after the daily close.]

Lady Sepulva remained at the Exchange for most of the afternoon.  Having developed a fair amount of comfort with the exchange, it was time to focus on the serious issues facing the Archduchy:  developing a new salt supply.  Her new aide, Clarence, pointed out the two salt merchants present in the exchange, both in the middle circle.  Lady Sepulva sent him to make an introduction to the one on the left, a woman, who promptly gestured for Lady Sepulva to approach.

“Allison Georges,” she said, acknowledging Lady Sepulva’s approach with a nod.  “Your lad tells me that you are interested in the salt trade.  Thinking of branching out from cattle, Lady Sepulva?”

“Perhaps.  The rising prices from the shortages strike me as an opportunity, at least for those who know how to capitalize on it and can open new sources.”

“Indeed.  Some of the mines have closed, and demand remains high.  The greatest profit will be made by the merchants who have the courage and wherewithal.”

“I trust that you intend to be one of those merchants.”

Georges smiled.  “I have a few months supply yet, and I’m searching for sources, hoping for a consortium that can afford to hire guards.  We should be in a good position.”

“I’m glad to hear that.  I may have some interest in joining such a consortium.  Where are you thinking about trying to develop new sources?”

“I hear that Brightspan has been winning some major victories against the barbarians to the east.”

“The Duke?”

“No, his son.  The Field Marshal, leading the Archducal army.  So I’m hoping that if the barbarians are beaten, we would be able to ship from the eastern cities without too much difficulty.”

“Yes… that’s one of the sources of salt that I’ve been thinking about, along with Enclaves and Masque.  I have many sources of information, and I might be willing to share my intelligence with a group of partners.”

“Information for entrée into my consortium, eh?  That could be arranged, if your information is reliable enough.  We’re also thinking of shipping from Tang if the east is closed, taking the long way around to avoid Brightspan, but the extra distance will drive up our expenses tremendously.  I’d much rather have a reliable source in the east or north.”

“What sort of commitment would you need to include me?”

“I have three partners already, but we would be happy to add you, if you can supply 20 carts, 40 guards, enough drovers for your carts, and valuable information.  The key, of course, is that your information must be valuable and accurate.”

Lady Sepulva bowed slightly from the waist.  “My house, and even my very being, is driven by truth in all details.  I assure you, the information I would bring will be most accurate.”

“Excellent.  When you are ready to discuss details, come and see me, or we can arrange for a private meeting.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Sepulva returned to her table, and a few minutes later sent Clarence to the one spice merchant remaining with the exchange as the hour grew late.  The spice merchant listened to Clarence and nodded curtly.  A few minutes later, he rose from his chair and made his way down to Lady Sepulva’s seat, showing markedly less favor than an invitation for her to attend on him would have.

She sized the spice merchant up as he made his way down.  He was a dashing young man, dressed in the finest silks and with an attractive face and a stylish cut to his hair.  He also wore a rapier with a finely wrought gold hilt and a bejeweled scabbard, making him the only merchant in the Exchange who wore a sword.  Lady Sepulva nodded silently, pegging him as a gallant who probably relied on his family wealth rather than having done much to increase it himself.  Still, it wouldn’t do to underestimate him.

“You wished to speak with me?  Perhaps you have some interest in buying the finest spices for sale in Canberry?”  As he looked over Lady Sepulva’s corpulent form, he dabbed at his nose with a perfumed handkerchief.

“Yes… Do remind me of your name.  I’m sure that my late husband, Lord Sepulva, mentioned his dealings with you, but…”

“I should say he would have!  I sold him a quantity of the finest saffron to be found,”  the merchant preened.  “I am Brian Penthorpe, and my family is famed throughout Drucien for the quality of our product.”  He executed a rather showy and theatrical bow in her direction as he introduced himself, more from habit than from any real desire to impress her.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry for failing to make the connection sooner!  That saffron had more flavor than any I’d ever tasted before.  And the perfume that accompanied it was simply marvelous,” she gushed.  “I’m so glad to meet you personally-- I’m sure we can become the closest of friends.”  As Lady Sepulva finished her sentence, she leaned forward towards Penthorpe and placed her hand firmly upon his elbow.

The spice merchant twitched, unwilling to be so rude as to pull away fully, but equally unhappy about the contact.  “Yes.  Ahem.  Well.  Did you have a matter of business you wished to discuss?” He finally managed to croak out.

“How do you get such fine spices?  I know you charge more for them, as well you should given your quality, but no one else in the Exchange compares to you.”

Penthorpe swallowed.  “It’s a matter of the right source.  We deal exclusively in spices from the Spice Lands, which are greatly superior to spices from other sources.  And even within the Spice Lands, there are gradations.  The premiere spices come from the ‘Empire’ of Seachen, as they call it, though it’s not really an empire.  Only one city, and no conquests, although they do have a large army.  The saffron from there fetches twice the price of more plebeian strains, and the cinnamon three times the standard price.”

“Have you begun detouring, then?  The tariffs in Brightspan must hurt badly given your trade route.”

“Certainly not what we would wish, of course, but we make enough profit on our spices to keep trading.  We can pass most of the tariffs through to our buyers, so while we lose some money, it’s not too bad.  And it’s simply not worth it to follow a different route.  The lost time of going west and then south to circumvent Brightspan would cost almost as much as the tariffs, and two merchants that tried that route disappeared without a trace.  I prefer more reliable trading, even if it costs a small amount of profit.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Sepulva shook her head.  “Such a shame.  I’m glad you had enough sense to stay safe, Brian,” she added warmly as she moved a little closer to him.  From the panicked look in his eyes, she was confident that he wasn’t thinking too much about her questions or whether he should answer them.  “Do you have any idea why the Duke has started charging such high tariffs?  It has to hurt his revenues as badly as anyone’s, with the more marginal merchants getting lost in the wilderness or cutting back on their trips to the Spice Lands.”

“I don’t know for sure, but I suspect it has to do with the krif smuggling.  I was approached about participating in the smuggling two years ago, but the danger is laughable.  Smuggling krif carries the death penalty under the Archduchess’s law, and no amount of profit is worth the risk.”

“What about Brightspan?  Does he take it as seriously?”

“I should say so… he impaled the merchants he caught smuggling it.”

Lady Sepulva thought about what she knew about krif.  A nasty narcotic, very addictive, and very rare in Drucien.  “Where did the krif come from?  Can it grow in the Spice Lands?”

“That’s part of the strangest thing.  They must have imported it from off Drucien, because it doesn’t grow here at all.  As far as I know, the only places krif can be grown are in the Empire of Krashmere and deep in the south of the Palood in the Shadowlands.”

“If they’re shipping it in from Khamista or Zest’qua, do you know what their route is?”

“Not for sure, but it must be coming in through the old ports of the South Kingdoms.  Although that’s strange too… I don’t see how the Skaven could be directly involved in the krif trade.  If they were trying to ship a drug north, wouldn’t they use that dust they’re all addicted to?”

Lady Sepulva nodded thoughtfully.  “It’s such a relief that you didn’t get involved in any of that, my dear boy.  I assume that the people who did were struggling anyway, relying on other smuggling to get by.”

“No, no.  The first one caught was Benjamin Lapelle, whose family had been in the business for centuries.”

“Perhaps it was planted, or smuggled by one of his underlings without his knowledge?”

“That’s what I thought at first, but he confessed:  it was in his stock.  Apparently didn’t say anything beyond his admission, though.”  Penthorpe shook his head.  “He was the first one impaled, and I presumed we would never hear of it again.  But then two more were impaled, and one shot down after disposing of his stash in a nearby stream, if you believe the rumors.”

“Simple greed, perhaps?  You said they tried to recruit you-- they must have offered quite a high premium.”

“Oh, they did indeed.  That was the first thing that warned me that something was amiss.  A man approached me in the Spice Lands, when I was conducting my regular purchases, although I had never met him before.  He offered an enormous sum of money to move a small package.  I thought about accepting, but it was too much money for any normal trade, so demanded to know what it was.  When he admitted that it was krif, I told him to find another mark.  And then I guess he found Benjamin.”

“Where did he want it delivered?  Were they trying to smuggle it here, or on to Enclaves or some other northern destination.”

“I don’t know for sure.  He only asked me to take it to Canberry City.  The strangest thing was where he wanted me to take the package:  to a nunnery, of all places!  I was to deliver it to the Mother Superior herself.”

“Scandalous!” gasped Lady Sepulva, although with a glimmer in her eye that suggested this was precisely the sort of scandal she liked to gossip about.  “What order had become so depraved?”

Penthorpe thought for a moment.  “I think it was the Order of Blessed Hope.”

Lady Sepulva shook her head.  “Shocking.  Such a terrible thing.  Oh, one last thing.  What did the man who tried to hire you look like?  Should I chance to meet him in my trading ventures, I want to know to avoid him.”

Penthorpe relaxed at the thought that he would finally be able to leave Lady Sepulva’s grasp.  “He was of medium height, with angular features.  His hooked nose and protruding chin stood out the most, although I also noticed he had reddish hair, which is not common in the Spice Lands.”

“Thank you,” said Lady Sepulva, patting Penthorpe’s cheek.  “I’m so glad to have met you, and I look forward to strengthening our friendship in the years to come.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Penthorpe, a rigid smile on his face.  As soon as he could, he backed away, dabbing at his nose emphatically with his handkerchief and then practically running up the stairs to his seat.  In his haste to flee, he missed the amused smile on Lady Sepulva’s face.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After the Duke of Brightspan left, Dame Brionna, Kit, and Alistair retired to one of the comfortable sitting rooms that functioned as the Archducal Council chambers.  As they arrived, Alistair turned to Dame Brionna.  “Do you have any guard matters that need attending to?  This might be a good time.”

Dame Brionna sighed inwardly.  She had grown use to Alistair and Kit periodically arranging private time together, even in the middle of the afternoon.  “Of course, your grace.  I should expect that it will take about two hours, leaving time for any matters that must be dealt with before the dinner.”

“That will be fine.”  Alistair waited until she had left and sat in a chair near to and facing the couch Kit had sat on.  He looked trouble as he looked at her but just sat in silence.

After a few moments, Kit blurted out, “I’m sorry about reading the Duke’s mind.  I shouldn’t have created that problem.”

Alistair startled.  “What?  No, don’t worry about it.  You were doing exactly what I knew you were doing.  We needed to know what he was thinking.”

“I still shouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“There was nothing you could do about that.  I’m just sorry I had to leave the blame on you for diplomatic reasons.  He probably knew I was lying, but you have to deny those sorts of things.  But I’m sorry that it meant I had to blame you.”

“You did what you had to do.  We need to protect you, and I should have been more careful.”

“You did all you could, and I don’t have to like having to blame you for that, even though I had to.  But don’t worry about that.  That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.”

“Well?”  asked Kit after a few more moments of silence.

Alistair paused a little longer.  “Sorry…”  He began again, “Kit, you know that I have to have dinner tonight with King Erich’s daughter, to begin thinking about possible political marriages.”

Kit swallowed hard.  “I know.  I’m not happy about it, and I wish that it didn’t have to be so soon, but I know.”

“You’ve seen how many assassination attempts there have been.  As long as I’m unmarried and have no heir-apparent, the Archduchy is only a single assassin away from chaos, maybe even civil war.  And it’s worse than that, because if Canberry fell, there would be no power to stabilize any of southern Drucien.”

Kit stared at him more intently.  “So it’s not just about an eventual political marriage.  You’re talking about marrying and having children as soon as you can.”

“I have to.  The Archduchy needs a stable succession line.  But I don’t want to make this harder for you than it has to be.”  He paused.  “You don’t have to be at the dinner tonight.”

“Do you not want me to be there?”

“No!  I really want your help.  And your support.  But I don’t want to make you be there if it will be too painful.”

“It will be painful, but I think I need to watch.  I still have to do my best to make sure she’s good for the Archduchy.”

“Thank you.”

“And even though I don’t want you to get married… I won’t create problems for someone who would be good for Canberry, and good for you.  I’ll only raise objections if I think there’s a danger, not because of us.”

“I know, and I’ll trust you.”  Alistair closed his eyes briefly.  “I just wish I didn’t have to.”

“But you do.  I need to watch and to serve as the Mouth.  And you need… to marry someone who will help the Archduchy, regardless of what that means for us.”

“It doesn’t have to mean much for us.”

Kit looked away.  “I’ve seen enough of court to understand that state marriages don’t always have to do with love.  But I’ve also seen enough to know that they sometimes do, either initially or eventually.”

Alistair nodded.  “But I don’t want to lose you.  I have to marry, but I don’t have to fall in love.  I never wanted any of this-- you know that.”

Kit nodded.

“And I’m willing to go through with it, because Canberry needs me to.  But if I lose you as well as everything else… I need your support.”

“I’ll do the best I can, but we’ll have to see.  And you’ll always have my support, even if we can’t stay together.  Even if you need me to go away at some point.”

“That’s not what I meant, and I’ll never want you to go away.  I,” Alistair paused, “I need you too much.”

Kit noted that he didn’t quite say that he loved her, but also saw how close he’d come.  “I’ll try.  We’ll have to see.”  She smiled ruefully.  “At least as just a knight I won’t have to make a political marriage for a long time.”

“I hope you won’t ever.  I can’t offer you a marriage, but I can offer you everything else.  If you want to have a family, we can, just not until after the succession is secure.”

“You mean until you and whoever you marry have an heir.”

“And a spare, preferably.”

Kit thought about it.  “But that will be years.”

“Yes, but not too many.  And we can be happy together, both before we can have a family and after.”

“Maybe…”  Kit said.  “But we don’t need to worry about that yet.  I’ll be here while you do what you need to do for Canberry.  And that means I’ll have to be at dinner, even though I don’t want to.  But I won’t leave you over it.”  At least, she thought, not yet.  We’ll see how things go once he’s actually married someone.

“And you know that I’ll need to use whatever tools I can to aid Canberry.  If she needs to be charmed, I’ll charm her, but I won’t mean it.”

“I know.  And I won’t want to watch you flirting with other women… but I’ll do my part, and I know that you need to do yours.”  Kit set her jaw determinedly.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna rapped quietly on the door, and Alistair called for her to enter.

“Your grace, I have two matters of which you should be aware.  The first is that I have secured a list of the members of the court who intended to commit suicide, and when.  Several are planning on committing suicide at the funeral, although most of those are not crucial court personnel.  You should also know that we have reasons to think that some of the common folk may throw themselves onto her funeral pyre.”

“Ugh.”  Alistair looked disgusted.  “We should make sure that appropriate orations are made to dissuade them, and then we should position mages with orders to _sleep_ anyone who tries to approach the pyre without being part of the ceremony.  Most of the commoners should be affected by it, and then the guards can stop any that make it through.”

“Yes, your grace.  I’ll take care of the arrangements.”  Dame Brionna made a small note to herself.  “In addition to debriefing any of the people who will be following Amelia, I also think that we should arrange audiences with the major court officials who will continue to serve your grace.  The two most important are the Equitable Varance Tuttle, the Minister of Magic and an Archmage, and the Minister of the Mind, who is an 18th Circle redactor.”

“I thought Lady Constance was the Minister of Magic?”

“No, your grace.  She is the head of the Archducal Coven, but there is a separate ministry.”

“Then, yes, we’ll certainly want to meet with them.  They will both be important in establishing our new schools, as well.”

“And the Minister of the Mind might be able to heal the Duke of Brightspan’s mind, at least if the Duke will permit it,” added Kit.

Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “Continuing with the surviving members of the court, Lord Brendanbeck Blowingsnoz, the Minister of Roads, and Aaron Gladhand, of the Exchequer, will also both survive.”

“Blowingsnoz?  Must be a gnome.”

“Yes, your grace.  The office of the Exchequer is probably the least badly affected.  I suppose there are some advantages to people who are more loyal to money than to the Archduchy.  The Archducal Guard, on the other hand, has the highest number of suicides.  The only senior officer who will not be committing suicide is Lieutenant Zachary.”

“The Lieutenant Zachary who commanded the security delegation to Tarsh?” asked Alistair, eliciting a nod.  “ I thought that we had reassigned him out of the palace.”

“We haven’t yet had the chance to.  It’s on my list of things to do, your grace.”

“See to it quickly.  We can’t risk him being placed in command.”

“Yes, your grace.  Turning to the important members of the Court we will need to replace, in addition of course to the ones that we have already addressed, the Minister of Defense will be passing as well.”

Alistair shook his head in exasperation.  “I suppose that should have been expected.  The only candidate that I can think of is Field Marshal Broadfields.  He has the experience and ability and the other general officers respect him.  I suppose one of the Dukes or other high nobles with experience leading their own army might be able to do the job, but I don’t think any of them could afford to split their attention.”

“I shouldn’t think so, your grace.  And for the next several years, it would be better if the high military posts were filled with people we can be sure are loyal to the Archduchy, not to one of your vassals.  It reduces the risk of problems.”

“Yes.  Very well, who’s next?”

“For rather different reasons, we’ll need a new privy secretary.”

“Yes… Speaking of the privy secretary, have we interrogated Lady Deborah Brightspan yet?  Did we learn anything more about the plot?”

Dame Brionna looked annoyed.  “Lady Deborah died in her cell before we had a chance to interrogate her.  The conclusion of the priest who examined her was that it was a stroke.”

“Did you check for whether she was killed by another one of those demons?” asked Kit.

“Yes.  There were no signs of wounds, even on close examination, and no signs of magic.  I suspect a psionic attack.”

“Or a previously placed trap in her mind, designed to kill her to prevent interrogation,” added Alistair.

“Indeed.  That would explain how they reached her without penetrating the wards the Eldar placed against psychoportation.”  

Dame Brionna brought the conversation back to the topic of the moment.  “We still need to appoint her replacement.”

“Do you think Marcus could do the job?” asked Kit.

“I should think so,” said Alistair, “at least for the interim.  We can see how he does and figure out whether to make the appointment permanent later.  Who’s next?”

“Lady Winnifred, the Matron of the Court, is also on her way out, your grace.”

“Matron of the Court… that’s a mostly ceremonial position, right?” asked Kit.

“Yes.  In charge of a wide range of protocol matters.”

“We can probably leave it unfilled for the time being, then.  Or have Aunt Cecilia officially filling the role, but with the Master of Protocol handling most of the actual work.”

“That might be perfect, your grace.  It gives us an excuse to have her present for any occasions where her sight would be helpful.  And her birth makes her quite suitable from a perspective of official appearances.  I’m sure that people will be quite willing to overlook any eccentricities in the Archduke’s aunt.”

“Fine.  Who’s next?”

“The next one isn’t a great matter of state, your grace, but I thought you would want to know.  Mommy Cupcake is also planning on following Her Grace the Archduchess.”

Alistair’s eyes widened at the news.  “Yes… thank you for telling me.”

“Mommy Cupcake?” asked Kit.

“My nurse until about 8 or 9.”  Alistair thought for a moment.  “Arrange for her to meet with me privately, perhaps this evening after the dinner.  I think I’ll be able to convince her not to.”

“Very good, your grace.  Most of the Guard vacancies are ones that I will have to deal with over the coming weeks by recruiting promising new Guards from the Army, the City Constabulary, and the church forces, but there is a specific position we should discuss.  We will need to appoint a Guardian of the Bedchamber, the personal guard who attends to your safety when you are sleeping or in bed.  Do you have a preference as to the Guardian’s sex, your grace?”

“Female,” replied Alistair instantly.

Kit rolled her eyes.  “Why am I not surprised…”

“I was thinking about you!  I’m perfectly comfortable with people seeing me in my bedchambers-- people have been keeping an eye on me my whole life.  You’re the one who hides beneath the sheets when they bring in our morning clothes.  I thought you would be more comfortable with a woman than with a man watching us when we sleep.”

Kit shrugged.  “Well, that makes sense, but still…”

“Ahem,” said Dame Brionna.  “I thought that might be the case and have identified a possible candidate.  Dame Gretchen Overfifer is a skilled knight in the Archducal service.”

“Overfifer?  A relation of the Lady Mayor’s, I assume?”

“Yes, I believe her sister, but Dame Gretchen is quite competent in her own right.  She is also politically and morally reliable, as a paladin of Glor’diadel.  She is underutilized in her current position in my opinion, especially given the losses we’re suffering.”

“What is her current position?” asked Kit.  “Would her loss be a problem?”

“She is the court sergeant-at-arms.”

“A mostly ceremonial position, I assume?”

“Yes, your grace.  The sergeant-at-arms has a variety of protocol duties and is responsible for managing entrances and the like.  She would serve to break up any disruptions and to expel anyone who violated proper court decorum, but the Archduchy rarely needs to call on its sergeant-at-arms to deal with issues like that.  I suspect that she was appointed primarily because of her birth; it is a fairly prominent posting.”

Alistair smiled.  “I think we can even appoint her without leaving any further vacancies.  A ceremonial post involved in making sure that court functions run smoothly and with proper decorum seems perfect for Lieutenant Zachary, and we wouldn’t need to worry that he would get some company killed in the field.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “Absolutely, your grace.  With your leave, I’ll take care of the reassignment.”  Even Kit nodded, a little reluctantly, but convinced that Dame Gretchen made sense.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Are there any other appointments we need to worry about in the short run?”

“No, your grace.  But I also have a report for you about the military situation.  As you know, Lord Alphonse Brightspan, the Duke’s eldest son and heir-apparent, is marching with his army to the south.  In addition to the First Field Army of Brightspan, he also has the support of the entire armies of Caligshire and Caldra, as well as one hundred drow and two Noldar battlebarges.  We must also assume that he has substantial magical power because of his status as the host of the Abomination of Shur.  That army is powerful, but it will become much more powerful in approximately two days when it unites with the Horde of the Ripping Tusk.  The Horde consists of approximately 15,000 orcs and uruks, with some ogre and hill giant shock troops as well.  Once the full army has assembled, it will be the most powerful army on Drucien outside of Hanal, Masque, and Canberry.”

“I should think so.  That’s nearly the equivalent of five full field armies, with substantial elite support.”

“Indeed, your grace, and the troops are generally hardened veterans with ample combat experience.  The army has some weaknesses.  Most notably, it has very little clerical support, far less than would be advisable for a force of that size.  They do have a fair number of psions and are presumably relying on redactors for healing.  They are also dealing very carefully with the people of the regions they are passing through, purchasing rather than looting.”

“Perhaps because of limits in their supply train?” asked Mahler, who had slipped into the Council chamber.

“Unfortunately, that’s not what our intelligence suggests.  They appear to have enough supplies to support a campaign of nearly two years.  However, because of the size of the army and of its supply chain, they cannot make more than about eight miles per day, so it will take them some time to reach the Spice Lands.”

“Do the Spice Lands have any defenses against an army that size?” wondered Kit.

“They are mustering what forces they have,” replied Dame Brionna a little grimly.  “They are assembling at the City-State of Tulani, which is contributing the largest number of troops.  The Archbishop of the Light for the Spice Lands is organizing the effort-- most of the small holdings in the Spice Lands are devoted to Lord Glor’diadel, and they heed the Archbishop’s call.  All told, their army is substantial in numbers, although smaller than the Abomination’s army.  They have two organized field armies and four scattered legions from the smaller city-states.”

“Half the troops… they might be able to hold out for a while in a defensive fight.”

“If they were veterans, your grace, but most of the armies have not seen action in living memory.  They do have several special assets-- forty Knights of Valor, all of whom have combat experience, and strong clerical support from the Archdiocese.  They also have some powerful allies-- a grey elf lord is supporting them with his troops.  He is a supreme archmagus and has brought three companies of wood elf archers.  The army has also been joined by twenty-five snakemen archers.”

“Snakemen?  Can we trust them?” asked Mahler.

“I do not know.  They have never before involved themselves in a human conflict, as far as we can tell.  But some of my information services consider them notable, even with their small numbers.”

“How long do we have before the army reaches them?”

“Approximately 100 days, your grace.”

“So we have some time to organize a response, but it would be difficult to get an army into position ahead of them, even if we could spare the troops.”

“Yes, your grace.  There is another army in the field as well.  On the far side of the Tulani forces, the Empire of Seachen has mobilized its entire field army.  It is apparently intended as a defense if the Tulani army is overwhelmed, but it could also serve to pincer the Tulani if the Seachen are actually allied with the Abomination.”

“Is there a reason to think they would be?” asked Kit.  “What do we know about the Seachen?”

“Less than we would like, and we know nothing about their alliances.  We know that they are a highly matriarchal empire.  They also have a strange religion.  None of their clerics are more powerful than the third circle, and I have heard that they worship dead gods and are trying to bring them back.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Mahler.

“No.  And I wonder if the Abomination of Shur might be considered a ‘dead god,’” added Alistair.

“That is my fear as well, your grace.  I have a contact who used to live in the Empire, and I plan to ask her for some more information, but I haven’t had the chance to yet.”

“Good.  In the meantime, I think we have to assume that the Seachen are allied with the Abomination.  Which means that the Spice Lands army would be completely overwhelmed.  We need to get them some more troops.”

“I agree, your grace, but I don’t think we could move any of our troops into position in time.  And we’re fairly extended already, between Sir Derrick’s war against the barbarians and posting Field Marshal Greening to defend the refugees against slavers.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair nodded.  “What about if we hired the Order of the Falcon?”

“I still don’t want to work with them!” said Kit.  “Their commander ate someone’s arm.”

“I’m not sure we have a choice.”

“There has to be someone else.”

“It may not matter, your grace.  It might be possible to move an army from Canberry at a rapid march to catch the Abomination’s army while it is still battling the Tulani, but the extra distance to Masque would be impossible.”

“What about our airships?  Could we use them to get an army into position?”

“No, your grace.  We could use them to engage the battlebarges to take away the enemy’s air advantage and to move in magical support.  But the airships can only carry a small number of marines, perhaps a few companies total.  We could not possibly move enough troops that way to make a meaningful difference.”

The group pondered the problem for a few minutes.  Alistair finally spoke again.  “I’m still looking at mercenaries as the best option.  We have plenty of money, but we don’t have plenty of troops.  And the Order of the Falcon is still the best mercenary option we’ve identified.  What if we constructed a teleportation circle or gate between Masque and the southern reaches of Canberry?  We could march the Order of the Falcon through in a matter of days.  If they can maintain a fast march, they should be able to catch the Abomination’s army before it has broken through the defenses around Tulani.”

Dame Brionna nodded appraisingly.  “It would be tight, but it should be possible.”

“There has to be a better option than the Order of the Falcon…”

Alistair looked at Kit.  “Then find it.  Even with the Order, I’m worried that we won’t be able to stop the Abomination.  We can’t afford to give up a chance without a better choice.”

Mahler tapped his hand on the arm of his chair thoughtfully.  “Moving the Order of the Falcon in will only help if the Archbishop of the Spice Lands can get his army to hold the Abomination long enough.  They have a hundred days to become an effective fighting force, but they’re still green.”

Alistair nodded and looked at Dame Brionna.  “What’s their leadership like?  Do they have a general who’s capable of forging them together and getting them as ready as they can be without actual experience?”

“Their leadership is part of the problem, your grace.  Each of the individual nobles commands a separate force, and none of them are willing to acknowledge the authority of any of their allies for fear that they would end up subordinated to one of the other city-states.  Tulani can lead to some extent, because its army is by far the largest, but that makes the other city-states even less willing to acknowledge the field army’s general as overall commander.  The only thing uniting them is their loyalty to the temple.  And while the Archbishop is reasonably militant, he’s not a general.”

“They might be more receptive to an outside leader,” said Kit.  “If the Archbishop backed a general that they knew could not use the opportunity to become a king...”

“Especially if that general arrived with substantial arcane support, since that’s their chief weakness,” added Alistair.  “They have one powerful archmage, but no mage corps to speak of.  We’ll need to send down one of our field marshals-- I don’t think there’s any other Glor’diadelian realm that could supply a skilled enough general.  It will have to be Broadfields… Sir Derrick and Greening are both currently needed in the field.  In any event, neither of them has the political skills the job will take.”

“I agree with the analysis, your grace, but we had planned on using Marshal Broadfields as Minister of Defense.”

“I know, but I don’t see any other option.  I think we’ll have to leave that post vacant while Broadfields leads the armies defending the Spice Lands.  He can take over those duties when he returns.”  Assuming he survives, thought Alistair.

Dame Brionna nodded and made a note to schedule a meeting with the Field Marshal.


----------



## Quartz

So how come they can't move one of Canberry's armies through a teleportation circle?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Actually, we could probably get an army from Canberry there without teleportation.  The concern was I think primarily that we just didn't have the troops to spare.  We have significant commitments currently fighting the barbarians and defending the refugee lands.  We also need strong forces at home to deter the Duchy of Brightspan from splitting and to deal with a potential orcish attack (although part of the possible horde that might attack has gone south with the Abomination's army).  The thought was that if we sent enough troops to carry the day, we would increase the risks to Canberry itself too much.  Also, and I'm not sure if this entered into anyone's calculations besides Alistair's, this could be really bloody.  Better to have that happen to mercenaries than to chew up our army, especially with the ongoing other threats and the new commitments if Hanal moves on Masque or Tang.  But the main consideration was that we just didn't think we had the armies to spare.

------

“Does that conclude the military issues?”

“Not quite, your grace.  The departures of the armies of Caldra and Caligshire have also created issues within the Archduchy.  Because they are devoid of troops, there have been problems with banditry and some humanoid raids.”

“Is anyone trying to hold things together?” asked Kit.

“Derrick, the son and heir-apparent of the Sheriff of Cogswood is trying to coordinate things as well as possible with his father here for the coronation, but he’s only fourteen.  He’s mostly riding about the countryside with his friends.”

Alistair frowned.  “That won’t make up for a lack of any real military presence.  And if he gets himself killed or captured… The faster things get settled down, the better.  But we’ll have to give Furrows the first crack at it.  They’re his vassals, not ours directly, and none of the Dukes will be happy if we start managing their internal affairs.  Especially not while he’s already sorting out an unclear succession after the deaths of the Caligshire House.”

“The Duke doesn’t seem well suited to handle a problem like that at this point, but Lady Susan should be ready to act decisively.  With your grace’s permission, I’ll send a message over to her at his compound.”

Alistair nodded.

Mahler looked at Dame Brionna quizzically.  “You said Brightspan’s army is traveling with two years worth of supplies and still foraging in the countryside?  Doesn’t that seem a tad excessive for what looks to be a short campaign?”

“Indeed.  We only really know that they have a huge number of heavily-laden wagons.  Our agents assume that those are carrying supplies, but have not been able to confirm it.”

“Spell components?” suggested Kit.  “They’re planning on performing a major ritual; maybe they needed to bring special supplies?”

“Maybe,” said Dame Brionna doubtfully.  “My worry is that the wagons might be filled with undead.  It would be an effective way to move them during the days, and they could seriously bolster the army’s power.”

Alistair shook his head.  “I was thinking they might be collapsed siege engines, but after hearing your theories, I think that’s a best case.  Still, they can’t keep them covered at all times, and in an army that big, there have to be many people who know what those wagons are carrying.  Make sure we find out.”

“Yes, m’lord,” said Kit.  “We’ll find out.  While we’re talking about the strategic situation, I’d like to contact the Duke of Snatterkaz.  I want to make sure that he’s still active, and I can give him our lead that Anastasia may be at the Muldar stronghold in preparation for the ritual.”

Alistair nodded. “Makes sense.  Even if she’s not, if he attacks the stronghold and disrupts their ability to perform the third part of the ritual, it will help us.  And it will be a huge relief if he can rescue her-- Hanal is too unstable without her.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After the meeting, Kit headed to the Archducal Treasury.

The Master of the Vault looked her over.  “May I help you?” he asked in an officious, off-putting voice.

“Yes.  I need to requisition a device capable of _Sending_.”

“On whose authority and for what purpose?”

Kit glared at him.  “I am Dame Katherine of Lyneham, and I need it for the business of the Archduke.”

The Master looked at her, thought about what he had heard of Dame Katherine, and decided that he should cooperate.  “You’ll need to fill out these requests.”  He slid a ledger over.

Kit swallowed.  She thought she mostly understood what the documents said, but the only thing she was confident about was her own signature.  Still, after a few minutes, the clerk handed her one of the documents.

“This is your copy.”  He headed back into a vault and emerged a few minutes later with a small chest that he opened at his desk.  “This bracelet will allow you to create the _Sending_ effect.  Will you be able to return it today?”

“Yes, I should.”

“Good.  See that you do.” He made another note in the ledger as Kit walked away.

She put the bracelet on and concentrated on the Duke of Snatterkaz while holding the linkstone in her other hand.  <<Are you alright?  May have location of Princess.  Use linkstone if safe.  Send back if not.>>

After a moment, the linkstone grew warm, and she felt the familiar mental signature of the Duke of Snatterkaz.  <<So pleased to hear from you.  We’ve been pursuing them, deep over the border.  We were nearly captured three or four times, but not quite, and it’s worth the risk.  Are there factions among these damn things?  A group of the huge damn things were about to fall on us, and all of a sudden another group of the small fellows opened fire on them with lightning.>>

<<Small pale ones?>> Kit sent back.

<<Yes, regular-sized, not the huge ones, but with greyish-white fur.>>

<<Those are about the only ones you can trust.  They are working against the others.>>

<<Yes, I suspected as much,>> replied Snatterkaz.  <<The search is going less well than we would have hoped.  They have huge slave fields down here.  We captured some of the group that took her, but torture means nothing to them.  We didn’t get anything out of them before they died.>>

Kit grimaced at Snatterkaz’s casual reference to torturing the skaven to death.  He was desperate, and they were skaven, but still…  <<We have an idea of where she may be.  We’ve located the site where an evil ritual will take place, and it’s logical that the skaven would have a large base there.  It is the third point in a ritual to raise the Abomination of Shur.>>  She discussed the precise location with Snatterkaz.

<<That’s northeast of where we are.  I can move my men in that direction.>>

<<We can’t guarantee that’s where she is.  But it’s our best lead.>>

<<It’s better than anything we have to go on.  Thank you.  I will not abandon her, but my knights are thinning out.  I’ve lost about a third of my force.  I will try to keep you informed of our progress more frequently in the future.>>

As Snatterkaz broke the connection, Kit “heard” the barest hint of an echo to his thoughts.  Eavesdropping, she thought.  I hope using the linkstone hasn’t given him away…  Unable to do anything more to help, she returned the sending bracelet to the Vault and prepared for one of her less pleasant duties as Mouth:  dinner.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Archducal household dressed in some of its finest clothing.  Alistair avoided particularly formal clothes but made sure that he looked his absolute, most dashing best.  Dame Brionna turned herself out in a formal uniform over brightly polished armor, while Mahler wore an elegant but unadorned black outfit.

Kit was worrying over her clothes, clearly not enjoying the process at all, when Dame Brionna asked, “Are you sure you want to attend the dinner?”

“I’ve already been over this with Alistair.  Of course I don’t want to, but I have to.  I need to be able to read her thoughts and feed them back to Alistair in case there is a threat.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I meant.  Are you sure you wouldn’t rather watch from the passageways within the walls.  That’s where most of the guards will be stationed; you could simply join them.”

Kit’s face lit up at the prospect.  She quickly changed back into her functional leathers and took up a position in the hidden passageways.

Aunt Cecilia arrived shortly before the scheduled start of the dinner, dressed in a rather overwrought pink confection.  She smiled absently at Alistair and his friends, leaving them to only hope that she was having a good day and would not be too embarrassing.  Still, they needed her assessment of the guest of honor too much to keep her away.

When all the preparations had been completed, a chamberlain entered and announced formally, “Her Highness, the Princess Kaitlyn Rehbah of Stormreach.”

A tall, strongly boned and tomboyish woman strode purposefully into the room and curtsied deeply.  She had long blond hair tied back, deep blue eyes, and her smile displayed fine teeth.  Alistair noted with disappointment that “strong” and “handsome” were words that fitted her better than “beautiful” or “alluring” ever would, but she was not unattractive.  Princess Kaitlyn  curtsied deeply.  “Thank you, your grace, for honoring me with this dinner.”  She had brought no retinue with her, and adopted the manners of a lesser noble greeting a greater noble.  Despite her formal rank, she followed the reality that she was a supplicant at the court of a much more powerful potential ally.

Alistair glanced at Aunt Cecilia, who was smiling placidly, and at Dame Brionna, who lowered her holy symbol without comment, and then swept forward.  “It is our pleasure and honor, your highness.”  He executed a courtly, carefully measured bow, and then kissed her hand in greeting.


----------



## Quartz

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> Alistair glanced at Aunt Cecilia, who was smiling placidly, and at Dame Brionna, who lowered her holy symbol without comment, and then swept forward.  “It is our pleasure and honor, your highness.”  He executed a courtly, carefully measured bow, and then kissed her hand in greeting.



Such a discourtesy to the ladies. Tut tut. "May I introduce my aunt, Lady Cecilia... and my bodyguard, Dame Brionna..."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit urgently thought over the mindlink to Aunt Cecilia.  <<Remember to not say anything aloud about what you see!  But think back to me what you see about her.>>

<<She’s very straightforward.  It’s amazing that she has managed to survive, but she is tough.  She’s also young-- I should say a few years younger even than young Alistair or yourself.  Somehow I thought she would be older.>>

<<But she isn’t a threat to him?>> asked Kit, unable to keep a little bit of hope out of her thoughts.

<<Oh, no, she’s perfectly harmless.  At least, to Alistair.  She is a fair general already and clearly a warrior.  I suppose she would have to be to even try to protect her people.>>

<<Thank you, your highness.  Make a hand signal if you see anything about her that I need to know.>>  Kit cut the link.

Alistair escorted the Princess to her seat, and she handed off a large bundle of parchment to Mahler.

“Our gift in honor of your coronation:  A collection of detailed maps of the southlands.  We hope that this information will be most useful to the Archduchy.”  Princess Kaitlyn and Alistair each earnestly embarked on small talk.

Kit opened a new mindlink to Dame Brionna.  <<I’ve gotten Aunt Cecilia’s report, and I can feed information to you more usefully.>>

<<Greetings.  Well, she isn’t evil.>>

<<I know.>>  Kit passed on Aunt Cecilia’s report on Kaitlyn.  <<Under any other circumstance, I think I’d like her.>>

<<I understand this may be difficult for you.>>

<<Thanks.>>

<<But Alistair has to consider what's best for Canberry.>>

<<And so do I. Which is why I'm watching this. It's not *fun*, but I need to be here.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Princess Kaitlyn began with a discussion of how much she admired Canberry City.  “It is so much grander than anything we have been able to rebuild as we try to make our own settlements.  But it is only fitting that you would rule from a glorious capital, your grace.  You will clearly be a strong and famed ruler.”

Her efforts at flattery were rather more transparent than she might have hoped, but Alistair judged that she would be more impressed by confirmation that she should respect his abilities than by any attempt at modesty.  “Thank you, your highness.  One of my few regrets about assuming the throne is that I will not be able to personally fight injustice as I could when I was younger.  On our return trip to Canberry, we liberated a barony from the evil priest who had usurped the rule.”  He began telling some amusing but self-aggrandizing stories about battling slavers and fighting off drow assassins on the trip back to Canberry.

<<Oh, dear, he’s bragging again.>> thought Dame Brionna.

<<He makes it sound like there were 50 drow!  There were a total of about 5, and I got one and you got two!>>

<<I’ll see what I can do to prevent him from seeming too full of himself.>>

As Dame Brionna began to interject some stories of the trip back, Kit thought eagerly.  <<Ooh, ooh, tell her about his pants falling down while we were fighting the werewolf. >> She paused and thought to herself for a moment.  <<Or maybe not…>>

Dame Brionna lightened up the conversation with some tales of some of the stranger moments in their journey, such as the battle where they were aided by a group of clown golems.  She also described Alistair’s efforts to gently dissuade the young boy who wanted to help them fight the drow, earning a pleased smile from the Princess.

“But, surely, our adventures pale in light of your own,” added Alistair.  “Your efforts to fight off the slavers and brigands who menace your people are famed throughout Drucien.”

A thin smile crossed Princess Kaitlyn’s face.  “Thank you, your grace.  I but try to fulfill my family’s duties.”  As Alistair continued to flatter her, she warmed a little as everyone strived to make a positive impression.  She even began trying to draw Princess Cecilia into the conversation.

<<Uh-oh,>> thought Dame Brionna.  <<What will Cecilia say?>>

<<Nothing good,>> replied Kit.  <<Something amusing.>>

Sure enough, no sooner had Princess Kaitlyn said a pleasantry to Cecilia than the matron reached over and patted her hand gently with a patronizing smile.  “All you need to do is to make a favorable marriage.  I know that it can seem a trying task at times, but…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Everyone startled at such a blatant statement, and Dame Brionna quickly cut in.  “In your fight against the skaven and the slavers, your highness, I wonder if you have heard any news of Sir Denro Barnstaple of Kilbourne?  We were betrothed, and I still hope that he will return although he has been missing all these years.”

The Princess’s face fell.  “I know of him, and his efforts on behalf of my kingdom, but as you say, he has been missing for many years.  We can hope he still lives and will return, but…  So many have been lost.”

Alistair nodded his head and looked at Kaitlyn compassionately.  “I have known what it is to lose close family.  My mother died when I was young, and then in the past year I have lost both my father and my grandmother.  But I can only imagine how much worse your pain must be, with all that you have been through.”

“We have all suffered terribly.  The invasion and the conflicts that followed have slain all of the other members of my family, but it’s worse than that.  Among our friends, among the vassals that looked to us for protection, so many are goner, and even those that survive struggle-- I sometimes think that the survivors are less fortunate than those that died quickly.  Certainly many of those we have rescued from slavery have thought so.”  She shook her head sadly.

As the mood veered past melancholy to bleak, Dame Brionna thought to Kit, <<Well, I was trying to divert the conversation…>>

<<Good try…  I’m sorry… I wish that she’d had better news.>>

<<There’s still a good chance that he survives…>>

Princess Kaitlyn continued, “My advisor says that those of us who survive are stronger than we would have been; I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Your advisor?” asked Mahler, wary of the influences on Princess Kaitlyn.  “One of your father’s old counselors?”

“Yes, his archmagus, Lord Devron Manyhands.  I retained his services after my father’s death, because I needed both his counsel and his arcane might to protect my people.”  The heaviness in her voice did not abate.  “I do not expect that we will ever be able to retake my homeland, much as that pains me.  But our best hope is to build a new kingdom.  For that, we will need strong allies.”

<<Lord Devron Manyhands,>> thought Dame Brionna.

<<Manyhands?>>  Kit managed to make the epithet an accusation.

<<I’m not saying I like the name.>>

<<Yeah, me either.  Another person for us to look into.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kaitlyn looked at Dame Brionna.  “How did you come to be betrothed to one of our knights?”

“My family was from Stormreach.  The Stanways of Eastbrook.”

“Ah.  So many of the old families died; I am pleased to see that some survived.  I remember your family from Court, when I was young.”

“My family were among the first to flee.  My sister’s daughter was an infant, and my parents insisted that we go.”  Long-harbored guilt surfaced on Dame Brionna’s face as she spoke.

“There would have been nothing you could have done if you had stayed.  We were overwhelmed.  A few more knights would have made no difference.”

“Besides,” added Alistair, “you were what?  Twelve?”

“I was sixteen, your grace.” Dame Brionna responded reproachfully.

“Still.  It was one thing for warriors in the fullness of age to make a stand, but all that the children could do was to survive and live to defend their people later.”

“Indeed,” agreed Kaitlyn.  “You had obligations to your family, as well.  I am glad that you have found a place here.”

“His grace has welcomed my family.  He even found a position for my sister’s niece as a page to, umm, a member of his Archducal Council.”

Princess Kaitlyn smiled as she looked at Alistair.  “It pleases me to hear that.  Our surviving nobles deserve a chance to serve in a proper kingdom.  And they have a duty to continue their families.”  She paused and then looked directly at Alistair.  “As I have duties as well.  I am the last of my lineage-- the last of any of the lineages of the South Kingdoms, and I trace my line to all of the royal houses.  We have nearly 1,500 years of lineage.  And yet it will die out if I do not bear legitimate children.”

<<Subtle she's not,>> thought Dame Brionna.  <<I wonder if directness is a common trait among our people...>>

<<Heh.>>  Kit reached out with her mind and read Princess Kaitlyn’s thoughts.  <<But she’s really serious about this duty thing. She means everything she's saying.>>

<<Good,>> replied Dame Brionna.

“Yes, we all must attend to our duties,” replied Alistair glumly.  “As I alluded to early, I never wanted to be Archduke.  Far better to be on the road, finding adventure and doing good where I could.  But when my father died… I could not allow Canberry to face chaos and even civil war for my own preferences.  And so I must serve.”

While Alistair and Kaitlyn continued discussing duty, and the evening settled back into gray unhappiness, Kit continued listening to Kaitlyn’s thoughts, making mental notes to herself about the Princess.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Father Waters led the guests through grace, thanking Glor’diadel for the light that grows the crops.  Alistair made a careful show of reverence, in case Princess Kaitlyn had strong religious views.

Instead, she looked at him at the conclusion of the prayer and said, “I see that you are devoted to Glor’diadel.”

“Indeed.  Canberry has always followed the Lord of Light.”

“My family traditionally viewed Berta as our patron, but I have been unable to follow her since she abandoned us during the intaking.”

“Have you embraced any other deity in her place?”

Kit read a clear thought in the Princess’s mind:  “Ah, perhaps his devotion to Glor’diadel is the key…”  Kit smiled at that.  Religion had never seemed key to Alistair’s affections before…

Princess Kaitlyn shook her head.  “No.  After the betrayal we experienced, it is difficult to reach a new faith.”

“Glor’diadel is the only possibility for a monarch,” replied Alistair.  “For an individual, any number of gods are worthy of respect.  We permit any of the faiths that are not aligned with evil to be worshipped freely in Canberry.  And when I was younger, I found the excitement of Whimsey appealing and devoted most of my prayers to her on my travels and escapades.”

Kit sent to Dame Brionna, <<Is he going to mention Manumist?  I bet he will.>>

“And some of my friends followed the joyful worship of Manumist and found his worship to be all they wanted from a temple,” continued Alistair, thinking of Delbon.

<<Ha!>>

Dame Brionna suppressed a sigh.  <<Oh, dear, no.  I was hoping not…>>

<<Sorry.>>

“But while those temples all stand with the forces of good, the disorganized temples cannot stand against the forces of Shadow and Darkness in the world.  Only the Light of Glor’diadel, with the order he creates in society, can keep a country safe from the perils we face.  Besides Glor’diadel, only Paranswarm could provide enough strength to a realm to keep it safe from the forces of chaos and Shadow, but Paranswarm is a terrible faith in its own right.  While we ally with the Paranswarmians against the pressing threats we face, and many individual Paranswarmians are good and worthy people, I fear that the temple and the god himself is still as evil as it ever was, just hiding it better.  Certainly it is still shot through with evil, although evil of a different kind.”  Alistair paused.  “Following Glor’diadel is another duty of rulership, and not just because by our traditions the Archduke and his consort are expected to be loyal to the Lord of Light.  It may not be what I would wish, but I cannot neglect my religious duty any more than the other duties of rule.  So while some of my friends may still serve Whimsey, or Manumist, and there are probably as many devotees of Gunnora in Canberry as there are the Lord of Light, I must worship the only God that can protect my people, and use the people’s faith in Him to strengthen the Archduchy.  It is another of the sacrifices we must make for duty.”

Dame Brionna looked at Alistair with more respect.  <<Oh, he has learned.>>

<<I guess so.>>

Princess Kaitlyn nodded.  “You speak most persuasively.  Perhaps I should look more closely at your faith…”

“If you wish, your highness, Father Waters would be happy to arrange for a priest of Glor’diadel to attend upon you and accompany you on your return home.”

“Thank you, your grace.  I would appreciate that.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Jet served the main course of the dinner.  As usual, it was outstanding.

Kaitlyn smiled as she attacked her dinner with gusto.  “My compliments to your chef, your grace.  It has been years since I have had food that even approached this quality.”  A second later, a guilty expression crossed her face.  “But how I can think of luxury while my people suffer…”

Alistair said gently, “Enjoying a dinner won’t make their suffering worse, your highness.  It would be one thing to refuse to leave your comforts behind when your people need you, but I have no doubt that you’ve eaten many camp meals, and unless I miss my guess more than a few meals of unheated jerky when even a campfire would be too much.  You are serving your people best by being here, seeking … an alliance.  There would be no point in turning away from a good meal while you are here.”

“Perhaps.  But so many of my people are hungry, and thinking of when we had luxuries of my own reminds me of the family I lost.”

While they continued talking, Kit carefully monitored Princess Kaitlyn’s thoughts.  Kaitlyn had enormous regrets over the death of her father.  Her thoughts of the intaking were her most selfish; she had been too young to worry about suffering beyond her family’s, but she missed her brother who died in the intaking terribly.  Now, however, her concerns centered on her duties to her surviving people.

Kit listened carefully for any hints from the princess about romance or marriage.  She could not probe Kaitlyn’s mind with the simple power she was using, but small talk left plenty of time for Kaitlyn’s mind to wander and Kit carefully read those thoughts.  Kaitlyn had a pretty clear idea that there might be a possibility of a political match with Alistair, but had not managed to summon up any warm and fuzzy feelings about him.  When Alistair mentioned the possibility of an alliance, the Princess’s thoughts reflected a willingness for her followers to even be incorporated as a new duchy, although her sense of familial honor made her want to retain the royal title.  And she knew that the only way she could keep that title if her lands became part of the Archduchy would be if she married the Archduke.

Kit also noted that none of Kaitlyn’s thoughts about an arranged marriage touched on any current romances.  Kaitlyn thought about how part of her duty to her family would be to marry as a virgin, but Kit did not detect any particular regret about that, or any excitement about the possibility of physical relations with Alistair.  She wondered if Kaitlyn might be lesbian, but without the ability to probe the Princess’s thoughts more deeply, she couldn’t be certain.  All that she knew for sure was that the increasing interest she was showing in Alistair over the course of the evening was completely feigned.

Over dessert, Dame Brionna asked Kaitlyn whether she had followed any particular path in her training before the South Kingdoms fell.

“Yes, I was training to be a ranger.  I wasn’t supposed to be the heir, of course, and so could pursue my own interests.  And some of those skills have served me well leading our troops against the slavers.  But since the intaking, I have devoted myself more purely as a warrior.  A general needs those skills more, and there isn’t much call for the minor woodland magics or empathizing with animals.”

Dame Brionna nodded approvingly at that answer.

“Perhaps you would care to join me in the map room after dinner?  As you know, we have deployed several field armies to help the refugees against slavers and against unscrupulous ruffians who are seizing power.  We could perhaps coordinate some of our efforts.”

Dame Brionna thought wryly to Kit, <<Oh, is that what they call it?>>

<<Hey!  I have to keep quiet back here,>> thought Kit with mirth in her thoughts.

<<Sorry… You probably don’t want to hear about that…>>

<<No, it’s better to laugh about it.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

As the dessert finished, Alistair rose and offered his arm to Kaitlyn.  He put on a show of his most charming behavior, and he could be charming, indeed.  Kit could tell from Kaitlyn’s thoughts that she was still not actually interested, but Kaitlyn did a good job of faking interest and edged ever closer to Alistair as they left the room arm in arm.

<<Ugh.>> thought Kit.

Dame Brionna ignored her distaste, aware that nothing she could say would help.  “All right, time to slip through the corridors,” she said as Kit emerged through a secret door.

“Right.”

“You know, she could definitely make up for Alistair's weak points in the next generation - looking at the handclasp.”

Kit chuckled.

“I mean, at least, if she has common sense.”

“It sounds like she does.”

The two of them passed through a secret passageway and entered a tunnel running along the map room, where they could hear Alistair and Kaitlyn engaged in quiet conversation.  When Mahler saw that they were heading off to spy on Alistair’s private flirting, he turned quickly away.  He wandered off to a quiet, private spot within Alistair’s chambers and began flipping through the detailed maps that Kaitlyn had given the Archduchy.  As promised, the maps were detailed indeed.  They included political and topographical maps, and even specialized charts such as water tables.  They also carefully depicted the southern coastline, noting all of the useful harbors, including both the port cities that fell to the skaven and other harbors that had never been developed into trading ports.

Alistair and Kaitlyn devoted their time in the map room to practical pursuits.  They discussed troop dispositions and strategy, each praising the other’s acumen, and continued to speak of duty.  The conversation was heavy and somewhat morose, but they felt a shared sense of the burdens that they each had.  They also each sent as clear signals of interest as they could without being too forward, and as the discussion wore on, the degree to which Alistair fooled Kaitlyn into thinking that he was interested in her as more than a political marriage was only matched by the degree to which she fooled him.

As the discussions of battle strategies and duty continued, Dame Brionna thought to Kit, <<Wow.  I thought only Knights of Valor flirted like this.>>

<<Heh.  Well, I can't call this romantic, but you know, that's all right. She just wants to do this for her kingdom and her duty. She's *fine* if he has someone on the side. Doesn't know about me, though.>>

<<Hey, compared to Look, compared to Crazy Hanalian and Rat-Girl?>>

<<I said that was fine! All she cares about is duty.>>

<<She's been through a lot!>> replied Dame Brionna, a touch defensively.

<<Oh, I know that.>>

Kit concentrated on the conversation between Alistair and Kaitlyn.  Knowing that the visit was coming to an end, Alistair was again as charming as possible, while correctly deciding that a fairly formal and polite approach would elicit the best response.  Kit giggled

<<Why are you laughing?>>

<<She just thought, “He isn't as awful as I had heard! I might be able to live with this.”>>

<<Oh dear. What stories are being spread?>>

<<I don't know, but I'll find out.>>

<<Do. We need him to have a good reputation.>>

<<She just thought, “Maybe they were lying about him.”>>

<<Huh. Based on that, we need to research her advisors.>>

<<I have a feeling I'm going to have a *lot* to combat here,>> replied Kit.  <<But believe me, I'm trying.>>

After the perfectly appropriate time for a private visit between two unmarried royals, Kaitlyn straightened from the maps.  “Thank you, your grace, for a lovely evening and for honoring my people and myself with this invitation.”

Alistair stared into her eyes as he responded.  “The pleasure and honor was all ours, your highness.”  He kissed her hand again, but this time with a certain amount of hesitancy, apparently from nervousness.  “I hope that we will be able to see each other again soon, and I wait eagerly for that hour.”

“Thank you, your grace.  I am certain that we will.”

Alistair escorted the Princess to the doors of his apartment, and she gave his arm a tiny squeeze just before he left.  As the doors closed, Alistair was positive that the Princess was falling for him, although Kit knew that it was just a show.  But Kaitlyn was equally fooled.


----------



## Quartz

Hehehe! Nice one.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair and his friends gathered in a sitting room.  Alistair knew that he had made good progress towards a tremendously valuable political marriage.  But there was also no possibility of love or even light romance, and her sadness and fixation on duty would make him unhappy in all their interactions, as she kept his mind focused on the sacrifices he made for duty.  That most of the world would scoff at his “sacrifices” and view him as tremendously privileged never crossed his mind.

They sat in silence for a while.  “You could do a lot worse,” said Kit.

“I know.  The match would be politically useful, and she is a good and able person.”

“And her children would make fine heirs for the Archduchy,” added Dame Brionna.

“We should think about whether there are other candidates that we should meet before we pursue an actual agreement.  Like should we still arrange a meeting with the sister of the King of the Cities of the Gates?”

Dame Brionna scowled.  “I don’t like anyone described as quiet as a mouse, your grace.  These days, analogies to rodents…”

“I know.  But that may have just been an infelicitous turn of phrase.” Alistair shook his head.  He walked across to a liquor cabinet, searched for the hardest liquor he could find, and poured a very tall glass.

“Your grace,” said Dame Brionna reprovingly.  “You still have duties to attend to, and there will be more work in the morning…”

“And I think I’ve spent enough time on duty tonight.”

Kit nodded.  “Better pour me one, too.”

As Alistair reached for a second glass, a young page rushed into the room and prostrated himself before the Council.  Alistair scowled and gestured for him to rise.  “Get up, get up.  What is it?”


----------



## Quartz

Ooh, so they do a proskynesis rather than a kneel, do they?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Actually, as a general rule, people in Canberry do not prostrate themselves.  Kneeling is more than enough, and bowing is actually fine.  That's why Alistair was annoyed at the overly obsequious attitude.   But certain subsets of Canberran society have more extreme views....

-----
The page looked up at them but did not rise.  “Begging your pardon, your grace, your ladyships, your lordship.  Lady Constance Deepingwell requests that the Privy Council join her in the coven chamber.”

“Very well,” said Alistair, putting aside the bottle.

“Do you know why she wishes to see us?” asked Dame Brionna as the group headed for the staircase to the coven chambers.

“Yes, m’lady.  Lady Brightspan’s pregnancy has progressed very rapidly since the enchantment was broken and may kill the victim.  Lady Constance wishes to have the Crown’s instruction.”

Alistair swore under his breath as they hurried up to the coven chamber.  They rushed into the room, where Lady Constance and several of her fellow diabolists stood before a pentacle containing Lady Zenia Brightspan.

“Ah, thank you for coming.  Young Lady Brightspan’s pregnancy has grown enormously.  I fear that I will not be able to save both mother and child; the strain is too great and the fetus is taking too much energy from her for me to restore.  I need you to decide which to save.”

Alistair gestured at one of the junior coven members.  “Summon Midwife Burleytoes.  If anyone can save them both, she will be the one.”  Alistair looked at Lady Constance.  “Do you know what Lady Zenia would want?”

“No, your grace.”

Kit swallowed.  “I’ll try to find out.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Be careful,” said Alistair.

“I will.”  Kit reached out with her mind.  <<Lady Zenia?>>

<<What’s happening?  Something’s wrong, but I don’t understand…>>

<<There is a problem with your pregnancy.  With the spell broken, it’s progressing too fast.  They’re not sure that they can save both you and the child.>>

<<Oh, gods…>>

<<If there is a choice, which of you do you want us to save?>>

<<Is the baby clean?>>

“She wants to know whether the baby is clean.”

“It is not tainted or necessarily evil,” replied Lady Constance.  “We got rid of the true demonic taint with the enchantment.  There may be some effects of its parentage, but it will not be damned by its nature.”

<<Yes.  They cleansed the demonic taint from it.>>

<<Then, if it can be only one, save the baby.  It deserves its chance, and Lord Glor’diadel will smile on my sacrifice.>>

Kit closed her eyes and swallowed again.  “She says to save the baby, then.”  Alistair stepped in behind Kit to give her support.

<<Can you stay with me?  I can’t hear the others, and it’s frightening.>>

<<Yes, I’ll be with you as long as I can.>> Kit looked at her friends.  “I’m going to keep comforting Lady Zenia.”

“Would it be safe to be mindlinked with her if she dies?” asked Alistair.  “I don’t want you taking any chances.”

“I don’t know, but I won’t.  I’ll break the link before she starts to finally go.”

The coven continued casting.

“Shouldn’t you boil water or something?” Dame Brionna asked Alistair and Mahler.

Alistair just pointed at a devil carrying over a heavy metal cauldron.  The water inside was boiling from the heat of the devil’s flaming hands.

“Oh.”


----------



## Quartz

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> “Shouldn’t you boil water or something?” Dame Brionna asked Alistair and Mahler.




Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After only a few minutes, Midwife Burleytoes rushed in.  She sucked in her breath as she took in Lady Zenia’s state, and then quickly began giving instructions.  “A quick birth is the only hope.  I’ll need the following herbs to induce her labor.”

Less than a half-hour later, Lady Zenia was in active labor.  “There are some benefits to the magically accelerated pregnancy,” murmured Lady Constance.

Midwife Burleytoes sat before Lady Zenia, feeling her abdomen.  “It’s in the proper position, but this will be a very difficult process, and she’s losing life energy rapidly.”  Still, the halfling midwife continued praying to Gunnora and working on delivering the baby.

After a brief discussion, Lady Constance reached to find a sharp knife and returned with a wickedly curved sacrificial blade.  She ran it through a fire to sterilize it and then quickly made a large episiotomy to speed and simplify the delivery.  A few seconds later, the baby was born.

Kit, wavering on her feet from the effort of reassuring Lady Zenia, sent, <<Your baby has been born!>>

<<Will it live?>>

<<Yes, it’s a healthy, normal baby.>>

<<Thank Glor’diadel…>>  Lady Zenia’s thoughts became faded and jumbled.

Kit’s eyes widened.  She broke the mindlink.  “We’re losing her!”

Dame Brionna poured as much healing magic in as she could, and Midwife Burleytoes added her own powerful spells.  Alistair shouted for a priest, and in a few moments a Glor’diadelian chaplain was also healing Lady Zenia.

Dame Agatha looked around.  “She shouldn’t still be losing life energy…”  After a moment, she thrust a complicated sigil, like a holy symbol but much more complicated at the south wall.  “Lilith, Queen of Hell, seal this place!”

------

I feel the need to mention here that the DM demonstrated a poor sense of timing with this plotline.  Out of the 4 players for this session, two of us were expecting our first child less than a month after this game, and a third had had his first child about 6 months earlier in a slightly more exciting than ideal pregnancy.  So it was cool, and emotionally gripping... and not necessarily what we wanted right then. 

Updates are unlikely until Monday, as I'll be on the road and probably without net.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

As she invoked the infernal power, a small black tendril leading through the wall became visible, and other coven members sprang into action.  “Brita, Princess of the Nails, block this with your iron arms!” cried another diabolist, thrusting her own sigil at the tendril.

Dame Brionna began pushing Alistair out of the chamber.  “Your grace, we need to leave.  This is not safe for you.”

Alistair did not resist, but reached out and firmly grabbed Kit’s arm, dragging her with them.  For her part, Kit was still largely in shock from the contact with Lady Zenia’s mind so close to death.  Alone of the Council, Mahler remained, quietly edging his way away from the mystic struggle but keeping a close watch on it.

Several of the other senior coven members invoked various powerful devils, while Lady Constance continued pouring energy into the young mother.

Finally, Mahler saw the tendril reshape itself into a strange image with a double overlay.  At its most basic, the image was of Alphonse Brightspan, but overlaid on his features were both a strange face, half cat and half man, and jutting archaeological features, towers, and buildings.  The human features were completely neutral, but the cat figure’s lips formed words.  “Traitorous b---h, you have failed.  Even when you were taken by force you could not serve me.”  It raised its hands, and a bolt of energy flew at Lady Zenia.  Dame Agatha turned on her heal and dove in front of the bolt, trying to interpose her symbol but missing by inches.  The bolt of energy struck her squarely in the chest, and she collapsed, dead.  Mahler faded even further back into the room, quietly hiding behind laboratory equipment.

The cat outline hissed in anger.  Before it could act again, another coven member advanced directly upon it, presenting the symbol of Brita.  “In the name of the Princess of the Seventh Plane, I eject you!”  With another hiss, the cat thing outline faded from the wall.

The coven gathered around Dame Agatha’s body and confirmed that she was dead.  Lady Constance looked over at the page.  “Tell the Archduke that Lady Zenia will live.  And tell him that I wish to negotiate the right to offer the passing of our sister to our patrons in our own way.”

The page hurried out to where Alistair, Kit, and Dame Brionna were waiting for news.  He prostrated himself.  “Lady Constance wishes to inform you that Lady Zenia will live.”  As everyone began to relax, the page continued, “In exchange for her life, Dame Agatha has perished.”

“Is her body intact?  Can we raise her?” asked Alistair.

“No, your grace,” said the page.  “Her body was not harmed, but she served Lilith, and her contract will not allow her to be raised.”

“And there’s nothing to be done about that?”

“Not without negotiating her soul back from Lilith.  She will get another turn of the wheel after her time is done.”

“In 10,000 years,” said Dame Brionna flatly.

“Yes, m’lady,” said the page.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Dame Agatha was the diabolist who aided you before?” Alistair asked Dame Brionna.

“Yes, your grace, but…”

Alistair spoke rapidly to the page.  “Tell Lady Constance that we will be returning to the coven chamber and that I will need her to summon Lilith herself.  I have an offer to make to her.”

“What?” cried Kit.  “No!”

At almost the same time Dame Brionna said, “Your grace, you can’t…” and began moving to block his path back to the coven chamber.

“I am the Archduke, and I command you to step aside.  I will return to that chamber to ransom Dame Agatha’s soul.  I am tired of losing good people in our service.  I am not going to negotiate, but I have an offer that I think she will take.”

Kit sent to Dame Brionna in panicked tones, <<We can’t let him do this!>>

<<I know, but there’s nothing I can do.  I can’t disobey his command and stop him, and he would just go later without us.>>

<<But the worst of it is that it’s Lilith!  You’ve heard stories about her-- what if she seduces him?>>

<<That’s what I’m afraid of.>>

Alistair walked purposefully into the coven chamber.

“I am ready to summon Lilith, the Queen of Hell, if that is your will.”

“It is,” replied Alistair steadily, resolutely ignoring the entreaties from Kit and Dame Brionna.

Lady Constance began an incantation.  “Lilith, Queen of Hell, I entreat you and command you, appear before us.  A petitioner comes to offer a deal, and by the terms of our deal, I command you to appear and listen.”

Smoke and fire rose from the stone floor of the coven chamber, and a tall, slender figure appeared in the smoke.  Except for a long forked tail and tiny horns on her head, she appeared as a gorgeous woman, the smoke drifting tantalizingly around her body.  She smiled at Alistair and opened her mouth to speak.

“Hold.  I will not negotiate with you.  I will make an offer that you will either accept or reject, with no modifications or conditions.  I wish you to allow us to raise from the dead diabolists who die in the service of the Archduchy of Canberry, as judged in the sole and unquestioned judgment of the Archduke.  If you refuse, I will banish all of the diabolists from Canberry, revoke all licenses for diabolism, and forbid any further place for those who deal with you in my realm.  If you agree, I will continue to issue licenses and will permit the Archducal Coven to continue to operate.  Furthermore, I will permit diabolism to be taught to students with licenses at the new school of magic I will found.  That is my offer.  Do you accept?”

Lilith smiled, and leaned forward a little.  “I would have rather had a piece of your soul.  But your terms are acceptable.”

“That is why I refused to listen to any counteroffer or negotiation.  I will not deal with you for any part of my soul.”

“And I have accepted your offer.”

“Then know that Dame Agatha died in the service of the Archduchy, and we demand her soul be released.”

“As you wish.  You will need to find your own priest to raise her-- that is not among the powers I grant my followers.”  Lilith looked over at Lady Constance and smiled smugly.  “And remember, you cannot raise those who die of old age.  They will be mine soon enough, first Lady Constance, and later Dame Agatha and the rest.”

“Dismiss her.”

“Yes, your grace.  Lilith, I command you to begone from this place!”  As the devil vanished, she looked at Alistair.  “I would not have expected you to come to Dame Agatha’s aid.”

“She died in my service, after having risked her life to aid us before.  It is only right that I ensure that she get a long life and the full benefit of her bargain.  And I suspect that she had not made preparations for her death, to make her place in Hell less oppressive, which can be the only reason to think that a deal such as hers is worth it.”

Lady Constance nodded, looking at Alistair with new respect.  “You truly are Amelia’s grandson.  We thank you, your grace.”

“Send a message to the Archbishop asking him in my name to have Dame Agatha raised.”  With that, Alistair left to return to his chambers accompanied by his rather shocked and horrified council.  As they returned to the sitting room, Alistair gave the drink he had poured and left behind to Kit.  For his drink, Alistair just picked up the bottle.

End of session


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Session 12:

The following day had a busy schedule, with the formal cremation of the late Archduchess promising a day of sorrow and ceremony.  But before the ceremonial duties began, Dame Brionna reviewed her military briefings and concluded that she needed more information on the Seachen Empire.  And fortuitously, she knew someone who could tell her more from personal experience.

As Dame Brionna had expected, Ilsbet sat in the Archducal library even early in the day, carefully reading the tomes of magic that she had received from the collection of the Mother Superior of the Order of the Silvery Veil.  Ilsbet took no notes as she read but studied the books intently.  Still, unlike most readers concentrating on difficult materials, Ilsbet rarely went for longer than a minute or two without looking around the library, just in case there was some threat.  The girl looked up as Dame Brionna approached her table.  Suspicion colored her voice.  “Yes?”

“I hope that you are finding the library interesting and learning a great deal.”

“Yes.  The collection is very impressive.  But why did you wish to speak with me?”

Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “I would like to ask you a few questions about the Seachen.”

“The human Seachen?”

“Uh, yes.  Wait… are there non-human Seachen?”

Ilsbet ignored the question.  “What did you want to know?”

“What can you tell me about their religion?  You said they worship dead gods?”

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Trying to bring back dead gods makes even less sense than worshiping living gods.”

Dame Brionna pursed her lips disapprovingly, but let the sacrilege slide.  “What can you tell me about their priests?  Are they powerful?”

“Yes.  The priests control much of the government, and use many slaves on their great project.”

“Their great project?”

“I don’t know the details-- I never worked on it.  But more religious mistresses would send their slaves to serve the priests, digging in the ancient city.  I am not certain what they were doing, but it had something to do with their effort to bring back the dead gods.”

“When you describe their power, did the priests have powerful divine magic?”

“No.  Some of the priests can cast minor spells, and some are mages.”

“None of the priests could cast the more powerful spells, like raising dead?”

“I don’t think so.  I never heard of any great miracles.  Their gods are *dead*, after all.”

“Do they have any means of healing, then?”

“Their priests can do minor healing.  And they have some redactors-- psions who are skilled in healing.  But from what I’ve seen, I would say that they have less healing capabilities than your land does.”

“What about their army?  How powerful is its magical capabilities?”

“The Seachen have many mages, and some of their mages are very powerful.”

“So significant arcane support, some psionic support, but little to no divine magic?”

“That sounds accurate.”


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Thought it was time I dropped in again to reiterate how much I'm enjoying this story - and to say, Keep up the good work.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks!  It's always really nice to hear that people are enjoying the storyhour.

----
Dame Brionna nodded thoughtfully, as she considered the additional information about the strategic situation.  “Do you know anything about the forest lords, the half-snake people from the woods near the Seachen lands?”

“The original Seachen?  Why do you want to know about them?”  Ilsbet’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“They are also called the Seachen?  That’s what you meant by the non-human Seachen?”

“Yes.  At least, I think they are more properly the Seachen than the matriarchy.  One of them said something about the human Seachen having stolen their name.”

“You’ve met them?

Ilsbet ignored the question.  “Tell me why you want to know about them.”

“There is an army marching south towards the Sunken Lands, under the control of a powerful demon.  A group of these Seachen have joined some of our allies who are preparing to fight the army, and I’m trying to figure out how they affect our strategy.  That’s also why I was asking about the Seachen Empire.  They have moved a large army into position, apparently in case our ally’s army fails to stop the demon’s forces, but we need to confirm that they’re not working with the demon to pincer the defenders.”

“The true Seachen would not be fighting on the same side as the Seachen Empire.  If they are reinforcing your allies, they expect the Empire to attack your allies.  They hate the human Seachen passionately.”

“Are they good?”

Ilsbet thought for a moment.  “They were kind to me, and they oppose the human Seachen, who are surely evil.”

“Do you know anything about their capabilities?”

“At least some of them are capable psions.  And they are skilled hunters.”

“You said they were kind to you.  Do you think they would be friendly to you if you met them again.”

Ilsbet nodded.  “I think so.”

“Perhaps you could serve as an intermediary from the Archduke to them, then.  We need to improve our communication with them.”

Ilsbet laughed.  “That is a strange suggestion.  You know that I will not swear any oaths to be loyal to your Archduke.  I will not be a slave to anyone.”

“I know.  But you could carry messages to them-- representing the Archduke, even without serving him.  They might even find that more trustworthy, as you would be speaking for yourself, but conveying messages from the Archduke.”

Ilsbet nodded thoughtfully.  “Perhaps.  If you wish me to speak to them, I will, as long as you understand that I will remain my own person, and that I will not betray them.”

“We would not ask you to.  I will leave you to your studies, and we may speak of this further.  You should also speak to the Minister of Magic.  He may be able to provide you access to more books on magic.  And, soon, we will be establishing a new academy for the study of magic.  I hope that you will study there.”

Ilsbet smiled avariciously at the thought of more opportunities to learn magic.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The funerary pyre burned, with the Archducal Council standing in a group, closest to the pyre.  Select nobles and ambassadors also stood nearby in small clots.  A ring of Archducal and palace guards blocked off the mass of mourners.  Thousands of merchants, factors, nobles not favored with attendance with Lord Alastair and his friends, and other substantial citizens formed a massive crowd behind the ring of guards. Another ring of guards stood behind those citizens, and beyond them, as many of the common people as could find a way out of toil for a few hours clustered in a massive thong.

The Archbishop finished his invocation and sped the Lady Ashberry’s spirit on its way to the Lord of Light.  Local tradition then took hold.  Those who had worn the unrelieved black armbands advanced, one at a time, to the pyre to cast themselves within.  One of the reasons for the guards was to prevent any mass show of sorrow on the part of the populace, who loved the Lady well. Solemnly, old men and women, whose lives had been given to the Throne, tottered forward and, mostly without a sound, joined the Lady in her final journey.  

Out of the corners of their eyes, the Council saw a lithe middle aged woman, dressed in finest black silk with a shawl of woven spigga silk, advancing toward the fire.  She was not a member of the royal party, nor known to any of the Council.  A pair of guards rushed to intercept her.  She sidestepped the lieutenant, somehow entwining him in her shawl as she passed, and simply touched him on the shoulder.  He stumbled forward and fell, struggling with the silk, seemingly unable to free himself.  The second guard she tapped with a closed fan -- a fan that seemed to be of ebony and ivory, with some glittery substance at the edges.  She stepped aside again as he soundlessly toppled to the ground.   She advanced toward the pyre, where clerical guards stood from the temple.  As she did so, the Council saw the cruder black of the armlet of sacrifice against the black of the arm of her silk gown.  

Her fingers flashed, rapidly, signing in what Alistair knew to be Thieves’ Cant and Kit could actually understand.

Two more palace guards rushed forward.  She spun lightly, touched one on a shoulder, and somehow maneuvered them into a collision with each other, using her fan.  All wit seemed to have fled them, for they seemed unable to untangle themselves from each other.

Her fingers flashed again, more urgently, as the priest who was in charge of the paladins guarding the pyre itself stepped forward, and handed the ceremonial crook of his office to a young page, thus freeing his hands.  He shrugged his cloak back off his shoulders and begins to prepare a spell.

Kit’s fingers worked frantically as she signed back.  “Wait!  Who are you?”

The woman’s fingers continued in their motions.  “I preceded you.  It was from me that your messages came.”

“Please don’t do this.  I need to know what you know.  At least wait.”  While Kit was earnestly trying to persuade the woman not to commit suicide, she knew that she was not doing a very effective job.

“I will carry out my last duty.  You must continue the work from here.”  The woman snapped her hand out and the odd fan she carried flew through the air towards Kit.  As it reached her, it folded itself up and landed at her feet.  

A man in the crowd behind the Archducal party cried out in despair as the woman turned away from the dais.  The priest cast his spell to bind her motionless, but she simply shook her head at him with the smallest hint of a smile.  With a graceful dive, she leapt high into the flames of the pyre.  In seconds, she was just another part of the flaming memorial.

As Kit reached down to scoop up the fan, she said to Dame Brionna, “I need to speak with the man who cried out.”

Dame Brionna nodded and gave some quick orders to the guards that surrounded them.  Several guards began making their way back through the crowd, towards where the man remained weeping.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit looked with curiosity at the fan.  The fan was made entirely of crystal, and it hummed gently in Kit’s hand as she picked it up.  She snapped it open and saw the graceful script of the elves written across it.  “What does it say?  I can’t read elven.”

Alistair looked at it and paused for a moment.  “It’s not in elven, or not exactly.  That’s Eldar.  Let’s see… it’s addressed to my, hmm, twelve great-grandfather, ‘for your service.’  And then that last word is a name- the name of the Queen of Singing Leaves.  It’s likely a powerful artifact if it was given as a major gift directly from the Queen to an Archduke.”

“I think I’ll keep this, then.  It could be useful.”

“In the service of the Archduchy,” said Dame Brionna, a little scandalized.  “A great object like that must remain in the Archduchy’s collection.”

“But we ought to use it for the Archduchy, not just hoard it,” said Kit, a little annoyed.  “I’m not going to sell it.  None of us would sell a great asset of the Archduchy.  Except maybe Mahler.”

Even Mahler laughed at that.

The guards who had been entangled in the shawl also managed to finally untangle themselves.  They looked horribly embarrassed by the experience-- taken down by a piece of cloth?  But as they brushed themselves off, tried to regain their dignity, and resumed their stations, the spiga-silk shawl rolled, slid, and crawled away from them.  The shawl made its way up onto the dais, where it crawled over to Kit and slumped up against her.

“Just what I always wanted,” she said.  “My own pet shawl.”  But while her voice held amusement, she was legitimately excited.  The shawl’s magic seemed powerful indeed.

The rest of the funeral went much more smoothly.  A steady stream of high-ranking mourners wearing black armbands through themselves onto the pyre.  Knowing that they would only suicide later and that stopping them would risk a terrible disruption of the ceremony, the guards simply watched them going about their last duty.  The handful of commoners, however, who attempted to emulate their example were quickly stopped by solid walls of guards and by _Sleep_ spells.


----------



## Baron Opal

Owie, owie, owie.

Burning to death is a particularly painful way to die. What a strange custom.

Particularly if you're high level. At 1d6 a round it can take a while.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

LOL!

----

Alistair noted that the Archbishop was very good at staring off into the distance, no doubt pondering Amelia’s death and lofty spiritual matters, and thus avoiding watching the mourners’ sins.  As the pyre consumed the last of the mourners, the Archbishop rose to his feet to conclude the religious portion of the ceremony.

“If I may, your eminence, I would like to address the people as well,” murmured Alistair.

“Of course, your grace.  I will introduce you at the appropriate time, and my priests will magnify your voice so that all the people can hear you.”  The Archbishop ran through several heart-felt prayers for the dead and then called Alistair to him for a eulogy.

“Today is a sorrowful day for all of Canberry.  Who did not have their life touched and, in a large way for some and a small for others, improved by my grandmother’s life?  This has been a tragic year for me, with the loss of both my father and now my grandmother,”  Alistair’s voice strained with emotion.  “And it would be easy for me to think of this as a personal tragedy.  But the entire Archduchy feels her loss as keenly as I do; indeed, she was like a grandmother to us all.  And she taught me to view all of you as part of my family.

“But, hard as it is to accept her death, we must persevere.  My grandmother knew we would mourn, but she would want-- indeed, she does want as she watches us from Lord Glor’diadel’s realm-- us not to give in to despair, but to live on, living our lives as she lived hers.  These are troubled times, and not just because of our loss.  But if we remain united, dedicated to doing what is right, trusting in Glor’diadel’s protection, we cannot fail.  She spent her life protecting and watching over us; we must not dishonor her memory by squandering that gift, but must work together to protect each other and build the world she sought.

“My grandmother has passed, but her memory will live on.  In her honor, the Archduchy will endow a great school of magic.  But that will be only the most obvious way in which we will honor her memory and carry on her legacy.  The far greater way will be through honoring her in each of our hearts and through living our lives as she would want us to.”  Alistair choked up at the end and stepped back, overcome by emotion.

The Archbishop smiled at Alistair, pleased by the effort, the message, and the effect that the speech had on the crowd, and led the gathered masses in a series of prayers before giving the benediction.  He was assisted throughout by Bishop Horace Hogsworthy, the palace chaplain.  While Bishop Williams had still lived as the Archduchess’s personal chaplain, the position of palace chaplain had been something of a dead end position, but Bishop Hogsworthy seemed to be pushing for a more prominent role now.  Unfortunately, he was the most self-indulgent clergyman of Glor’diadel that any of the Archducal Council had ever met.

As soon as the formal ceremony ended, the Council turned away from the great square and re-entered the palace.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit put her hand on Alistair’s arm.  He smiled back.  “I’m as well as I can be.  I miss my grandmother, but don’t worry about my show back there.  That was for the people to see… my own mourning is the private grief you’ve already seen.  And we don’t have time for more of that now.”

Kit might have said something in response, but a small group of guards saluted their party and gestured at a middle-aged merchant, standing there with three children who ranged from young to very young.  The children mostly looked confused, but it was clear they had been crying.

“Dame Katherine, this is the man you wished to see.”

The merchant bowed deeply.  “Dame Katherine, I am honored to meet you.  I am Gary Weighthand.  I didn’t know that that was going to happen, but…”

“Master Weighthand, I wonder if we could speak in private?”

He nodded, and Kit signaled to Abigail, who quickly led the children away and began distracting them.

“I assume that she was your wife?”  Getting a nod in response, Kit continued.  “Do you know how she served the Archduchess?”

“Not exactly, no.  I knew she was a confidante of the Archduchess, but I assumed that was from how she was purchased out of slavery.  On a state visit, Archduchess Amelia saw a strom-- that’s one of the Hanalian earls-- beating a slave girl.  The Archduchess was indignant and insisted that the strom either sell the girl to her or face the Archducal champion.  Well, the champion was famed throughout Drucien for skill at arms, until he took his life after the Archduchess died, so the strom had no choice.  My wife was devoted to the Archduchess for saving her.”

“What did your wife do?’

“Oh, she was also a merchant.  She traveled extensively with her trade, but never made much money.”  His face lit up with realization.  “Oh… was she trading on the Archduchy’s account?”

“I think so.”

“That would explain it.  The Archducal trade never makes much money.”

“We’ll see about that,” muttered Mahler.

“Do you know who she worked with?”

“Not per se.  We had many polite but strange visitors, though.”

“What about her records?  Did she keep any?”

“Oh, yes.  She kept quite an extensive collection of notes, ledgers, and journals in her study.”

“If I may, I think I’ll send some people to pick those up.”

“If you think it would be helpful…”

Kit nodded vigorously.

“Send over someone whenever you want, then...”  Master Weighthand paused.  “I should probably go soon.  The children don’t really understand, but they know something terrible has happened.”

Alistair stepped around the corner from where he had been waiting to avoid unduly flustering the merchant.  “Which of your children is the eldest?”

Weighthand began genuflecting, stopping only at a gesture from Alistair.  “Bridget, m’lord.  She’s ten.”

“When she comes of age, send a message to the palace.  We will remember your wife’s service.”

“Thank you, m’lord.”

Weighthand quickly left.

Alistair said to Dame Brionna, “Make a note about Bridget.  If her mother served with distinction, we will make Bridget a baronet when she comes of age.”

Dame Brionna nodded, pleased with the decision.  “We should send some guards with whoever you send to get the documents.  They may be valuable.”

“And we should post guards to protect the family,” added Mahler.  “If we can figure out the connection, there will be other people who can as well.  Some of them may not be as friendly.”

Dame Brionna nodded and quickly gave the orders.  A small detachment of guards headed to Weighthand’s house immediately, while a second group accompanied Kit’s secretary and a few of her people who were experts in searching homes to recover the documents.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

With that attended to, the Council retired to Alistair’s chambers and began working through the business of the day.  Alistair called in Lady Constance.

“I know that it’s outside your primary area of expertise, but I would like to know more about the Devourer of Light, the demon lord that the thought demons served.  In particular, I want to confirm whether that’s the same demon as the molydeus under Brightspan City-- it seems to be about the right level of power, with both at the baron to count level.  And I want to know who the Devourer of Light’s enemies and rivals are, what it’s position is within the Abyss, that sort of thing.  Anything that we might be able to use to stir up trouble for it.”

“Of course, your grace.  We do not summon demons ourselves, but the Royal Coven is absolutely the right group to assist you in researching them.  Tell me, your grace, would you rather that we provide you a faster report or more thorough research?”

“More thorough.  The information is of no value if it is not accurate.”

“Very good, your grace.  I’ll start the coven researching it immediately.”

As Lady Constance left, Mahler and Dame Brionna were both finishing reading reports from their respective departments.

Dame Brionna led off, with the report on the military situation.  “We have some additional reports from the South, your grace.  It includes both some good news and some bad news.  Do you have a preference for which to hear first?”

Alistair waved his hand airily.  “Whichever seems more important to you.  We’ll get to both in time.”

“Very well, your grace.  I think I should begin with the bad news, then.  I have spoken with a contact who knows something of the Seachen, and she confirmed our fears:  while the forest lords should be welcomed, the only way that they would join a human army at war is if they expected to fight the human Seachen.”

“The human Seachen?” asked Mahler.

“Yes… Our understanding, although we don’t have confirmation for this, is that Seachen was the forest lords’ name for themselves before the human Seachen matriarchy took the name for their own.  As it is, the Empire of Seachen is probably planning an making a two-pronged attack, actively colluding with the Abomination of Shurr and pincering the defenders.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Alistair is certainly depending on the diabolists a heck of a lot. I would be getting a little nervous and start setting up some safeguards else Lady Constance will be known as Archduchess Constance pretty darn soon.

Those Lawful Evils are pretty tricky, they are.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Yeah, trusting LE characters is a dangerous play.  (FWIW, I'm not actually sure she's LE-- I think LN is slightly more likely, but I don't really know.  It is definitely possible to be a LN diabolist in Aphonion, although my guess is that most diabolists eventually end up in LE, even if they don't start there.  )  But the basic thing here is:  this is the problem with having a character who is reasonably smart (Int 14), but has, shall we say, judgment issues (Wis 8).  My guess out of character is that Lady Constance is too personally loyal to Alistair's family to move against him, but that the amount of diabolical involvement we're permitting (and even encouraging) in Canberry will come back to bite us.  In particular, I expect the deal with Lilith to turn out to be a bad idea.  In character, Alistair's not really thinking that far ahead.

* * *

Kit shook her head.  “That’s bad, but at least it’s only what we were beginning to suspect anyway.  What’s the good news?”

“We have more military reports from other kingdoms and realms in the South.  Several might be potential allies.  In particular, in the far south, there is the Theocracy of Thar Ingmath.  They have a large army, with twelve units of 9,000 each.”

“9,000?  That’s an odd number to choose,” said Kit.  “Unless…”

“Yes, they are also threes-- an offshoot from Tang.  But they have some weaknesses-- Thar Ingmath has many fewer ones than Tang.  For example, each field army of 9,000 has a single one as its commander.  And the threes of Thar Ingmath are not blessed with intelligence.”

“Not blessed with intelligence compared to the threes of Tang?” asked Alistair, incredulous.  “They must be completely hopeless without a one in charge.”

“Indeed, your grace.  There is also the Grey Wood and the Supreme Archmagus Malkyrn of the Spice Wood.  Not an Eldar forest, but any elven forest has substantial power.”

“Is that the mage who has joined the defense?” asked Kit.

“Yes, but the Grey Wood is rumored to have an additional force:  tens of thousands of hurons, awakened trees, that generally only fight defensively.  If we could convince them to fight in this battle…”

“Yes, but how?”

“I don’t know, your grace.  The Grey Wood also has an alliance with the Silent Wood, a wood of the Seelie court.

“Turning to other countries, there are the Dog and Bear nomads, directly within the relevant region.”

“I assume that those are the names of their tribes?” asked Alistair.  “They’re actually human?”

“Yes, your grace, and either tribe can field 50,000 warriors, although not particularly well-trained warriors, and still have 25,000 younglings to guard the homes.  Their warriors are all male.  However, the two tribes are fiercely opposed to each other, so we would have to choose one, and then hope the other stayed neutral.”  Dame Brionna consulted her notes.  “Turning to more promising possibilities, there is the Kingdom of the Golden Drops, a gnomish kingdom.  As you might expect from gnomes, they have a powerful sky force, with 50 vollers and 75 ornithopters, as well as an entire legion of illusionists.”

“That would certainly allow us to achieve complete dominance of the sky.”

“Indeed, and the illusionists might be useful in turning the orc horde away from the rest of their army.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Finally, there are two strong human, at least predominantly, kingdoms in the south that we could reach out to.  The first is the Kingdom of Flame, which has six full field armies, including one ultra-elite and one elite.  They also have a strong aerial force, with 150 ornithopters and 12 adult or older red dragons with long duration agreements with the Kingdom.”

“Red dragons?” asked Kit.  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.  Why do we think they might be possible allies.”

Mahler cut in.  “We’re a major trade partner of theirs.  Their economy has been going into a depression since the fall of the South Kingdoms.  It’s the same problems that we’ve faced, but they’re much farther south and so have had less opportunity to open new markets to compensate.  So we may be able to convince them to help to preserve our trade, or just by paying them to assist.  And we want their trading situation to improve.  Otherwise, the dragons might start raiding.”

“What sorts of goods do they trade in?” asked Kit.

“Fine horses, better quality crystal than we can make, although nothing like elven wares, some southern fruits, and sugar.”

“They sound promising,” said Alistair, “but I’m still worried about the dragons.  I assume they’re not Borsh’troan or anything?”

“No, your grace.  They are Paranswarmian, and while it’s never my preference to work with the forces of Paranswarm…”

Alistair nodded.  “Sometimes it’s necessary.  And that does explain the dragons.  They must be devoted to Vitrix-Henexi.”

“The Kingdom of Flame also has several archmagi.”

“That could be very useful,” said Kit.  “If we can ensure that we have magical dominance, that will make the battle much easier.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “The final possible major ally to recruit is the Barony of Augurt.  They seem to be very powerful-- they have nine field armies, along with auxiliaries, and a powerful air navy, led by a Noldar dreadnought.”

“Noldar?  I wouldn’t think that the allies of the Noldar would be our allies,” said Mahler.

“They didn’t get the dreadnought by being allies of the Noldar.  [There’s a story here about a lucky shot attacking a Noldar force, but I don’t remember whether they captured the voller or whether it was a gift to help conclude the war.]”

“I think we could definitely work with them,” said Alistair.  “They’re Paranswarmian, but from what I know, they’re on the least frightening side of the Paranswarmians.  They don’t permit slavery, for example.  Is the Baron attending the coronation?”

“Yes, your grace.  Should I arrange a luncheon?”

“Please.”

“The other possible allies just don’t have much military force.  There’s Running Brook, the Holy See of Manumist, but they don’t have much of an army.  Mostly just guards for their, um, caravans.  And while the Eastern Trade Federation follows the Archbishop’s lead, they do not have much military to speak of.”

“Still… if we can convince Augurt, our military situation will be much better.  Have we arranged to hire the Order of the Falcon and move them into position?”

“Not yet, your grace.”

“We need to do that immediately.  Each passing day makes it harder for them to make it into position in time.  Send Broadfields-- he’s the right person to handle that negotiation, especially because we hope to place him in command of the other army.”

“I still don’t like hiring them,” grumbled Kit.  “Maybe if we can recruit some of these possible allies.”

“Maybe.  But I’d much rather make sure that we have overwhelming force, instead of just getting rid of their advantage.  And we don’t know that we’ll be able to persuade Augurt, or how much of an army they will be willing to provide.”


----------



## Ladybird

Just a few notes on the most recent few posts...

I think that Kit may have suggested using the Manumistians as distractions in battle. 

Also, Brionna _absolutely_ shares your misgivings about the diabolists, Baron Opal, but Kit thinks that Lady Constance is a lot of fun.  Alistair making deals with Lilith though? Not so much


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A guard politely rapped on the door and then spoke quietly with Dame Brionna.

She turned to Alistair, a quizzical expression on her face.  “We have a message from the chamberlain.  The Royal Cousin approaches.”

“The Royal Cousin?” asked Kit.

“Lady Mathilde Ashberry, the Regent for the Crescent Cities Alliance on Khamista,” replied Alistair. “I’ve never met her, but she was my grandmother’s first cousin.”

“She is approaching the capital in three human-made vollers.  One is quite large, the other two are between the size of battlebarges and schooners.”

“I’m surprised she missed the funeral,” said Kit.

“That was probably deliberate,” replied Dame Brionna.  “By arriving this late, she ensured that her presence will not create any difficulties with the succession.  Due to the awkward nature of Alistair’s birth, she would have been able to assert a fairly decent claim if she had wished to, especially with her military support.  This way, there is no difficulty.”

The entire group went to the air dock to await Lady Mathilde’s arrival.  The banners on the skyships depicted a moon surrounded by a crescent of seven stars, clearly showing the influence of elven symbology.  And as the ship approached, it became clear that much of the crew was half-elven, with a handful of full elves as well.

An elderly woman, with the same marks of old age that Amelia had had, descended the gangplank.  Based on her tentative movements and a guide beside her, she appeared to be blind.  A bird with bright plumage also attended on her with an oddly attentive manner.  A small entourage, including a Glor’diadelian bishop and several knights descended after her.

“Welcome, cousin.  You honor us with your presence.”

“Alistair?” Lady Mathilde turned in his direction and reached out a hand.  “It’s so good to finally meet you, although I wish it could have been while dear Amelia still lived.  You worried us all so much when you ran off.”

“And I am sorry for that, cousin.  I, too, wish that you were visiting under happier circumstances.”

“And I suppose you’ve been dealing with the extra difficulty of having Amelia’s servants killing themselves in a misguided display of loyalty?”

“Yes… we’ve tried to discourage them, but…  My only hope is that I will be able to prevent the tradition from continuing when I pass.”

“We must hope.  With the current group, if Amelia couldn’t convince them not to, there is nothing you could do.” Lady Mathilde paused.  “It will not be long before my realm goes through a similar tradition-- the heirs are almost of age, and it is tiring.  I have absolutely forbidden any displays of loyalty to me when I pass.   I think I confused and horrified them when I gave that command-- I don’t think they have that tradition in their land.  But it made me feel better to give the command, nonetheless.”

A very young knight from Lady Mathilde’s entourage coughed quietly in a lull in the conversation.  “From the people of the Crescent Cities Alliance.”  He handed an unadorned wooden case to Dame Brionna.  “The gem within is effective but three times a year, but its power is unavoidable.  It can compel anyone but a Noldar or an Eldar to speak the truth for a full minute.”

“We thank you for this most generous gift and will think of your realm whenever we have call to use it.”

“We must have tea later,” said Lady Mathilde, “but I think I must rest now.”

Alistair offered her the use of one of the familial guest quarters, and she retired with her entourage.  The Archducal Council set off towards Alistair’s chambers to continue its work.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

As they walked the halls back, a disheveled young man in the livery of Quickford skidded to a stop in front of them and leaned in towards Dame Brionna.  He whispered, “My guards have joined yours.  Your troops were under attack in the merchant quarter, so we came to their aid.”

“Under attack?  By whom?”

“Three men, in clown make-up.”

Dame Brionna turned to her companions.  “The harlequins are attacking the guards we sent with your scribe to recover the documents.  I will send for a detachment of church knights to reinforce them.”

“That’s a good idea,” said the young man.  “I doubt my guards can last much longer.”

“We can get aid to them faster than that,” said Alistair.  “Where’s that ensign from the Sky Guard?”  Within a minute, orders had been relayed to the voller defending the skies of Canberry City to make its way to the merchant quarters and to engage the harlequins there.

An image of a young man in the uniform of a lieutenant in the Sky Guard appeared after a short while.  “We are approaching the battle, your grace.  I will keep you informed of its progress.”  The image flickered as the lieutenant attended to his other duties, and then became clear again.  “Bloody hell!  We had to fire the artillery into them.”  The lieutenant paused.  “Begging your pardon, your grace.”

“Did you defeat them?”

“Oh, certainly.  The artillery is sufficient to kill any small group of warriors, I should think.  What should we do about the wounded guards that the harlequins were fighting?”

“Pick them up and bring them back to the palace, along with any documents that they may have.”

“Aye-aye, your grace.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Within a few minutes, the voller was gliding down to the air dock.  The same lieutenant scrambled down the gangplank and saluted the Archducal Council.  “We have all of the surviving guards aboard.  They also had a large wagon full of documents.”

“Can you tell us anything about the attackers?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Not much, I’m afraid, Captain.  They were a strange group…”

“How many?”

“Four, ma’am.  But they were fighting in the most bizarre way.  Dancing around like the clowns they were dressed as but knocking people about with their bare hands.  Most of the people I’ve heard of that are effective that way are guild assassins, but we don’t have any of those in Canberry…”

Kit felt no need to correct his misapprehension, but decided to have her people investigate.  If these were guild assassins, she should be able to find out a fair amount through her own assassins guild.  “None of them survived for questioning?”

“No, Dame Katherine.  The artillery is effective, but…  Oh, they also threw around several small vials, but that seems to have been just a distraction.”

“Vials?” asked Dame Brionna.  “But that means…”

“Plague,” said Alistair.  “Call for Bishop Hogsworthy.  We’ll need to check the entire crew for disease.”

“Yes, your grace,” said Dame Brionna.  “But the rest of you need to return to your chambers, first.  I’ll take care of determining who has been infected and having them cured.”

Alistair wanted to protest but knew she was right, and simply nodded and turned to leave.

As they walked away, Kit said to Dame Brionna, “Make sure you check Master Weighthand and his family.”

“Don’t worry, we will.”

Dame Brionna initially asked Bishop Hogsworthy if he could detect the infection and lead the efforts at curing it, but while detecting the disease would be a mere orison, the bishop had not prepared it that day.  Father Waters, however, was able to perform the detections, and began the process of sweeping through the voller and designating people for other priests to heal.  Most of the crew had been infected, as well as Master Weighthand’s family, Kit’s scribe, and the documents, but they had caught the disease quickly enough, and responded with enough clerical magic, to prevent any lasting harm.  With the crisis dealt with, Kit’s scribe took the records into a private chamber and began the laborious process of cataloging and deciphering them.

While Dame Brionna attended to those matters, Kit sent word to her agents to investigate the Harlequins.  She passed on the information that the Council believed that they were both guild assassins and drowan religious fanatics who worship Algaroth as a god.  The combination was strange enough that she was optimistic about the likelihood of getting useful information back.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Mahler, meanwhile, began his briefing on trade.  “Our trade is recovering, slowly, but we lost a great deal when the South Kingdoms fell and our exports have still not fully recovered.  Ten years ago, sixty percent of our exports went to the South Kingdoms.  Now, most of our exports go to the Spice Lands, with only insignificant trade with the refugees.  After the Spice Lands, Enclaves and the Eastern Trade Federation are the next most important, with the Barony of Augurt following them.  Exports to several of our trade partners in the south have also been hurt by the damage to their economies from losing the South Kingdoms trade.  Exports to Flame have remained stable over the last ten years and are significant, although a smaller amount than the others.”

“What do we export to the Spice Lands, anyway?” asked Alistair.

“They import all of their metals, most of their finished goods, and a good quantity of wine.  We have major stakes in all of those trades, both with goods originating here and by transshipping goods from farther north.”

“You said that several countries have been importing less because of the damage from losing the South Kingdoms.  Do we have any trade partners that are taking up the slack?” asked Kit.

“Yes… there were major jumps in trade with three areas between 5 and 10 years ago-- Masque, Enclaves, and Tang.  Trade with Masque alone is up 1200 percent in the last ten years.  And the trade with Masque continues to climb.  Last year alone, there was an approximately one million silver increase in the value of our exports to Masque, from about 5 million to about 6 million.”

“Are there any other notable export markets we could hope to expand?” asked Alistair.

“We sell a fair amount to Singing Leaves, but there’s little hope of expanding that trade.  The amounts are consistent year-to-year, down to the copper piece.  All of our trade with Singing Leaves is handled through long-term treaties, not ordinary merchant work.  We have had a major increase in trade with Tarsh, from about 140,000 silver to 500,000, but the distance will make it difficult to increase that much further.”

Kit said, “That’s probably just the impact of Archduchess Amelia’s embassy.”

Mahler nodded.  “Turning to imports, the first thing to know is that we’re importing substantially more than we’re exporting.  Our largest source of imports is the Spice Lands, and we import significantly more from them than we export to them.  We also import large amounts from the Barony of Augurt.  The other import statistic that leaps out is that we had a major increase in imports from Singing Leaves last year.”

“I would have assumed that our imports would also be steady and based on treaty,” commented Kit.

“Exactly.  And year after year, the imports were steady, but there was a jump last year.  I’ll ask around and see what caused it.”

Alistair nodded.  “Sounds like a good idea.”

Dame Brionna returned with Father Waters and informed the Council of the fact that the plague had infected most of the crew but had been dealt with.  Father Waters confirmed that none of the Archducal Council members had been infected.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Dame Brionna, what do we know of Lady Deborah Brightspan’s mother?  After Lady Deborah’s unusual death, her mother seems like the best lead we have.”

“Lady Deborah was the daughter of a cousin of the Duke of Brightspan and Lady Yvonne Caldra, the Earl of Caldra’s aunt.  Lady Yvonne wasn’t precisely discarded by the Earl of Caldra, but…  There were rumors that she was involved with the Unseelie Court, and that she had captured and tortured elves and even the occasional fey.  She was conveniently married off to move her out of the family, and away from the attention of either her family or the Duke of Furrows.  This would have been when Furrows was still more active, of course.”

“I’m surprised that my grandmother would have tolerated that.  She may have escaped Furrows attention, but surely…”

“As far as I can tell, your grace, the late Archduchess had her investigated at some point, but was unable to turn up anything actionable.  Because of Lady Yvonne’s rank, Her Grace the Archduchess would have needed firm evidence to take any official action.  In any event, Lady Yvonne lived essentially alone after the death of her husband and disappeared many years ago.  It is believed that she still maintains a small manor near the border of Brightspan.”

“How old would she be?” asked Kit.  “I mean, assuming she’s all human and not a changeling or something.”

“She would be about 60.  And everything we know suggests that she’s still human, although myth says that people with a particularly close association with the fey sometimes live longer than humans would naturally.”

“We need to check out her manor,” said Mahler.

“But we can’t do that directly,” replied Alistair.  “Brightspan would consider it a mortal insult.  We’ll have to ask him to investigate.  I wonder if Bishop Hogsworthy can perform a _Sending_?”

Bishop Hogsworthy brightened at the honor of being called in to assist the Archduke, but then regretfully admitted that he had not asked for _Sending_ that morning.  Father Waters had, however, so after some discussion of the phrasing and careful word counting, Alistair handed the priest a written version of the message. 

<<From Archduke.  Believe Yvonne Caldra plotting with molydeus, dangerous.  Suggest you search her manor in force.  Expect danger and Unseelie support.  Would appreciate any intelligence.>>

Father Waters then recited the Duke of Brightspan’s response.  “He sends, ‘Your Grace.  Message received.  Wife informed.  Reconnoiter with priestly support.  Will inform of anything found.  Brightspan.’”  Father Waters shook his head at that last.  “If he ever signs a message ‘Gary,’ you will know that you have his personal support, not just his allegiance.”

They thanked Father Waters and concluded that there was not much more to be done about Lady Yvonne until Brightspan reported the results of his raid.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Mahler returned to the Ministry of Trade to investigate the increase in imports from the Forest of Singing Leaves.  He quickly found a tax collector who remembered the transaction that had caused the increase.

“Oh, yes… in addition to the ordinary shipments, we periodically purchase large arrays of high quality crystal from Singing Leaves.  The Archduchy has made these purchases regularly for the last 200 years.”  He stopped to check his notes.  “But the next purchase by the Archduchy will not be for another 17 years.  There was an additional shipment to the House of Caldra last year.”

“Do you know what the crystals are used for? ”  asked Mahler.  “They must be very important if a single shipment could cost 100,000 silver.”

“I can’t say that I do, m’lord.  I suppose they must have a military use.  The purchases are generally made by either the border duchies or by a field marshal, when they are on behalf of the Archducal house.”

“It didn’t occur to you to inform the Archduke when an enormous military purchase was suddenly made by one of the nobles?”

“Uh, no, m’lord.  I’ll try to do so in the future…”

“Good.  Can you tell me anything more about the delivery to Caldra?”

“It was signed for by one of the Earl’s relations.  His aunt, Lady Yvonne Caldra, signing on behalf of the commander of the Earl’s regiments of foot.”

Mahler’s face tightened, and he hurried off to inform his friends.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair, meanwhile, had asked the Eldar Farsensor to speak with them.

“How may I help you, your grace?”

“We’ve detected a psionic effect on one of the nobles, and we were hoping you could tell us more about it,”  replied Alistair.  “It is on the Duke of Brightspan.”

“Yes, I noticed that when he was within the palace.  I didn’t comment on it because I assumed that you had placed it, or at least consented to it.”

“Why did you assume we placed it?” asked Kit.

“It was fairly long-term work, at least by your standards.  The compulsion had been built over the course of years or decades.”

“What does it do?” asked Dame Brionna.

“It causes him to differentiate wrongly, judging people incorrectly.  It causes paranoia.  There is one woman-- perhaps not quite human, a half-human of some sort?-- who is immune to its effects.  But from everyone else, he sees threats to his honor, intrigues, and shadows.”

“A half-human woman?” said Kit.  “That would be the Duchess of Brightspan, with her devil blood.  Was that part of the design?  Maybe she placed it to keep him under her thumb.”

“No, the exception was not part of the design.  It was more of a failure of the effect-- even the power of the compulsion could not interfere with the intense, pure love he felt towards the woman, the Duchess if you are correct.”

Alistair nodded thoughtfully.  “It explains a great deal.  His anger and distrust of the Archduchy may be natural, but it would have been greatly intensified by this effect.  No wonder he assumes that we’re trying to break his family’s influence and oppress his duchy.  The distance and distrust from his children and grandchildren would be a fear that they are only using him to seek power, and that they will inevitably bring dishonor upon him.  And it also explains why there are no bastards except for the two older ones from before his marriage and presumably from before this effect.”

“Of course.  He would assume that any possible mistresses were simply using him to get ahead,” said Kit.  “Can you remove the effect?”

“No, that is far from my expertise and would be beyond my power.  It would take at least a grand master redactor.  And even then, it would take his knowledge and participation to do it properly.  Even for a grand master redactor, the process would take weeks, and great care would be necessary in case there are traps woven into the pattern.”

“Would there be any way to remove it without his knowledge?” asked Kit.  “He has a fear of psions that would make getting his cooperation difficult, and the paranoia would only make that worse.  It may even have been a deliberate defense to make it harder to remove.”

“Possible, although more likely some part of his subconscious knows that he has had his mind altered and has reacted by fearing further attacks.  As for removing it without his knowledge, it would be possible, but would require more patience than humans usually have.  A grandmaster redactor, working from close proximity, could unweave the compulsion over the course of years.”  The Eldar steepled his fingers thoughtfully.  “It would have a side benefit, however.  Unweaving the compulsion slowly would run no risk of triggering any traps.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Can you tell us anything about who placed it?” asked Alistair while they digested the news about how to undo it.

“Based on the power of the effect, I would have assumed elven or fey.  There are some few human psions of surpassing power who might be capable of it, however.”

“By elven, would you include Noldar?”

“No, I should have been able to tell immediately if it were either Eldar or Noldar work.  We have a unique artistry and skill, and they have a similarly unique and powerful perversion.”

“But fey… that would fit if the Unseelie Court were behind it,” commented Kit.

“Indeed, the Unseelie could be behind it, although drow would be just as likely,” replied the Farsensor.

“You mentioned traps.  Could the compulsion have other effects?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Could the psion who placed it give the Duke commands or the like?”

“Oh, certainly.  There could easily be a trigger action that would require certain responses.  The trigger would usually be a word or gesture from a specific person.  Normally, the response could be anything up to something suicidal.  But over this many years, even suicidal actions might be possible.”

While the group considered all of the additional dangers that presented, Mahler returned and informed the Council of what he had discovered.

The Farsensor nodded.  “Yes, the Earl of Caldra purchased a powerful array of crystals from us.  We do not ordinarily sell objects of that power, but because of our alliance, we are willing to sell to the Archduchy and its vassals.”

“It all fits together,” said Dame Brionna.  “Lady Yvonne was working with the Unseelie to affect the Duke of Brightspan, and now she’s strengthening her psionic powers for the coming conflict, or even to assist with the ritual.  Why didn’t Singing Leaves tell us about the purchase?”

The Farsensor looked simply confused.  “But… the purchase was made by one of your vassals.  And we trust you.  How could that create a danger?  And I don’t understand.  How could she be working with the Unseelie?”

Alistair tried to respond as gently as he could, remembering that the only incident in the entirety of elven history in which vassals betrayed their lieges was the original Kinslaying, and that had been based on conflicting loyalties to Gods.  “Humans are not like your people.  Some of our vassals plot against us.  We think that Lady Yvonne has formed an alliance with the Unseelie and several demonic powers against us and against the Duke-- that’s why we think she created the psionic effect, and why the Unseelie involvement made sense.”

“But… then…”  Horror filled the Eldar’s voice as he thought about this.  “We provided a powerful array of crystals that was then used to make an Unseelie sept?”

“I’m afraid so.  We’re working on finding out more information, and we’ll then take steps to solve the problems.  In the meantime, we need to start thinking about how to undo the effect on Brightspan.  Is the Minister of the Mind a redactor?”

“Yes,” replied Dame Brionna.  “Grand Master Petrov Gilligav, of the Order of the Powers of the Mind.”

“We’ll have to consult with him, then.  But I’m not sure how we’ll get the Duke to agree.  And I worry that if we try to do it surreptitiously, we’ll make things worse if he finds out.  Perhaps if we approached the Duchess about the issue?”

No one seemed pleased by that thought.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What about Brightspan’s grandsons?” asked Mahler.  “Can we be sure that they have not been affected as well?”

“Better to have the Farsensor examine them as well,” said Alistair.

A few minutes later, the two young pages entered the Council chambers.

The Farsensor nodded judiciously.  “There is an effect on the older boy, similar to that on his grandfather, but it is already beginning to unravel.  With him here, beyond the psion’s reach to continue building the compulsion and with friends and support naturally cutting against it, the effect is dissolving on its own.  Within a few months it will be completely gone.  There has not even been an attempt on the younger boy.”  The Eldar shifted his attention back to the eleven year old and frowned.  “His toe ring… did you know about that?”

The Council looked at the toe ring, and Alistair gestured to Kit’s page.  “Abigail, you and the younger Brightspan page can go back to your play.  We’ll need to talk to his brother a little longer.  Oh, and could you ask one of the guards to send for Lady Constance?  There are some other things I’d like to discuss with her.”

Abigail’s smile made it clear that she knew that sending for the head of the Archducal Coven was not an afterthought, but the two Brightspan pages seemed oblivious.

“Can you tell us where you got that ring?” asked Kit.

“My sister’s teacher gave it to me.  Dame Bernadette of Tarsh.  She said that she wanted me to have a friend, and someone to talk to.”  The boy, only about 11 years old, looked very worried about the group’s focus.

Dame Brionna grimaced at that, but the rest of the Council maintained their placid expressions.  “Does your friend live in that ring?” continued Kit.  “Could we meet him?”

“I guess so…”  The boy flexed his foot a little.  A small devil appeared in a cloud of black smoke.  The devil looked much like a boy the same age as his master, but with small horns, tiny leather wings, cloven hoofs, and a slight reddish tinge to his skin.  The devil stepped in front of ___ protectively and looked at the adults surrounding them with suspicion.

Lady Constance entered and stopped in midstride.  “My word… He’s barely out of larva.  I would not have bound a devil that young…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Is he dangerous to young Lord Brightspan?” asked Dame Brionna, clearly hoping for an answer that would allow her to smite the devil where it stood.

“No.  Indeed, he’s so young, that he’s not particularly evil.  In the natural order of things, he would enter the service of a more powerful devil that would inculcate in him the beliefs of the Hells.”

“I don’t want him to be sent back to the Hells.  He’s my friend!” said the young lord.

“No one’s going to take your friend away,” said Alistair.  “I have a friend of my own like that.”  He thought, <<Stythus, please come here.>>  As the djinni squire flew in, Alistair gestured.  “See?”

Lord Brightspan relaxed a little at that.

“And do you want to stay here?” Kit asked the devil.

“Oh, yes.  I quite like it here.  And he’s my friend, and he needs me.”

“Do you serve any of the more powerful devils?  Or worship any gods?” asked Alistair, worried that the devil would lead Lord Brightspan to Paranswarm instead of Glor’diadel.

“Oh, no.  None of the other devils have whipped me into obedience, or beaten me until I agreed to follow one of their gods.”  The devil thought for a bit.  “But I have liked some of the things that the priest of Glor’diadel has said in the services I’ve been to with ___.”

Lady Constance raised an eyebrow.  “With that, he might even revert…”

“Revert?” asked Alistair.

“To his natural form.  After all, devils are originally fallen angels.”

“If you would both like, we could have a priest of Glor’diadel talk with you all the time,” said Alistair.  “He won’t whip you ever, but if you want, he could help lead you towards the Light.”

Lord Brightspan nodded, still nervous.

“I’ll make a note, your grace,” said Dame Brionna.  “I should think we’ll want a theologian, and a particularly open-minded one at that.”

Mahler looked at the devil thoughtfully.  “Were you given any orders besides to be a friend and confidant of Lord Brightspan?”

The devil looked at his friend and then nodded.  “Dame Bernadette also said that I was to keep him safe.”

“Safe from whom?”

“From the terrible woman.  She looks like a hag, only human, only not all human.  She’s turning into something.”

“Turning into something?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Like a devil?”

“No, not like me, and not like him,” the devil gestured at Stythus, “or like him.  Well, a little like him,” the devil gestured again towards the Eldar, “but different.  She has her fingers everywhere.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lord Brightspan could see that this was interesting the adults and added, “We figured it all out, but then she went back into the hills.  We followed part-way.  She has a keep in the hills.”

“Could you show us on a map?” asked Alistair.

They both nodded and the group went to the map room, where the devil pointed it out.  “She followed a secret bath, from the Necropolis below the City, to the keep, and then on to here.”

The Eldar shook his head sadly.  “The grotto of the Old One.  It was a powerful Unseelie place, but I had thought it kept in check by the Seelie Court.”

“She’s fortified the keep,” said the devil, “and she built a circle this last year.  That’s why we couldn’t explore any further.”

A look of despair gripped the Eldar’s face.  “Then it is true… we provided crystals to the Unseelie to build a new circle.  I will need to inform the Queen of our error.”

“We will do our best to recover the crystals and undo the damage, I assure you,” said Alistair.

“Do either of you know anything else about the terrible woman?” asked Dame Brionna.

Lord Brightspan nodded.  “She has a brood of kids-- meaner than any other kids I’ve ever met.”

“I thought her husband died many years ago.”

“Oh, they aren’t his.  Only her older children are his.  I don’t know who the father of the new children is.”

The devil looked away and fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Yes?” asked Kit.  “You have an idea?”

“Well… I think it might be the thing under the Necropolis.”

“We can’t get into the Necropolis.  There are magics, and there are too many things watching the tunnels.  But there’s something very evil in there,” said Lord Brightspan.  After a while, he said thoughtfully, “We like your city more.  The people are nicer.”

“Most of them are,” added the devil, nodding.

“Which of them aren’t?” asked Kit.

Lord Brightspan looked a little nervous.  “There are two men floating in the air near the ruins of the Earl of Caligshire’s compound.  I hope it isn’t bad that we’ve been watching them.”

“No, certainly not,” said Alistair.  “But how can you see them?”

“I just can… sometimes I can see things about people that other people can’t.”

Alistair held out a closed fist.  “Can you tell me what’s in my fist?”

Lord Brightspan concentrated and frowned.  “Not quite.  But it’s shiny, and I think it protects you…”

Alistair opened his hand, showing the piece of orichalcum within.  “You definitely have the sight-- a valuable gift for a high noble.  We’ll have to make sure you learn to use it.”  And to avoid making embarrassing social gaffes, he thought to himself.  “Now then, what can you tell us about the bad men?”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“They’re dressed up like clowns, but they’re not happy like clowns are supposed to be.  And they’re mean.”

“Those would be more of the Algarothian assassins that Quinliart hired, then.”

The Farsensor coughed lightly.  “Your grace, if I may… we would be happy to deal with them for you, under the circumstances.”

“Thank you, we would be most grateful.  And if they can be taken alive for questioning…”

“I’ll ask my captain to do his best.”

Within a few moments, the gray elf captain and a detachment of elves entered, carrying two unconscious forms.  “We were able to take them without difficulty.  Those crystal manacles and leg braces will drain off any psionic energy.”

“What about psionic attacks? Some of the other assassins have been killed by their master to prevent them from giving up information.”

“The bonds would absorb psionic energy from outside sources just as easily as their psionic reserves.”

“Perfect.  We should be able to interrogate them then.”

“Your grace,” interjected Dame Brionna, “we’ll need to check them for traps and suicide methods.”

“Of course… Lady Constance, perhaps?”

The elderly diabolist joined them presently.  “Hmm.  No spinal bombs in this one, but a large poison sack.  He could probably spit one dose, although even that would kill him.”

“Huh.  Surprisingly safe.”

“I wouldn’t say that, your grace.  The poison would cause its victims’ body to disintegrate into goo.”

“Yes, but only one victim.  I would have expected something to kill many people.”

“Perhaps.”  Lady Constance finished the work of removing it and handed the sack to a waiting devil.  As she turned to the second drow, she smiled.  “Most interesting… he has no traps at all, although I think he is a mage as well as a psion.  I should guess that he’s an officer.”

“Excellent,” said Alistair.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“But how can we interrogate him?” asked Mahler.  “We can’t let him speak without risking spells.”

“Most spells require somatic components,” said Dame Brionna.

“Yes, but not _Suggestion_,” said Alistair.  “Normally, we could have Kit read his mind…”

“But not while he’s in the psionic damper shackles.”

They discussed the problem for some time before reaching an unpleasant conclusion.  

“If he’s in enough pain that he can’t concentrate, he won’t be able to cast,” said Alistair.  “We could also use the Gem of Truth to force him to answer our questions.”

“Let’s interrogate the other one first,” said Dame Brionna.  “What we can get from him will help determine whether we need to use the Gem of Truth on the officer, and it will give us better questions in any event.”  She looked over at young Lord Brightspan.  “Perhaps it would be best if you joined Abigail and your brother, your lordship.”

Alistair frowned.  “You may leave, if you wish.  But you will be a great lord someday, and you should learn some of the less pleasant parts of your duty.  You may hear disturbing things, including things about your family… but there is no room in the life of a noble for ignorance.”

“Can I stay over here in the corner, far away from him?”

“Yes.”

“Both you and the Archduke must, in fact, stay well clear of the prisoner, just in case,” added Dame Brionna.

“Then I’ll stay here with my friend.”

“I will stay also, if I may,” added the Farsensor.  “I think his answers may be as relevant for my Kingdom as they are for yours.”

“As you wish.  We would not have the prisoners to interrogate at all without your great assistance.”  Alistair nodded to Dame Brionna, who carefully woke the prisoner.

“Amazing.  I’ve been captured alive.”

“Who are you, and why are you here?” asked Alistair.

The prisoner stared at him, eyes wide and poorly focused.  “We are emissaries from the Prince of the Stone City, lent to the Commander of the Sixth District.”

“And yet you fight on?  Even after the Ninth District moved in force against Quinliart?”

“His setbacks are temporary, but the glory from raising one of the ancient cthons will not be temporary.  Short-sighted is his cousin.”  The drow worked himself up into a frenzy as he continued ranting.  “She does not see the great picture, and she rejects the teachings of Lord Morgroth.  And he still lives and he still moves, beneath.  He has lost some allies and his cousin slew his kinfolk, but he still lives.”

“But your plans against the Archduke will all fail,” said Dame Brionna.

“One of us will succeed.  It is written in the pillars in the depths of the city in the Seachen lands.”

“Perhaps the prophecy has been misunderstood?” suggested Alistair.

“No!  It is written that the one the elves love well will fall in the light of the red moon, on the night of the rise of the Cthon of Cats and the return of the Council of the Vermin to their proper place.  And given the aid Singing Leaves gives you, who else could ‘the one the elves love well’ be?  Had you but yielded…  Great could have been your reward.  But now, with the rising of the Cthon, the Cthon, together with the newly ennobled molydeus, will join us in a strike north against Singing Leaves.  We have waited 3000 years.  Our wait is almost at its end…”

“Why do you care about the Archduke?”

“The royal house must fall.  The seers have looked.  While you stand, the wood will not fall.  And your young god will not permit this.”

“But your attempts are failing.  What hope do you have now?”

The drow struggled for a moment, but his insane urge to rant overcame his knowledge that it would hurt his cause.  “He will still die.  When the coronation comes… Those of us that remain will spread out in the crowds and begin to kill.  The basis of your power is their understanding that they serve you and that you protect them.  You will have to intervene when they begin to kill.  And there are not enough of his accursed kind to protect you when you do.”  He gestured with his head at the Eldar.

The Archducal Council exchanged worried glances.  It was a dismayingly good plan.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna asked, “And what about the rituals and the sacrifices?  When will those take place?”

Kit added, “You might as well tell us since the prophecy will ensure that it will happen anyway.”

“The final sacrifices will take place at the third point thirty days before the completion.  The vessel is being brought forth.  Both great circles that have been formed will act.  One from beneath the sea, and one from on the land.  The Spice Lands army will be devastated.  When they reach the city that he used to rule and offer up the vessel, he will rise, and enter into one of the unclaimed planes of the abyss.  The artifacts will be consumed.  Their energy will strengthen him.”  He glared at Alistair.  “You should have cooperated.  You would have been received with great favor.”

“Perhaps it’s not too late… If I chose to offer myself at the ritual, where would I go for the final sacrifice?”

“To the ancient city of the Serpent folk.  They defeated him in his first incarnation.  His discarnate form has already occupied their city in the deepest point of the rock’s impact.  And though they think that only they know where the lost city is, they are fools, for we also remember.  You should go there, and you can join the greatly favored ones.”

“Who were the others?”

“A young member of the House of Caldra, offered willingly by her mother; the second, a willing servant, a young boy born crippled from the womb, who offered himself willingly to the Abomination; the third, the unwilling virgin, the Princess Anastasia of Hanal, in the fortress of the Muldar, two and a half months from now.”

“And what if I wished to seek out Quinliart first, to make amends and to ally through him?”

“Quinliart passes beneath in the underways, but dares not surface.  And there are those among the rebels who also support this cause, so he passes unhindered, although all of his personal household were killed in the bombardment.”  With that, the drow ‘s eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped over, unconscious.

“He must have willed himself unconscious to stop talking,” said the Farsensor.

The Council agreed and sat in silence as they thought about what they had learned.  He had confirmed much of what they had thought and had given them some additional information, but knowing what was happening and how to stop it were two very different things.

End of Session 12


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Session 13:

The following morning, with six days left before the coronation, the Council gathered to review the reports.  The City report was brief-- after the capture of the two Harlequins, the murders in the City had completely stopped.  Dame Brionna had received some reports of movements, perhaps of spies, outside the City but without any details.  Based on their motions, her contacts could not be sure that the spies’ target was the Archduke.  The spies might be altogether unrelated to the Archduchy.

“Spies, huh?” responded Kit.  “Sounds like my department.  I’ll check it out.”

“Can you also have your people look for the rest of the Harlequins?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Even with the capture of these two, the four killed by the voller’s artillery, and the one Quinliart killed for meeting Stythus, that leaves thirteen still active.”

“And that’s assuming twenty was an exact count,”  added Alistair.  “We need to eliminate a lot more of them before the coronation.  Otherwise, their plan will be very difficult to stop.  He was right-- if they start openly attacking during the coronation, we’ll have no choice but to respond.  And if we can’t defeat them…”

“Don’t worry,” said Kit.  “My people will find them.”

Kit slipped out and passed the word about what she was looking for on to her network.  One of her standard contacts quickly approached her with a report.

“Don’t know what to tell you ‘bout the clowns, ma’am.  They were active throughout the City until yesterday afternoon, then pfft-- nothing.  They’ve disappeared from the underways, no signs of them in the slums…  We’ll look for ‘em, but if they lie low, it’ll be hard.”

“What about the plague vials they were spreading?”

“We’ve been hauling those in by the handful, and bringing them to the temples like you said.  We’ve got almost all of them by now.”

“That’s good, but not good enough.  I need every last one of those off the streets.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the rogue, a little chastised.  “I’ll have our people work harder.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit nodded, satisfied, and went to meet one of her operatives who specializes in counter-intelligence.  “Do you know anything about some spies operating outside the City?”

“Yes, Dame Katherine.  There’s a lot of activity, but only one group really concerns me.  A group of rangers were dropped off by a fast-moving voller northwest of the City.”

“Any idea whose voller it was?”

“We don’t know for sure, but I’d wager it was from Hanal.  It was a clearly human make, but it moved fast-- much faster than almost any human vollers.  They keep some of their best back, so…”

“Right.  Thanks.”

Kit passed on the report to the rest of the Council.

Dame Brionna frowned.  “Why does everyone else have plenty of vollers?  Our sky fleet has a handful of vessels, but even second-rate powers have as large a fleet as we do.”

“Most human realms on Drucien buy their vollers from Hanal,” replied Alistair.  “Even at the best of times, our relations with Hanal have been a little strained.  The elves never sell their vollers, so there are only a handful of ships of elven make that have been gifted to people out of their control.”

“I understand all that, your grace, but it still frustrates and worries me.  It’s a serious strategic liability.  Perhaps we should look into developing a domestic voller industry.”

“Fine, we’ll work on that after we’ve dealt with the pressing matters.  What do you think the spies could be looking for?”

“If they’re even just spies,” said Dame Brionna.  “A group that size, setting up in the wilderness… that sounds more like an ambush to me.”

“An ambush targeting who?” asked Kit.  “They’re too far out for it to be aimed at Alistair…”

“If they’re northwest of the capital, that’s the path that the One of One’s will travel with his party to attend the coronation,” Dame Brionna replied.  “Surely there are some people who would benefit from something happening to him.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We’re not going to figure out what they’re about from here.  Do we have someone we can send to investigate?”

“What about the Huntmaster, your grace?”

“Is he still busy recovering plague vials?” asked Kit.  “I have my people trying to recover the last few, but we can’t afford to miss any.  And I thought he was mostly city based?”

“I think that his role in that has basically finished.  If your people can finish it up, he should be available.  He says that he’s equally good at tracking in the wild.”

“Good,” said Alistair.  “If he is free, send him.”

Jacques returned from his trip near the end of the day and reported to the Council.  “There are about twenty of them.  I can track them for short distances, but I was not able to trace them back to a camp.”

“Do you know anything about their intentions?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Could you hear any of their conversations?”

“No, I wasn’t able to get close enough to them to hear their conversations without risking discovery.  They are operating immediately around the royal preserve.”  Jacques paused.  “They’re also killing local woodsmen.”

Kit looked at him in surprise.  “Do you think there were fights?”

“No.  These are more like assassinations-- they attack the woodsmen from behind, kill them quickly with a few strokes.  They're either trying to eliminate anyone who might bring back reports about them, or they just want to kill people.”  Jacques waited to see whether there were any other questions.

“Thank you for the report,” said Alistair in dismissal, his mouth tight with anger.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After Jacques left, he spoke firmly. “We’re going to send the army to clear them out.  I don’t care what their goal is or where they’re from.  They’re killing subjects of Canberry within our realm.  That stops now.  What troops do we have available that would be good for the terrain?”

“The area around the royal preserve is heavily wooded, your grace, so we’ll need to send infantry instead of cavalry.  We don’t really have much of a force of rangers, just a few scout companies attached to some of the field armies.”

“Fine.  The First Field Army is in the capital.  We’ll send one of their legions, along with the scout company to guide them.”

“An entire legion, your grace?”  asked Dame Brionna dubiously.  “That’s a thousand troops.  Isn’t that a little excessive for twenty infiltrators?”

“I want to make sure there’s no possibility of escape.  That should be enough troops to surround the entire area and then close in, while still making sure that any area the murderers try to engage will be sufficiently well supported to ensure they can’t break through.”  Alistair thought.  “Choose the commanding officer carefully.  We’ll want to use this as an opportunity to field test and season a rising young officer, since we still have a weakness in our senior officers corps, but I also want to make sure the mission gets run well.”

“Not one of the generals, then,” said Kit.

“Right,” said Dame Brionna.  “I’ll work on identifying a promising captain to place in command.  We’ll get the troops moving within an hour or so.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

While Dame Brionna took care of organizing the expedition, the Chamberlain presented his report to the Archduke.  “Your eminent grace,” he began, bowing deeply, “several more parties are approaching the capital.  It is beginning to get complicated planning for how to deal with all of them.  We have a delegation from the Theocracy of Tang-- they have crossed the border and are approaching the capital at speed.  As the One of Diplomacy arrived prior to the funeral of Her Eminent Grace the late Archduchess, we presume that this party includes the One of Ones.

“We also have someone approaching from the City of the Pass, which I was not expecting.  I had not thought that they would send anyone.  Even more notably, we have a small party from Ko Re Pek coming.  There is also a voller from the Kingdom of the Haunted Mountains on Khamista, presumably an emissary from the White Witch.  We would not normally expect the high level of interest from realms we have had little contact with, but it is a demonstration of respect for your grandmother’s significant involvement in international politics.  We are also receiving an emissary from the Empire of Tarhanna; except for the occasional Tarhannian priest, we don’t hear much from them.”

“Do we have room for all of these dignitaries?” asked Kit.

“Barely, Dame Katherine.  I must say, planning all of the arrangements is a challenge.”

“Do we have a Minister of Protocol?” asked Alistair.  “Who’s handling the details?”

“I’m as close to a Minister of Protocol as we have, your grace, and I’m coordinating the planning.  I’m keeping all of the arrangements on many slates-- I don’t dare commit it to parchment until we’re sure nobody else will arrive.  And there are some trying details… I had to give Tarhanna precedence over Tang, even though Tang is closer to us.”

Alistair nodded.  “But Tarhanna shares our faith.  No one will fault you for giving our coreligionists precedence within each category.”

“Thank you, your grace.  The more important question is where to house all of them.  I have been having the hardest time finding a reasonable place for the White Witch’s emissary.”

“What about placing her with the ambassador from the Grand Duchy of Ergmoth and the Paranswarmian nuncio?  Since she is tightly tied to the church of Paranswarm, that should avoid offending or scaring anyone.”

“An excellent suggestion, your grace, I’ll make those notes immediately.  Oh, that reminds me:  do you wish to take offense at the Protector of the Faith’s decision to not attend personally?”

“The Grand Duchess of Ergmoth?  Gods, no.  We’ve had some cooperative interactions with the Inquisition; why would I want to make an enemy unnecessarily when we have so many real enemies?  We’ll express our gratitude that she sent an emissary all the way from Ergmoth and leave it at that.”

“Very good, your grace.  Unless there are any further questions, I should get back to making my arrangements.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After he left, Kit and Alistair each went to attend to other tasks.  Kit checked with her scribe on the progress deciphering the notes they had recovered.  He reported slow progress; there were thousands of pages, all in codes and ciphers, and it would be some time before they could all be deciphered, cataloged, and organized.  The scribes working on the decryption were still unsure as to her position, but there were extensive spy reports on Hanal, Masque, and the “Kingdom of the Rat Sorcerors.”

Alistair met with Mommy Cupcakes, his old nursemaid who was on the list of people who intended suicide.  The elderly hobbit smiled her friendly smile at him.

“Good day, Mommy Cupcakes.  I wanted to talk to you…”

“Of course, dear.  What’s the matter?”

“I was shocked to hear that you’re planning on killing yourself.”  Alistair’s face and voice grew very sad.  “I’ve lost so many of those I was close to…  My father, and then Grandmother.  The thought of losing you as well, and for no good reason…  I was hoping I could beg you to reconsider.”

“Why, Alistair…  I wouldn’t have thought you would care.  I thought you didn’t think much of me, now.”

“What would ever have given you that idea?  I know I wasn’t always the most obedient of children, and that after my father switched me to the care of tutors I didn’t visit as much as I ought to have, but…”

“But that’s just how young lads are,” finished Mommy Cupcakes.  “I knew to expect that.”

“Than why?”

“It was just your brother always told me…  Your brother told me terrible things, Alistair.”

Alistair swallowed heavily.  “My brother, Mommy Cupcakes?  Which brother?”

“Luva.  Oh, I didn’t want to believe it, but…”

Alistair closed his eyes briefly.  “You know that Luva was plotting against me, don’t you?  We had to arrest him.”

“Yes, I’d heard that.  But I never thought that he would be lying.  Truth be told, I didn’t think he would have been smart enough to try to poison people against you.”

“He may have been put up to it.  For all I know, he may have believed what he told you.  I know he was being manipulated by his aunt, and she was working for the Noldar who killed my father.”

“Yes, I suppose he might have been.  I couldn’t understand how you could have turned into… never mind.  And that might explain why he was trying to get access to your old room.”

* * *

I can't promise updates for the next couple of days-- I'll be at AnonyCon (and if you're anywhere near Connecticut, you should be, too), along with the players of Kit, Dame Brionna, Delbon, and others, and the Aphonion DM.  In fact, he's even running a game on which the security of Canberry depends.   But anyway, I may post if there's net access in the hotel and I have time, but we'll have to see.


----------



## Quartz

A *hobbit* as nursemaid? I love it!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

An extra-length update to make up for the missed days:

“He tried to get access to my room?”

“Oh, yes.  And he wasn’t the only one.  They knew I had a key, you see.  But I never gave it to anyone, and they never figured out where I kept it.”

“Thank you for keeping it safe.  But you see, I never did turn against you.  And your death would be so hard.”  Mommy Cupcake squirmed a little at Alistair’s pleadings, and he decided to use the next tool.  “And I’m going to need you, as well.  You know that I need to marry and have a potential heir quickly to safeguard the succession.  If things go according to plan, I might have a child within a year’s time.  And then I’ll need someone to take care of it.”

Mommy Cupcake brightened at this thought.  “And you would want me?  I had thought you would find a new nurse… but then, that was based on what Luva said…”

“Of course I would want you.  Who else?”  Alistair thought for a moment.  “Of course, we’ll need to hire you an assistant.  I don’t think you could perform wet-nurse duties.”

The hobbit matron chuckled at that.  “I should say not.  It’s been far too many years since my last child.”  She nodded to herself as she thought about resuming service as the family’s nurse.  “I will have to get to work immediately.  The nursery will need entirely new drapes and to have all of its furniture reupholstered, and I don’t even want to think about the cleaning…”

“You won’t leave us then?”

“When you want me to take care of your child?  How could I?”  Mommy Cupcakes thought.  “And will you want to put your child in your old room eventually?  We should clean and prepare it as well, then.”

“I think so.  Speaking of my room… we’ll need to figure out why they wanted to get into it.  You said you still have the key?”

Mommy Cupcake drew the key on its old, frayed cord out of her bodice.  “Here you go, dear.”

“Thank you.  Oh, and I also wanted to ask you another thing.  Do you know anything about a crystal fan that the Eldar gave to my family many generations ago?  From what we can tell, it is a powerful artifact, but I can’t recall ever seeing or hearing about it, and an unofficial agent of my Grandmother had had it.”

“Oh!”  Mommy Cupcakes looked around conspiratorially.  “Shhhh!  That’s the sign of the Archduchy’s spymistress.  Don’t tell anyone!”

“Don’t worry,” Alistair said with a smile.  “The secret’s safe with me.”

The Council gathered again.

“Mommy Cupcake has agreed not to kill herself.”

“Oh, good,” said Kit.  “I was worried…”

Alistair nodded with a smile, “Me, too.  It’s a huge relief.  But she also mentioned a couple of other things.  First, that fan is the symbol of the Archducal spymistress.”

“So that’s who she was… that makes her notes even more important,” said Kit.  “I had thought that Dame Esmerelda filled that role as well… I guess there was a distinction between the Mouth and the chief of field work.  I’ve also found out a little about what the fan does.  It’s very powerful.  It’s a strongly enchanted magic weapon that can be used to parry well, with a variety of powers designed to make its wielder better at stealthy things, and the ability to hold psionic energy as well.  It will be very handy…”  [In game terms:  Fan of the Assassin:  +4 Dex; +10 Hide bonus (circumstance); +3 War fan as long as at least 1 PP of energy in it; can store up to 20 PP total; particularly effective at parrying (can add as much as entire to-hit bonus as a parry, you do not need to declare in advance); grants user without martial arts experience the equivalent of a 2nd level monk, or a +5 level bonus to a monk]

“Mommy Cupcake also told me some other information we need to act on.  People tried to turn her against me, using my brother Luva, and tried to get access to my old room and my father’s old room.  I don’t know what they were looking for, but…”

“But we need to know and find it.  I’ll have my people check out the rooms.”

“Make sure they have magical detection ability as well,” Dame Brionna.

Kit looked back at her, “What, you think we’re a bunch of amateurs?  Of course.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Within a couple of hours, Kit returned with a report.  “The public areas of that wing have been searched thoroughly, at least a couple of months ago.  I’ve asked my people to figure out when, but that will take longer.  Whoever it was tried to pick the lock to Alistair’s old chamber, but the dwarven traps defeated them.  They were probably trying to work surreptitiously.”

“At least they could only reach the public areas,” said Dame Brionna.

“They did make it into Alistair’s father’s room, however.  It’s been picked over fairly carefully.  They took a comb off his dresser and a small journal off his desk.  My people guess that the journal was probably a book of his ‘successes.’”

Alistair nodded.  “I knew that my father had a journal like that.  I hadn’t thought to try to locate it.”

Dame Brionna looked over sharply at Alistair.  “Do you keep a similar journal?”

“Of course not!” Alistair responded indignantly, carefully not even glancing at Kit.  He wondered why Dame Brionna even asked in front of Kit, where only one answer was possible.

“Good.  If that’s all on that report?”  Dame Brionna waited for a nod from Kit.  “We should also think about the administration of the Duchy of Canberry-- not the Archduchy, but just the original crown demesne.  I’ve looked into it, and traditionally the title of Duke of Canberry is awarded to the second child as a non-hereditary position.  Early in Her Grace the Archduchess Amelia’s reign, her younger brother held the position, but he predeceased her grace by many years.  After his death, the position was vacant, with the duties executed by functionaries.  I recommend that we take steps to consolidate that power back to someone with closer ties to Your Grace.”

Kit nodded.  “That’s too important a position to be held by someone we don’t know.”

“Perhaps one of your siblings, your grace?  It could be a way to reward a loyal sibling and strengthen their ties to you at the same time.”

“I agree,” said Alistair.  “And it would have the additional benefit of making them more marriageable.  We’ll want to set up politically advantageous marriages for diplomatic purposes-- for example, Gates’s sister might be a useful marriage for one of my brothers, if I marry Kaitlyn.”  Alistair charged Dame Brionna with continuing her research and identifying which sibling would make the best choice.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The following day brought a flood of reports.  The captain who had been sent in command of the First Legion of the First Field Army hurried in.  His uniform and armor was dirtied and bloodied from the battle, but he did not take the time to clean himself up before reporting to the Council.

“Sire,” he said bowing respectfully.  “The enemy has been met, but they are much more powerful than we expected.  They are more akin to a large body of adventurers than a company of rangers or spies.  We defeated them but took heavy casualties-- perhaps four to one.  I did not wait for the final casualty reports but returned to inform you of the results of the battle as soon as we had prevailed.”  The captain’s calm cracked.  “I… I did not expect that we would lose so many…”  He hung his head in shame.

“You did the best that was possible, Captain,” replied Alistair.  “We sent your full force because of the possibility that the rangers would be more than they seemed.  It is not your fault that they were.”

“My thanks, your grace.  But still, my troops were my responsibility, as are there deaths.”

“Just as they are our responsibility, and his grace’s,” replied Dame Brionna.  “We have no choice but to act to defend Canberry and accept the sacrifice that will require of our gallant soldiers.”

The captain nodded, silently.

“Did you take any prisoners, Captain?” asked Alistair.

“No human prisoners, your grace-- they all fought to the death.  But there were also two large insect-like creatures.  We destroyed one, but the other surrendered.  It is following with a small body of troops as escort, while the main body secures the area and awaits further commands.”

“Can you describe this insect creature better?” asked Kit.

“Yes, Dame Knight.  It was approximately 9 feet tall, with black chitin, and it looked something like a humanoid ant.  It also had this sigil inscribed over its left breast.”  The captain drew out a piece of parchment on which he had jotted down a drawing of a symbol of three interlocking triangles with a rune in the center.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair looked at the symbol.  “I’d have to check to be sure which one, but that’s the symbol of one of the Thar Ingmathian houses.  As for the creature itself, that sounds like a phraint.”

“Do they have a connection to Thar Ingmath?” asked Kit.

“No, but the phraint sell young to those who can pay the price, so it could have been bought by a Thar Ingmathian house.”

“That would make sense if they planned to ambush the One of Ones,” said Dame Brionna.  “Thar Ingmath and Tang have been hostile ever since Thar Ingmath split off.”

“Yes, but…  Tell me, captain, were the adventurers threes?”

“No, sire.  Nor were they ones of Thar Ingmath, I would say.  I am fairly certain they were normal humans.  They did have a great deal of Thar Ingmathian coin on them, however.”

“You said there were two of the phraints?” asked Kit.

“Yes, dame knight.  The other fought until it was destroyed, but this one offered himself ‘to be slain or taken prisoner since there was no rational chance of success’ after the other phraint and most of the humans were killed.”

 “It does sound like they may have intended to ambush the One of Ones, your grace,” said Dame Brionna.  “With a force that capable, they may have been able to succeed.”

“Right.  Captain, take your remaining troops in the field further northwest.  The royal party from Tang should be approaching on the road.  Greet them and escort them back to the capital.  Remember that they are honored guests-- the goal is to keep them safe, nothing else.”

“Very good, sire.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After the captain left, Kit raised an eyebrow.  “It certainly seems like an assassination attempt on the One of Ones.  I’m not sure they were actually from Thar Ingmath, though.  It all seems too obvious-- like they wanted people to conclude that Thar Ingmath had assassinated the One of Ones.”

“And if it were Thar Ingmath, why were they using a Hanalian voller?” asked Dame Brionna.  “But if they were from Hanal, trying to appear as if they were mercenaries hired by Thar Ingmath… it would have started a war, and pulled Masque and Canberry in as well with the new alliance.  And if they killed the One of Ones, the surviving threes would be unlikely to notice that it was too obvious that the mercenaries were working for Thar Ingmath.  Of course, we can’t ignore the possibility that they were actually mercenaries.”

“Yes we can,” replied Alistair.  “Whoever heard of mercenaries fighting to the death?  If they were actually adventurers hired by Thar Ingmath, they all would have broken and fled, or even surrendered, once it was clear that they were beaten.  I suppose there’s the vaguest possibility that they are religious zealots or something; I think some of the Drow mercenaries actually will fight to the death if commanded to by their priestesses.  But while we need to check them out to be absolutely certain, these are almost certainly agents of an intelligence service that wants us to think that it was Thar Ingmath.”

“Makes sense,” said Kit.  “And everything is consistent with Hanal-- they have one of the best intelligence services on the continent, especially for offensive operations, and it would explain the voller.”

While the army moved into position to escort the coronation party, another detachment of troops arrived with the captured phraint, and it was brought to the Council for questioning.

“Who are you?” asked Alistair.

“I am 3 of 360.”

Kit frowned.  “Is that your name?”

The phraint’s voice remained utterly impassive as it answered, “It is my designation.”

Alistair proceeded.  “How did you come to be in the woods northwest of here?  Who do you serve?”

“I was purchased for the sole purpose of becoming a warband, nearly 2 years ago; I was not given the name of the purchaser, but only told to practice endlessly with the special weapons for which I was designed.  I was then told that the time was nigh and that my mission had been changed, and my mission had been changed.  I was transported with a group of men, all of whom were mutilated in the way of magi.  We traveled to the woods north of here.”

“Where did you come from?”

“From the woods to the north where I was captured.”

“No, before that.”

“When?”  Even the phraint’s questions were flat and uninflected.  It’s voice gave no hint of either curiosity or frustration, just a desire to get clarification.”

“After your training.”

“I trained in the North.  We traveled south to get to the woods.  I originally came from further south than here.”

Dame Brionna focused on the key issue.  “What were your orders?”

“I was given three orders.  The first was to slay a specific human, with an image that was given to me.  The second was to obey the human commander set above me.  The third was to obey my stickbrother, 54 of 360, who had been bred with command capacity.”

“And why did you surrender?”

“Your troops came.  We fought.  My stick brother fell.  My human commander fell.  No command had been given me to continue to struggle or to be killed.  It was evident that I could not overcome the warriors of your hive.  At the command of those who bought me, I was given the power of speech.  Therefore, I offered my surrender so I would not become dysfunctional.  I stand here now.”

* * *

Updates may be irregular for the next week or 10 days.  Happy Holidays!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit spoke up.  “What did you mean when you said that the humans mutilated themselves like magi?”

“They carved signs and images into their carapaces.  Only the red stickbrothers, who are magi, do that.  But only two of the humans used magic.”

“When you say the carved, what do you mean?” asked Kit trying to determine if the phraint was describing tattooing or scarification.

“They took needles and stabbed them into their bodies.”

“Was their skin as smooth afterwards as before, just with an image on it?  Or was it actually cut up?”

“Initially, it looked cut up.  But the skin went back to its smooth look but with an image on it.”

“What else can you tell us about the humans you were with?”

“They spoke often of violence.  I am a warrior, but not because there is glory in violence.  It is my nature.  But they spoke often of violence and killed without reason, even before they came south.  Here, more so.”  The phraint paused.  “Not here, but north of here.  After the trip south.  They did not want word of their presence to reach the capital.  They would wait.  A new target was given.  That one for which I was born was changed, and instead, I was to slay the tall man with the many short ones.”

“When did you get the sigil?” asked Alistair.

“Just before we were sent south.”

“Definitely misdirection, then,” said Dame Brionna.  “Who was your original target?”

“A human woman, about five arms in height.”  The phraint went on to give a meticulous description, noting even the tiniest details.

“Princess Anastasia,” said Kit.  “Would you still try to kill her?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“But… they changed my target."

“That’s a good thing.  She’s a good woman.  You should not want to kill her.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Can you be transferred to the control of another?” asked Alistair.

“No.  Unless we become free-willed, we cannot be transferred after purchase or gift.”

“Unless you become free-willed?  How does that happen?”

“If we were hired for a specific mission and it becomes impossible, and our owner cannot inform us of what to do.  A horrible thing; we must think.  Only Queens, drones, and magi should have to think.  I fear I am near free will now.”

Kit returned to the issue of the tattoos.  “Can you tell us more about the way the humans carved their bodies?”

“They acted with great ceremony and carved careful patterns.”

“Could you form an image of them?  I could lift it out of your mind.”

“You are a telepath, but you are not red.  They should dye your body to match your function.  Yes, I could form images for you to read.  I will begin with the commander, follow with the magus, then the other with magus-like power, and last show the ordinary warriors.”

Kit scanned the phraint’s mind.  The images were the sharpest, cleanest cut images she had ever encountered.  The phraint carefully, painstakingly visualized every last detail of the humans.  Kit did not recognize any of the humans, but each had many tattoos.  In every case, the most prominent tattoo was the head of a vulture, worked in considerable detail.

She looked at the others.  “Where do people wear heavy tattoos?  I know that some of the people in the poorer areas of some of the major cities do-- poor Enclaves, or Ecsilias.”

Alistair thought.  “Many people in Masque cover themselves with tattoos.  Maybe some of the people in the Brown lands, although I’m not sure.  The people of Ute, what’s left of them.”

“Masque… would members of the Order of the Vulture tattoo a vulture head on themselves?”

“Almost certainly,” said Alistair.  “What do we know about the Order of the Vulture?”

Dame Brionna answered.  “They are a huge order… there are a million of them.”

“When you say a million of them, do you mean ‘many’ or …”

“No, your grace.  There are literally a million members of the Order of the Vulture.  They are mercenaries.  But they lack discipline; they have a reputation for breaking combat at the first sign of trouble.”

“That’s not consistent with what happened here,” said Alistair.  “Based on that, there’s no way that they would have fought to the death.  Perhaps someone wanted us to think that it was Masque, if we penetrated the misdirection implicating Thar Ingmath.”

“A double feint?” asked Kit, doubtfully.  After a little more thought, she said, “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t think it very likely, but my people say that the intelligence service run by Hiktar Ahabi for Hanal is the best offensive intelligence group in the world, so the possibility of multiple layers of misdirection should not be discarded.”

“And they may have been aimed at different targets.  Surviving threes would not be likely to notice anything but the Thar Ingmathian coins and the symbol of Thar Ingmath on the phraint.  But the implication that Masque was actually responsible might have been aimed at our investigation.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna looked at the phraint.  “Can you form an image of the person who purchased you?”

Kit lifted out the image, also carefully formed.  It was a very clear image of an older, hawk-faced man.  He had no tattoos and wore no mask, but was richly clothed in heavy velvet robes, with a heavy cloak and a bejeweled rapier.  The phraint could not actually represent color-- to it terms like “red” simply described shades of gray-- so they were unable to identify any heraldry or house colors.

“Do we have any further questions for the interrogation?” asked Alistair.  Seeing no response, he looked at the phraint.  “Would you like some food?”

“You have mash?” asked the phraint, precipitating a conversation about the foodstuffs of the phraints.

“Yes, I’m certain our cooks could prepare that for you.  We’ll bring some in to you.  But you don’t have to eat it-- it’s up to you.”

The phraint twitched slightly at that last statement and then stood stock still.

“Is it dead?” asked Dame Brionna.

“No,” Kit replied, “it’s still thinking.  It’s thinking more rapidly than it ever did earlier in our interrogation, but it’s going around in circles.  It’s thinking things like, ‘If I do not eat, I will cease to function.  But if I do choose to eat, I will have made a choice and that would mean free will.  But not eating would also be a choice.’”

“Good,” said Alistair.  “When it reaches a conclusion, it will have free will, which was what I wanted.”

“If I may, your grace, I would like to have it moved to a more secure location,” said Dame Brionna.  “We do not really know what will happen when it begins acting again-- it could be completely insane.”

“Fine.”

Kit added, “Maybe we should get a _Sending_ to the One of Ones in the meantime, in case there’s another assassination attempt.  What we really need are devices that allow you to contact the other monarchs and high nobles directly…”

While Kit thought about that idea, they sent for Father Waters, and sent the One of Ones a message.  << Canberry welcomes Tang; we stopped ambush targeting you; assassins had disguises from Thar Ingmath Masque; believe actually Hanal; sending escort; do you want teleport>>

Much to their surprise, the One sent back a panicky sending asking for the teleportation.  He was traveling with a very light guard and the assassins would probably have been able to wipe out the entire party.  Quietly, so as to avoid any public humiliation for Tang, Lady Constance sent one of her apprentices to scry on the One of Ones for a fix, teleport in, and teleport back with the Tang monarch.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

When Kit had left to coordinate the efforts of the Guilds to locate the remaining harlequins, Dame Brionna approached Alistair about a private matter.

“Your grace, I recently had a trusted priest perform some divinations.  I had assumed that you would have produced some bastards in your, ahem, travels, and I thought that it would be prudent for us to locate them before any of our enemies did.”

“And?”

“The divinations have confirmed that you have not fathered any children.  I don’t want to presume, your grace, but… do you know whether you are fertile?”

Alistair stammered a little.  “I always assumed so… certainly the rest of my family seems to have no problems.  But while I haven’t really thought about it, surely someone would have gotten pregnant…  Are they certain?” Alistair asked, a little plaintively.

“Positive, your grace.”

“Perhaps someone cursed me?  We might be able to break a curse like that…”

“Yes, your grace.  May I suggest that you pay a visit on Midwife Burleytoes?  As the high priestess of Gunnora, she should be uniquely qualified to assist with any problem like that.  And of course we must resolve the problem quickly, to ensure a smooth succession.”

“I’m well aware of that,” snapped Alistair.  “But yes, can you arrange a meeting?”

“I already took the liberty of asking her to be ready to see someone this afternoon, your grace.”


----------



## Quartz

Mwahahaha! A most excellent twist. And Happy New Year to all of the Aphonion crew.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Yeah, I was pretty surprised by that twist.  Happy New Year to all of you, as well!

----

Alistair and Dame Brionna quickly made their way to the hobbit midwife’s home.  The guards that had been posted to protect her saluted Dame Brionna on her approach, and if they noticed her holding the door open to allow an invisible Alistair to slip in unseen, they would keep their mouths shut.

Midwife Burleytoes smiled at Dame Brionna.  “You had a matter you wanted my opinion on?”

Alistair lowered the hood of his cloak.  “We need to know whether I can sire children.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding.  “I help people with problems like that all the time.  Is there any reason to think that there would be a concern?”

“We checked recently with magical means, and his grace has not sired any natural children, but certainly not for want of opportunity.”

Midwife Burleytoes nodded judiciously.  “Well then.  Let’s have a look.”

Alistair looked at Dame Brionna pointedly.  “Ordinarily, I’m not particularly modest, but under the circumstances…”

“Of course, your grace.  I will be just outside the door.”

Midwife Burleytoes examined Alistair carefully and cast a spell or two.  “Oh, my… You certainly don’t have any problems with fertility-- you’re as virile as a young goat in heat!  But… ah, that’s what it is. You may put your trousers back on.”  She walked over and rapped on the door to signal Dame Brionna that she could return.  “He’s perfectly fertile but there’s a block that prevents him from having any children.  It took me a little longer to figure it out because I’ve never seen that sort of block placed on a man before; it’s usually the women who want to avoid unwanted children.  And I’ve never seen an anti-fertility spell this powerful before.”

“So it’s magical?  Can you tell who placed the curse?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a curse, exactly.  It will wear off in a few months.  My guess would be that it was your grandmother who placed it, ‘cause it’s a potent one.”

“Except that it takes away my potence,” grumbled Alistair.  “Can anything be done to remove it?”

Midwife Burleytoes pursed her lips.  “It could be done, but… in order to remove the block ahead of schedule, you would need a caster more powerful than the one who placed it.  And as I said, I could never place a fertility block for longer than a few weeks.  This one was designed to last for months and months, perhaps even years.  If I could cast one like that, even the high court women would come to me for them…”


----------



## Baron Opal

Ahh, Grandma was protecting the line. Probably tired of her son's foundlings popping up and made sure that the likely heir wouldn't have undue consequences. Brava, Archduchess!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Yeah, Archduchess Amelia did a great job there.  The players were all very amused and pleased by this, much as Alistair was annoyed. 

----

“This will work out perfectly.  By the time you have married, your grace, the block will be gone, and we don’t need to worry about any potential threats to the succession.  Her Grace the Archduchess has taken care of another problem for us before it even arose.”

“But she shouldn’t have done it without asking me,” said Alistair.  “In any event, nobody else needs to know about this.  Midwife Burleytoes, we may need you to perform a similar fertility check when I marry.  Princess Kaitlyn of Stormwall seems like the most likely candidate, but we need to check out a few other possibilities first.”

“You intend to marry and have an heir quickly, then.”

“I have no choice.  With the stability of the Archduchy at stake, and the continuing assassination attempts…  And while we are on the subject, can you confirm paternity?”

“Yes, but the courts would not accept my testimony…”

“That is of no matter.  I am the Archduke.  When the time comes, we will want to confirm the Ashberry lineage, and I will be able to take any actions that may be necessary.”

“Oh.  I suppose you could…”

“Don’t worry.  The solutions that I would be able to use are much more humane than what lesser nobles, who don’t have my options, do when they have similar fears.”

Dame Brionna cut in to the increasingly uncomfortable conversation.  “Midwife Burleytoes, we would also appreciate your advice on some matchmaking issues.”

She smiled.  “One of my most pleasant duties.  Are you looking for a husband?”

“No!  I have a fiance, and he may yet return…  No, I’m thinking about the Archducal family.  There are some traits we would like to cultivate in the collateral lines.”

“Ah, you are trying to set up bloodlines with a specific virtue?”

“Yes.  Some of the Archducal family has the sight, and we would prefer to see that it did not die out.”

Midwife Burleytoes nodded.  “You’d be wanting to talk to the Order, then.  They specialize in that sort of thing.  I set up matches to make happy marriages with healthy children, but they do more advanced things.  I wonder…  His Grace’s grandmother looked into having a master breeder sent over but wasn’t in the mood to put up with them.  There was some trait that Amelia wanted preserved and was afraid was dying out.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “That would have been her considering the same issue-- trying to preserve the sight.  What do you know about this Order of breeders?”

“The Order is based on Khamista.  They specialize in helping noble houses breed desirable characteristics.”

“Are they aligned with the forces of good?”

“I can’t say that I know for sure, but they seem good-natured.  I haven’t heard of anything to make me think they might be evil.”

“Do you know hew to contact them?”

“Yes.  I’ll make sure that somebody comes to call on you, Dame Brionna.”

“Thank you.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“His grace is very worried about the assassins, isn’t he?  That’s the only reason I could imagine a lad like him being in such a hurry to start a family.”

“Yes.  The harlequin assassins, in particular, are powerful and dangerous.  They’ve disappeared, but they’re not gone.”

Midwife Burleytoes nodded.  “I don’t believe the fancy boys have run very far.   They’ve gone to ground.  I’ve heard rumors…”  the hobbit matron leaned in close to Dame Brionna and whispered, only a little theatrically.  “If I were you, I would check the houses below Pottersfield.  The _women’s_ houses.”

“Really?” asked Dame Brionna.  “What makes you suspect the brothels?” 

“The madams have too much money for people in their position.  Two of them have left the City altogether.  And it can’t be their business-- the girls have not been coming for their herbs of late.  I’ve also heard things from other women.  One was saying that her paramour has become unhappy of late, and she has had to deliver more than she usually had to.  And from what I hear of the boys, they don’t have a place to stay anymore…  Taking it all together…”

Dame Brionna nodded. “Thank you, Midwife Burleytoes.  That insight may be more valuable than all our intelligence work.”

The hobbit smiled affably.  “I’m happy to help, in any small ways I can.  I’m just an old woman, but if I can do my bit.”

“We all learn great wisdom from our elders.”

Dame Brionna gathered up Alistair, who had wandered off and was amiably helping himself to the fine spread of food that Midwife Burleytoes always kept available for guests, and returned to the palace.
“His grace is very worried about the assassins, isn’t he?  That’s the only reason I could imagine a lad like him being in such a hurry to start a family.”

“Yes.  The harlequin assassins, in particular, are powerful and dangerous.  They’ve disappeared, but they’re not gone.”

Midwife Burleytoes nodded.  “I don’t believe the fancy boys have run very far.   They’ve gone to ground.  I’ve heard rumors…”  the hobbit matron leaned in close to Dame Brionna and whispered, only a little theatrically.  “If I were you, I would check the houses below Pottersfield.  The _women’s_ houses.”

“Really?” asked Dame Brionna.  “What makes you suspect the brothels?” 

“The madams have too much money for people in their position.  Two of them have left the City altogether.  And it can’t be their business-- the girls have not been coming for their herbs of late.  I’ve also heard things from other women.  One was saying that her paramour has become unhappy of late, and she has had to deliver more than she usually had to.  And from what I hear of the boys, they don’t have a place to stay anymore…  Taking it all together…”

Dame Brionna nodded. “Thank you, Midwife Burleytoes.  That insight may be more valuable than all our intelligence work.”

The hobbit smiled affably.  “I’m happy to help, in any small ways I can.  I’m just an old woman, but if I can do my bit.”

“We all learn great wisdom from our elders.”

Dame Brionna gathered up Alistair, who had wandered off and was amiably helping himself to the fine spread of food that Midwife Burleytoes always kept available for guests, and returned to the palace.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

When the Council had reassembled, she began without preamble.  “I’ve heard reports that the harlequins may be hiding out in the brothels below Pottersfield.”

“We’ll have to check that out to see if we can confirm their location,” said Alistair.  “Do we have any good ways to find out more information?”

“What about through the Manumistian clergy?”  asked Dame Brionna.  “I wouldn’t ordinarily approve, but they are part of the Ecumenical Alliance, and if any of the madams are Manumistian they should be able to find out what is happening.”

“No such luck,” replied Alistair.  “My grandmother grudgingly tolerated the Manumistian caravans, but refused to give any licenses to Manumists to run permanent brothels.  I think it offended her religious sensibilities.  What about the thieves' guild?  Do they have any control over the brothels?”

Kit shook her head.  “The brothels are licensed businesses, not criminal enterprises, so the guild doesn’t control them directly.  And in terms of protection rackets and similar matters, the brothels are one of the least penetrated businesses.”

“I would have thought that they would be important for intelligence gathering,” said Alistair.

“They could be, but your grandmother did not encourage that sort of work,” said Kit.  “We’ll need to look into developing more resources in that regard, especially in foreign lands but even here for security purposes.  But that will take time.”  She looked at Alistair.  “What about approaching it from the other direction?  Do you know some people who frequent the brothels who might be able to investigate?”

Alistair nodded.  “Let me think for a moment about who a good person to ask would be.  We need someone who’s smart and reliable, who will seem perfectly plausible, and who isn’t linked to the Archducal house in any obvious way.”  He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair for a few moments.  “Ah, I think I know who to ask.  Dame Brionna, could you ask Lucas to come to the palace quietly?  He’s one of the younger cousins of the Earl of Southworth.”

“And you know he would not stick out at the brothels?”

“Yes… I never spent a lot of time in the Pottersfield area, but I did go a few times.  Lucas was part of the group of young nobles that I traveled down there with on several occasions.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair met Lucas in a private audience chamber.  Dame Brionna showed the young gallant in.  As Lucas looked Dame Brionna over, Kit read his mind from a concealed hiding place.

<<Is that his girlfriend?>> Lucas thought, clearly thoroughly intimidated by Dame Brionna.  Kit could not quite tell whether he feared or envied the idea of a girlfriend like the captain of the guard.

“Lucas!” said Alistair, happily, rising from his throne to approach his old friend.

Lucas genuflected appropriately, although the effect was somewhat marred by a broad smile.  “Your eminent grace.”

Alistair noted approvingly that Lucas was thinner and more attractive than he had been when last they met, and that he now sported a fine rapier in an elegant holder.  Alistair clapped his hands on Lucas’s shoulders.  “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to see you until now.  Things have been difficult since I returned.”

“Not to worry, Ali… your grace,” Lucas corrected himself with a quick glance towards Dame Brionna.  “I’m just glad to know that we are still friends.  I worried that I had done something to offend you.”

“And I’m sorry for that.  I hope all has been well with you?”

“Aye, it has, although I haven’t had any experiences as exciting as your travels,” he said a hint of envy in his voice.

Alistair smiled.  “I think I may be able to find you some adventure closer to home.  The Archduchy has some things that need looking into, and I was hoping that you could help.”

“Of course, Alistair.  Just tell me what you need.”

“Think carefully before you agree, Lucas.  I need to send someone I trust, but this will be dangerous, and I can’t promise that we’ll be able to keep you safe if something goes wrong.”

“Don’t worry about that, Alistair.  I can take care of myself these days,” Lucas lightly touched the hilt of his rapier, “and I’m happy to take a few risks to help you and the Archduchy.  Just tell me what you need me to do.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Very well.  You remember the sporting houses we used to go to below Pottersfield?”

Lucas blinked at the apparent non sequiter.  “Sure.  I haven’t been to them in a while; it’s probably been two years since I last went there.  There’s a girl at Madam Mimi’s in the uptown district who’s much prettier than any of the Pottersfield girls.”

Alistair nodded.  “I understand, but your going to need to go back to the Pottersfield houses.  You’ll probably want to be looking for something special and kinky, so anyone who knows your habits will think that you’re heading to Pottersfield for something Madam Mimi’s girls won’t do.  We need you to look around the Pottersfield brothels.”

Lucas’s eyes widened as he realized that this was the task that Alistair had mentioned.  “What am I looking for?”

“I don’t know, exactly.  Have you heard of the strange people in clown make-up, distributing candy and coin in the poorer parts of the City?  They’re deadly assassins, sent to kill me before the coronation, and we believe they’re hiding in some of the brothels.  We need to find out where, specifically, and any details we can about their defenses or what they’re planning.”

Lucas smiled.  “You can count on me.”

“Be careful, Lucas.  The people we want you to scout out are very dangerous.  Don’t take any chances, and remember that you’re just there to get information.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll be back before you know it, none the worse for wear.”

“If you need any resources…”

“Alistair… we’re just talking about a low-class brothel.  I can pay for it myself.”

“Thank you.  We won’t forget this service, just as we would never forget your friendship.”

After Lucas left, Alistair said glumly, “I hope I haven’t just killed a friend.  I never wanted to endanger my friends, but …”  He looked at Kit in particular.

“Don’t worry, your grace.  Even if he is killed, you could have him raised.”

“If the body is intact.”

“And we all know the chances we’re taking,” said Kit.  “It’s what we need to do.”

“Can you have someone keep an eye on him?”

“Already on it.  He’ll be tailed, but never know my person’s there, unless he’s good enough that we probably don’t need to worry anyway.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A runner in the livery of the City Guard entered, saluted Alistair, and then approached Dame Brionna, tugging at his forelock.

“Yes?  What is it?”

“Begging your pardon, Dame Knight, but I’m from the North Gate.  Commander Strawberry thought you should know:  the delegation from Ko Re Pek has arrived.”

Dame Brionna looked over to Alistair.  “Your grace?  What do we know of Ko Re Pek?”

“Not a great deal, I’m afraid.  My grandmother never had any significant dealings with that country.  But ‘country’ is sort of the wrong word, anyway-- Ko Re Pek is a mountainous area with a few tenuous paths leading to and from it.  It’s inhabited by a changing mix of strange humanoid peoples, none of whom are ever seen outside Ko Re Pek except when they hire out as mercenaries.”

“Did we expect them?”

“No… they don’t ordinarily send emissaries to anything.”

Dame Brionna turned back to the runner.  “What are the specific emissaries?”

He consulted a note.  “Two chelliks, a pachak, a rappa, and some sort of strange caterpillar man.”

“Do we know if they are evil?”

“They are not.  We had a paladin posted at the gate, and he checked them all.”

Alistair commented, “Chelliks are occasionally hired as guards; they’re four-armed humanoids, somewhat orcan, but potent warriors and disciplined to the hilt.  I don’t know what the other types he mentioned are.”

“Pachaks are monkey-like, but with a third hand at the end of their tails,” added the runner.  “Rappas are vulture people; they look frighteningly like vrocks, your grace, but they’re not evil.  The final one was like a centaur, but with a giant caterpillar body instead of a horse’s body.  They also had an enormous wrapped package with them.”

Alistair shrugged.  “I suppose we need to invite them to a dinner.  They’ve honored us by coming at all, and it wouldn’t do to offend them in response.  Where are they now?”

“They’ve gone to an inn, your grace.”

An invitation to dinner was quickly prepared, and the runner carried it over.  When he arrived, the one chellik who could read laboriously made his way through the invitation, sounding out individual words, and then drew forth an enormous piece of parchment.  He carefully wrote out a five-word response:  “Thank you, we will come,” and then signed it.  The other emissaries attached their thumbprints, and he carefully folded the parchment up before breaking a wax candle over it for no apparent reason and handing it to the runner.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Later the same afternoon, Lord Ocelot attended upon Alistair.

“You wished to speak with me, your eminent grace?”

“Indeed.  I wanted to inform you of a matter of grave mutual interest.  One of our armies engaged a force of twenty heavily armed and equipped warriors in the forests to the northwest of the capital.  The warriors were more like what you would expect from adventurers in ability and magic than common troops, and they inflicted fairly serious casualties on our army.  The reason this concerns you as well is that they all bore a tattoo depicting a vulture.”

Lord Ocelot’s equanimity broke, and he quickly began, “Your grace, I cannot believe…”

Alistair held up a hand.  “We do not think they were from Masque.  However, we believe that whoever their true master is wanted us to believe that they were.”

Lord Ocelot nodded.  “That makes sense.  I was confused at first.  The Vultures are a huge order, but they are a lousy order.  I cannot imagine that they would have been able to stand against your troops in battle.”

“Do they receive the Vulture tattoo upon initiation?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s another reason to believe that these were fake Vultures.  They received their tattoos immediately before the mission.  Although I suppose they could have been experienced adventurers who had newly joined the Order…”

“All but impossible, your grace.  The Vultures could not recruit skilled adventurers.  The dreams that Vultures have are small dreams.  It is the nature that every nation must deal with those within their culture who are less driven.  The Vultures are ours.”

“They were, we believe, intended to assassinate the One of Ones of Tang.  Whoever is behind this sought to start a war, at least between Tang and Masque, and possibly with us as well because of the new alliance.  We thought that you would be as interested in uncovering the truth as we are.”

“Of course.  We will help you as well as we can, but our spies are not very effective at infiltrating foreign lands.”  Lord Ocelot moved one hand so that, without directly pointing at it, he alluded to the mask on his face.

“I understand,” replied Alistair.  “Our principal suspicion is that Hanal was behind it.  They left clues pointing to Thar Ingmath directly, and then more subtly pointing to Masque.”

Lord Ocelot nodded.  “I know something of Hikbar’s organization, probably as much as any other great power would know.  Tang and Thar Ingmath both have difficulty conducting any external intelligence operations for reasons similar to, but even worse than, our own.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We have an image of the master that the adventurers served.  Perhaps you can recognize him?”

Kit projected the image.

“While it would be easier with color, that is an Archibald of Pandahee.  I do not know which one.  And he may be in service to Hikbar Arkihebe, the head of the Hanalian intelligence service.  He is definitely of Hanal.”

“An Archibald of Pandahee?  What does that mean?”

“The Archibalds are privateers.  They may not have actual naval vessels or be captains, but they pirate under letters of marque from the Hiercov of Pandahee.”

“What’s their air fleet like?” asked Dame Brionna.

“They have a small air fleet, some boats.  Why do you ask?”

“The operatives were dropped from a fast, human-made voller.  The voller was much faster than most human countries besides Hanal could have.”

“Ah.  Well, Hanal does not sell its best technology, but the Hiercov of Pandahee could easily access ships of the rest of Hanal, even if he did not personally possess airships of that quality.  Pandahee is a Hanalian great house, after all.”

“What can you tell us of Pandahee’s politics?” asked Alistair.  “I’m afraid that we are not as well informed about the Hanalian great houses as I would like.”

“Pandahee is one of the old great houses.  It is common knowledge that they are less than happy that Princess Anastasia has chosen a different house to ally with in marriage.”

“So they would not back her claim?”

“They would prefer one of the other heirs.  And they could try to take the throne if none of the Queen-Empress’s children can succeed; they have a collateral line, although there are no direct lines outside the mainline.”

“I thought the Hanalian imperial family was strictly matrilineal and that new monarchs traditionally kill their sisters,” asked Dame Brionna.

“It is, but where there are males in the house, there are byblows, and such lines do exist.  In the absence of a legitimate heir, the throne could pass to a niece or cousin outside of the imperial family.  They are not of pure blood, but children of teen-aged males survive in several of the duchies, the hiercovates.  If I had one of my servants prepare a glossary of terms and houses, would that be of help to you?”

“We would consider that a great service,” replied Alistair.

“You would not be offended if one of the maskless in my service left my chambers?”

“They are free, I presume?”

“Of course, your grace.  We understand your land’s prohibition on slavery and would not presume to violate it.”

“Then it would be acceptable.”

“Excellent.  I’ll have my servants coordinate with your scribes.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The last meeting that they were able to fit in that day was with the Equitable Varance Tuttle, the Minister of Magic.  The archmage entered the audience chamber, bowed to Alistair, and waited.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” began Alistair.  “We would like to discuss how things stand with your portfolio, and in particular the state of magic education.”

“Well enough, your grace.  The limits of our magic school have prevented us from fully realizing our potential, but we still have formidable magical abilities within the Archduchy.  But the school proceeds as well as it can.”

“Did you study in the Collegium?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Indeed not.  I trained in the Crescent City Alliance, as the personal pupil of the Archduchess Matilda Ashberry,” his voice puffed with a certain measure of pride as he said that.  “The Collegium cannot really support the training of the most talented students.  The Collegium Magica matches the quality of other non-apprentice schools on the continent, no more, but at least we have a Collegium.  Many of the other realms on Drucien maintain no scholastic education for mages, relying purely on apprenticeships.  As a result, in addition to the local students, we draw students from Gates, from the Eastern Trade Federation, and as far north as Enclaves.”

“What are their principle areas of study?” inquired Alistair.  “Offensive magics, defensive magics, or the non-warlike areas?”

“The Collegium teaches all subjects, your grace, but many of the mages, such as most of the ones from Enclaves, are focused on making money.  So they learn to brew potions, make items, and grow herbs.  And, of course, we only get the second string of magic students from Enclaves.  The best study in academies there, or more likely find apprenticeships.”

“You may have heard of our plan to establish a more substantial school of magic?”

“Indeed, your grace.  I must say, we’re terribly excited about the prospect.”

Dame Brionna took a more direct approach.  “The magi don’t worry that actively recruiting foreign wizards for the faculty will be threatening?”

“What?  Oh, no, quite the opposite.  If Canberry becomes more of a center of magical learning, that can only advance our own studies.  If his grace intends to recruit actively from the magi and archmagi beyond Canberry, so much the better.  And at a more basic level, the magi and archmagi are devotedly loyal to the crown.  Their support for the Archduke is absolute, and I have heard nothing except things in his favor.  You must understand, we know what his family has done for us, and we will not forget.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna nodded, pleased with the answer.  “We had another question as well, Minister.  Are you familiar with the details of the protections that coronation confers on the Archduke?”

“Oh, yes.  Well, that is to say I’m very familiar with the arcane protections it confers-- there are also divine, and perhaps psionic, protections as well.”

“Could you describe them to us?”

“Certainly.  The arcane wards are triggered at the time of coronation.  They are thousands of years old and built into the palace itself to protect the Archduke and people that he designates.”

“People he designates?” asked Alistair.  “Are there limits on how many people he can designate?”

“There is no numerical limit on designees, but the Archduke must make each designation personally and must touch and name the designee.  In terms of effect, the wards summon guardian golems should any creature teleport in to attack the Archduke or a designee.”

“What about teleporting the Archduke out?” asked Kit.

“Wise that you should ask about that; we lost the Archduke’s eleven great-grandfather to a hostile teleport such as that.  The wards were adjusted, and now the Archduke is immovable after coronation.  And lastly, we have warded against the Great Curse.  That is somewhat less important now than it once was, but best to keep it safe.”

“The Great Curse?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Many years ago, Berta released a Great Curse upon the lands that spread out slowly from the Confederacy of the Southern Kingdoms.  The idea was to affect rulers and to encourage their most extreme traits to cause their destruction.  I think it is no longer in effect, but we ward against it nonetheless.”

Dame Brionna said another silent curse under her breath at Berta, while everyone thought about how fortunate it was that Alistair would not be exposed to the Great Curse.  “And that is the sum of the arcane wards?”

“Indeed.  Other than that, all of the remaining wards are divine or natural in nature, and you would be better served consulting experts on those subjects.”

End Session 13

Ladybird will be taking over writing duties for a few posts; I missed the first part of session 14, so she is handling that.


----------



## Ladybird

Here begins Session 14! As CP said, he missed the first part of this session, so I'm going to be Story-Houring for the next little bit. Enjoy 

---

The day dawned far too bright and far too early, with sunshine streaming through the windows of the royal bedchamber. Kit winced away from it, wriggling deeper into the fluffy down comforters and pillows to hide her head away from the light. 

But no amount of effort could stop the knocking on the door, and even through the layers of feathers, Kit could still hear the polite, discreet voice of a servant calling, “My – er – lady? Dame Katherine?” With a groan, Kit rolled out of bed. 

“Hrrrm?” Alistair mumbled behind her.

“Morning briefing,” Kit sighed, pulling on her dressing gown on as she stumbled towards the door. “It’s for me – don’t worry about it. Get some more sleep.”

Alistair rolled over, with another blurry “Hrrrrm,” and pulled the covers over his head, as Kit herself had done a moment before. She sighed again, and turned back to open the door.

The servant was hovering outside, upright and impassive, as if he had been born wearing livery and as if half-dressed young women came stumbling out of the Archduke’s chambers every morning. _Oh, wait, they do_, Kit thought, with an inward grumble. _Except usually they’re me, these days._ She gave her dressing gown a tug to straighten it, and said, “Yes?”

The servant cleared his throat with the same pointed discretion, and said, “Dame Katherine. This message just arrived for you.”

Kit took it, and the servant glided off to wherever servants go. The message read:

_To the Mouth from the Little Toe:
Young "friends" of ours tell us that indeed candy has been distributed in the Pottersflat and Stettington sections of the city. We are unsure where they are coming from, but we think that they are probably out of "Endless Stream" tavern. We cannot prove that of course._

Or at least, that’s what was on the paper. Kit got as far as “has been” before she bogged down, her mouth screwing into an intent frown as she struggled to sound out the words. There just wasn’t much time to devote to practicing reading these days, not with the coronation coming up and assassination plots still around every corner. Time to go find the scribe.


----------



## Ladybird

Kit’s scribe, inherited from Dame Esmeralda, was a weedy, officious, aging little man. Kit wasn’t sure why he ever needed to write anything down – he seemed to carry most of the Archduchy’s top-secret information around in his balding head. But she was grateful for his presence as a link to Dame Esmeralda, a record of the past activities of the Mouth, and as someone to help her with reading and writing the enormous volume of messages that went through the Mouth’s office.

“Ah! Good morning, Dame Katherine.” The scribe offered a slightly nervous smile. Dame Esmeralda had been nearly his own age, and he still hadn’t gotten used to the new Mouth being so much younger. Or prettier. Or a ‘personal friend’ of the Archduke.

“Good morning,” Kit replied, with a decent attempt at a smile despite her sleepiness. “This came in for me a few minutes ago. Could you…?”

The scribe didn’t even need her to finish; he just took the parchment from her outstretched hand. “Of course, my lady.” After he was finished reading it out loud, he and Kit both sat frowning for a moment – her into space, him at the ill-formed letters of the message. “This is the work of…a child? No, just someone who isn’t very used to writing,” the scribe decided. “Quite strange. Have you received messages from this particular Toe before?”

“I don’t think so,” Kit replied, shaking her head. “That tavern that the Toe mentioned – the Endless Stream? What’s that?”

Oddly, the scribe grew slightly pale. “Oh, my lady, I really shouldn’t say…”

“What?” Kit perked up – something that shouldn’t be said was always promising. 

“My lady, it wouldn’t be appropriate,” the scribe hemmed and hawed, his forehead wrinkling in anxious agitation.

Kit sighed. “I’m the _Mouth_. If there’s something going on at this place that threatens the safety of the Archduke and the city, I need to know about it! What is it?”

And the poor scribe fainted dead away.

Kit rushed to his side, instantly alert and worried. Awkwardly, she patted his face – just short of a slap, she didn’t want to injure the fragile little man – until he came around, his watery eyes fluttering weakly open.

“Oh, my lady, forgive me!” the scribe gasped. “I didn’t mean to – it’s just that – I really really shouldn’t say! Not to someone so young!”

Kit rolled her eyes as she helped the scribe back into his chair, repeating with weary persistence, “I’m the Mouth! I need to know!”

After much more hemming and hawing, the scribe finally managed a choked, wide-eyed whisper: “My lady, there are _questionable women_ there!”

Kit was very proud of herself for keeping a straight face. “Really?” she asked, with matching wide eyes. _He deals with murders, spies, demons, and all of the secret threats to the Archduchy, and it’s a brothel that makes him faint?_

“Oh, my lady, please don’t go to such a scandalous place!”

It was getting harder and harder to keep a straight face. “It’s all right,” Kit said aloud. “I’ll send some of my people to check it out.”

The fretful little scribe finally began to calm down. “Oh, good!”

“Are there any other reports?” Kit asked, changing the subject with what she hoped was merciful speed.

“No, that’s all,” the scribe replied, seizing on the new topic eagerly. “In fact, the level of violent crime has been sharply decreasing in the last few days.”

Kit was finally able to let her smile come out. “Really?”

“Yes, Dame Katherine. There were no serious crimes at all in Canberry City last night. No murders, no break-ins – nothing.”

Kit’s smile widened into a grin. “Thank you.” _It’s nice to be in charge, sometimes,_ she thought, as she went off to find Brionna.


----------



## Ladybird

The morning’s military briefing was well underway by the time Kit got there, with Dame Brionna and one of the military attachés bent over a table, on which a huge map of the continent was spread. Small figures were arrayed across it, with tiny flags marking each figure as representing one section of the army of the Brightspan heir.

“They’re heading south,” the attaché was explaining. “These towns here have been nearly depleted of their supplies, because the army is buying them in such great quantities.”

“Is there any way we can forestall that?” Brionna asked. “Send people to buy up supplies ahead of the army, so there won’t be anything left by the time they get there?” Dame Brionna’s armor and tabard were as spotlessly clean as always, and her posture rigidly upright, but Kit could see the weariness around the other woman’s eyes. Brionna was hardly sleeping at all these days – up before dawn for prayers, and lucky if she got to sleep less than two hours after midnight. There will be time to sleep after the coronation, Brionna had taken to saying.

Kit and Brionna exchanged brief, tight smiles as Kit circled around to take up a position on the other side of the table and frowned down at the map. “Is there any other way we can slow them down?” Brionna was asking, running a finger across the smooth terrain of the map ahead of the army. “Put obstacles in their way?”

Kit looked up at the two military people, the beginnings of a mischievous grin coming to her face. “Well, we _do_ have the services of a lot of air elementals, thanks to Stythus. Could we send ‘em some bad weather?”

Brionna actually gave a real smile in response to that. “Of course! We can send them wind! And rain!”

“Mud!” Kit agreed gleefully.

“Floods!” Brionna cried – and then looked back down at the map with sudden inspiration. “Wait – they _must_ have to cross a river at some point. Where’s the most likely spot?”

“Here,” the attaché said after a few moments’ thought, pointing to a spot on the map. “Just east of the border of Haven. They’ll have to ford the river there, actually.”

“Perfect,” Brionna declared. “We’ll flood that out.”

“It would just be a delaying measure,” the attaché warned. 

“But the longer we delay them, the better it is.” Brionna smiled again, as she finished, “And if we delay them long enough, we succeed.”


----------



## Quartz

I continue to enjoy being fascinated by the novelty of this story hour.


----------



## Ladybird

A servant knocked on the door to Brionna’s office, interrupting the discussion of military matters with a pair of invitations, presented with elaborate politeness to Brionna and Kit. The invitations were on heavy cream-colored parchment, sealed with a crest that Kit had never seen before (not that that was unusual, in these days when faraway nobles were flooding the city): a dragon rampant, carrying a dead horse in its talons.

“That’s the Barony of Augurt,” Brionna said, thoughtfully turning her invitation over in her hands while Kit grimaced at the gruesome heraldry. “Don’t be misled by the name, though – Augurt started out as a barony, but now it’s as large as many kingdoms, and as powerful. Most nations on Drucien agree that they _are_ a kingdom, even if they’ve never changed the name.”

Kit, meanwhile, had already opened her invitation, and while the flowery swirls of the handwriting meant that its content eluded her, there were a few aspects of the invitation that were perfectly clear. “Is that _gold and platinum ink_?” she gasped.

“Hm,” Brionna said, in a more measured tone. “Lord Terence of Augurt invites us both to the Wyvern’s Wing for dinner.”

Kit looked up at Brionna over the edge of the invitation with eyebrows raised in a questioning expression.

“Lord Terence is the younger brother of the Baron of Augurt,” Brionna explained. “He’s young, brilliant, and pushing his brother to expand the size of their army. The Baron, however, prefers to put his trust in Paranswarm to defend the realm, rather than in a strong military.” Brionna’s mouth twisted disdainfully. “The current baron is fairly weak in general – heavily influenced by his court, and with little mind of his own. Either Terence or their younger sister would have made a better ruler.”

“Has Lord Terence ever made a move to become the ruler himself?” Kit asked, the wheels in her mind already beginning to turn, churning out plots of younger brothers’ rebellions and secret armies.

“No,” Brionna replied, to Kit’s relief and disappointment both. “He appears to be perfectly content in his current position. It would have been better if Terence were the ruler in other ways, too, though. He is rumored to be apostate from the Church of Paranswarm. That isn’t the case, from what I’ve heard; he’s merely a devout and slightly unorthodox follower of the Weeping Woman. But even that is better than his brother’s strict adherence to Paranswarmian principles.”

“Weeping Woman?” Kit repeated, with a grin. “We can work with that.”


----------



## Ladybird

“My lord Chamberlain?”

“Yes, Dame Brionna?”

Brionna held out the invitation from Lord Terence. “Dame Katherine and I each received one of these. Has anyone else gotten one?”

The Chamberlain took the invitation from Brionna, turning it over in his hands with a thoughtful, assessing gaze. “No, my lady. Not that I know of. It’s a bit odd that Lord Terence did not go through my office,” the Chamberlain added, with a slight frown, “but then again, he is known to be…eccentrically direct in such matters. He hardly has any staff of his own, you know. Just one bodyguard, very few other attendants – and he actually gives charity with his own hands! His brother is one of the most pretentious rulers on Drucien – I have no idea how Lord Terence turned out the way he did.”

Brionna returned to Kit with the information and, when she was done, a new theory. “I think this may be a trap to get hostages.”

Kit drew back, startled. “Ugh. I didn’t think of that.”

“That’s all right. It’s my job to think of things like that,” Brionna replied grimly.

“But from what you said, it doesn’t sound like Lord Terence’s style – all that skullduggery and subterfuge? According to the Chamberlain, he’s almost too direct for his own good.”

“Oh, I hope it isn’t. But we have to be prepared for anything.” Brionna stood up again. “I’m going to go to the Treasury to get rings of teleportation for us. We’re going to go into this well-prepared.”

“All right,” Kit agreed. “And I’m going to talk to some of my people to see what else I can find out about Lord Terence.”


----------



## Ladybird

A very happy birthday to our principal writer, Cerebral Paladin! Wishing you cake, happiness, and natural 20s 

--

The Archducal Treasury resided deep below the palace, protected by multiple layers of heavy metal doors, locks, and shimmering magical wards. There were probably dozens, if not hundreds, of other security measures, but those were the only ones Brionna could see as she wound her way down the flights of steep stairs towards the outer room that housed the Keeper of the Vaults, and all of the Treasury’s records.

“I’d like to requisition two rings of teleportation, please – one for myself and one for Dame Katherine.”

The Keeper had become used to not asking ‘why’ when senior members of the Archducal staff made requests. “Very good, Dame Brionna. Simply fill out these forms in triplicate, and I will have them ready for you right away.”

With a sigh, Brionna set about filling out the exhaustively detailed forms. “Oh, by the way? I’d also like to see the records for the most recent items that Lady Brenda Brightspan took from the treasury.”

“Very good, Dame Brionna,” the Keeper said again, and went off to rummage through his records. “Ah, here we are. Lady Brenda requested the Tiara of Flame, and…oh my, that’s interesting. Strongbox 378.”

“What’s that? Or rather, what was in it?”

“I’m not sure,” the Keeper replied, frowning slightly. “It was put into the treasury by Archduchess Amelia’s father. I don’t know what was in it. I doubt the box itself had any particular value, since nothing is written down about its properties, but there are no records of what was in it.”

“Can you tell me when Lady Brenda asked for these items?”

“Just before her trip to Tarsh – approximately ten months ago.”

“Ah.” Brionna gave a satisfied nod. It all came back to the expedition to Tarsh. “What about the tiara, then? What does that do?”

“Oh, now that I can tell you all about.” Back on secure ground, the Keeper brightened. “The Tiara of Flame is one of the six artifacts of the Archducal Crown Jewels. When it is worn by a psionic person, it links that person to everyone within a certain distance, allowing the wearer to sense the presence of evil thoughts or intentions.”

“That’s _very_ useful,” said Brionna thoughtfully. “But how was Lady Brenda able to get such an important item?”

“The late Archduchess had a list of people who were allowed to requisition freely. Lady Brenda was among them.”

“Do you still have the list?” Brionna asked, suddenly cautious. “Have any of them asked for items recently?” _With all of the treachery among the palace staff,_ she thought, _that’s a very dangerous list._

The Keeper blinked at Brionna’s reaction, but said only, “Of course, my lady. Here it is.” 

Brionna ran a quick glance down the list – to her great relief, even though several of the traitors had been on it, they hadn’t requisitioned anything recently, and at any rate were now imprisoned or dead. Most of the other names on the list likewise belonged to people who had died, considering the recent rush of suicides following the Archduchess’s death.

It made Brionna considerably less relieved, however, to see that the only person on the list who was still alive and free was Lady Constance. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about the diabolist’s presence on either the list or the staff. 

_Back to investigating Lord Terence,_ Brionna thought, as she climbed back up to the main part of the palace. _But I need to ask Kit about sending a psionic expert down here to check on that tiara. We can’t afford to take the chance that someone has tampered with it._


----------



## Ladybird

The Mouth’s official scribe was much happier to talk to Kit about Lord Terence than about the Endless Stream Tavern. “He is the power behind the throne in Augurt, my lady, in every real way. But your other sources are correct in that he has never made a move to take over. The brothers adore each other. First, they were left on their own at a relatively young age, when their parents were killed in a voller accident. That is how the current Baron came to the throne. Also, Terence was a sickly little boy, and the current Baron always took care of him and felt protective towards him. Terence returned the devotion in kind: when one of the other nobles suggested that perhaps Terence _should_ take the throne, Terence ran him through on the spot!”

Kit stared, morbid interest lighting her eyes. “Yeah, that’s devotion, I’d say. And it also fits what I’ve heard of Terence before – straightforward, direct, very clear about his feelings and intentions. Makes our job easier, doesn’t it?” she added, with a grin at the scribe.

“Quite so, my lady,” he replied, his smile well-mannered and subdued in return.

“Wait, Lord Terence can’t really be _that_ sickly, can he, if he’s running around stabbing rebellious nobles?”

“He has exercised considerable discipline to hone what physical talents he has, but his principle training was as a mage. And in truth, he is still somewhat fragile – even more so after the assassination attempt.”

“Assassination attempt?” Kit repeated, her ears pricking up again.

“Ah, yes.” The scribe gave Kit a thin smile. “When Lord Terence was just sixteen, he went to the eastern Trade Federation as an ambassador for his brother. There, he was poisoned by a would-be assassin. The culprit was caught, but Terence’s life was in serious danger, considering his frailty. He was only healed through the great skill and talent of a priest of Gunnora.” The scribe leaned forwards, his smile growing wider. “And our sources say that Terence himself adopted that faith, in gratitude to the priest who healed him.”

“So he _is_ an apostate!” Kit gasped. “Not just a follower of the Weeping Woman, but of a different deity entirely!”

“Indeed. And although this is not exactly _hidden_ knowledge in Augurt, Terence has never been formally charged. There would be a terrible outcry if he were – he is quite the favorite of the common people.”

“No wonder he keeps to himself,” Kit breathed.

“Indeed. He keeps a very small staff, in contrast to the horde of attendants who wait on his brother the Baron. Lord Terence’s advisor rarely gets the chance to advise, and while there is a secretary, Lord Terence insists that he can do his own writing. And he has never been known to have had a lover, either male or female.”

“He can’t risk anyone getting close enough to find out what religion he really follows…” Kit mused. An unpleasant thought struck her, and she shifted in her seat. “The penalty for apostasy, according to the Paranswarmians. It’s death, isn’t it?”

“Occasionally by ritual sacrifice,” the scribe confirmed, with a prim nod. 

Kit shuddered, then pushed the thought away. “What about the brother, the Baron. What do we know about him?”

“Besides the fact that he is a weak ruler, controlled by his court? Well, his marriage is strictly political. His wife is the daughter of the Lord of Debenai. They have three children, but they keep separate rooms, and only visit each other’s chambers when it is time to produce another heir. The Baron keeps a number of mistresses, and the Baroness keeps a number of guard captains. The frontiers of Augurt are patrolled by extremely handsome men, sent off after the Baroness tired of them.”

“All right. So Lord Terence is definitely the one in charge here. Any clue about what he might want with me and Brionna?”

“No, my lady. He keeps his counsel to himself. I doubt that even his brother knows what his goals are in Canberry.”


----------



## Ladybird

When Kit received Brionna’s note about needing help checking out the Tiara of Flame she immediately thought of the Master Farsensor. Not only was the Eldar one of the most skilled psions in the world, he was also greatly enjoying the Council’s requests for assistance in various matters. And as Kit had suspected, when she sent out the telepathic request, the Farsensor replied with a great deal of enthusiasm – more, in fact, than she had thought an Eldar was capable of. 

_Certainly, Dame Katherine! I would be happy to!_

_Thank you, Master Farsensor. I really appreciate your help with all of this – it’s just that we need everything checked out very quickly…_

_And that’s why it’s so fascinating to work with you on it! Intrigue like this would take – oh, 500 or 600 years out in the forest! I’d often wondered how humans managed to conduct complex politics. It seems that you just speed it up, the way you do everything else. It’s terribly entertaining._

Kit tried to keep her own amusement out of her thoughts. _Thank you, Master Farsensor. The item is in the Treasury. I’ll meet you down there._

_Of course, of course. I’ll be there at once._ There was a brief pause, and then the Eldar’s thoughts resumed. _Odd. I didn’t think your treasury was on fire._

_WHAT?_ Kit thought back, panic rising, as she started to run.

* * *

In the Treasury, Brionna was waiting for Kit, hoping that she would not have to fill out a Loitering Time Request form or some similar bureaucratic nonsense from the Keeper of the Vaults. 

The tranquility was broken by the sudden pop! of a teleportation. An instant later, flames erupted from the floor, encasing the teleporter in a fiery cage. Brionna sprang back, sword in hand – until she saw who it was inside the cage. 

The Eldar Master Farsensor stood with an expression of mild puzzlement, contemplating the flames around him. “Odd,” he stated, his words echoing his thoughts.

By the time Kit skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, panting, the Keeper of the Vault was fussing and fretting about the office, waving wands and magical keys in arcane patterns to remove the flaming cage from around the palace’s distinguished guest.  “I must compliment you on the efficacy of your wards,” the Farsensor was saying. “And…er…I suppose I should have realized that you would have them in place. Teleporting in was perhaps a bit imprudent. But, as I was telling Dame Katherine, I am rather enjoying the way that things happen so quickly here among the humans. It’s quite invigorating.”

Once the fiery cage had been dismissed, the Keeper went off to retrieve the Tiara of Flame for the Farsensor to examine.

“Oh, this is impressive,” the Eldar mused, as he turned the tiara over in his long, slender hands. “Quite impressive for…ahem. Your pardon.” _He was going to say, ‘for humans,’_ Kit thought, with an inward smirk. “Yes, it has been tampered with,” he continued. “It has been altered so that it will ignore the auras of…oh, thirteen or fourteen people. There were even more at one time; there are seven or eight blank spaces.”

“Thirteen or fourteen? Can you be any more precise?” Brionna asked, already starting another list in her mind.

“One of the figures is wavering,” the Eldar replied. “That could represent an undead, perhaps?”

Brionna gulped. “An undead?”

“Could it be someone in another condition?” Kit asked, her own apprehension rising. “Another altered state of being? Like, someone possessed, maybe?”

“Yes, possibly.” The Farsensor’s voice was as calm as ever, as if he were contemplating the possibility of carrots being served at dinner instead of spinach. “Not a demon, but perhaps someone possessed by a demon.”

“What about the others?” Brionna pressed. “Can you tell anything about them?”

“They appear to be…part elven? Or servants of the Ultimate Enemy. I cannot see any more clearly than that.”

“Who could have done something like this?” Kit wondered. “Who could have had the power to tamper with one of the artifacts of the Crown Jewels?”

“It was definitely a Noldar,” the Farsensor replied. “But beyond that, I cannot say. Not without a good deal more examination.”

“Well, we can’t have the Archduke wearing it in this condition,” Brionna declared.

The Farsensor blinked in mild surprise. “But he couldn’t wear it, Dame Brionna. He isn’t psionic.”

“Plus, it’s a _tiara_,” Kit added, with a brief snicker. Then her smirk abruptly faded, as she realized who the duty of wearing the tiara might fall to – she was the only member of the Council who was psionic. The secrecy of her true position might prevent her from wearing it publicly, but still…

Brionna, of course, was still sticking to the main point. “Then this must be part of another plot, separate from the one to disrupt the coronation. Which means that we can table it for now,” she concluded, allowing a tiny bit of relief to show through. “At least until we can gather more information about the tiara and who might be responsible for damaging it.”

“After the coronation, I can take it back to the Forest,” the Farsensor offered. “We may be able to repair it there. I doubt anyone except the Eldar could even attempt to repair it, for it will take some extremely delicate work to do so without breaking it.”


----------



## Ladybird

The nature of one of Lady Brenda’s requests having been determined, Brionna went off in search of more information on the other one: the mysterious Box 378.

Lady Danielle, one of the late archduchess’s few surviving ladies-in-waiting who had also been on the expedition to Tarsh, received Brionna in a sitting room primarily decorated in floral-patterned cloth, with large squashy seats. Lady Danielle herself was similarly comfortable – plump, gray-haired, maternal, and smiling. “Do come in, dear. Would you like some tea?”

“Ahem. Yes. Thank you, Lady Danielle.” With a vague worry that her armor would snag on the doilies, Brionna took a seat in the offered chair. 

“Now, what can I do for you, dear?”

“I’m curious about an item that Lady Brenda requested from the treasury just before the expedition to Tarsh. A Strongbox 378?”

Lady Danielle’s eyes immediately widened, and she nodded seriously, her high-pitched voice lowering to a more businesslike tone to match Brionna’s. “Oh, yes. Amelia asked her to get that. We took it with us to Tarsh.”

“What was in it?”

The elderly lady-in-waiting leaned forward. “This must remain absolutely secret,” she warned. “It contained nearly a pound of orichalcum.”

“Was it used in Tarsh?”

“No – it disappeared there.” A frown of remembered distress crossed Lady Danielle’s face. “It was nearly the entire royal supply – it had been laid down by Amelia’s father.”

Brionna frowned deeply. “The entire royal supply?” she repeated

“Yes,” Lady Danielle sighed. “It was a great loss, but other matters soon took precedence, so we couldn’t investigate. And then Amelia became ill so soon after we returned…” She trailed off, looking away briefly, before continuing a little too brightly to cover her grief, “The supply should be replenished, though. Have you considered asking the emissaries from the Twin Dwarven Kingdoms for some more? They have a small vein of orichalcum in their mines, and they’re here for the coronation.”

“We could ask for some as a coronation present,” Brionna suggested.

“Oh, yes!” Lady Danielle paused, her smile dimming a little, “You must not take offense, though.”

“I would have thought the risk of offense would be the other way, with us asking them for a gift.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t mind about that. But they are even blunter than most dwarves. There’s no telling what they might say.”

Brionna made a mental note of that, and continued, “What about the Tiara of Flame? Lady Brenda requested that, too. Who had charge of it during the trip?”

“We kept it in a portable vault. Amelia wanted to wear it herself – she didn’t have much psionic ability, just enough to be sensitive to the tiara and its effects. She feared that there might be some people still tainted by the chaos beasts - the tiara would allow her to sense them, and then the orichalcum would allow her to – “

“Destroy them?” Brionna finished.

“Cure them, was Amelia’s word.” Lady Danielle gave a surprisingly fierce grin. “I like yours better.”

“Did she identify any tainted people while she was there?” Brionna continued.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Two of them. But when she went to the vault to get the orichalcum, she discovered that it was missing. Unfortunately, given the diplomatic circumstances, a more…direct approach wasn’t possible. So we sent a note to the Archbishop of Tarsh – but that was shortly before he was assassinated. I don’t think the note was given to his successor.”

“Do you remember what was in the note?”

“Oh, we have a copy of it here,” Lady Danielle said. “It’s in the throne room, dear. In the hidden storage compartment.”

_There’s a hidden compartment in the throne room?_ Brionna thought, as she blinked at Lady Danielle. _Who knew?_


----------



## Aylowan

I am really enjoying this story hour -- it sounds like you have a great DM and a fun campaign.

And to Cerebral Paladin and Ladybird -- I love the writing from you both and hope you continue.


----------



## Quartz

I'm a little hazy on Aphonion religion, but in polytheistic societies, isn't it normal to revere multiple deities? You offer a prayer to the deity of travel when travelling, you offer a prayer to the deity of love when pursuing your beloved etc. So you can't really be an apostate except to reject the gods entirely.


----------



## Baron Opal

Paranswarm is a jealous god. While you do still acknowledge other gods, Aphonion was more henotheistic than polytheistic when I was playing. The major deities, while somewhat specialized in their spheres of influence, try to have a broad enough appeal to handle most of their worshiper's needs.


----------



## Ladybird

Happy Monday  

In response to the religion question - Baron Opal is right. Aphonion's religion is more like multiple monotheism than Greco-Roman polytheism, and the Paranswarmian church is on the extreme end of the scale in terms of severity. The Ecumenical Council has been doing quite a bit of work to ease relations between the various religions, but in some places (like Augurt) the Paranswarmian church is still extremely strict and possessive.

And now, on with the show!

--
Kit was back in her sitting room – ‘Dame Katherine’s’ sitting room, not the Mouth’s office – when the Chamberlain came in. “Dame Katherine, have you seen Dame Brionna? Her new protocol officer is here.”

“I believe she’s with Lady Danielle?” Kit hazarded. “I can pass along the message if you like.”

“Certainly. Please inform her that Lady Dora Talenshire is here and at her service when she is ready.” The next step, thought Kit, should have been a polite bow and a ‘goodbye,’ but the Chamberlain continued to hover by the door.

“Yes?” Kit prompted.

The Chamberlain cleared his throat. “Dame Katherine, would you by any chance wish to have a protocol officer of your own?”

Kit hesitated for a moment, then conceded, “You know, actually, that would be pretty useful.”

“Ah! Very good!” Relief flooded the Chamberlain’s normally impassive face, and he actually smiled. _You don’t have to be quite so enthusiastic about it_ Kit grumbled to herself. “Would you prefer male or female?” the Chamberlain asked.

“Um…female?”

“Very good. Old or young?”

_What, does he have them lined up in a closet, like dresses?_ “In between?” Another thought struck Kit, and she added urgently, “And not too pretty.”

“Ah. Quite. How about a hobbit?”

Kit grinned. “Perfect.”

Shortly thereafter, the promised assistance bustled up to Kit’s sitting room: as advertised, a middle-aged halfling, dressed very neatly, but with oddly long sleeves that nearly covered her small hands. “Dame Katherine? I’m Dame Pressa Underhill. The Chamberlain has assigned me to be your new protocol officer.”

“Ah. It’s – er - nice to meet you.” Kit retreated to her chair, a little uncomfortable under the onslaught of so much efficiency and propriety. “Er…where did you work before now?”

“I served the ambassador to Haven – Lord Brendan Brightspan.” Kit’s ears pricked up. _More Brightspans…_ “He was – ahem.” Now it was Dame Pressa’s turn for awkwardness, as the little halfling glanced away from Kit. “He was summarily asked to leave. For _spying_! The charges were absolutely absurd! The Archduchess _never_ permitted spying!”

“Of course not!” Kit agreed fervently. “I’m absolutely _shocked_ to hear that anyone could even _think_ that there would be spies in the Archduchess’s service!” _Can’t laugh can’t laugh can’t laugh…_ “What did they claim he had been doing?”

“They _said_,” Dame Pressa began, with a prim, disdainful frown, “that he had been talking to members of the lowest sections of society and asking them to stand around watching members of the nobility!”

“Absolutely shocking.” Kit nodded gravely. “And before that?”

Dame Pressa’s smile returned, with a hint of nostalgia. “Oh, well, once upon a time I was in the palace guard. That came to an end when I was wounded, though.” The little halfling flicked back the lacy cuff of her left sleeve revealing a hand that was missing its two smallest fingers and half of the palm.  “It was a cursed weapon, so it couldn’t be regenerated. Oh, don’t worry, dear, I manage perfectly well,” the halfling added, catching sight of Kit’s wince of sympathy. “And the Archduchess gave me a very generous pension, and a position among the protocol officers. Oh! My papers! Forgive me, my lady.” The halfling leaned forward quickly, holding out a piece of parchment closed with the Chamberlain’s seal. It read, in carefully clear script:

_Dame Katherine – I think you will find Dame Pressa very useful. She is blind to what she does not wish to see._

Kit grinned down at the parchment. “Very good,” she said.


----------



## Ladybird

Kit hesitated slightly as she looked back up from the halfling’s credentials. _All right. Time to get down to actual business._ “Dame Pressa?” Kit began, more slowly than before. “You understand that my position at court is…somewhat delicate? I have to walk a fine line…”

The halfling broke into a wide smile. “Oh, I understand, dear. I was good friends with a…_close_ friend of the Archduchess. I understand your position better than you might think.” Dame Pressa patted Kit’s arm maternally.

“Right,” Kit nodded, with a sigh of relief. “So you’ll help me figure out where to stand so I won’t be seen, and the proper place to sit at all of those big dinners and things?”

“Don’t worry about it at all, dear. I’ll take care of everything once your privy secretary gives me all the invitations.” Kit looked at Dame Pressa blankly. “You _do_ have a privy secretary, don’t you, dear?”

“Er. Well. I have a scribe?” Kit ventured hopefully.

”Does he or she take care of your social calendar?”

Kit sighed. “No, not really. Um – I guess I’d like you to do that, too?”

The halfling beamed again. “Of course! And what about a guard?”

“Do I need one of those too?” Kit asked, with a sinking feeling. _A scribe, a protocol officer, a ladies’ maid, and now a guard? How many people do these nobles have to have?_

“Oh, yes,” Dame Pressa said, nodding quickly, but her expression was much more serious. “Who’s guarded you before this?”

Kit lifted her chin, a little defiantly. “_I_ have.”

Dame Pressa shook her head. “Well, _that_ won’t do. As soon as the coronation is over, the Archduke will become practically invulnerable as long as he’s in the palace. You and the rest of the court will become the targets, dear. You’ll have to have a guard whenever you leave the palace, and it will be best to get one soon, so that you can get to know him or her.”

“All right,” Kit sighed, and hastily changed the subject away from the all-too-common topic of people wanting to kill Alistair and the various members of the court. “Is this the sort of thing you did for Lord Brendan? What exactly was he doing, when you were sent away from Haven?”

The halfling sniffed in remembered indignance. “Well, they claimed that he was spying - having people watch the ranking nobles of Haven, and keeping track of their comings and goings.”

Kit sniffed too, but it was in an attempt to stifle a laugh. _What could he have been playing at? That’s the least competent spying job I’ve ever heard of! But he is still a Brightspan, and we can’t rule out any connections when it comes to that family…_ Out loud, she said, “How long ago was this?”

“Well, they sent us away five months ago, but we didn’t return to Canberry City until recently. The leader of Haven sent us across land! Right through the middle of the orcish tribes. You’d think they were trying to kill us!”

“But clearly, you made it back all right – and so did Lord Brendan?”

Dame Pressa nodded. “Oh, yes. He’s here in the city, still.”

“All right,” Kit said, with a decisive nod. “The Archduke will want to speak to him, I think.” _And so will I. Either he was pulling a brilliant feint by looking that incompetent, or he really is that incompetent. And either way, I want to know if he actually found anything out._ 

--
Here ends my section of the Story Hour. Tomorrow, it's back to your regularly scheduled Cerebral Paladin  Thanks for reading!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, Ladybird!  (And welcome, Aylowan-- glad to have you with us.)

----

Dame Brionna and Kit proceeded to the throne room to find the document compartment.  But despite carefully checking, Kit could not find it.  “If we didn’t know it was here, I would be convinced that there is nothing concealed.  I could locate the doors to the secret access passages without much difficulty, even if I didn’t know where they were, but I’m getting nothing on this compartment.”

“Maybe it’s magically concealed?  If there were a spell that made it look like it wasn’t there, would you be able to find it?”

“Probably not…  But we need a mage then.”

They quickly returned with a trusted mage in the Archducal service.  He cast a powerful detection spell and looked around the room.  “Ah, yes.  There’s a compartment built directly into the throne itself.  Very well secured, too-- it’s both magically concealed and sealed against entry.  Still, that shouldn’t be too hard to deal with.”  He cast a spell to dispel its wards and frowned.  “Perhaps I was too hasty…  The ward was beyond my dispel’s power.  Truth be told, I’m now uncertain that I can dispel it, and I would certainly not be able to today.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” replied Dame Brionna.  “We will have another mage who specializes in such things deal with it.  Thank you for locating it.”

After he left, Kit said to Dame Brionna, “I think we should ask Lady Constance to handle this.”

“I don’t know… I don’t like dealing with diabolists, certainly not any more than necessary.”

“But is there anyone else who’s likely to be powerful enough that doesn’t introduce new security risks?  We still haven’t even had a chance to vet the Minister of Magic.  Lady Constance is the safest route.”

Dame Brionna grudgingly agreed.  The choice was fortuitous:  when they spoke with Lady Constance, she chuckled.  “I could dispel the wards, but there’s no need to-- I placed them and can tell you how to bypass them.  The passphrase is ‘gryphon hunter’; if you say that phrase while standing near the throne, the compartment will open.  When you close the compartment, it will seal itself again.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Down-right indispensible that diabolist is, isn't she? Stuck with her now, aren't you. Her and her little diabolic patron too.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Yeah.  Part of me is very, very afraid that someday she's going to ask for a boon.  Because Alistair won't be able to say no to anything halfway reasonable, but...  We'll see. 

----

They thanked her and returned to the throneroom.  Sure enough, the password opened a small door to an alcove holding a thin stack of parchment.  All told, there were about a half-dozen documents, although some were multiple pages.  Most of the documents were flattened out dispatches, but there was also the message from Haven and the order of battle of some country.  Kit handed all of the documents to Dame Brionna, who focused on the order of battle.

“It’s the armies of Debeney.  Debeney is the country next to Augurt-- the Archbaron’s wife is Debenean.  There are also orange or yellow wolfs’ heads marked next to four of the units-- that’s the sign of the wild, a mark sometimes used to indicate units that might be disloyal.  I’m not sure what this mark at the top of the sheet means, though.”

“That one I recognize,” said Kit.  “It’s a mouth icon.  This was from the Mouth.”

“Ah.  That makes sense.  The most interesting thing about this, though, is which units are disloyal.  All four are heavy cavalry, which are usually among the most reliable troops.  But none of the artillery or infantry units are marked.  It may be a divide between the monarch and the nobility-- the heavy cavalry in a land like Debeney would consist exclusively of the children of the nobles.”

Dame Brionna carefully returned the document to its compartment and looked at the missive from Haven.  Lord Brendan Brightspan wrote a two page report to Archduchess Amelia, with “For Her Grace’s Eyes Only!” written across the top.  Even from just the written form, they could tell that he was excited, nervous, and eager to handle the conspiracy that he had uncovered.  He reported that the agents that the Mouth has in Haven had been corrupted.  In response, Lord Brendan had gathered his own agents, to watch the enemies of Canberry and to keep an eye on the agents of the Mouth.  He also wrote extensively of the rats in the city-- clearly unaware of the full significance of this, but able to see enough to know that it needed reporting.  He also recommended that the prior ambassador be arrested.  Dame Brionna checked some records, and found that the prior ambassador had served for forty years, but was now being held in the Archduchy’s dungeon.

[My notes at this point say “Grand Dame Sophia, Adept General of the Order of the Azure Flame (most powerful of the Paranswarmian arcane orders)”;  I assume that this is listing another guest who is arriving for the coronation, but it could be saying that she had also been corrupted, or something else entirely.  I’m trying to get clarification.]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna and Kit brought the documents to Alistair.  He listened carefully to their description, and then looked over the documents himself.  “Huh… there’s a patch of discolored parchment on Lord Brendan’s report.  When I was a child, as a game, my grandmother would sometimes send me secret messages concealed on parchment.  I wonder…”  He quickly ran through the steps that would reveal a message if his grandmother had used the same approach and then smiled as he saw words appearing.  

He read off the message:  “There are traitors in our court and our neighbors’ courts.  The traitors are centered on Khamista, I think.  There are also rats trying to set up a holy land in the South.”

“A private message from Her Grace Archduchess Amelia to your grace, I would assume.”

Alistair nodded.  “Still, there’s little there that we didn’t already know.  The connection to Khamista is new, I suppose, but that’s not much of a lead.”  Applying a similar approach to one of the other documents, a report on the trip to Tarsh, turned up a second message.  Amelia described the distraction of the guard and that she believed that the demon responsible made off with the talisman and other objects of great power.  She made the decision to keep things quiet, partly to avoid any tensions with Tarsh that would have undermined the purpose of her trip.

While they were discussing the reports, Lady Constance entered the Council chamber.  “Your grace, I have a preliminary report on the Devourer of Light.  We are still finishing our research, but we have some information for you already.  The Devourer of Light was one of the first demons to turn to the service of Borsh’tro when he began conquering his region.  It is a very old entity, as it would have to be to predate the rise of Borsh’tro.  The Devourer of Light was formerly very weak, but has advanced to the rank of an Earl.  Do you understand the demonic ranks?”

“We know something about the ranks, but why don’t you explain what that means to be on the safe side?” responded Alistair.

“Earls are powerful demons.  It is very difficult for mortals to defeat an earl, but it is still possible, unlike the more powerful demons.  Demon earls are also the most powerful demons that can come through to the prime for longer than a brief visit.  Turning back to the Devourer, it was intended to devour light itself, but they do not fully understand the light.  The Devourer of Light is the demonic patron of glamours and lies.  It is also said to be the patron of assassination in dark places, but that portfolio is contested.  It has been involved in several major plots involving the Prime over the past 3000 years, but none have been successful.  Each of its plots have been overly involved and complicated, leading to their failure.”

“Can it be summoned?  Or is it necessarily here voluntarily?” asked Dame Brionna.

“It is theoretically possible to summon it, but there are no known methods.”  Lady Constance waited for further questions and then said, “When we have finished our research, I will provide you with a written report, of course.”

The Council thanked her, and she departed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit and Dame Brionna took care of some preparations before their meeting.  Kit instructed some her people to infiltrate the restaurant disguised as other patrons, so that they would be able to support her if it turned out to be a trap as Dame Brionna feared.  Finding the right agents was more difficult than she had expected at first; the Wyvern’s Wing served an “elite” clientele and most of Kit’s agents, as talented as they might be, would have stuck out badly.  But with some care, she was able to find enough people who could pass.  They might seem a tad poorer than the typical wealthy merchants and nobles at the Wyvern’s Wing, but people did splurge there sometimes.

Kit and Dame Brionna also made their own preparations to meet Lord Terence incognito.  Kit, with the assistance of her new protocol officer, dressed as a wealthy merchant or courtier, or perhaps someone who was a little of both.  She felt a little uncomfortable about the amount of color in her outfit-- if she was trying to avoid notice, wouldn’t her usual blacks and grays be better?  But Dame Pressa assured her that in a setting like the Wyvern’s Wing, less flashy clothes would perversely be more noticeable.  She was a little reassured when Dame Pressa agreed that she could still wear a rapier, although the halfling then insisted on getting a fancy rapier with a jeweled hilt from the royal collection.  Still, the balance was excellent and the blade was fine, so she couldn’t complain too much, even if it did look more like a decorative ornament than any blade Kit had ever carried before.  Dame Brionna, for her part, dressed as her bodyguard-- a simple task, with expensive clothes but no heraldry over well-polished armor.  After both of their protocol officers approved their looks, they headed to the Wyvern’s Wing.

The Wyvern’s Wing was every bit as fancy as they had been led to believe.  Dame Brionna ducked in first, carefully scanning the room with her alert eyes before signaling for Kit to follow her.  The maitre’d stepped forward to greet them, but Kit cut him off.  “We’re here to meet a friend in the private room.  He’s expecting us.”  If the arrogance in her voice seemed a little affected and uncertain, well, she wasn’t the only guest of the restaurant with affectations of status.  The maitre’d simply bowed and gestured for them to follow him.

At the back of the restaurant, he gestured at an unmarked mahogany door.  Dame Brionna reached forward and opened the door.

A tall, frail man rose to greet them from behind the table in the room.  At the same time as he stood, a muscular man in plain white clothing, with a layer of fat over his muscles, gracefully unfolded from a kneeling position near the door.  As they stepped in, Dame Brionna scanned the room for evil, detecting none.  The man in white-- clearly a well-trained specialist in unarmed combat-- signed to the young man in a private battle language.


----------



## Quartz

Jeez, no company of troops next door / upstairs? No research as to the reliability of the place? No 'quiet words' with reliable members of staff / the owner? No substituted waiters?

Ah well, the story's the thing, and it is a rather good one. 

And clothes over armour? What sort of armour is she wearing?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Well, that was the point of infiltrating Kit's people into the restaurant.  Perhaps more should have been done, but...  As for the clothes over armor, by clothes I meant things like tabard and cloak and so forth, that would normally be worn over plate.

----

The young man said with a smile, “This does need to be private, even from you old friend.  Wait outside.”  The guard genuflected and stepped out in perfect silence, closing the door behind him.  Alone in the room with Dame Brionna and Kit, Lord Terence reached out a hand of welcome and gestured for them to sit.  “Good dames, I am honored to meet the two most powerful women in Canberry.”

Kit stammered for a moment at that description, but Dame Brionna spoke over her.  “And we are honored to meet with you, Lord Terence, but you have the advantage of us, in that you know why we are having this meeting.”

“I did not want to approach the Archduke directly, although I do remember him; he cut a dashing figure as he passed through our lands on a visit some time ago.  But it would be politically awkward for me to approach him directly on this matter…  I have tried to convince my brother to intercede in the Spice Lands.  I fear that the creature that moves there with its army poses a great threat to us all.  But I have been unable to persuade my brother to respond to that threat.  Before I came here, I dispatched my personal legion, a gift from my maternal grandmother; they are light infantry, but well trained.  I also have some intelligence that I think you may find useful.”  Pulls out a leather case with a complex seal, makes a gesture.  “This is the disposition of four legions from my sister-in-law’s former kingdom, moving to meet the creature.”

“To join it or to fight it?” asked Dame Brionna.

“They killed both of my emissaries.  Based on that response, I can only presume that they are allied with the enemy.  However, our agents believe that most of the troops, even the officers, have been duped by the over-commander, who is from the highest noble house besides the royal house.  We believe he has been corrupted.”  Lord Terence paused for breath.  “I fear there is little more that I can do to stop them.  We have almost no air navy, even less than you do.  We have some ships, and a powerful sea navy, but the sea navy is powerless in this case.  I have considered having the admiral of the fleet that my father gave me to dismount his men, and then march them across, but I think that would be futile.”

“If they have been mislead…” began Kit.

“If the four legions reach the army, duped or not, they will add 4,000 chivalry.  I have sent some efreet to harass them.  But they will not last long.”

“What if we killed the over-commander?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Could we prevent them from joining the enemy army then?”

“If we could assassinate him, then the four legion commanders would probably listen to me, because I am a brother-in-law of the youngest member of the royal house.  But he is very powerful-- more powerful than he should be.”


----------



## Orichalcum

Actually, Dame Brionna had alerted the nearby guard station, but Kit's people seemed more discreet, and the rings of teleportation were also a good first line of defense.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna thought that over.  “Your brother doesn’t recognize the threat?”

Lord Terence shrugged.  “He remembers the war that led to the death of our parents in the explosion of a voller.  He remembers the lines of chivalry fighting against Debeney.  The rift was only closed by his marriage, and only six years ago.  My brother does not want another war.  So… he trusts in Lord Paranswarm to protect the realm, and is strengthening the defenses.”

“Paranswarm is powerful, but not in fighting the Shadow.”

“I know,” replied Lord Terence, his expression carefully bland.

“And we can appreciate not wanting to fight his wife’s people…” added Kit.

Lord Terence chuckled grimly.  “That’s not it.  They hate each other.  The marriage was part of the terms of the peace treaty, and so they both agreed to it, but there was never any love in their marriage, and they can only barely tolerate each others’ presence now.  It is not concern for his wife that makes my brother so wary of restarting the war with Debeney.

“I think it is only the memory of our parents’ death.  He does not fear death for himself; he is a mighty warrior, and a ranger of the land.  But he fears the death of his children, and our sister, and myself.  I thought about reaching out to the Archbishop… but that is difficult for me.”

“We might be able to reach out to the Temple of Paranswarm,” said Dame Brionna.  “We do not share your land’s faith, but we have worked effectively with the Temple against mutual enemies before…”

“You might approach the Inquisitor General for Southern Drucien, then.  It might influence him.  My brother is very devout.  He has built a dozen shrines to Paranswarm in thanks for my survival.”

“And to whom did you build your shrines, your highness?”

“To the Weeping Woman, of course,” replied Lord Terence, staring directly at the wall.  He then held up a hand for quiet as the waitstaff swept in and laid out a fancy meal for the three of them.  After the waiters departed, Lord Terence drew forth two small objects from a pouch and waved them each over the food.  “No poison, and no scrying sensors.  I did not expect that there would be, but…”  He shrugged.  “To return to business, there’s one more suggestion I can give.  It may be worthwhile to again approach the Duke of Brightspan’s wife.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Why do you suggest that?” asked Kit, always skeptical of the Duchess of Brightspan.

“I believe she remains loyal to the Order that originally trained her.  She may be able to bring in some small force on the proper side.”

“Do you think bringing her in would create any problems?  We’d be asking her to attack her son.”

“There would probably be a demand that he not be killed out of hand if he surrendered.  But for a force of 20 devils…  And she might be able to bind them.”

“We already have plenty of diabolists,” said Dame Brionna, not even trying to conceal the distaste from her voice.

“Every diabolist counts.  And better that they be used against demons than against good folks.”

Dame Brionna nodded thoughtfully.  “Perhaps.  Your highness, does Augurt maintain any supplies of orichalcum?”

“Just over a pound.  My brother has been accumulating it since taking the throne.  He believes the only threat is from the south, but he’s still aware of the danger of corruption that the ratmen pose.  Orichalcum can guard against that as well as against demons.”

“We know.  But I was thinking of something specific.  If the over-commander of the Debeney forces is possessed or otherwise infused with demonic energy, we might be able to reduce his power or even restore his senses and break his loyalty to the Abomination.  The Duke of Brightspan’s son is probably too far gone to be helped, but the over-commander from Debeney may not be.”

Lord Terence rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “It might work.  I cannot say whether he is a willing participant, but either way, it would offer advantages.  If he is willing, he would be weakened, allowing agents to finish the job of assassination.  And if he is not, it might well free his will, as you say.  The difficulty will be getting it there.  They have a teleportation shunt protecting the army-- there was a raid, or so we are told.”

“Then we need other means of fast travel to catch them,” said Kit.  “Flight, maybe?”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “Or perhaps ethereal travel.”

Lord Terence smiled.  “The Archduke has a good head on his shoulders.  He has chosen well-- those who will be loyal to him and strike down enemies…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Even by the end of the relatively short dinner, Lord Terence visibly tired.  While he remained polite, friendly, and somewhat charming, he grew quieter as the meal proceeded, once the business was dealt with.  The effort of maintaining prolonged conversation was simply too much for his stamina.

Dame Brionna did bring up one additional piece of business.  “Your highness, has your sister been fostered abroad yet?  She is of an age to be.  It might be advantageous if she were fostered here.”

“She has not.  I can see how that would have potential advantages, but there would have to be a compelling reason.  Otherwise, Debeney would be too likely to take the decision as an insult, and my brother will not take that chance.”

“Has she shown any great aptitudes?  We will be establishing a great school of magic soon, and a psionic academy.  Could either of those attract her?”

He shook his head.  “She has neither the Gift nor the Power.  My sister has a great head for figures and is highly competent with the lute and the clavichord, but other than that no special abilities.  But still young.”

“Lute and clavichord… perhaps we could offer training as a bard?” suggested Kit.

“I don’t think that bards were among the Archdukes educational plans,” said Dame Brionna thoughtfully.  “But he could certainly add a small program.  And if Lord Silverleaves stayed in Canberry City for a little while…”

“And I’m sure we could persuade him to visit occasionally-- he’s enjoying the excitement so much.  Of course, occasional visits might not happen while she was still fostered, given elven sense of time.”

“That would be no matter.  It would still provide a good explanation for Debeney.  My brother needs a good excuse, not to be convinced-- he’ll have no real desire to send our sister to his wife’s homeland.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lord Terence paused to catch his breath and took a gulp of his wine.  “But I must ask straight out… this is not an attempt to gain a child bride for the Archduke?”

“Certainly not,” replied Dame Brionna.  “His grace seeks to have children faster than that could allow, to ensure the succession.  Were he to die without issue, the Archduchy might degenerate into civil war.”

“Excellent.  Not to disparage such things, but my family follows their own minds on such thing, although monarchs often cannot.”

Kit glumly nodded along with Lord Terence’s last statement.  

Dame Brionna continued to reassure him.  “But no-- this is not about dynastic marriage, just trying to strengthen ties and contacts with other monarchs.”

“Then I will speak with my brother of it.  I suspect he will embrace the idea.”

Over the pudding, Lord Terence raised his glass of port in a toast, although he remained seated.  “To our future alliances, to the health of our children-- well, the children of our houses-- and to a bright future for all of Drucien.”  Kit and Dame Brionna both raised their glasses high to that toast, and they enjoyed a dessert that matched the entrée in quality.

After dinner, Lord Terence’s desire to rest was obvious, and the knights quickly took their leave.  As they departed, Dame Brionna placed her hands on Lord Terence and, as subtly as possible, poured healing energy into him.  He visibly strengthened, but she could tell from the feel that this would be only a temporary respite-- Lord Terence’s injury was far too deep for her to heal.  He smiled his thanks to her, murmuring, “On such slender threads do dynasties hang.”

End Session 14


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Session 15:

On the fifth day before the coronation, as the Council met to discuss the plans for the day, Alistair heard an unfamiliar voice in his head.

<<Highness… your agent to the brothels is in trouble.  Shall I act?>>

Alistair thought for a moment-- this had to be Kit’s person, watching Lucas.  And if Lucas was in trouble… It was bad enough to have asked a friend to risk his life.  <<Yes,>> Alistair thought back.

After a few minutes, the voice sounded again.  <<I have him, but he is injured.  I will bring him to the east servants’ gate to the palace.  The guard would not wish me to enter, but I suggest that you send a healer to receive him.>>

Alistair relayed this to the Council.  

While Dame Brionna went to summon Father Waters, Kit excused herself.  “I should probably meet my operative and find out what happened.  It’s our best shot at still getting useful intelligence out of this.”

Kit reached the gate before her agent, but within a few minutes a tall, robed form approached, carrying Lucas’s unconscious body slung over one shoulder.  Kit looked the figure over appraisingly-- she hadn’t assigned the tail personally, relying on one of her operatives to send the right sort of agent.  What she hadn’t expected was an agent who wore a full body length purple robe, with the hood of the robe covering not only his face but two feet below as well.  Even stranger than the hood, however, were the long, white three-fingered gloves that it wore.  _What kind of agent is this?_ wondered Kit, followed a moment later by the thought, _And which of my midlevel agents thought that it would be the right person to shadow Lucas?_


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What happened?  Where did you find him?” Kit asked, flashing a recognition signal for her network.

The figure wavered a bit, and then whispered back in a rough, raspy voice, “He was within a brothel called the Brothel of Chain and Whips-- you people are very strange.”

“Everything’s relative,” muttered Kit.  “What was happening that made you intervene?”

“He was laid hands upon and taken to an inner chamber.  He was unconscious, and his mind was weakening.  I consulted His Highness, and when he said I should intervene, I psiblasted the entire brothel and removed him.”

_Who thought that this one knew anything about how to run an operation taking subtlety?_ Kit fumed.  “What was the situation when you left?”

“There were many unconscious jacks and prostitutes.  I thought it best if I slit the throat of the bravos who attacked him.  But more are coming, so I left my companion to wait.”

“We need them alive for questioning.”

“I could tell my companion to take the one who is coming alive, but it will be difficult.  From their thoughts, I think he will be more powerful.”

“We need him alive,” repeated Kit.

“Very well.  I will tell my companion to try.”  It paused, and Kit sensed a slight psionic stirring.  “I am sorry if I should not have slain the guards.  But they were corrupt.  One of the ones who is corrupt is still alive-- the madam.  She was unconscious and not a threat.   The guards were also corrupt, but with reinforcements coming, I did not want them reviving.”

“Corrupt?  What do you mean by corrupt?”

“They had blood that was not of this place.  That blood has now been spilled.”

“It didn’t occur to you that slaughtering the occupants of the brothel might create problems for us?  What will the guard think when they arrive?”

“The watch has not been summoned…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Were there any other things there I should know about?”

“The madam had many strange objects in her chamber.  A small marble table with a depression shaped like a small humanoid, many daggers, a hand of glory, and candles made of tallow from men.”

“Ugh,” said Kit.

“It begins… my younger brother reports that the last one has arrived.”

“Tell him to take him alive, and with mind intact so we may question him.”

“He will try…”  A tone of worry crept into its voice.  Kit allowed it to stand in silence for several minutes before it continued with relief, “The battle was fierce, but my brother prevailed.  He has the last of the corrupt ones unconscious and requests help moving him.”

Kit quickly sent a message to some of her people asking them to take two teams to the brothel-- one to seize the strange objects and bring them back for examination and the other to help bring back the prisoner.  “Thank you for your work.  And… what is your name?”

“Name?  Name… Alvin!”  The creature paused again, thought about human naming patterns.  “Smith!  And my brother is… John Smith!”

_Uh-huh, sure he is…_ thought Kit.  “Thank you for your service, Alvin.”

“You are making more use of me.  This is good.  I have worked for you for twenty years.”

“Well, not for me…”

“For you, institutionally.  I am glad to be called on to do more actual work.”

“Yes.   We’ll have to make sure we use your unique talents fully.”  _And,_ thought Kit, _we’ll have to find tasks a little better suited to your talents and your lack of subtlety than this assignment…_


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Some minutes later, “John Smith” and a burly thief struggled up to the palace gate carrying along an unconscious form.  John dressed in a manner much like his brother, complete with the robe that covered his entire body and the gloves that left not an inch of skin visible.  But Kit focused her attention on the massive man they were carrying.

“Did you check his mouth for poison?”

“Yes, with a spell.  The poison on him is on his fingernails, toenails, and bellybutton.  And I did a visual check for poison capsules in his mouth as well.  I didn’t find any, although his teeth were filed.”

“Filed?”

“Yes, to form sharp points.”

“Are you sure they weren’t just naturally that way?  What if he isn’t fully human?”

“I hadn’t thought of that, ma’am…  I guess he could be only partly human, and I couldn’t swear that his teeth were filed, then.  But he certainly looks human…”

Kit sent Abigail to summon Lady Constance, who quickly made her way to the gate.

“I see why you called me!”

“We don’t think he’s fully human.”

“Oh, he’s not.  He’s a demonic tiefling.”  She cast a quick spell as she carefully examined the body.  “The son of a marilith, I believe.  I doubt that its father is still alive…  Some small psionic ability… vicious claws…”  She gestured again, and the form changed, not dramatically, but in many small ways revealing its demonic heritage through scales on the skin, pointed ears, vestigial horns, and the like.  “Where did you find him?”

“Attacking a brothel.”

“Well… he isn’t a terribly handsome specimen,” said Lady Constance dubiously.

Kit frowned.  “We don’t think he was there innocently.”

“Oh.  Oh!  Oh…” said Lady Constance, as she thought through what she had just been told.  “He will know something.  I will prepare the triple circle.  It’s not impossible to do such things to a tiefling.  Just more difficult.”


----------



## Baron Opal

The first time I saw the description of Alvin and John Smith it rang a distant bell. Now I remember them well. Not personally, but racially. The Courts had some small dealings with them.

Have fun...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I should think you would remember them, Baron Opal, in light of your icon. 

-----
Dame Brionna and Father Waters, meanwhile, examined Lucas.  Father Waters nodded thoughtfully.  “He will definitely live.”

“Can you wake him?”

“Not as yet.  He’s had a drug applied that induces a comatose state.  Hmmm… to a psion, it would appear he was not present at all.  Perhaps they’re using that effect to conceal their movement of prisoners.  I wonder where they were taking him… and whether they knew he was from here.”

Dame Brionna grimaced.  “That would be very bad…”

“Indeed it would,”  Father Waters pulled back Lucas’s eyelids and stared at each eye carefully.  “I should say it will be another twenty hours before he awakens.”

“You can’t speed that up by neutralizing poison or the like?”

“No, that would have no effect at all on this sort of drug.  I could use more mundane techniques-- if I apply the right poultice, it should cut the length down to… perhaps 10 hours.”

Dame Brionna nodded curtly.  “Do so.  Thank you, Father.”

A page hurried up to Dame Brionna and saluted.  “Dame Brionna, there is a small caravan of dire elephants approaching from the south.”

“Dire elephants?  Do they have riders?”

“Oh, yes, Dame Brionna.  Giant howdahs, the size of small villages, on each one.”

“What about heraldry or banners?”

The page drew forth a scrap of parchment.  “They are flying this symbol, but I don’t know what it means.”

Dame Brionna looked at it.  “Neither do I.  Take it to the chief herald and ask him to attend on me.”


----------



## Quartz

Dire Elephants?! Tres cool. But not in fours? Each four carrying a round platform?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A few minutes later, the chief herald presented himself.  “A most unusual insignia, most unusual.  I have never seen it outside the books, but its meaning could not be clearer.  The delegation is led by the Chief Engineer of the Seachen Empire.”

“The Chief Engineer?  Is that an important official within their Empire?”

“It’s hard to say, Dame Brionna; we know so little about the Seachen’s inner workings.  Chief Engineer is a holy position; the primary duties are expanding and building the necropolis of the dead gods.  But it has no military power, and the Chief Engineer herself is frequently a bard or warrior without significant magical ability.  So I would say that it is a meaningful position, but not one of the highest.”

“Should we be insulted, then, that she is leading the expedition?”

“Oh, no, I shouldn’t think so.  They usually send no one to anything.  We should perhaps be honored that they deigned to recognize our coronation at all.”  He thought for a moment.  “She may have reached this decision on her own.  We know nothing about this Chief Engineer, except that she executed her mother by dropping her down a mountain--after overthrowing her, of course.”

“Hmm.  I’ll discuss the matter with the full Council.”

* * *

Kit returned to Alistair’s chambers.

“Is Lucas going to live?” asked Alistair anxiously.

“Yes, although he won’t be awake until tomorrow.”  Kit described her strange experience with her agent.

“Long robes, covering the whole head and two feet below the face, no visible skin, three fingered hands… and powerful psionic abilities,” Alistair said thoughtfully and a little increduously.  “You have an illithid working as a spy?”

Kit’s eyes widened.  Unlike Alistair, she had never seen an illithid or even pictures of them in books, but it did fit the frightening stories she had heard as a child.  “I guess so?  Two, really…”

“They must be renegades, of course, and presumably these ones don’t eat human brains… but still.”

“As soon as I have a moment, I’m going to make a point of figuring out all of the strange things that I have working for me,” Kit said resolutely.

“That seems wise.”

“And I need to find a better use for the illithid.  Not so subtle at following people.”

“True.  But they’re probably great at passive intelligence-- get them into position, let them read minds.”

“Huh.  Good point…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna knocked on the door and interrupted the discussion.  “We have an interesting diplomatic situation, your grace.”

“Oh?”

“The Chief Engineer of the Seachen Empire has come to see us, leading a column of dire elephants.  She may not be representing the Empire as a whole, so much as herself.”

“A column of dire elephants?” asked Kit increduously.

“Yes.  I don’t think it would be wise to rebuff her, your grace, because she may offer divisions within their Empire.”

“But we can’t trust her either,” countered Kit.  “If she plans on attacking, those elephants would be devastating if they get within the city walls.”

“I agree.  But if we guard her…”

Alistair nodded.  “We’ll deny the elephants entrance to the city, ostensibly for logistical reasons.  They wouldn’t even fit within the streets if they did enter.  And then we’ll assign an ‘honor guard’ to watch her and her immediate company.”

“With your grace’s permission, I suggest that we make the honor guard all female.  From what my source on the Seachen empire says, she may take offense at any armed men.”

“Makes sense.  And we’ll begin contact by sending a female noble to meet her and figure out her goals and purpose for coming.”  Alistair thought for a moment.  “Perhaps the Lady Mayor of Canberry City?  Is that the appropriate rank?  I don’t want to insult her inadvertently.”

“It’s impossible to be sure, but if the Lady Mayor welcomes her on your grace’s behalf, it would be hard for her to take too much offense.  If she indicates that she feels that the Lady Mayor is below her, we can adjust for later interactions.”

Kit added, “If they’re so touchy about men, we should probably send some litters that can be closed to bring them into the City.  We can minimize the risk of an incident that way.”

Dame Brionna nodded and left to arrange the details.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council gathered in the Archducal Coven’s chambers.  The tiefling, barely covered by some scraps of cloth, was heavily chained within a series of intricate iron circles.  A variety of braziers and pedestals surrounded the pentagrams with all sorts of arcane substances.  Outside the circles, a group of muscular young men, naked to the waist, stood holding iron rods.  At least, they looked like young men, but the Council knew Lady Constance too well to be fooled.

Lady Constance nodded to the Council.  “Your grace.  I am ready to begin the process whenever you are ready.  I will be able to bind him for thirteen questions and then must release it.  It should probably be killed at that point.”

“Are the questions limited to yes and no?”

“They are not, your grace, but I would phrase them to produce short answers.  I will be able to compel truth for questions with short answers, but if he is allowed to talk on without a clear question, his answer may become a pack of lies.  I would avoid in-depth, open-ended questions.”

The Council discussed possible lines of questioning for a while, and then Alistair nodded to Lady Constance.

“In the name of Lilith, Queen of Hell, I command you to answer truthfully.”  Lady Constance gestured at the tiefling, which arched its back and screamed.

“Who is your master?”

“The Abomination of Shur,” choked out the tiefling.

“What is your assignment?”

“To assist the harlequins sent by our ally.”

“Where are the harlequins?”

“They are scattered between three brothels.”

Alistair grimaced at that answer-- he had been hoping for a little more specificity without spending another question.  “Which three brothels?”

The tiefling twitched and struggled against its iron chains, but finally answered.  “The Golden Knot, the Seductress’s Wings, and the Border Hole.”

“I’ll begin preparing strike teams to hit all three,” said Dame Brionna.

“Good.  Ask the Eldar if his team would be willing to provide back-up-- we have to expect these to be very dangerous missions.”  Alistair turned his attention back to the tiefling.  “Is your mother involved?”

“No, my uncle.”

“Who is your uncle?”

The tiefling struggled again.  “He is beneath Brightspan.  I cannot speak his name.”

“His grace has asked you a question!  You will speak his name,” commanded Lady Constance.  She gestured at the young men, who stepped into the circle and began beating the tiefling with red iron rods.  When they entered the iron circles, they looked much less human than they had moments earlier.  The Council flinched at the torture, but waited for an answer while the tiefling struggled and screamed. Lady Constance turned to Alistair.  “The geas is too strong.  I cannot guarantee that he will survive more pressure.  Should we continue anyway?”

“No, his answers are too valuable.  Maybe we can get the information indirectly.  If we know who his uncle’s sister is, that might let us figure out the molydeus’s identity.”  As the young “men” stepped back, Alistair continued.  “Who is your mother?”

“She is Daliana, of the Ninetieth Plane,” answered the tiefling, hatred palpable in its voice.  “Do you wish to kill her?”

“Perhaps.”

The tiefling smiled at this answer.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit asked Lady Constance, “What’s the Ninetieth Plane like?”

“An open pit, divided into many small demonic kingdoms.  His mother must be the lord of one of the kingdoms-- I can’t imagine a marilith would be subordinate to any of the powers on that Plane.”

Alistair continued the questioning.  “Are there other accomplices to your plot still free in the City?”

The tiefling smiled nastily.  “Yes.”

“Who are they?”

“The madams of the brothels; the Chief Assassin of the Order of the Red Knife, who entered some time ago but cannot move freely or change shapes while he is here; and a handful of remaining cultists.  You’ve been effective, humans.”

“The Chief Assassin of the Order of the Red Knife?” said Dame Brionna.  “We need to know more about that one-- it sounds like too much of a threat, and this is the first we’ve heard of it.”

“Whatever it is,” said Kit, nodding.  “With shape-changing, its probably not human.”

“Where is the Chief Assassin of the Order of the Red Knife?” asked Dame Brionna.

The tiefling simply ignored her, and when Alistair repeated the question, it writhed without answering.

“You will answer the questions put to you!” commanded Lady Constance.  She reached into a brazier and drew out a handful of glowing chunks of bloodstone that she proceeded to fling at the tiefling.  It shuddered as the rock burned into its skin in a great release of energy and spoke as she reached for a second handful.

“In the Great Crypt.   It hides among the dead.”

“Who are the other innocents under your control?” asked Alistair.

The tiefling looked annoyed at the question more than angry, took a great breath, and began rapidly reciting names.  Marcus, brought along to record the creature’s answers, scribbled as fast as the tiefling spoke, and by the time it stopped had a list of nearly 230 names.

Alistair swore under his breath; that was far more than he would have guessed they could have taken.  “Where are they kept?”

The tiefling sneered.  “We do not keep most of them.   They walk among the citizens, and they listen.  Oh yes, they listen.  And we listen to them.  But they are so few, compared to what we used to control…”

The Council debated its last question for a while, and then Alistair asked, “What kind of creature is the Chief Assassin?”

“An Eshen bladelord, their top class of assassins; he was a gift from the third part of our alliance.  His duty was to kill those you love,” said the tiefling with a leering smile, glancing at Kit and Dame Brionna.

“Kill him,” said Alistair coldly.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lady Constance looked at Dame Brionna.  “Do you wish to kill him, or shall I have my minions take care of it?”

Dame Brionna inhaled.  “I think it best that you take care of it.  I will wait outside.”

After Dame Brionna left the room, Lady Constance gestured to her young men, whose glamours faded to reveal horned devils.  The devils leapt upon the bound tiefling and tore it to pieces.  Lady Constance watched impassively, waiting until she was sure that it could not remanifest, and then drew forth a golden apple for each of the horned devils.  “Take these to your mother with my thanks.  I am ever in her debt.”  As the devils disappeared, Lady Constance leaned heavily on her cane.  “That took more from me than I would have expected.  He was most powerful, for a tiefling.  With your grace’s permission, I will retire to rest.”

“Of course, and with our thanks.  May we ask one of your apprentices to perform some research for us?”

“They are all at your disposal,” said Lady Constance, bowing and exiting.

The coven apprentices stepped forward and performed kneeling bows.

“Research Daliana.  I want to know anything that we can learn about her, but especially the identity of any molydeus brothers she has.”

“How can the molydeus be a brother of a marilith?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Why are they different demons?”

Dame Agatha, one of Lady Constance’s apprentices, replied, “There is no set form in the abyss, and to be siblings does not mean the same thing as it would for humans.  It simply means that they were grown from larvae together by the same master breeder or demon lord.”

“Still, records should include mentions of their ‘family’ connections, and that will allow us to find out more about our enemy.”

The coven apprentices hurried off to the library to begin their research, and the Council turned to organizing the strike teams.  They had four targets:  the three brothels and the bladelord in the Great Crypt.  The first three teams all consisted of elite troops, backed by elves from the Eldar’s retinue to handle any particularly powerful drow assassins.  After much discussion, they decided on sending a large group of paladins and rogues-- drawing on the best of the Knights of Valor and of Kit’s rogues to pick people who could be expected to keep their nerve and fight well in the tight quarters of a crypt.  They also carefully drilled recognition signals-- the tiefling had said that the assassin could not shift forms but no point in taking chances.  A group of elite mages and priests accompanied them, to provide magical support and to cut off magical escape.  Finally, Alistair sent a large group of about 100 ordinary elite troops to surround the graveyard as a last check to make sure that the bladelord could not escape.  They also sent a runner to the City Guard, asking them to pick up and detain all 230 of the people on the list of controlled innocents.  There would be time to sort them out and investigate them individually after the crisis had been averted.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

While they waited for reports of the results of their strikes, Dame Brionna met with the Lady Mayor to discuss the Seachen.  It was nearly midnight as they talked.

The Lady Mayor smiled at Dame Brionna.  “Thank you for the honor of dealing with these people.  They are an odd bunch.  They had no objection to leaving the dire elephants outside the City, and the Chief Engineer only brought about 40 servants and guards into the City with her, leaving the rest of her retinue with their mounts.  They were most grateful for the litters, which they used closed, and that they were met by a female noble.

“I believe this woman is here for good purposes, not ill.  She came on her own and on behalf of an old Seachen mage.  But I’m not sure if she is an ally of this mage, or as a servant.  She was unclear, and I thought it impolitic to pry.”

Dame Brionna spoke carefully.  “Do they understand that Alistair is male and the Archduke?  If serious negotiations prove necessary, she will have to meet with Alistair.”

“Yes.  That is why the mage did not come herself.  I think both the Chief Engineer and the mage are more flexible than most of the Seachen, but that the Chief Engineer is substantially more flexible than her ally or patron.  As for their purpose-- they have brought a gift, but they seem most concerned that one of their own, or more than one, has taken a very wrong turn on the Path.”

“The Path?” asked Dame Brionna, unfamiliar with the term.

“The Path is their method of restoring their dead gods.  But the Chief Engineer and the mage believe that one of their own is not restoring a dead god, but something else.  At least, that’s my understanding-- she wishes to inform us of this, but she’s doing it in such a convoluted manner I can’t be sure of anything she has to say.”

“How do you recommend that we proceed?”

“I think we must set up an audience with His Grace.  She presumes that she needs to meet His Grace, but she’s frightened of him.  Because he’s male.  She expects him to…”  The Lady Mayor paused as she searched in vain for a more delicate way to phrase her statement.  “She expects him to attempt to rape her.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “From what I know of the Seachen, they expect all men to be rapists.  They would assume that a male monarch would be among the worst offenders.  We’ll have to construct the audience carefully to set her as much at her ease as possible.”  After confirming that the Lady Mayor did not have any additional insights into the serious political matters, Dame Brionna indulged her curiosity.  “What is the gift, anyway?”

“A walking tower; a work of her engineering.  It is like a non-sentient golem in the form of a 40 foot tower.”

Dame Brionna asked puzzledly, “What does building walking towers have to do with raising dead gods?”

“I don’t know.  I could ask…”

Dame Brionna shook her head.  “If it happens to come up, I would be curious, but no need to press the issue.  Oh, and you should take steps to make sure your sons don’t go anywhere near the portions of your palace where you are housing the Chief Engineer.  Since they expect all men to be potential rapists and castrate most of the men in their society, I wouldn’t want any danger of your sons meeting the Seachen and a tragedy happening.”

“Don’t worry, I’m well aware of the risks.  I’ve had the entire wing closed to all of my household except the female guards that watch it and myself.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna returned to where the Council awaited reports of the results of the strike teams they had dispatched.  The Eldar Farsensor had joined them, since he had sent some of his retinue with the teams.

“This is most unusual,” said the Eldar.  “I’ve been consulting the journals.  There has not been this much activity connected to one of your coronations in 600 years.”

“What happened 600 years ago?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Someone thought it was a good idea to invade and then to sneak up on the capital during the coronation.”

Kit spluttered.  “How did they not see that coming?”

“There was a great scandal about that.  According to the journals, it led to the creation of someone called ‘the Mouth.’”

Kit’s lips twitched a little at that, but she felt no need to help the Eldar’s confusion about what the Mouth was.

Finally, the reports began coming in.  The forces that attacked the brothels reported first.  The fighting was heavy, but the Archduchy’s troops prevailed.  They eliminated eleven more of the harlequins, but a few-- four by the Council’s count-- escaped, fleeing into the sewers and then slipping away.  The troops also reported having taken the corrupt madams prisoner.

The battle in the city of the dead lasted longer.  There was much clashing of blades, hewing of flesh, and spraying of acid, but the Eshen lord quickly realized that his only hope was to escape and made his way to the street level.  Out of the crypt and passed most of the strike team, it looked for a time like he would escape until the sheer weight of the elite heavy infantry positioned as a last resort bore him down, leaving him crushed beneath a mass of humanity and safely contained.  Despite the acid burns, the troops continued to hold him, and they took him alive, carefully binding him with heavy chains to the point of riveting the chains to his ankle bones.  Remarkably, so focused was he on escape, that not one of the people sent to defeat him perished, although many of the acid wounds in particular would take time and much care to heal.  All told, he placed about 30 people in the infirmary with serious wounds.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The rogue who carried the report back to the palace on behalf of Kit’s people also gestured to a pallet that had been brought back.  “We also recovered his things.  We have yet to open his chest-- I would recommend caution, ma’am.”

Alistair said, “Let’s have Aunt Cecilia look at the ratlord.  I want to make sure that there is no trickery.”

Princess Cecilia made her way to the holding cell and sniffed a little at the repugnant creature before her.  “Oh, it’s definitely as it appears, horrid creature.”  She paused for a moment.  “I did not know that was possible… it has acid on its claws and blades, that has a divine power creating it, but is not divine magic.  How odd.”

“Thank you, Aunt Cecilia.  Can you tell anything about the chest?”

“Only that there is strong chaos.”

A team of Kit’s people carefully examined the chest.  First, a mage scryed on its contents, noting many daggers; a host of holy symbols, all different; vials; parchment; paintbrushes-- too thin for paint, yet too thick for ink; a vial of liquid lead; robes; and a magical marble, the only magical thing in the chest.  The mage confirmed that the marble had some sort of divinatory magic on it and was profoundly chaotic, but he could not figure out more of its functions without examining it more directly.  Kit personally confirmed that there were no psionic effects on the chest.

After that, a team of rogues began searching the chest for traps.  The first carefully removed a trap that would have sprayed a deadly gas into the area around the chest.  The second rogue was less fortunate, triggering a splash of a vile liquid that liquified part of his face.  Dame Brionna’s fast healing saved his life, but he would never be called handsome again.  Still, at least he did not suffer the fate of the third rogue, who released a spray of needles.  Her wounds seemed superficial at first, but then her body literally fell apart, with limbs and portions of limbs crumbling off.  The fourth rogue startled as the chest itself lunged forward and bit at his head, decapitating him cleanly.  Like all but the first rogue, the fifth and final rogue triggered a trap, but he leapt into a split in the air with lightning reflexes as a crossbow bolt shot forth from the chest at about waist-level, embedding itself several inches into the stone wall behind him.

The last rogue swallowed, aware of how lucky he was to have survived.  “We think that’s the last trap, ma’am.”

Alistair shook his head.  “Check it again.  We need to be certain.”

The rogue nodded and carefully went over the whole chest again, paying particular attention to the lock mechanism.  After a good minute of searching, he grimaced.  “There’s a spring in the lock, leading into the interior of the chest.  I should be able to cut it.”  He carefully inserted his sharpest, thinnest blade into the seal between the top of the chest and its front panel, then nodded and withdrew the knife.  “Now to see what all the fuss was about…”

As he reached to open the chest, Dame Brionna held up a hand.  “Your grace, if you would be so good as to step out of the room.  Just in case.”

Alistair nodded and withdrew, bringing Kit with him, and Dame Brionna signaled the rogue to proceed.  At this point, the chest opened easily.

The rogue sighed deeply, happy to have survived, and then he gestured at the vial of liquid lead.  “I don’t know what’s in that-- it would be difficult to tell, what with the lead and all, but that’s what the spring linked to.  If I hadn’t cut it, the vial would have emptied.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The mage moved back to the front as Alistair and Kit returned.  "Hmm.  The holy symbols are gilt, but not actually gold.  In fact…" he scraped at a sundisc of Glor'diadel and nodded, "they're made of lead-- tainted lead at that, infused with chaos.  Quite a collection-- I'd say there's just about every significant god I can think of except for Whimsey."

Alistair nodded.  "It makes sense that she would be excluded.  If the purpose was to have spoiled holy symbols that would appear functional, the chaos would have no effect on her followers.  She embodies chaos in her own way.  What about the Mad God?"

They rummaged through the collection.  "No, no symbols for him, either."

"Nor Berta," added Dame Brionna.

"So they're missing the chaos gods, but have the rest," said Alistair.  "Although there's the smiling face of Manumist, who I would certainly classify as a god of chaos."

The mage looked at the marble.  "It has divinatory magic on it, but I can't figure out what it is.  It could be related to a crystal ball, but how would it be targeted? Perhaps it's used by the assassin to cast spells upon his targets, or to allow a limited gate to within 30 feet of the target-- I've heard of magics like that.  But I still can't figure out how it would work."

"What about the parchment?" asked Dame Brionna.  "Both the marble and the parchment radiate strong evil."

"It's a list of names," said the mage.  "I can't say what good it is."

Kit glanced at it.  "Hey!  My name is one of the top ones on the list."  That, at least, she could read without sounding out the letters.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Let me see the names,” said Alistair.  “Hmm.  The names vary a great deal.  I know all of them, but I’m not sure why the names are on the list.  Mommy Cupcakes, one of the stablemen in the palace… I’m not sure how the names were chosen, except that they are not political targets.  None of the people listed are of particular political importance-- the two of you are about the most highly placed people on the list,” he said, gesturing at Kit and Dame Brionna.  “And there are a few family members at the bottom of the list, but I wouldn’t say that they are particularly relevant to succession concerns.”

“Close contacts of yours, your grace?”

“Perhaps.”  Alistair noted but neglected to mention that none of his more casual sexual partners had made the list.  “All of the people are people I feel at least affection for, although some are people I haven’t had much contact with since childhood.”  He looked at the list more closely.  “Odd… there are two skipped lines.  Otherwise, the spacing between the names is very regular.  But I don’t see even remnants of old writing.”

The mage cast a quick spell.  “How odd… There definitely were two additional names, but I can’t determine what they were.  My spell should have revealed that as well…” He frowned.  “I think I’ll put the scroll back in the chest, if I may.  Holding it makes me feel a draining sensation-- most unpleasant.”

Kit spoke up.  “Perhaps the Farsensor could tell us more about it?”

When the Eldar saw the marble and scroll his eyes widened, his usual placid expression replaced with a look of shock.  “I go away for a while to see how my men are doing, and you discover a Thorian artifact set.”

“You recognize it?  Do you know what it does?”

“Yes.  Are any of the people on this list dead?”

Alistair scanned down it again and pointed to a name.  “One.  He was my old riding-master, and he followed my grandmother.”

“Observe.”  The Eldar rolled the marble across the name.  As it rolled, the name disappeared-- not as if erased or scraped off, but as if it had never been there.  “Now, then.  What name was written there?”

“Why, it was…” Alistair paused as he struggled to remember the name.  “My old riding-master… I think… I must have had a riding master?”

Kit said, “But you were just talking about… somebody…”

Dame Brionna looked at Alistair.  “Can you still ride well?”

“I can ride some, certainly.  I would not say I’m particularly well-trained, but…”

“So it’s not just the people, but what they taught you that is lost as well.”

“Indeed,” said the Eldar.  “The artifact erases all traces of its victims from history, as if they had never lived.”  He thought for a moment.  “They have made more in-roads in the forces of evil than I thought if they were loaned this artifact set.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

My apologies for the lateness of this post, and for missing yesterday altogether.  A double length post to make up for it:

“What do you mean?” asked Kit.  “Who could have loaned them this set?”

“There were six of these, one created by each of the servant lords of Borsh’tro, after he arose in the aftermath of our unfortunate kinslaying.  Since they were given the use of one, they must have the direct support of one of the Six.”

“So what did I already lose?  Who were the other two missing names?”

“Impossible to tell, your grace, until you need the knowledge.”

“How do we prevent them from erasing anyone else?” asked Dame Brionna.  “We’ll try to keep these safe, but…”

“The papyrus could be safely burned.  There would be no harm to anyone on the list without the use of the marble, and in any event the artifact can only affect the dead.  However, if you destroy the papyrus, the marble will return to its creator within three days.  I know of no force that could stop it.  As long as the papyrus exists, the people on the list are in danger.”

“Is there any way to destroy it completely?” pressed Dame Brionna.

“If you take the marble to the Positive Energy Plane, it will be destroyed utterly.  If you destroy this one, there will be four left.  But that is the only way to destroy it-- one of the Noldar engaged in herculean efforts to find another method but failed.”

Alistair frowned.  “That doesn’t seem very difficult.”

“It would be beyond my powers,” said the Eldar mildly, “although one who specializes more in the arcane arts would be able to open a gate fairly readily.  I believe that your archmagi could do it.  The difficult part is that you cannot simply open a door to the Positive Energy Plain.  Or, rather, it would be like opening a door expecting to find another room and finding the ocean instead-- it would pour through and overwhelm what was on the other side.”

“Still, that should be possible if we choose to,” said Alistair.

“Do you know who the original owner was?” asked Kit.

“I cannot tell by simply examining it.  If you wish, I will undertake the rituals.  But you should know, even I cannot guarantee safety touching the mind of one of the Six.”

“Best not to take the chance, then,” said Alistair.  “On a somewhat different subject, can you tell what the vial of liquid lead contains?”

“Certainly.  It is filled with purified warpstone essence.  It is well that it is sealed; if it were released in a room this size, it would overwhelm everything within the room in a wave of pure chaos.”

Dame Brionna boggled.  “How can we destroy it?  That’s too dangerous for us to store.”

“A simple enough matter.  Teleport it to the mouth of any active volcano.  I could probably do it safely, even though aportation is not one of my specialties.”

“No need.  We can have a wizard who does specialize in such matters handle that.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Getting back to the artifact,” Kit said, “we need to figure out who was removed.  I guess we should start with things you’re no good at…”

The Eldar leaned over to her and murmured, “You could start with psionics…” and then looked vaguely repentant at having made a joke.

Kit suppressed a giggle.

Dame Brionna asked, “Does it actually alter the past?  Or just people’s memories?”

“I’m not expert enough to say.”  The Eldar paused for a moment.  “I now have a link to a colleague at the Steading of the Elven Lords.  He should be able to answer more of your questions.”

“Wait!” said Kit.  “I just realized the connection among the recent people.  We’re people who’ve saved his life!  That’s why Jet’s on the list, even though you’re not close to him… because he stopped the poisoning attempt.  If we were killed and erased, would he die?”

The Eldar nodded sadly.  “My colleague who is an expert on this sort of artifact says that it is possible that he would die.  If his constitution is strong enough, it’s possible that his body would remain and only his soul would depart.”

“No one left on that list is going to be erased,” said Alistair firmly, looking straight at Kit as he spoke.  “What of the people who have been erased?  Is there a means to restore them?”

“There is one way, or at least was.  Our fallen brethren were as concerned about these devices as we were, and one created a talisman that could reverse this effect, among other things.  The talisman of stability.”

“Let me guess.  That was the talisman stolen from the Archbishop of Tarsh,” said Kit.

“Indeed.  If it were recovered, it could be used to reverse this artifact’s effects.”

“Do you have any other questions for my colleague?  He has other matters that he must attend to for the next six months or so, but he will check in with you at the end of that time.”

Alistair looked at his friends and then shook his head.  “Not at present, no.  Please pass on our thanks for the boon he has granted us by answering our questions.”

“He was pleased by that message.  My colleague is the Sage of the Great Library of the Steading of the Elven Lords, a member of the House of Starfall, and a finer elf you will never meet.  Mind you, he can be a little arrogant.”  The entire Council wondered at what could make the Farsensor, whose enormous ego they had seen themselves, describe a fellow elf as arrogant.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna spent some time scrutinizing the list.  “Your grace, who was your military strategy instructor?  I cannot find one on this list.”

Alistair thought about it. “I never had any formal instruction about strategy.  I learned some from conversations with my father and listening to him discussing strategy with his advisors, although I must admit some went over my head because of my lack of grounding in the basics.”

“Impossible.  Without wanting to question your grace’s memory, a lord of your rank could not possibly have been left completely uneducated in strategy.  If you had had a tutor who had done poorly, or remembered avoiding your lessons, perhaps.”

“So that’s one of the missing two,” said Kit, as Alistair nodded in agreement.  “Now, who could the last one be?”

“There are no other obvious holes among his grace’s teachers,” said Dame Brionna.  “The other missing name is low on the list, near your family members.  Perhaps it was one of your grace’s relatives?”

Alistair thought for a moment.  “Dame Brionna, what do you know of my mother?”

“She was of noble birth but not married to your father.  And she died when you were young.”

“Yes, but what family was she from?  Was she high in the nobility, where only my father’s pre-existing marriage prevented them from wedding, or a younger daughter of a manor lord?  How did she die?  Violence, disease, a surprise misfortune?  And when I was an infant, or when I was six, or just before I left Canberry?”

“I… I don’t know, your grace.”

“But you can remember your mother, right, Alistair?” asked Kit anxiously.  “You have your childhood memories of her, right?”

“I know I had a mother.  But when I think about her, that’s all I can recall.  There was mother.  But no happy memories of her, or sad or bitter ones for that matter.  And no memories of the details about her that surely were carefully taught to me-- who her family was, how and when she died.”


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Just got caught up with the last couple of weeks' posts and wanted to stop by to say how much I am still enjoying this storyhour - a very different take on D&D, but it certainly makes for good reading.   

Keep it coming ...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, HOHB!

----

“Oh, Alistair,” said Dame Brionna.  “I’m so sorry…”

“But… but… they can’t have erased your mother!” said Kit, more out of denial than a real belief.  “Wouldn’t that have caused you to die?”

The Eldar shook his head sadly.  “Not if he had taken on a sufficient independent existence.  Erasing someone who saved his life recently could kill him.  But erasing someone whose connection to his being alive was many years ago, with much independent action since… that will only affect his memories and personality.”

Alistair breathed heavily as he thought about what had been taken from him.  “Then we need to make sure that we get back the Noldar talisman.”

“I’m working on it,” said Kit.  “Don’t worry… we’ll restore your mother.”

“And it’s more than just personal.  Dame Brionna, I have several older siblings.  Why is my claim stronger?”

“They are older, but their mothers were most unsuitable, whereas your mother… oh.”

“Exactly.  By erasing my mother, they both hurt me and also destabilized the succession.  And it’s another way in which I’ve endangered those I care about.”  Alistair gestured at Kit.  “I only hope they didn’t kill her because of me, like they were planning on killing you… but there’s no way to know.”

“We all understand the risks we’re taking for you, Alistair,” said Kit stubbornly.  “And we accept them willingly.  It’s worth it.”

“I’m not so sure of that.  I never wanted any of you to get hurt… I just couldn’t abandon Canberry.”

“No, you couldn’t.  And we can’t abandon you, or Canberry.  It’s not your choice.  It’s ours.”

Alistair had nothing to say in response to that.

“Is there a limit on range?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Would people further away still remember his grace’s mother?”

The Eldar responded.  “There is no limit, per se, but it spreads like a ripple in a pool.  At first the effects are local, then regional, but it continues until the whole pond has rippled.”

“So the effects would be worldwide,” said Alistair.

“Yes, but it would take months to spread the whole distance.”

“We can contact our ambassadors in distant lands, your grace, have them record everything they remember of your mother.”

“Until their records fade as way… it’s not just our memories that are affected.”

“But perhaps they can find a way to preserve the records.  And it’s only until Kit can recover the artifact.”

“It’s worth a try.  We can also try having them write records and move them off plane-- perhaps the effect is limited to the Prime…”  But while Alistair’s words suggested hope, his tone was despondent.

[Incidentally, this was one of my favorite reveals in any campaign I've played in.  From the beginning of the game, the DM had only given the vaguest information about Alistair's mother, and I had assumed that that was just a matter of not having worked out (or looked up from other documents where it was written down; the DM has thousands of pages of notes, so ...) the details.  But then when we were discussing this artifact, I had a sudden "wait a minute" moment.  It was pretty emotional and very cool.]


----------



## Ladybird

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> [Incidentally, this was one of my favorite reveals in any campaign I've played in.  From the beginning of the game, the DM had only given the vaguest information about Alistair's mother, and I had assumed that that was just a matter of not having worked out (or looked up from other documents where it was written down; the DM has thousands of pages of notes, so ...) the details.  But then when we were discussing this artifact, I had a sudden "wait a minute" moment.  It was pretty emotional and very cool.]




To make it even better, this session took place on Halloween. Very spooky - we all got serious chills


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Begin Session 16:

Four days before the coronation, the morning began like any other.  Dame Brionna received a report, this time from the Chamberlain, and approached the full Council.

“A delegation is approaching from Path.  But there are some transportation problems.”

“Transportation problems?  Send some horses,” said Alistair dismissively.

“It’s more complicated than that, your grace.  Path is a major trade partner, so they are sending a large delegation, but they are also one of the stranger Paranswarmian kingdoms.  They have a very rigid caste structure, and each caste has to stay on a different level from the other castes.”

“When you say different levels…” asked Kit.

“I mean it literally.  The cities in Path are constructed with elevated roads for the higher castes running above the normal roads, and ditches for the lower castes to the side.  So far, they’ve been building a makeshift wooden road, continually disassembling it in the back and extending it in the front, but that’s slowing them down enormously.”

“Will they arrive on time?” asked Alistair.

“It will be very close, your grace.  If they work through the nights and can increase their pace a little, perhaps.”

“But we can’t risk them arriving late.”

“What if we sent elephants and horses?” asked Mahler.

“That could work… elephants for the nobles, horses for the next rank, then ponies, and foot traffic,” said Dame Brionna.  “It will still be difficult when they sleep, but it should at least ensure that they arrive on time.”

“What about the dire elephants from Seachen?” asked Kit.  “I bet we could build howdahs that would let them have as many levels as they needed.”

“And even one dire elephant would be able to carry the entire group.  I think that’s perfect.  With your grace’s permission.”

Alistair waved airily.  “If the Chief Engineer is willing, then by all means.  Otherwise, take care of it with ordinary elephants, horses, and such.  We’ll wait for you to return, and then begin interrogating some more of our prisoners.”


----------



## Quartz

Someone remembers their Empire of The Petal Throne! This is one of the most unusual story hours I read, and one of the best. Right up there with Sepulchrave and Jollydoc.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, Quartz!

I didn't recognize the EPT stuff, but I'm not surprised it's there--the DM is a long-time fan.

----

After Dame Brionna left, Alistair turned to Kit.  “You know how we were talking earlier about the need to infiltrate the brothels for intelligence purposes?  This is the perfect opportunity, with four of the current brothels having just been shut down.”

“Oooo, you’re right,” said Kit.  “I’ll have someone from the Guild start up the new brothels to meet the demand.  With the madams definitely working for me, and them carefully recruiting some of the prostitutes, we should start getting a lot of interesting information.”

“Of course, that will only help with domestic intelligence work.”

“At first.  But we can also use it to prepare to later move into other countries.  As some of the prostitutes working for us get older, we can set them up as madams in other countries.  And then we’ll have a full network.”

Alistair looked at her seriously.  “You know that in some of the countries we’ll want to spy on the prostitutes are all slaves.”

“We can’t use slaves!  I’m just not willing to do that.”

“I understand-- slavery is an abomination.  But in those countries, free prostitutes would be a tip off.”

“What about manumitting the slaves involved?” asked Mahler.

“That might work,” said Alistair.  “In some countries, we couldn’t do it legally, but we could do it unofficially, and then help them escape to Canberry later.”

“I don’t know… I’m not sure that we would be able to rely on them,” said Kit.  “I’d be worried that they would be forced to admit what they were doing.”

“That’s why I figured that we would free them,” responded Mahler.  “That way their gratitude would serve to keep the operation secret.”

“The only other option would be to send free people in to act as slaves.  But that would be tremendously dangerous for them.  I know that a lot of your people take risks, but still…”

Kit nodded.  “I’m not sure we can do that, either.  But we don’t need to figure that out now.”

“True.  We can get started with intelligence in the local brothels, and even when we expand outwards we can start with countries where free prostitutes would fit in.”

After a few moments Kit giggled.  “I was just thinking about how this will turn out using the body-parts naming convention for the intelligence service.  ‘The Naughty Bits reporting to the Mouth.’  We may need to make an exception for this line of work…”

Alistair laughed.  “But think about how great a title like ‘the Genitals of the Archduchy’ would be.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The discussion degenerated into ribald humor until Kit suddenly stopped.  “Another one of the Harlequins has been spotted in Pottersflat and is being followed.  I just got a message from one of my people, who says they may need back-up.”  She looked around the room and confirmed that there was no one there whispering to her.  “I’m going to try to get more information.”  She closed her eyes momentarily and activated _Detect Thoughts_.  The only minds that were present were the ones she knew of-- Alistair, Mahler, and some guards outside the chamber.  But there was an odd lingering set of thoughts surrounding part of her fan, apparently from some hidden function.  Kit thought for a moment and then opened a mindlink to the fan itself.

Kit’s body stiffened suddenly as her mind went through the fan and away from her physical surroundings.  She stared out through eyes not her own, on a clean but humble street.  A furtive figure darted quickly from shadow to shadow, and she followed, carried along by the person whose eyes she was borrowing.

The voice that Kit had heard whispering to her moments earlier spoke again.  “Lady, you are with me again…”  A small hint of confusion entered the voice.  “You feel different.  It has been so long since you have spoken to me.”

Kit thought back, <<Do you have backup?>>

“There are others following.”

<<Good.  These Harlequins are dangerous.  I want him taken alive and brought back to the palace.>>

“Does the lady wish to know where he’s going?”

<<Yes, please.>>

“We will follow for now, then.”

<<Good, follow, report, and then capture him and bring him in.>>

Kit sensed a sort of fawning attitude from the man as he replied.  “I will catch him, lady, you’ll see.”

<<Remember, be careful, and bring him in alive.>>

“We will do our best, lady.  Always for the Throne, and always for you.”

Kit released the mindlink and snapped back to her own body in the palace.  Alistair was holding her, preventing her from collapsing to the ground.  Her friends looked at her with concern as she readjusted to her surroundings and looked around.

“Are you alright?  What happened?”  asked Alistair.

“I’m fine,” she stammered.  “Just a little surprised.  When I reached out to the fan with my mind, I was in the mind of one of my people.  The experience was interesting… and useful.”  She nodded a little, calming down and thinking more carefully.  “I’ll have to have the Farsensor check out the fan more.  It clearly has additional powers we did not know about.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Eldar entered the Council chambers a few minutes later.  Kit held forward the fan.  “We were wondering if you could tell us a little bit more about this fan.  We know the basics of its powers, but it seems to be able to do some things we knew nothing about.”

“Ah…. That’s a very old fan, especially by the standards of your people.  It is a passive carrier of psionic strength.”

“Yes, I knew about that.  But someone was able to contact me through it.”

The Eldar nodded.  “Yes, those who are connected to the fan are able to contact its bearer.  The ones who are connected to it carry the streamers that were once attached to its base.”

“When I was contacted, I formed a mindlink back to the fan and saw through the eyes of the person who had contacted me.”

“You can do more than passively receive their signals, because you are psionically active in your own right.”

“What more can I do?”

“You have just ridden one.  It is a form of astral projection, but with different limitations and strengths than an ordinary astral projection.”

“Is there any danger in it?” asked Alistair.  “Can she be pulled through the fan against her will?”

“No, it will not happen except when she actively makes a connection.  It seems a useful tool for you.”  The Eldar thought for a moment.   “There should have been twenty streamers originally.  If there were, then there are twenty people attached to the fan.”

“How do I contact different… Of course, twenty streamers, one for each crystal in the fan.  To contact each person, I form a connection to the corresponding crystal.”

The Eldar nodded.  “Precisely.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

While Kit thought about her new tool, Alistair raised a separate issue.  “We intend to interrogate one of the captured Harlequins soon-- a drowan assassin, dedicated to Algaroth.  Do you have any suggestions for how to go about reaching him?  Could you read his mind?  We don’t dare remove the psionic blocks for a less powerful psion.”

“Is he a powerful psion by drowan standards?”

“We believe so.”

The Farsensor shook his head.  “Then I will be unable to penetrate his defenses.  I can read the minds of those without shields or with only minor defenses.  But to penetrate the defenses of a skilled psion would require a Coercer, and probably one with greater mastery than the drow.”

Alistair grimaced.  “I had forgotten that mindreading is an aspect of Coercion, not Farsensing.  I suppose we’ll have to use more direct forms of interrogation, much as it pains me.”

“If I may, your grace, I have a suggestion for your initial effort.  I would begin by appealing to his sense of honor and asking for his cooperation, perhaps in exchange for something.  Despite their participation in the worst betrayal of all time, some of our fallen cousins believe that they are honorable.  It may be easier to get him to cooperate voluntarily than to coerce answers from him.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “We can certainly give that a try.  Can you help us verify that he has no traps and no warpstone on him?  We need to make certain that he won’t try to attack.”

“Of course, those are small matters for one of my skill.”  The Eldar looked the Harlequin officer over, probing quickly with his mind.  “You needn’t worry about traps.  There are none on him.  He also has no warpstone; I should have sensed the chaos instantly.  Indeed, he is not even aligned with chaos himself, although there is no surprise in that--Algaroth is strongly aligned with law.  You are wise to keep his psionic powers neutralized, however.  He has a powerful mind, for a drow.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster,” replied Dame Brionna.  “We’ll inform you of anything we learn, of course.”  She turned to Alistair.  “We can also post a fast mage to counterspell any attempts at casting he makes, even with his hands bound.  Even so, your grace, I must request that you remain outside the cell.  The danger that he might find some way to attack you is too great.”

“I understand.  I’m not happy about it, but I understand the need.”

“I can keep you linked in through a mindlink,” said Kit.  “And you can watch from behind one of the walls.”

Alistair nodded.  “That’s the best we can do, I think.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After carefully planning the security and discussing the details of any possible deals, Dame Brionna and Kit entered the Harlequin’s cell accompanied by several reliable guards and a particularly quick mage to counterspell any magical efforts by the Harlequin.  All were under protection from evil effects to block mind control.  Dame Brionna looked around the room carefully, and when satisfied, nodded to one of the guards, who carefully roused the Harlequin, while Kit reached out with her mind and established the mindlink to Alistair.

The Harlequin became instantly alert.  His eyes scanned quickly around the room, taking the measure of each person present.  He devoted most of his attention to Dame Brionna, who he looked at with interest, and Kit, who he watched with trepidation.

<<He’s… afraid of me?>> sent Kit to Alistair.

<<You’re moving up in the spy world,>> he sent back with a smile.

<<Apparently so.>>

Dame Brionna began the conversation.  “We are prepared to under the right circumstances to be merciful.  This requires your full cooperation and the giving of information we consider useful.”

The Harlequin nodded calmly.

Kit continued, “If you cooperate, which means answering our questions fully and giving your promise to not harm us while you are being questioned, we will give you a few concessions:  a quick and painless death; a private one to save you shame; and afterwards we will do with your body as you wish.”

He nodded again.

“Do you agree to these terms?”  Dame Brionna pressed the point to avoid any possible confusion.

The Harlequin nodded a third time.

Dame Brionna gestured to a guard, who removed the gag.

“You have defeated me and captured me.  I am yours to do with as you see fit.  It is the way.”

“Thank you for understanding the situation,” replied Dame Brionna.

“You are a being of honor.  I am a being of honor.  It is normal that we should understand each other.”  The Harlequin remained focused on Dame Brionna, although his eyes flicked towards Kit and Mahler as he mentioned honor.

“We have little else in common, but perhaps we can agree on that,” Dame Brionna responded.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit cut to the heart of the matter.  “Who hired you and what was your mission or missions?”

“Lord Quinliart Moriquendarim approached our Society and asked for the commitment of twenty to discomfit a kingdom that stood in the way of the destruction of the Forest of Singing Leaves.  Lord Quinliart had reached an agreement with an Abomination that could have arisen to be a cthon, but had chosen not to, and a ratlord.  There was another party to their agreement, but we never met it.  Our superior agreed to Lord Quinliart’s request.  Our mission was fourfold:  infiltrate the city, which was exceedingly easy; disrupt the process leading up to the coronation, by spreading disease and helping a local cult slaughter innocents who were distant cousins of the true race to give additional power to the abomination that could have been a cthon; and to poison water in the poor quarter, killing about a quarter of the residents.  I had not yet decided to do the last.  It was an agonizing poison, and I do not know what it would add.  And lastly, we were to kill the Archduke before he took the throne. Quinliart gave specific orders about each.”

Kit grumbled mentally to Alistair about the Harlequin’s dismissive comment about infiltrating the city, <<Hmph.  I wasn’t in charge *then*.>>

<<They don’t understand what a free city means.>>

<<Also true.>>

Dame Brionna continued the questioning.  “What were your orders for how to kill the Archduke?”

“We were to strike during the coronation parade.  The Archduke’s path into the City is known, at least in important regards.  There are many starting points, but the ending point is known, and the possibilities are limited.  I would have dispatched two on each path with my full complement; since I no longer had my full complement, I would have concentrated my men near the end point.  To kill him, there is a cache of special darts from the vermin lord beneath the perfumery in Pottersfield.  We were to use those.  It would not matter if we did not hit him directly.  There were 60 darts.  He could not survive, even with the support of the hated cousin.”

“Wait… why wouldn’t it matter if you hit him directly?” asked  Kit.

“The darts were enchanted with warpscrolls to cause the most horrible mutations.  We could only carry three each, because even through their cases, they would affect us if we carried more than that.”

<<Warpstone?  Ugh.>>

<<Or some similar magical changing effect,>> replied Alistair.

Kit shuddered.  <<Don’t want to think about it.>>

“How close did you need to get the darts?” asked Dame Brionna, remaining focused on the practical.

“The darts could effect an area about twenty feet in radius.”

“Did you have other agents besides the other Harlequins?”

“Yes, we placed gargoyles along the route.”

“Surely you must have expected His Grace to carry orichalcum as a safeguard?”

The Harlequin smiled.  “So often humans don’t have the sense to do so.  But yes, we had planned for that eventuality.  The vermin lord had calculated that even if you had the orichalcum to stop some of the darts, you would not have enough for them all.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> ...Abomination that could have arisen to be a cthon, but had chosen not to...




I don't know what that means. Interesting.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Baron Opal:  I think that becomes more clear later.  Abomination and cthon are both types of demonic beings, with cthons being more powerful.

------
Kit waited a moment to make sure that Dame Brionna didn’t have any further questions on that subject, and then asked, “What was the purpose of giving candy to children?”

“To win their trust so when we approached them later to deliver the poison on our behalf they would not ask questions.”

“So it was just candy?”

“Just candy.  Do you know a better way to win the support of the children of the poor than candy?”

“Not many,” said Kit, thinking back to her own childhood.

Dame Brionna indignantly said, “Support and a good school system!”

Kit fixed a firm gaze on her aristocratic colleague.  “Dame Brionna-- candy.”  She silently sent to Alistair, <<Thank the gods we don’t have to worry about poisoned children.>>

<<Indeed.>>

“What of the use of krif?” asked Dame Brionna.

“The Black Devourer.  What do you need to know?”

“Have you been involved in its spread in the city?”

“Not willingly, but I am aware of it.  It devours.  Once you are addicted to it, it surely takes your life eventually, be you human, orc, dwarf, or even elves.  It is simply quicker with humans and orcs.  Only the ents are immune.  Among humans, they will grow thin, there will be an increase in crime, and eventually revolt against the government.  We were not involved in the krif.  But we have reason to believe that Quinliart was, however.  We killed two messengers bearing it into the city, and they bore the seal of a dead house in service to his.  They could be criminals or independent, but I judge that unlikely, and I have been a member of the Society of the Black Tear for 1150 years.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

<<The Society of the Black Tear?>> thought Alistair.

“What is the Society of the Black Tear?” asked Kit.

“You call us the Harlequins.  We were founded at the end of the Kinslaying Wars to finish the kinslaying.  We have perfected the art of lawful rule, the art of death… The kinslaying is nearly over now, and we are used for other purposes.  Neither race wishes to kill the other one.  We have some autonomy in the Threefold Way, hence my hesitancy to poison.”

“The Threefold Way?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Purity, Law, and Mercy-- not to your enemy, of course, but your commoners were not Quinliart’s enemy.  Your lord-- whose choice in servants I compliment-- was Quinliart’s enemy, and thus our target.  But the way of Mercy extends to forbearing from wanton killing of your commoners.” 

“Were there other plots you know about?”

“I do not know what you have accomplished in recent days, but there were several demonic forces allied with covens in the city.”  The assassin thought for a moment.  “Some thought that Quinliart would bring his own forces to bear as well, but I believe his cousin has taken care of that possibility.  So I believe that we are it.”

“Go through the covens,” said Kit.  “We’ve dealt with some, but I want to know whether there are any that you know of that we have not.”

“There were three we knew about.  One contained the madams of three of your brothels, as well as a smattering of their prostitutes.  A second coven was in the lower city-- a few tavern owners, but primarily goodwives; they were deceived deliberately.  And a third coven in your sewers, when last I noticed.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Some distance away, in the Exchange, “Lady Sepulva” quietly negotiated with a merchant who sought protection for a drowan refugee, Destak of Three-interlocking-lozenges.  [I don't think that's actually his house name; I think it's a description of his house's symbol.  I'll try to get the actual name from the GM.]

“You said he was powerful; in what way?”

“He is a magus, fallen somewhat out of favor back home.”  The merchant adopted an overly casual manner, deliberately aping nonchalance.  “But here, what does the matron mother matter;  if her name were Dispania?  Not that it is Dispania, but what difference would it make?”

“None that I can see.”

“And if no difference here, what difference in far Enclaves?  Even less.  And he would be bound to your beck and call if you gave him shelter.”

Lady Sepulva mulled this over and then pressed the point.  “And how would he be bound?  Would he give some token of faith?”

“If you demanded one, he would give it.  He would not survive on the surface without your aid.”

“As a member of my house, he would be under my protection.  I take it his fall from favor was not caused by disloyalty?”

“No… his sister arose to the position of matron mother, and she much favors his younger brother.”

“Ah, family politics.”  Lady Sepulva nodded in understanding, and then gestured to the merchant to continue.

“Where should he come in the third hour past nightfall?”

“To the suite I maintain.”  Lady Sepulva gave the name of her inn.  “If he can manage to gain entrance to the chamber without anyone in the house knowing it, I will be impressed.”

“I will see that he is informed, and I will say, Lady Sepulva, that you have gained a bargain worth its weight in gold.”

“For the sake of our future dealings, I hope it turns out as well as you suggest.”

Over the course of the afternoon’s trading session, a change overtook the dynamics of the contacts with Lady Sepulva.  As people realized that she had an interest in rumors, they began offering to sell rumors to her.  Her late, lamented husband had a reputation for honesty, which also encouraged the information merchants.  They could not know that Lady Sepulva privately thought Lord Sepulva’s honesty to be charmingly quaint.  Some of the information merchants were remarkably unsavory-- Lady Sepulva was surprised to learn that Lord Sepulva had had any contacts that would make her uncomfortable.  Still, the key thing was that they offered useful information.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Late in the day, Clarence directed a man, rather shabbier than most in the Exchange, over to Lady Sepulva.  The man leaned in to Lady Sepulva.  “Do you have any head in the City?  I would be careful about selling them.  And I might think about grain futures.”  The man passed his hand noiselessly over her table, leaving 5 wooden disks with gold circles on them behind.

Lady Sepulva looked at his ask; this sounded worth well more than 5 gold.  She carefully counted out six gold coins and slid them across.  “What more can you tell me?”

The coins disappeared.  “Three of the great grain warehouses in the lower quarter were poisoned about a month ago.  Much of the grain remained sound, but they have almost reached the poisoned sacks of grain.  When they do, the cattle will die.”

“Do you know which warehouses?”

The man nodded, almost imperceptibly.  He passed across a scrap of parchment.  “I think it’s part of a bigger plot, but I always have to worry about where my next gold will come from.”

“Thank you.  This will be most useful.”  She reached into a pouch and brought out another gold coin.  “An advance on next time.”

As the man slipped away, Lady Sepulva signaled Clarence over.  “Arrange for this note to reach Dame Katherine of Lyneham in the palace.  Don’t deliver it directly!  I don’t want this traceable to me.”

Clarence nodded.  “I’ll take care of it.”

That having been dealt with, Lady Sepulva turned to making the information profitable.  She began buying grain futures, using both the Exchequer’s accounts and her personal accounts.  The grain would be condemned, and that would tighten supply considerably.  When it did, the price of grain futures would spike.  Still, she had to be careful.  Buying too rapidly could trigger a run or a panic that could hurt everyone.  After several hours of trading, Lady Sepulva had secured 20 to 25% of the available market for the Exchequer’s account, with another 20% for her own account, all without triggering any undue market responses, although inevitably prices rose over the course of her trading.

By the time she was done, Clarence had returned.  “M’lady, may I make some suggestions?  If you’re going to be dealing seriously in information, you’ll want to get two things:  A table in the second tier of the Exchange, and a bodyguard.”

Lady Sepulva nodded thoughtfully.  “The table will take care of itself in time; my late husband was offered one each year at the renewals, but declined because we did not do enough business here directly.  I’ll simply accept and buy the table when this year’s offer is made.  As for the bodyguard… I suppose we must keep up appearances.  To the Mercenaries’ Hall, Clarence.”

At the Mercenaries’ Hall, Lady Sepulva carefully looked for a bodyguard that would make the perfect visual impression.  Actual threats that she couldn’t handle seemed unlikely-- certainly, many less people would want Lady Sepulva dead than when she impersonated Alistair.  But she had to look the part if she was going to be a significant information broker, and so she searched for the ugliest eunuch as possible.

After a short search, she found the perfect candidate for a bodyguard:  a half-ogre named Glurp.  Glurp was horribly ugly, although Lady Sepulva required that he bathe regularly so that he would shock the eye but not distract by smell.  She also gave him a mask to play up his frightening aspect.  Glurp was also precisely as slow-witted as she wanted-- dumb enough that she did not need to worry about double-dealing or that he would try to use information for himself, but smart enough that she did not need to employ a separate handler to care for him.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Well satisfied with her new hire, Lady Sepulva returned to her chambers in the inn to await her drowan visitor.  Glurp quickly cleared some of the furniture out of her room while they waited for the drow to arrive.  At precisely 3 bells past nightfall, a quiet rapping sounded at the door.  Clarence opened the door, and the cloaked figure in the hallway stepped in just far enough to allow the door to close before prostrating himself before Lady Sepulva.  The figure remained perfectly silent and still, waiting to be acknowledged.

Lady Sepulva finally deigned to respond, her voice equal parts imperious and uninterested.  “You may rise.  Are you fluent in the common tongue?”

The figure smoothly climbed to his feet, but kept his head bowed and his eyes averted.  “I speak some … Surface.  Not… not lots,” he replied pausing as he searched for words in his answer.

“Destak tells me that you are looking for a household to join, one that will take you away from Nikarphous for a time.”

“Yes,” replied the drow, in the same halting, broken speech.  “Sister now mother.  Sister cleaning house.  Many males be dead, soon I.”

“I may be interested in taking you in here.  What do you have to contribute to my household?”

“I am of the fourteenth circle of power as a wizard.  I am a researcher of the planes.  And I can bind demons to your service, or elementals, if you prefer.”

“I might.  If I take you in, how long would you say?”

“If you take me in as a refugee, until it is safe to return.  If you take me in as a member of your house, I will renounce my house and serve yours.  It is the way of a renegade male.  But I understand that you may not wish to pollute your house.”

Lady Sepulva thought about that.  Handling this correctly to ensure that she got the most out of him without undue risk would require care.  “What are you called?”

“I have always been called Brillial, but my house name was lost when my sister declared my life forfeit for having been born too soon.”

Lady Sepulva sat in silence for a minute.  Brillial waited quietly for her judgment, sure that his life hung in the balance.  Finally, she nodded curtly.  “Very well.  I will take you into my household as a refugee.  If you serve well and impress me with your abilities, I may invite you to join my house at some point.  But for now, you will be a refugee servant.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” replied Brillial prostrating himself again.

“Can you give a demonstration of your abilities?  What sorts of things can you summon?”

The drow sorcerer twisted a ring on one of his fingers.  Moments later, a large figure appeared.  One of its arms was grotesquely larger than the other, and held a huge mattock.  “This is the most powerful daemon I can bind, Mistress.”

She nodded.  “It will do.”  At a gesture, the drow sorcerer dismissed the daemon he had summoned.  Lady Sepulva’s suite included a master bedroom, a bath, a counting room, and three servant’s rooms.  She gestured at the smallest of the servant’s rooms.  “You may stay here for now.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Back at the interrogation, Kit continued questioning the Harlequin.  “Let’s go over the four missions again.  You were to infiltrate the City, assassinate the Archduke, spread disease and chaos, and poison the wells.  Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So the poison was a separate mission from the disease?”

“Yes, for after the death of the Archduke.  I don’t understand its purpose.”

<<See?>> thought Kit to Alistair.  <<I told you that we’d heard all four.>>

<<Thanks for checking,>> replied Alistair, who had been unsure.

“What poison did you plan to use?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Quinliart specified that as well.  We were to use a derivative of a frog in Krashmere-- it is a very powerful purgative and can cause death from dehydration and hemorrhage.”

“I suppose that would cause a fair amount of chaos, but why would he care about that after His Grace’s death?” asked Dame Brionna.

“I do not know,” replied the Harlequin, frustration palpable in his voice.  “It would harm those who were not the enemies of Quinliart.  That is why it troubled me.  There might be a possibility that Lord Quinliart has tendencies towards sadism, rather than simply eliminating those who oppose him and rewarding those who support him.”

<<There might be?>> thought Kit increduously.

“Might his allies among the vermin be aided by the excess of filth?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Perhaps, but to dishonor the Society for such a small gain…”

“But it would help them.”

“I don’t know that it would; it was never discussed with me.  But I can see that it might, especially with the one known as the Abomination.”

“Why would the Abomination benefit from it?” asked Kit.

“If he were a cthon, he would not gain any strength from the slaughter of innocents.  But demonlords are different; perhaps he would gain some benefit.”

“Were specific wells targeted?” asked Dame Brionna while she mulled over the new information.

“Yes, we had the list; there was a map.”

“Can you re-create it for us?”

“Yes, given writing utensils and parchment.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Where would your remaining agents go after we chased them out of the brothels?” asked Dame Brionna.

One of the Harlequin’s eyebrows lifted.  He then nodded.  “You have been most methodical in eliminating our agents.  I do not know for sure.  They would try to find new places to hide and would continue trying to accomplish the missions, but there were no additional safehouses specifically planned.  We had not expected to even need the brothels, in light of how easy the infiltration had been.”

“Can you make any predictions about how they will try to finish their missions?” pressed Kit.

He thought for a moment.  “At least one of my brethren will try to reach the cache of darts.  It is not clear what the others will do.”

Alistair thought to Kit, << If the Harlequin in Pottersflat is heading to the cache, then we know where he’s going and they should grab him before he gets there.>>

<<Right.>>  Kit slipped out of the interrogation chamber and snapped open her fan.  She reached out with her mind.  Many minds were available through the fan, and at first she could not isolate the one she wanted.  After much effort, however, she made the link she needed, although without entering his body.  <<What’s the current situation?>>

<<Lady… you’re back…  He has entered a perfumery.>>

Kit swore under her breath.  It would have been much easier if they had been a little faster.  <<Below that shop is a cache of warpstone.  That’s what he’s going for.  You need to apprehend him very carefully.  Bring in as many people as you can get.  How many have you got?>>

<<Eight, but I can probably get a couple more.>>

<<I’ll look around for anyone else in the area, and send them to you.  Do not let any of your people touch the warpstone.  If he throws a dart at you in any way, do not get hit.  And do not let any civilians get hit either.>>

<<I will try?>> the agent thought back, worriedly.

<<This stuff is dangerous.  Do you know what it does?>>

<<We have heard of it recently.>>

<<Then you understand how dangerous it is.  We don’t know if the people in the shop are his accomplices.  If they are, bring them in, too.  I’m going to go in search of more people to support you.>>  Kit quickly ran her mind over the other links from the fan.  She got vague impressions of the many minds.  Several were in noble houses, and many were vaguely familiar, although none that she knew by name.  But the only one in the lower city was the agent who was already chasing the Harlequin.  Still, maybe she could move people into position…  She reached out her mind towards “Alvin Smith,” her illithid agent.  <<I need your help, and your brother’s.>>

<<We await your command.>>

<<There is a perfumery in Pottersflat.  One of the Harlequin assassins has gone there.  Others of our agents --about eight-- are pursuing him, but he is very dangerous, and is trying to get access to a stash of warpstone darts.  I want you and your brother to go there and provide support to the people heading in to stop him.  If you can stun him, that would be ideal.  The darts are very powerful.  You need to make sure that you stop him from getting them and using them.>>

<<We apport.>>

High above the streets of Pottersflat, two illithids appeared in full regalia.  They hovered in the air for a few moments until they spotted a group of stealthy individuals closing in on a perfumery.  And then they dove like sharks from the air, and the battle began.


----------



## Alratan

My only thought is that the illithilids don't behave like creatures with racial mods that gives the average member of the race Wisdom and Charisma in the top 10% of the normal human range, and the top 0.5% for Int. There, of course, may be some other reason for this.

Apart form that slight incongruity, great SH.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

It's worth noting that the illithids in Aphonion were defined long before D&D rules gave any Wisdom or Charisma scores for them.  In general, Aphonion's illithids diverge significantly from 3e standard-- for example, there are baby illithids in Aphonion.

Also, I would not say that they necessarily have low Wis or Cha, just that they are alien.  Brionna has a pretty high Wisdom and a high Charisma, but she probably wouldn't do particularly well in an illithid city.  And then, it's not clear that "Alvin" and his brother are the sharpest tentacles in the shed, if you know what I mean.


----------



## Alratan

Fair enough, just struck me as a bit unusual (given that with the standard stats, the stupidest, illithid, equivalent to a human with a very severe mental handicap, is as clever as the average human)


----------



## Baron Opal

Indeed, tha illithids of Aphonion are a little different. We had some "half-illithids" as retainers in the Courts of Chaos. Spindly guys with four stubby tentacles on their upper lip, they had better than average psionic potential.

I never liked them, but my allies enjoyed their capabilities and messing with their orderly minds.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit was about to rejoin the interrogation when a neatly groomed young man, dressed in clean but not expensive clothes, approached her.  “Dame Katherine of Lyneham?  I was asked to give you this.”  The boy handed Kit a folded piece of parchment and waited a moment for his tip before leaving without a reply.

Kit opened the message and carefully sounded it out.

	Kit-- Three of the grain warehouses have been poisoned, and the sacks are about to come into circulation.  These are their locations.  --M

She passed the message on to Alistair, who quickly dispatched guards to each of the warehouses with orders to prevent any of the grain from leaving those warehouses until it had been examined for poison.  With the urgent tasks taken care of, she rejoined the interrogation.

As Kit returned to the room, Dame Brionna waited to allow her to ask any new questions.  She began, however, with a question that Alistair had reminded her about.  “What house are you in?”

The Harlequin frowned.  “I was of the Cadet House of the Fallen Leaves, but when you join the Society, your house is lost.”

“Just to confirm, do you have any safehouses besides the brothels?”

“No.  If you have compromised those, we have no safehouses left.”

Dame Brionna asked, “Did you have anything planned for the grove where the coronation procession begins?”

He smiled coldly.  “No, but we wanted you to think we did.  Many starting places were possible, but only one end place.  Best to target the areas we knew the Archduke would pass through.”

“Did you have orders to assassinate anyone besides the Archduke?  Any plans on the Archbishop?”

“No.  Your religion is largely meaningless.  There are but two gods; lesser beings do not count.  But… it would not have been taken amiss if we slew the Lady Constance in the process.  I did not see that as likely, however;  I cannot imagine her being particularly close to the Archduke as he approached his coronation.  You take your way of doing things and your gods as seriously as we take ours, and she would not wish close participation in a ritual of your god of light.”

Dame Brionna’s eyes flashed with anger at the statements about Glor’diadel, but she bit back a retort.  Having asked the questions they wanted answered, she turned to upholding their side of the bargain.  “What do you wish us to do with your body?”

The Harlequin was unperturbed.  “You are beings of honor.  I would ask that you find a place where my bones will bring honor instead of dishonor when you destroy this shell.”

“Any preference for how you die?”

“Only that I die before the dust begins to take its revenge.”

Kit asked in confusion, “The dust?”

“For missions such as this, our strength is increased by an infusion of necromantic dust.  Once you have begun, there is no withdrawal.  It does, however, augment your capabilities substantially.”

“Where does the dust come from?” asked Dame Brionna.  “How is it made?”

“It is created in the Tower of Bones in Krashmere, through necromantic processes I have not studied carefully.”

“Did you all use the dust?”

“No.  I and the two senior assassins dosed before we came to this place.  Within two days of the coronation, it will begin withdrawal.  It consumes you from the inside out.  The process is said to be exquisitely painful.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“The two senior assassins?  Have we captured or killed either of them?” asked Kit.

“As far as I know, they are still at large, but I do not know what has happened since my capture.”

“You said the dust augments your strength.  Did you mean physically?”

“Yes, but it also allows one to think faster and cast stronger spells.  Sometimes, however, it is not enough.”  He glanced around the cell.  “Sometimes those who take dust become arrogant, and that is the downfall of all.”

“I have another set of questions,” said Kit.  “Was poisoning the grain part of your mission?”

“No, that was done by the Eshen ratfolk.  It is really more of a disease than a poison, although I suppose those who are not of elven stock may view things differently.”

“What would it do?”

“It removes moisture from the body and prevents anyone who has eaten a quantity from absorbing additional liquid.  It acts as lockjaw.  I am glad you have uncovered this, as it would have harmed the innocents for little strategic gain.”

“Do you know anything more about the poisoning?”

“The Eshen bladelord who came here has some odd constraints.  His agents made many efforts to poison small quantities of things.”

“What other things besides grain?”

“They poisoned some barrels of ale as well.  They could not gain access to the middle city; your efforts against rats ensured that.  But they could reach the warehouses in the merchant quarter.  Most of their efforts were directed against the grain, however.  They thought that would do the most harm, because they believed that even the animals that died of it would be slaughtered and eaten, spreading the disease further.  I do not think they have a good sense of humanity.”

Dame Brionna looked at Kit.  “We need to deal with this immediately.”

“Yes-- Mahler sent a note describing the poison in the grain supply, so we’ve already sent some people to deal with that.  But the poisoned ale is new.”  She looked back at the Harlequin.  “Do you know where the poisoned ale barrels are?”

“I would tell you if I could, but we did not share that level of detail about our operations, and we had no part in their vile work.”

Dame Brionna replied, “Still, detecting disease or poison is not difficult.  We can arrange for the novices to check all of the warehouses and public houses, ostensibly as a means for them to practice their orisons.  They should be able to find all of the poison.”

They left the Harlequin in his cell.  They kept him alive in case further questions arose but promised to prevent the dust pain from beginning.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

As the interrogation finished, the first reports came back from the battle in Pottersflat.  <<Lady, we have the one we followed in custody.>>

<<How did the battle go?>>

<<It was most strange, lady, and the combat was fierce.>>

<<Did you take losses?>>

<<Among the gliders, yes.  We have hang-gliders who fly through the air, to drop nets and such from above.  One of the glider pilots was struck by a dart, and there was nothing left of him but dust.  There is also now a forty-five foot tall mushroom in Pottersflat…>>

<<Make sure no one eats it!  Keep people away from it.>>

<<Oh, we know, lady.  We put up a fence of sorts.  But it’s moving.  At first we thought it was just swaying in the wind, but now it is clear that it is shuffling towards the fence, moving about six inches an hour.>>

<<Was that also someone?  Were there other casualties?>>

<<No, lady.  That was a horse.  After the Harlequin struck the horse with a dart, he was so shocked by its transformation that we were able to get to him before he could act again.  But that was after he had gotten to the stash of darts, and done for that glider.>>

<<We’ll send a mage to clean up the mess.>>

The mage eventually reported back.  He teleported the darts into a volcano, destroying them completely.  As for the enormous mushroom, he tried to polymorph it back into its natural form.  This was a little less successful.  It was a horse again, but a fourteen foot tall horse, with shelf-fungi in place of its tail.  Still, it seemed greatly relieved to be close to its original form.

With the short term crises fairly well dealt with, Kit finally had time to deal with one of the longer term concerns that she had been worrying about.  Princess Kaitlyn’s thoughts, as well as a few other things she had heard, suggested that there were negative rumors circulating about Alistair.  She spoke with a few of the people in her network and set out to find out precisely what it was that was being said.

The results displeased her greatly.  The overall consensus was that Alistair looked remarkably normal for someone that dissipated; if anything, people found it all the more frightening that he could be so personable yet had done those beatings up north.  Dreading what she would learn, Kit pressed her contacts for more information.  They told her that there were hushed conversations about the condition of some young women along Alistair’s route who he had mistreated badly.  If the rumors were to be believed, he had savaged them mercilessly.  A few people were also reporting rumors that he had taken a succubus as a lover in the north, but the reports of violence and brutality were much more widespread.

As she widened her investigation, she discovered at least some good news:  the rumors were almost entirely limited to foreigners.  Among the Canberrans, he was typically simply viewed as having a healthy appetite, with some viewing his escapades as slightly scandalous but the understandable follies of youth, while others viewed it as a sign of vigor and virility that the Archduchy should be proud of.  Kit’s agents somewhat awkwardly told her that her identity as his current lover was common knowledge throughout the Archduchy-- the lower classes talked about it openly, often in the most romantic terms, while the upper classes pretended not to know, to avoid any awkwardness when Alistair married, but all clearly did.

Kit burned with anger about the rumors, both horrified by their content and positive that someone was deliberately smearing Alistair’s reputation.  Something would need to be done to put the rumors to rest.  But before she could plan a counter-campaign, she needed to know who was behind it.  Casual questions turned up no definitive answers, but some geographic information.  The rumors were almost all among people to the north of Canberry, although a few had spread among the delegations within the City.  The further north a group originated, the worse the rumors were liable to be, with the furthest north delegations dreading their coming interactions with a malevolent monster.  But the pattern was not uniform-- there were hardly any rumors among the delegations from Masque or Hanal, although that might be a matter of the servants knowing better than to speak of the depravities of the nobles, lest they find out precisely how depraved they could be.  Speaking ill of your betters in Hanal is punishable by death, with the cardinal principle that the greater the truth, the greater the libel.  Still, it seemed like Enclaves was a likely point on which to focus further investigations.

End Session 16


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Begin Session 17:

The Council met on the morning of the third day prior to the coronation and reviewed the list of tasks on the to-do list.  The list was long, but they focused on the top priority without much difficulty.  There were still three Harlequins at large; even though most of them had been defeated, the three remaining posed an enormous threat.  They had requested that the officer prisoner examine the bodies that had been recovered, and he confirmed that the two master assassins were not among them.

“I wonder if we could scry on them,” said Dame Brionna.  “We have a fair amount of information.  A skilled diviner might be able to use that to find their location.”

The rest of the Council agreed that it was worth a try at least, and sent a runner to the Cathedral, because clerical divinations are often more powerful than arcane ones.

Less than an hour later, the diviner arrived at the palace.  The diviner wore the vestments of a reverend canon and carefully but unsteadily made his way into the private audience chamber.  He was human, but his face was obscured by an enormous pair of gnomish spectacles.  With his lanky form and jerky movements, he resembled nothing so much as a robotic scarecrow, complete with straw blond hair sticking out haphazardly from beneath his cap.  He drew himself up carefully, and bowed deeply.  “Your eminent grace.”  As he rose from the bow, however, he squinted carefully at the chair before him and realized that it was, in fact, empty.  He looked around the room jerkily, with his head swinging back and forth rapidly, until he realized where Alistair was actually sitting.  He repeated the bow, this time honoring the Archduke instead of a piece of furniture.  “I am Reverend Canon Byron Toddle.  This is an honor I could not have imagined growing up on a chicken farm.  How may I be of service?”

Alistair smiled gently at the strange priest.  “As you may know, there have been a group of drowan assassins operating within the City, in the garb and makeup of harlequins or clowns.”

“Yes.  They have been clouding the prolipsis for weeks.  They are slipping through time, they are capable of changing things more than most.”

“Clouding the … prolipsis?” echoed Alistair.  “What does that mean?”

“They make it difficult to see things, people, events…  I can see the flow of time and the place of people within it, in a way that most cannot.  But they make it hard to see things.  And they make it hard to perceive the future.  Time is like a river.  It will divide around a stone.  Sometimes it will fork, but by and large it goes forward.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“You can see into the past as well?” asked Alistair.  When the Reverend Canon nodded, he asked, “Can you see my mother?”

“Your mother?  Your grace, you have no mother.”

Kit sucked in her breath at that response, and reached over to take Alistair’s hand in her own.  Alistair clutched her hand tightly and slumped against her, forgetting all decorum and relying on the priest’s vision issues to conceal his weakness.

“But that can’t be…” said the priest.  “Of course you must have a mother.  But she is blocked from me.  I cannot perceive her, or even any of the ripples away from her that you might expect.  This is most unusual.”

“It is no matter,” replied Alistair, although both his tone and his affect belied his words.  “We should focus on the present.”

Dame Brionna stepped in to cover Alistair’s anguish.  “You may know that there have been a group of drow assassins in the City who seek to kill the Archduke.  We need to find the ones who remain.”

“Yes, I have seen them.  Your response has been brilliant, but there are still three spots.”

“You can see where they are?”

“Where in time.  They are concealed in place, but when they act, they can be seen in time.  The next will strike tonight.”  The canon entered a trance of sorts, quietly describing his vision.  “Entering the river, going against the current, meets a short, thin man, who smells of dog.  Pays him much coin; then goes through a door, into corridors of granite and marble-- corridors like this palace, your grace.”

“Can you focus on the man?” asked Kit, looking up from Alistair.

“Yes-- dresses in browns and blacks.  He lives in a small apartment of rooms with a woman-- I do not think they have received the rites of holy matrimony.”  The sudden disapproval in the priest’s voice was almost jarring after the distracted recitation.  The canon continued pacing about the room, bumping into things without giving any signs of noticing.  “But he has a terrible secret, a habit he cannot escape.  It consumes the allowance from the crown, and burns him up, making him thin.”

Kit lifted the image of the man from the canon’s mind.  The experience was difficult-- even his surface thoughts were jumbled, concealed by the tumult of images that he perceived at all times.  But she was still able to get the image and then broke the connection.  He rambled on a little further, and then his eyes rolled back, and he began to convulse, collapsing to the ground in a grand mal seizure.  Dame Brionna leapt forward and did her best to aid him.  The convulsions continued for a few minutes and then subsided.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What… what happened?”

“You had a fit, Reverend Canon.  I think it has passed.”

“Ah.  Those happen from time to time.  It is part of the price I pay for perceiving the world differently.”

“Glor’diadel gives you a special light to see things with.”

“Yes.  It is not without its problems.  But it sometimes lets me save people… When I had first taken orders, I hoped the visions would stop.  But a child fell into a well near the seminary, and my visions allowed us to rescue her.  I stopped praying that Glor’diadel would take away my visions after that.”

“Can you see anything more about the Harlequins?  Perhaps where they went when they went into hiding?”

“They exited after a great deal of violence, went down into the darkness and were gone--gone, utterly.  Most unusual, but they can pull shadows over themselves.  But now he has re-entered my sight.  About the place they left from… I do not recognize it, nor its like.  A large meeting room, with expensive furniture, and many couches and lounges as well as chairs, all stuffed to overflowing.  Many beautiful women pass through from time to time, and in the most scandalous of dress…”

Kit smiled at the priest’s confusion; his obliviousness to what he was seeing was almost endearing, and at least she didn’t have to drag the information out as she had with her scribe.  “Yes, we know about that place.  That was one of the brothels that they were using as hide-outs.”

“Oh.  Yes, I suppose that that would make sense…”  The reverend canon made the sign of the sun as he shook his head at the rampant sinfulness.  “Beyond that, I can see nothing of those assassins.”

“Can you tell if any of them took the dust?” asked Dame Brionna.

“It is hard to see, and my visions of that may be jumbled.  I believe that the one who comes tonight has, but neither of the other two have.”  Reverend Canon Toddle turned to look at Alistair, or at least in his general direction.  “If you survive the next few days, your grace, you will be remembered as one of Canberry’s most successful rulers, along with your grandmother.”

“What are his grace’s chances for survival?”

“I should say that he has about three chances in four of surviving, although a great trial awaits him on the other side of his investiture.  I am glad that you are asking me now, for it would have been more like one in four at the time of his grandmother’s death.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Is the great trial about seven months away?” asked Kit.

“Yes.  Two great eyes, green, watch from a great distance away.”

“Are the eyes cat-like?”

“Yes, and about the eyes are many cats and many women.”

“We know about that threat, then,” said Dame Brionna.  “We may have more questions on it later, but for now let’s stay focused on the threats between now and the coronation.  Are there other threats besides the drow assassins?”

“Besides those… You have been very successful at clearing most of the threats out, but some there are that still remain.  A hidden assassin, a woman.”

“Not the King of Gates’s sister?” asked Alistair, knowing that he would be meeting her later that day.

“No… She is not among those you court.  But she has entered the City and is here now.  She is insane, and has been primed to do that which she will attempt to do when she meets you.”

“When will she meet his grace?” asked Dame Brionna.

“She does not know, so I do not know.  It will be at a public event-- it must be, for she is not of status.  I could describe her, but she could disguise herself.”

“If you could form the image in your mind, I can lift it out as I did with the servant,” replied Kit.

“Yes, that would be best.”

Kit concentrated.  “I have the image.”

The Reverend Canon ignored Kit and continued talking.  “She is beautiful, but not of unearthly beauty.  Wealthy, but not noble.  Young, but no younger than the Archduke.  Her hair is mahogany and waist length.  She has reasonable taste in clothes, but is wearing little jewelry except for a bracelet etched in the shape of a lynx’s head.”

“A lynx’s head?” asked Alistair, suddenly looking up and paying full attention.  “That suggests that she is also associated with the Abomination of Shur.”

“She wants to kill the Archduke for revenge.”

“We’ll have to be extra careful with this one,” said Dame Brionna, “since we can’t predict when she’ll strike.  What about the assassin who’s coming tonight?  Will he strike at the Archduke directly?”

“No, his target is a woman.  No, your grace, not Kit,” added the priest, sensing more than seeing the look of concern.  “She is a stalwart pillar in time.”

“We’ll need to place extra guards on Princess Cecilia,” said Dame Brionna firmly.  “She’s a very logical target.”

“And on Lady Constance,” added Alistair, “as well as around yourself.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What about the other assassins?  Will you be able to give us warning before they strike?”

“It will be difficult.  They are hidden from me, but they will need to emerge to strike, and I will be able to see them then.  But the window will be small.”

“How small?” asked Kit.  “Are we talking days or minutes?”

“Longer than minutes, but much less than days…  I will not know for certain until they appear.”

“Besides the woman and the three drowan assassins, are there any other threats we need to worry about before the coronation?”

“There are no other credible threats.  The Green Eyes to the south will watch but will not act, and you have cleared the rest.  Three pockets of disease remain, but they have been abandoned.”

Dame Brionna turned towards Alistair.  “Your grace, with your permission, I would like to begin preparing the increased security.”

Alistair nodded.  “And work with the Eldar to set up a trap for the assassin.  I bet we can quickly identify which servant they bought off, and we should be able to have an elven welcoming party when the assassin arrives.”

Dame Brionna nodded, but before she had a chance to leave, there was a polite knocking on the door.  Alistair thanked the diviner and dismissed him before Kit opened the door.  An elderly man, from Aunt Cecilia’s social circle, such as it was, waited in the hall with a bulky package.  

“Your grace?  Princess Cecilia requests that you not forget your appointment with the Princess of the Cities of the Gates.  She also suggested that you wear something along the lines of these clothes.”

Kit took the package and opened it, looking in surprise at the clothing within.  The clothes were stiffer than the styles Alistair typically favored, with many details borrowed from military uniforms.  To Kit’s eyes, they all looked hopelessly out of fashion.  “Why would she suggest that?  Alistair looks much better in his normal clothes.”

“Because of the nature of the Cities of the Gates, Dame Katherine.  It would show that he is a person of strength and determination.  Gates is very traditionalist and stiff-- more the men than the women, but some of the older women as well.  With the Dowager Queen as the princess’s chaperone, it would be helpful if his grace appeared strong with a military bearing.”

Alistair nodded.  The reasoning made too much sense, and there was no point in giving up the advantage it might bring.  “Thank my aunt for her suggestion, and tell her that we will be ready on time.  I may not wear precisely the outfit that she suggested, but we will still create the effect she wants.”

* * *

No promises on updates until Monday.  I'll be at a con (actually, the same con where this campaign started, and we'll be playing some Canberry adventures, although with the downstairs characters, not this group).  I'll update if I have net access.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council set to work dressing Alistair for best effect.  The cavalry frock coat that Aunt Cecilia suggested worked well, although Alistair accentuated the military effect by wearing his mithril chain shirt so that the mail was visible beyond his sleeves, at his collar, and at his thighs.  They rejected several of the other garments Cecilia suggested as too passe, and he added his cloak for its magical charisma boosting effect.  Fortunately, that same magic made it look appropriate in essentially any ensemble.

“We’ll need the right accoutrements.  I suppose wearing a helm indoors would be too much?” asked Alistair.

“Definitely,” said Kit, while Dame Brionna nodded agreement.  “We want you to look manly, strong, and militant, not silly and pretentious.”

“And wearing an actual crown, which would be the next best, would be inappropriate before the coronation.”

“Maybe we can find a good coronet?  The thin style that your grace usually favors wouldn’t do, but we might be able to find a heavier, older style coronet that would.”

“An excellent idea.  I’m sure there’s _something_ appropriate in the Treasury.  Can you take care of that?  And while your there, get me a good bastard sword and a nice baldric.”

Dame Brionna looked dubious.  “You know that bastard swords require extensive training?  I really think you would be better off with a rapier, or even a long sword… your grace,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Of course I know that.  If I were actually planning on fighting, I would bring my spiked chain.  But while courting can be trying and difficult, I really don’t think we’ll end up in a battle.  But I need to look like I could be.  They’ll sneer at me if I don’t wear a sword, and a nice, heavy bastard sword will make the best impression-- much better than a rapier would, since they would view that as effete.  So we want a nice, functional bastard sword-- decorated and with enchantments, but a combat weapon, not a dress one.”

“Very well, your grace.  I suppose I can give you some pointers on moving comfortably while carrying a large sword.”

“I think I’ll be able to handle that.  I was given appropriate training for a noble as a youth, you know.”

“Yes, your grace,” replied Dame Brionna, still sounding skeptical.  

After worrying about a few more details, they were satisfied with Alistair’s look.  To the Council, used to the cosmopolitan fashions of Canberry City and Enclaves, the overall effect was almost comically belligerent.  But it fit the impression they wanted to create.  Dame Brionna’s dress was much easier-- she would simply wear her heavy armor with a functional field tabard, and carry a full kit of weapons as if she expected to go into battle.  And Kit had the easiest time:  since she would be watching from a secret position behind the wall, she could wear her standard functional leathers.


----------



## Quartz

Encore! Encore! I'm very much looking forward to the climax.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A short investigation identified who the traitor within the palace was:  the chief dog trainer.  He fit all of the descriptions, and Kit arranged to see him with the hounds and recognized him from the image in the reverend canon’s mind.  They asked the Eldar if he would be willing to have his people capture the drow assassin when he would seek to make contact with the dog trainer, and the Eldar readily agreed.  Kit pressed on the Eldar the need to be surreptitious to avoid tipping off the assassin, and while the Eldar seemed mostly confused by this idea, his gray elf captain readily agreed and assured her that he would take care of it.

As was becoming part of the daily routine, the Chancellor came in with a list of the additional nobles who had arrived, or were arriving presently, to attend the coronation.  The Necropolis of Svanti had sent a representative.  Dame Brionna expressed concern at a representative from a necropolis, but the Chancellor assured her that their emissary, though dead, was very nice about it.  He had only recently noticed that he had died.  Kalinshire also sent an ambassador, although really he was about the lowest ranked noble they could send without creating a diplomatic incident.  The Chancellor explained that Kalinshire was having tensions on its border with the Duchy of Avery; with the differences of religion and so forth making matters even more delicate, and as the nobility of Kalinshire serve directly as the commanders of its army, it sought to avoid disrupting the high command any more than necessary in case open warfare broke out.  The Duchy of Avery, for its part, sent a higher noble, apparently less concerned about any military consequences of his absence.

There were also three additional guests of note:  a single male titan from the far north; a religious representative from Holy Cortose, the center of Syrtry’s temple, who they denominated an “observer;”  and Lady Jane Peryton, from the extreme northern coast of Drucien, who hadn’t arrived yet because of delays related to the rebuilding in her lands after the eighteen-month battle that had recently concluded there.  The Chancellor noted with a certain amount of pride that there would be an emissary from essentially every land on the continent and the most important realms of the other continents, with most of the emissaries nobles, and several actual rulers or other high figures.  The Council thanked him, and he left to deal with the interminable logistical work all these guests created.

With the morning business concluded, they headed to Aunt Cecilia’s chambers for the lunch with the Princess of Gates.  Kit ducked in, past rather more guards than she was used to in this wing of the palace, to say hello to Aunt Cecilia, then slipped through the secret door into the security passages within the walls, while Alistair and Dame Brionna entered and headed for the back of the antechamber that Cecilia had transformed into a formal receiving room.  Princess Cecilia looked over her nephew with a critical eye, taking in the heavy, military cut tunic, the flashes of armor, the heavy coronet with spikes projecting down in a circle around his head, and the heavy, battle-tested bastard sword.  She smiled approval.  “The crazy old goose from Gates will think you look perfect, dear.”  Alistair decided that it would be best not to comment on the old battlestandards and banners with which his Aunt had decorated her chambers; they had clearly been ironed for the occasion, but the creases from where they had been folded for many years in storage were still obvious.

Kit opened a mindlink to Dame Brionna and activated _detect thoughts_ for Princess Cecilia and the guests.  <<Well, if he's wearing _that_ coronet, I guess we don't have to worry about the princess being too impressed with him...>>

<<It's to her taste.>> replied Dame Brionna.  <<On the other hand, he can legitimately plead a headache.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Outside the chambers, the corridors rang with the sounds of challenges and counter-challenges.  They could hear a muffled conversation between Cecilia’s chamberlain and the party of the Dowager Queen of Gates.  The chamberlain directed most of the entourage to a side waiting room, before showing in the Queen, the Princess, their chaplain, and a single bodyguard, none with weapons larger than a short sword.

“Her Majesty, Queen Baryana of the Gates, and Princess Mirabelle!” cried the chamberlain.

The guests strode into the room, proud and measured, with the honor guard remaining at a remove by the door.  The chaplain, princess, and queen stopped at an appropriate distance, and in ascending order of rank performed an incline of respect, each bending less than the one before.  Alistair maintained a pleasant but neutral regard and responded appropriately, inclining slightly less even than the Queen of Gates-- giving them their due, but also making it clear that he did not consider them his equals.

From her hiding place, Kit reached out with her mind.  There were no signs of treachery among the visitors from Gates, and in any event Princess Cecilia would surely have reacted if they intended Alistair harm.  She scanned over the surface thoughts of each.  The Queen was hopeful, but also slightly concerned.  The chaplain, an older priest of Glor’diadel, had a strong will, and his mind was closed to Kit.  As for Princess Mirabelle, she thought, “My goodness, he’s not as handsome as they said he was!”  Kit had to stifle a laugh at that-- it must be the silly hat, she thought.  But at least parts of Alistair’s reputation were still positive, although she wondered who “they” were.

[As Alistair’s player, when the DM said that I protested that Alistair had a modified Charisma of 20, and he said that he knew.  Apparently, she had been told that he was ridiculously good looking.]

Princess Mirabelle approached and said formally, “Your eminent grace, we have brought you a token of the esteem of Gates, at this time of such importance to our people and our region.”  She handed across a scabbarded bastard sword of enormously high quality.  Alistair was almost positive that it was of dwarven-make, and likely intelligent as well.  He began to extend his hand to accept it, but Dame Brionna stepped forward to intercept and received it for him.

“Perhaps your grace would like to hear its history before examining the blade itself?” suggested Dame Brionna.  She frantically sent a message over the mindlink to Kit.  <<Is it safe?  Can we be sure that it isn’t a trap of some sort?>>

<<Aunt Cecilia isn’t bothered by it, so I’m pretty sure it’s not made of warpstone or that sort of trap.  But… the sword is _thinking_. Not very well, but it is. I think... it's a _baby_?  That's kinda cute.  It likes the scabbard.  We don't want it to start crying if it's taken out...>>

The Princess smiled at Dame Brionna’s suggestion, as if she had hoped to be asked about its history.  “We have significant trade with an underkingdom of dwarves.  We began forging this blade over a year ago, when we first heard that your grandmother was growing ill.  It is truly a gift from both our peoples, because the steel and the mithril in the blade were from a lucky strike in a surface mine, while the skill in its forging was theirs.”

In her passageway, Kit slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.  Princess Cecilia had come within an inch of speaking her thought aloud:  <<The old bat hasn’t changed a bit;  now she has the girl trained.>>

<<Is it safe for him to hold?  I’m just worried about mind control.>>

<<Yes. It's not powerful enough to exert any kind of control.>>

Alistair reached again for the sword, and Dame Brionna surrendered it this time.  Alistair carefully held the scabbard and drew the sword part way, making it clear from his posture that he only wished to view the blade.  He began speaking, addressing the sword itself.  “You are a great weapon indeed, and I will be proud to carry you in battle, as will my descendants after me.  Many years of glory await us.”  The sword hummed in pleasure, glad to be acknowledged and treated with respect, and Alistair felt a warm presence in his mind.  He carefully unhooked the sword he had worn from his baldric and passed it to Dame Brionna, before slinging the new sword at his side.  Alistair looked up at Princess Mirabelle.  “We thank you for this great gift.  Truly, a worthy gift from one royal house to another.”

Kit heard Dame Brionna’s thoughts clearly.  <<Oh, what a waste.  Such a fine weapon, but Alistair won’t ever use it.  It will simply sit in some vault, waiting for a different Archduke…>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

With the formalities taken care of, Princess Cecilia lead them all into a formal dining room.  Alistair carefully looked over the royal party.  Both the Queen and the Princess were dressed in the most formal of gowns.  Their clothing was beautiful, and the jewelry both ornate and expensive.  Their raiment was somewhat old-fashioned, however; the Queen’s style was not too unusual for a lady of her age, but her daughter was dressed in a similarly old-fashioned style, despite her obvious youth.  The princess was pretty and vivacious, although not nearly as beautiful as someone like Kit.  Alistair judged that she was probably about as attractive a woman as he was as a man, without the benefit of magic.  She was slight of build, almost boyishly slender, with straight blonde hair held in place by weapon hair-pins, probably an honor dagger and its mate.  Her blue eyes darted about the room, carefully taking everything in with a practiced look.  At a guess, she seemed very bright, although also young, and while she did not exactly seem nervous, neither did she seem completely comfortable.  The Princess carried no other weapons besides her hair-pins openly, and concealed weapons were most unlikely.  In contrast, her mother wore many small weapons, including a short sword-- she had probably served in the military as an officer for a while.

In the early phases of the dinner, the chaperones dominated the conversation, mixing banalities and the news of the day.  The Queen commented on the noble palace that disappeared the other night, but Princess Cecilia waived her hand dismissively-- it was an eyesore, anyway, and she was glad to see it go.  The only briefly worrisome bit was when Princess Cecilia almost gestured towards Kit, hidden in the passageways behind the walls.

Kit sighed mentally to Dame Brionna. <<Aunt Cecilia was *this close* to pointing to me. Thank you, Aunt Cecilia, for pointing out the *secret location of the Spymaster*.>>

<<Oh dear. We really need a new Imperial Matron.>>

<<Yeah, we do.>>

<<Well, and no one knows you're the Spymaster, but everyone knows you're Alistair’s companion, and that's disastrous here.>>

<<Yeah.>>

As the meal progressed, the servants brought out ever grander dishes, such as whole roast pig split at the table.  Carefully and cautiously, Princess Mirabelle and Alistair began talking.

“Your grace, they tell me that you traveled widely before your grandmother passed.”  

“Yes, I toured much of Drucien.  It was a marvelous experience.”  He smiled a little sadly.  “I wish I could have spent more time traveling, still, but when my grandmother’s health started failing, duty required me here.”

The Princess nodded understandingly.  “I envy you for being able to do it at all.  And adventuring is a good way for a man to start out, even if eventually other responsibilities interfere.  Did you have many exciting adventures?”

“Indeed.  While we were in the North, we mostly concentrated on fighting slavery.  But then once news reached us of my father’s death and my grandmother’s failing health, we mostly concentrated on getting past the assassins to make it back to Canberry.  But even then, we worked to continue my family’s efforts against the slavers.”

“Did Mother tell you they got some people out of Gates as well?  A few months ago-- they spread a great deal of money around, and purchased nearly two dozen young people, probably for sacrifice. It’s all very morbid.”

“We hadn’t heard about their operations in Gates, but we know of the kidnappings of young people for sacrifice.  I assume that the victims were targeted because of elven blood?  That was really the first part of their conspiracy that we noticed, when we were rescuing children in Enclaves-- the first sign that it was even worse than the normal slave-taking.  There’s still more to be done, of course, but we’ve put a serious hurt on their efforts.”

“It’s all so unpleasant.”  Princess Mirabelle shook her head, and really her whole upper body, as if to shake the unwanted thoughts out of her mind.  Alistair found the effect quite fetching, although it worried Dame Brionna:  a monarch, even a consort, would need to be willing to address unpleasant things directly.  “Did you have to kill many people on your adventures?”


----------



## Baron Opal

"Yes, but they were all bad..."


----------



## Ladybird

Hey folks! Cerebral Paladin is having some computer problems, so he's asked me to post the next installment. He's still the one who wrote it; I'm just doing the posting  Enjoy!

--

Alistair looked at the Princess for a moment.  Her face was very guarded, and he knew that his answer to this question would make a huge difference.  But he couldn’t quite tell what answer she was looking for-- did she want a peaceful response as her phrasing implied, avoiding the unpleasant realities of adventuring, or did she want Alistair covered with blood and glory, as might be expected from a princess of Gates?  Alistair held up his hand, asking for a moment’s delay while he chewed a bite.

A sending from Kit cut into his thoughts.  <<Play the killing down!  She’s scared of your reputation-- she’s heard more lies about you.>>

“I’ve had to kill some, when it was necessary-- drow slavers and some ratmen assassins.  It’s not what I would wish, but sometimes there is no choice.”

Kit relaxed at that answer:  Princess Mirabelle’s relief was obvious.  Kit also resolved to look into this new set of rumors, as well-- Mirabelle gave no indications of having heard the rumors of mistreatment of women, but she had heard that Alistair and a merry band had taken down a small barony.  That was true enough, she supposed, but the version Mirabelle had heard omitted the fact that they had only killed a werewolf lord who had usurped and murdered the rightful rulers.  Instead, the story had Alistair and his raiders slaughtering the whole noble family, even putting the infant children to the sword.

“Ratmen, your grace?  We have faced their depredations as well.  A small group of them destroyed the grain harvest in East Gate.  We had to institute new measures to prevent further attacks and to avoid starvation.  How any thinking being could destroy a grain harvest I don’t understand.”

“They think very differently from how we do.  It comes from their close association with demons and chaos lords, I think.”

“Anna said they could be redeemed.”

“Anna, your highness?” asked Dame Brionna.

Mirabelle paused for a moment as pain crossed her features.  “She passed, I’m afraid.  She was my twin sister.”

With the additional prompt, Alistair remembered having heard that Princess Mirabelle had had a sister, only younger by hours, with a defect in her foot.  She was rumored to have died about 11 months earlier, although Gates had never made an official statement.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, your highness.  I’ve had a very difficult time with the loss of my father and grandmother-- I can only imagine what your loss, so much more unexpected, would have been like.”

“Thank you, your grace.”  She paused for a moment, clearly looking for a way to change the subject.

<<Ask her about her own military service.  There's something there... she's tried it but doesn't feel that it's right for her? Or maybe hasn't tried fighting at all?>>

Dame Brionna gamely asked, “Do you have any hobbies or pursuits?”

“Jewel-setting is my only real hobby-- I studied at the Royal Jewelry Guild of my family,” she said with a certain amount of pride, gesturing at one of her rings.  “Trade in precious metals and gems is vital to our prosperity, so I thought it would help the family, but I believe I have some skill.  And then I have studied strategy.”

“Your craftsmanship is most impressive, your highness.  That setting is beautiful, as befits a beauty such as yourself.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Princess smiled and reddened slightly.  “You do me too much honor, your grace.  And you are very forthright and direct, but I suppose I should have guessed that from your adventures.” 

“Yes, my family can be very direct at times.” 

<<Oh no, that makes it sound like he's about to kiss her,>> thought Dame Brionna. 

Kit agreed, but was a little reassured when Alistair simply looked at her meaningfully, and then asked another question.  “You mentioned studying strategy, your highness?” 

“Yes, especially military history and strategy.  I hope to find a method where we can fight, but with less loss of life.”  She thought for a moment for a good example of what she meant.  “Do you know that the Duchy of Avery and Kalinshire are on the verge of war?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Do you know why?” 

“Only in the broadest sense.  I know that there are border disputes, and I know that they are traditional enemies.” 

“Both true, but the reason is that Avery is too land-poor.  Oh, they have much land, but very little of it is arable, whereas Kalinshire has the best farmland in the region, at the river delta.  And so inevitably Avery’s population grows until they cannot feed them all.  And then the Duchy launches another war.” 

“To take Kalinshire’s farmlands.” 

“Yes, but you see, they accomplish their goals whether they win or lose.  If they win, they would take the farmland they need.  And if they lose… their problem stems from excess population. A losing war does a great deal to reduce that problem, horrible as it is to contemplate.  There are many similar situations:  around the Forest of Screams and in the Broken Lands Confederation.  I study strategy so I can understand how to prevent similar things.”  Princess Mirabelle paused and looked down sadly.  “I’m sorry, your grace.  I didn’t mean to talk about such unfortunate matters.  Perhaps we could discuss something nicer?” 

Kit grudgingly thought to Dame Brionna, <<All right, she's smart, I'll give her that...>> 

<<Well, she certainly has useful skills.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Princess Cecilia’s servants whisked away the plates from the meal.  As they rose from the table, the Queen of Gates began to turn her attention away from her conversation with Princess Cecilia, but Alistair’s aunt knew that he would want more time to talk with Mirabelle.  “Your majesty, let me show you my needlepoint.”  Cecilia took the Queen’s elbow firmly and led her to one of the other chambers in the suite, resolutely ignoring the somewhat stricken look the suggestion had produced.  The guard looked back and forth between Mirabelle and the Queen for several seconds, before finally deciding that he was technically the Queen’s bodyguard and should accompany her. 

<<Wow.  That was unsubtle, even for Aunt Cecilia.>> 

Dame Brionna desperately thought back, <<Must keep a straight face.  Don’t make me laugh!>> 

<<Sorry.>> 

“Do you have an interest in art besides jewelry, your highness?” 

“Of course, your grace.” 

“Perhaps you would like to visit our portrait gallery?  It has many of the finest works on Drucien.” 

“I would love to, your grace.” 

<<Don’t worry,>> Kit sent to Dame Brionna.  <<I know the passages that lead to the portrait gallery.>> 

<<Yell if you need me.>> 

Alistair looked meaningfully at Dame Brionna and raised an eyebrow.  She cleared her throat.  “If you will excuse me, your grace, there are some matters with the Guard that I should take care of, now that dinner has concluded.  Your reverence, perhaps you would be interested in meeting with Bishop Hoggsworthy, the Palace Chaplain?  I’m sure he would be most happy to speak with a fellow Glor’diadelian royal chaplain.” 

“That would be fine, of course, but…  ah… I’m not sure if I should…” 

While the chaplain searched for a way to delicately suggest that it might not be proper to leave the two young suitors alone together without impugning either of their honors, Alistair pressed the point.  “Oh, but you must, your reverence.  His Excellence is most interested in ensuring effective cooperation with our coreligionists, and that takes regular contact between the clergy as well as the nobility, you know.  Dame Brionna could take you to his chambers on the way to attending to her duties.” 

Princess Mirabelle nodded.  “You really should, your reverence.  After all, the point of this dinner is to strengthen our ties to Canberry.  Meeting with the Bishop will help you do your part.” 

“But…  That is…”  The priest’s shoulders slumped in defeat.  He couldn’t very well refuse what was close to a command from the princess, and he would simply have to hope that the Dowager Queen would not be too upset with him for leaving the princess and the Archduke alone together.  “Yes, your highness.” 

<<Oh, Brionna!  That poor man doesn’t deserve Bishop Hoggsworthy!>> 

<<It was all I could think of!>> 

<<It’s alright.  I just feel bad for him.>> 

Alistair held out his arm to Princess Mirabelle, and she gently laid her arm on top of his.  They set off for the portrait gallery, gradually edging closer together after they were out of sight of the priest.  Dame Brionna dropped the chaplain off with Bishop Hoggsworthy and quickly looped around to join Kit in the secret passageways through the art gallery.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair and Mirabelle made their way among the paintings, concentrating on ones that were by artists of Gates or depicted people or events involving the Cities of the Gates.  Mirabelle demonstrated that she was, indeed, well-versed in art and possessed of good taste, while Alistair showed off some of his own knowledge and much greater familiarity with the collection. 

Kit could read Mirabelle’s thoughts as the Princess gradually grew more impressed with Alistair and relaxed, realizing that there was more to him than a warrior and that he did not seem like the savage killer he was rumored to be.  But Kit worried more about a strange pattern in Mirabelle’s mind rather than what she was thinking.  It was like there was a second mind, riding along.   

Princess Mirabelle smiled up at Alistair.  “You are a very interesting person, your grace.” 

“Not half as interesting as you are, your highness.” 

Dame Brionna rolled her eyes to Kit in the passageway. 

<<Well, yeah, actually, in a technical sense. If she's actually *two* people, then she *is* twice as interesting as he is.>> 

Alistair and Mirabelle made their way to one of the plush couches in an alcove in the gallery and began kissing. 

<<Do I need to interrupt?>> asked Dame Brionna. 

<<Not yet.>> 

<<Is she safe?>> 

<<Yes.  There is something weird about her mind, but she isn’t a threat.  Brionna - I'm going to drop for a second. I'll be back.>> 

Kit reached out with her mind, trying and failing to reach the second mind along with the Princess.  After a moment’s thought, however, she tried reaching out to the idea of Anna and suddenly found that the connection was clean and clear.  In fact, when she read Anna’s mind, she realized that the entire identity of Mirabelle was a lie.  The elder twin and heir-apparent had died, killed in action leading one of the Gates armies, not Anna, but the Dowager Queen had decided that that was unacceptable.  So Anna had been forced to become Mirabelle, denying her own existence and acting as her sister.  The princess had no doubt that her mother would have viewed the whole situation as much easier if she had been the one who had died, but there was no choice but to carry on in her new identity.  While Kit recoiled in horror at the idea of how the Princess’s family had treated her, she began watching with her eyes again instead of just her mind, and she found a new reason to be horrified. 

Alistair and Mirabelle were enthusiastically making out on the couch.  With rising distaste and anger, Kit realized that Alistair had clearly decided to seduce Mirabelle-Anna, and that the Princess, while nervous and trepidatious, was entirely willing to be seduced.  Kit sent an angry mental message to Alistair-- <<No more succession crises!  Use protection, damn you!>>-- and then grew even more angry as Alistair ignored her message and blithely carried on. 

Dame Brionna looked questioningly at Kit.  “So we’re just watching this?”  She could arrange for a patrol to interrupt them, but she knew that Alistair would not want her to, and even though he had not left any specific orders, he was her liege-lord.  Besides, the diplomatic fall-out could be disastrous. 

“I think I’ve concluded there’s no security risk here.” 

“I haven’t.” 

“Fine, you can watch,” whispered Kit bitterly, before turning and walking away. 

<<I’m staying. I have to.>>  Dame Brionna’s thoughts felt apologetic. 

<<I know. There are limits even to my job, though,>> sent back Kit, softening her mental tone-- it wasn’t Brionna she was furious at. 

A few minutes later, she received another thought.  <<Oh dear, I hope she wasn't a virgin.>> 

<<I think she was. She seemed *really* inexperienced.>> 

<<Does he have no self-control?>> 

<<No, he doesn't.>> 

Alistair and Mirabelle quietly talked and embraced afterwards.  Finally, Alistair said, “We had best return to Aunt Cecilia’s rooms.  It wouldn’t do for people to start worrying about our absence.” 

Mirabelle nodded and began doing her best to rearrange her gown.  Worry crossed her face as she realized just how disheveled they had gotten, but Alistair smiled and waved his hands, singing softly.  Moments later, the _prestidigitation_ had restored them to respectability.  He offered her his arm and escorted the princess back.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

They returned just as the Dowager Queen was finishing a nigh-interminable examination of hundreds of pieces of needlework, embroidery, and other courtly arts.  Alistair noted with equanimity the cold and angry expressions on Dame Brionna and Kit’s faces, but the Queen was so happy to finally be able to take her leave of Princess Cecilia that she neither noticed the flustered expression on her daughter’s face nor thought to ask who had been chaperoning them.  Princess Cecilia looked at Alistair with a resigned expression, and he suddenly worried that she would say something tremendously awkward, but she only said “Well, I’m glad that’s done with; was the gallery nice, dear?” 

“It was lovely, Aunt Cecilia,” replied Alistair, sharing a small smile with Mirabelle and ignoring the renewed glare this provoked from Kit. 

The Dowager Queen took her leave from Aunt Cecilia, and Alistair escorted Mirabelle to the door to the chambers, stopping to kiss her hand and promising her that they would see each other soon before she left. 

As soon as the door closed, Kit opened her mouth, but Dame Brionna quickly held up a hand.  “Wait, Kit-- make sure that the Queen is out of earshot before you say anything. 

Kit snapped her mouth shut and just glared for a minute or two. 

Dame Brionna looked at Princess Cecilia.  “May I ask what you thought of her, your highness?” 

“Oh, she’s a dear.  I think she would make a quite pliant wife.  The old bat, on the other hand, at least I can talk her under the table.  And he’s not marrying her.”  The Princess looked around at the two knights and Alistair.  “I should retire to a private chamber.  I’m tired, and I think you young people have some things to discuss.” 

Kit looked at Dame Brionna, who nodded this time, and then began yelling at Alistair.  “How could you?  I’d ask what you were thinking, but you clearly weren’t!” 

Alistair spoke in smooth low tones, trying without much success to placate Kit, “I’m sorry, Kit, but I was trying to win her over completely.  If we decide that a marriage alliance with Gates is desirable, I’m sure Mirabelle will push for it now, and would pressure her family to agree to annexation in the process.” 

“You mean Anna,” spat out Kit. 

“What?” 

“Anna, not Mirabelle.  Mirabelle was the older twin, but she died… their family insisted that Anna take her place.”  Kit turned her back on Alistair, but continued yelling at him over her shoulder.  “I’m not angry for myself-- I know you haven’t made me any promises-- but how could you do that to that poor girl?  She’s confused and being forced by her family to be the better loved sister because they wish she had died instead, and then you took advantage of her.” 

“Kit… I had no idea.  I didn’t know any of that.” 

“You knew that her sister-- her twin sister! -- had died less than a year ago.” 

“That’s true, but I also have lost close family members in the last year.  Not a twin, but my father and my grandmother, and even the memory of my mother. And being with you helped me a great deal.  I had no reason to know that her situation was different.” 

Kit refused to even answer that, keeping her back turned.  But Dame Brionna was happy to continue the scolding.  “But your grace, think about what a horrible mess you’ve made diplomatically.  She was a virgin!  And her family is very traditional and militaristic.  What if her brother challenges you to a duel?  Or even just denounces you for shaming Canberry?” 

“We already know that they care more about appearances than about any actual sense of honor.  If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have forced Anna to pose as Mirabelle.  So even if they find out-- which I don’t think they will-- they won’t make a public scandal out of it.” 

“Oh, wonderful, your grace.  We’ll just have to deal with a neighbor who hates us and wants revenge, but seeks that revenge through assassins, skullduggery, and political intransigence instead of open challenges or wars.  You’re right, that’s much better.” 

“Yeah, we can have seething hatred simmering below the surface with a neighbor for years this way.  Besides, what if you knocked her up?  Did you even think about that?  Somehow, I don’t think her family could miss *that*.  This was supposed to be the last succession crisis…” 

“She won’t get pregnant, Kit.  A ‘block’ has been placed on me to prevent any pregnancies.  Goodwife Burleytoes assures me that I don’t need to worry about that, but that it will dissolve naturally within three or four months, so that there will not be any problems producing legitimate heirs after I marry.” 

Kit paused at that, and Dame Brionna grudgingly nodded confirmation.  I guess those herbs the Manumistian priestess gave me aren’t necessary then… and that I don’t have to worry about them failing, Kit thought as she took in the new information.  “But that only makes it a little better-- you’ve still taken a very fragile girl and set her up to be hurt even further.  She’ll finally think she’s found someone who cares for her, instead of just making her a substitute for her sister, and you’ll send her the message that she’s just a meaningless toss.” 

“I already told you, I didn’t understand how serious her issues were.  I thought that Canberry needed the leverage… which is cruel, but I have to think that way.  And I wasn’t trying to hurt her-- I was also doing what she wanted…” 

“No, you were doing what *you* wanted!”  Kit stormed out of Princess Cecilia’s chambers, slamming the door behind her. 

Alistair went to the door and called after her, “I’m sorry you think that…”  But he had the sense to not follow.  Better to let the situation cool down before trying to fix it. 

Dame Brionna shook her head, a mix of disappointment and disgust on her face.  “We’d best get back to your chambers, your grace.  We still have a meeting with the Minister of the Mind scheduled for later today.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Archduke’s Council gathered in the usual receiving room before the Minister of the Mind arrived for his appointment, but Kit sat in a straight back chair far from the lounge that she often shared with Alistair.  They waited in chilly silence for the Minister to arrive.  At precisely the appointed time, Abigail announced Petrov Gilligaff, Minister of the Mind.

“Your eminent grace,” said the Minister bowing deeply.  He wore tasteful formal robes, adorned with several glowing bits of crystal that they all recognized as psionically active, including a heavy jeweled torc.  The Minister was tall and thin, with a narrow face and bald head that produced a stereotypical large brained psion effect.  “How may I be of service?”

“Thank you for coming, Minister.  The primary reason for this meeting is simply to give us a chance to get to know you and to find out how things have been going from your perspective.  I’m sorry that we haven’t been able to do so sooner, but…”

“I understand completely, your grace.  We have been aware enough of the threats on your life.  As for how matters stand with my people… I would say things are going fairly well of late, better than they were.  We’ve rejected a number of probes in the last few months, doing what we can to protect the Archduchy.”

“Probes?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Probes from whom?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?  They have been coming for months, although fewer more recently.  We have been shielding against them.”

“But you haven’t been able to trace them?” pressed Kit, suddenly alert and interested.

“Now, I’m a redactor, so I wouldn’t be able to trace them personally myself, but our farsensors have tried.  They say that the probes come from the southeast, but have not been able to localize it more than that.  You know that we have a circle, I should hope?  It is not much, only six members, but it does allow us to form a minor psionic tower, and all that entails.”

Dame Brionna coughed.  “Could you be a little more specific?  I’m afraid that I’m not as aware of psionic matters as religious or arcane doings.”

“Of course, Dame Brionna.  Forming a tower allows us to make some of the more useful psionic creations-- the making of skin and the construction of psionic golems, for example.  It also allows us contact with the worldwide network.  I would have said warding the palace, as well, but one of your guests has re-warded it at about eight times the power level we could manage.”

“Yes, the Eldar did that as a favor.  I hope you’re not offended?”

“Oh, not at all, your grace, not at all.  It is only sensible given his power.  Humans simply cannot expect to match the ability of the Eldar.  By the way, speaking of elves, you know that there are gray elves wandering the palace?”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “Yes, we’re working with them to deal with some drowan assassins that have targeted his grace.”

“Let me ask you about another matter, Minister.  Are you aware of the psionic effect on the Duke of Brightspan?”

“Oh, yes.  You couldn’t be in the same room and not notice, your grace.”

“Could you unravel it?”

The Minister thought for a moment.  “Yes, I should be able to.  Would he cooperate?”

Kit leaned forward.  “I think m’lord was wondering if you could undo it without the Duke being aware, while he is still here.”

“Ah.  That would be more delicate… but yes, it would be within my power.  I could complete the seeding before he leaves, since he will assuredly stay for the parties.  It will then take time for the seed to grow, but it will break the compulsion.”

“About how long would the process take to finish?”

“The healing will take at least nine months, your grace.  In all likelihood, it would be more like ten or eleven until he is completely free of the effects.  The actual damage should be gone within seven, but some of the alterations will linger for a few months longer.”


----------



## Ladybird

Hey folks! CP's computer is acting up, so I'm posting on his behalf again. As before, the writing is all his - I'm just doing the posting 

--
Alistair nodded.  “Excellent.  Please start at once, but be careful-- the Duke of Brightspan may react very badly if he learns that you are doing anything to affect his mind, even though it is just to heal it.  On another topic, you may have heard about our plans to create a new school of magic?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“We would also like to endow a psionic academy.”

“Indeed, your grace?  That could be a very good thing…”

“The other masters and grandmasters would support it?  We could not make the academy without your backing.”

“Not all of them would.  Some people would be upset-- traditionalists, and people with particularly close ties to the existing, unaligned training schools.  But most of us would see the advantages.”

“We would need to recruit instructors from beyond the Archduchy, particularly because I would intend to both screen heavily within the population to find anyone with the Gift and encourage people from beyond the Archduchy to come to the academy.  Would that create any additional problems?”

“I shouldn’t think so, your grace.  The same group of traditionalists would grumble, but most of us would welcome a larger circle, and the increased power from the students and the new instructors would quickly outweigh the costs.  Let me have some time to discuss it with my fellows.  I should be able to make them more receptive to the idea.”

“Of course.  We may well wait until well after the magic school is underway to begin work on the psionics academy.”  Alistair waited a moment to see if there were any further questions or comments, and then gestured to the Minister, who bowed his way out.

--
End of Session 17


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Begin Session 18

Late that evening, about three hours after supper, a lieutenant in the Palace Guard approached Dame Brionna.  “Knight Captain?  There is a considerable amount of violence in the area near the kennels.” 

Dame Brionna sighed, rubbed her eyes, and stood up from the reports she had been reviewing.  “Have any of your people engaged?” 

“No, Dame Brionna.  We had strict orders from the Archducal Guard officer of the watch to not approach.”  The lieutenant seemed slightly aggrieved about these orders; the Palace Guard had primary responsibility for protecting the palace and most of the palace’s occupants, but it was distinctly junior to the Archducal Guard that defended the Archduke, his family, and their immediate circle.  When the Archducal Guard instructed the Palace Guard on how to carry out its duties, they would obey but not happily.  “That was why I thought I should inform you personally.” 

“Good.  Well done.  Keep your people clear, but if a figure in harlequin make-up leaves that area, stop him.  I’ll be down to keep an eye on things as soon as I have my armor on.” 

The lieutenant saluted and left.  Dame Brionna quickly traded the light chain shirt she normally wore after hours for her full plate, snatched up her spear and sword, and rushed towards the kennels. 

As she neared the kennels, she was very glad to have kept the guards clear.  Enormous black marks disfigured the palace walls, and there were stranger things as well.  One of the walls appeared to be dripping, not as if it wet, but as if it were melting.  The sounds of battle echoed from further ahead, but she paused to look at the walls in more detail.  The marks were primarily scorch marks, as if the wall had been exposed to a tremendously hot fire, and she realized on closer examination that the melting wall had been one of the walls sheathed in tin.  Ordinarily, it produced a brilliant effect, with intricate decorations worked into the metal, but the decorations were long gone and the metal itself was pouring off.  Dame Brionna grimaced, checked her grip on her spear, and headed down the hallway.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Something nearly tripped her, although she couldn’t see what, and then there was a shimmer on the ground directly in front of her.  Dame Brionna stared at the shimmer, and an elven form emerged, still on the ground, as he brushed aside the cloak.  The wood elf gestured emphatically for Dame Brionna to join him and quickly brushed the cloak over her as she dropped to the marble floor. 

“It would not be safe for one such as you to be seen by the enemy.” The wood elf smiled wryly.  “Or even one such as me.” 

“Does combat continue?” 

“Yes.  He has brought a fair amount of alchemical compounds.  But he also carries something that he is trying to protect, in a small box.” 

“Warpstone, probably.” 

The elf’s lips curled in disgust.  “Perhaps.  We have not been able to see.  And while he still has the alchemical weapons, it is only safe for our captain to fight him directly.” 

“Can we move closer?” 

“Not without risk, but yes.  You must move with me… and we must hope that your armor is not too noisy.”  The elf lifted the cloak, and they inched forward.  Dame Brionna did her best to stay silent, but even so, there was the occasional clank of her armor.  Each sound elicited a wince from her elven escort, although the muffled booms from the combat were far louder.  “There.  They are just around that corner.” 

Dame Brionna peered out from the cover.  She could not see the battle, but she could hear it.  A voice cried out in a strange tongue, and another voice answered a moment later.  She could not understand the language, but Dame Brionna recognized a tone of command, demanding some answer or response, regardless of the linguistic differences.  As she looked around at the damaged and burnt hallway, she saw several stable boys, their faces pale and trembling with terror, crouching behind crenellations and buttresses.  She held up her sun disc and concentrated, confirming that none of them were evil, and then reached out from the cloak. 

“Run!  It’s safe this way!” she whispered urgently.  The boys did not need to be told a second time; while the most level-headed waited for an opportune time and darted from cover to cover, the rest just bolted.  Within a few seconds, they were gone, and none too soon, as a fresh explosion erupted near where they had been.  

The hallways continued to ring with explosions, as the drow flung alchemical bombs and the gray elf defended himself and responded with magecraft and psionics.  After a few moments, however, the explosions stopped, and the hallways were suddenly quiet.  Mere seconds later, Dame Brionna heard a zipping sound that she recognized as a short-range psionic teleport followed by a clash of blades.  All around her, a group of wood elves suddenly appeared and charged around the corner.  Dame Brionna followed their advance, although more cautiously, emerging into the kennel proper.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

As she expected, one of the Drowan Harlequins was dueling the gray elf captain of the Eldar’s guard.  The gray elf seemed more skilled, but he also had an advantage:  the Harlequin was carefully holding an elaborately carved wooden box in his off-hand and kept on adjusting his position to protect the box.  As the wood elves charged him, the Drow gave a short cry of despair.  Before they could reach him, he cursed, flipped a latch on the box, and tossed it at a human cowering in the corner of the kennel-- the master of the hounds, and the traitor within the palace. 

Dame Brionna flung her spear forward-- it was too heavy to be an effective missile, but if she could just deflect the box…  But while the spear was close, it clattered ineffectually to the ground as the box tumbled towards its target.  The master of the hounds held up his hands but a lump of ugly, angry mineral bounced free from the box and struck him in the chest.  He clutched at the mineral in horror while the Harlequin cried out in the same tongue he had used before and redoubled his attack on the gray elf captain. 

Even as Dame Brionna watched, the dog trainer began to change, convulsing and twitching as the warpstone took effect.  She knew that she could not make a difference in the battle between the elves, but perhaps she could do something about this.  She pulled out the piece of orichalcum that she carried to protect herself and flung it at the man, if he could still be considered human.  As it struck him, the orichalcum disappeared in a brilliant flash of energy, leaving a gaping hole in his chest where about eight times as much volume as the orichalcum had been blasted away.  The transformation stopped, and the kennel master collapsed in a pool of blood and strange ichor, with tentacles and other appendages scattered about him. 

The Harlequin glanced at this, then looked around at the elves surrounding him, and murmured something.  He then ground his sword edge against the floor and bowed his head.  The gray elf checked his attack midswing, sheathed his own sword, and took the Harlequin’s weapon from his unresisting hands.  In one sharp motion, he brought the sword down on his knee, shattering its blade, before giving a short instruction in Elven to his troops.  They stepped forward and placed rope of the finest, golden-hued filaments against the Harlequin’s arms.  The rope then tied itself, binding him tightly. 

The gray elf gave a short bow to Dame Brionna.  “Knight Captain.  Would you care to take him to your holding cells?  You may be able to get some information from him.  Since he has surrendered, he is likely to be cooperative.” 

“Thank you.  And thank you for your assistance.  We would have been hard-pressed to stop him ourselves.” 

The gray elf bowed his head, acknowledging the praise.  “It was our pleasure.” 

“Can you tell me what he said?  I am afraid that I do not speak your language.” 

“Ah.  He cursed his associate for being discovered, and then cursed me for clinging to Eiru-- this was after the initial exchange of alchemical flame and force bolts.  Then he swore that he would kill me for Morgrath, and I swore in response that I would not be slain, but would redeem him for the Light.  Once it was clear that he would lose, he said ‘Join with that you worship,’ and threw the rock at the human traitor.  And then he surrendered.” 

“Thank you again for your assistance.  You have done our realm a great service.”


----------



## Orichalcum

*4/9/07*

This is Orichalcum, posting for CP, who had to leave for a business trip at 5 AM. As usual, these are his words.
***

Dame Brionna rapped on Kit’s door. “Dame Katherine? Are you awake?”


“Yes.”


“And are you,um…”


“Yes, I’m alone,” responded Kit a tad testily. What, did Dame Brionna think Alistair would be here, after what he had done that afternoon? “Come in.”


Dame Brionna entered and noted that Kit was still in her leathers and sitting at her desk. It looked like she had been reading over some of the reports to the Mouth again-- a laborious task for Kit. “You’re up late.”


“There’s too much to be done, and we have to make sure he doesn’t get killed… Besides, how much sleep are you getting these days?” Kit asked in concern, noting the dark circles under Dame Brionna’s eyes.


“I can usually get two or three hours. Glor’diadel helps me stay alert, and there will be time to sleep after the coronation.”


Kit looked at her skeptically. She wasn’t getting much sleep either, but Dame Brionna looked like she was approaching the verge of collapse. Still, not much to be done… “Anyway… what did you want to see me about?”


“The elves captured the Harlequin. He was bringing warpstone into the Palace.”


“Ugh. Still, if they captured him, that means we get to interrogate him.”


“Yes. And there are some things we need to discuss with the Archduke as well.”


“Alright. Let’s go get him then.” Kit walked passed the secret door that led directly to Alistair’s private chambers and out into the hallways. She might have to see Alistair tonight, but she’d be damned if she was going to go through that door.


Dame Brionna knocked politely on the main door to Alistair’s private suite. “Your grace?” No answer. She knocked again, more loudly this time. “Your grace?”


“Mrm… can’t this wait till morning?”


“I’m afraid not, your grace. We need to speak to you about a dire matter of national security.”


“Oh, very well.” Alistair came out of his private chambers wearing a silk dressing gown. “What is it?”


“The elves were able to capture the Harlequin who sought to infiltrate the palace, your grace. But the Harlequin was able to expose the master of the hounds to warpstone before his defeat. I had to use my orichalcum piece to destroy him when the transformation began. The orichalcum was destroyed in the process.”


Alistair winced. “How much orichalcum do we have left?”


“The piece you carry, and one other piece, about an ounce in weight, in the vault. I’m sorry, your grace, I tried to stop the warpstone without using the orichalcum, but…”


“It wasn’t criticism, Dame Brionna. I’m confident that you made the right choice under the circumstances. I just needed to know how much we have left.” Alistair reached into a pouch and checked that his piece was still on his person. “I think we need to get the last piece from the Treasury. During the coronation, we’ll want one of you to have a piece that can be thrown if someone or something attacks us, either with warpstone or a chaos-affected creature. That way, I can keep my piece on my person as a last defense. I wish I didn’t need to plan as if my life was more important…”


“But you do, your grace. It’s our duty to protect you.” Kit nodded agreement with Dame Brionna’s statement, despite her anger. “I’ll take care of getting it, your grace.”


Alistair thought for a moment. “I think Kit is probably the better person to carry it. She doesn’t have the protections you have from the blessings of Glor’diadel-- although I suppose the Gift gives her some additional protection against mind-control-- and she also has better aim.”


“Right-- if it has to be thrown, we don’t want to risk it missing,” said Dame Brionna. “That does raise a problem, though. It will be difficult to keep Kit near you during the coronation procession. Dame Katherine does not have the sort of official position that would make that acceptable.”


“No matter. We’ll give her a ring of invisibility, and she can stay right near me that way. No one who can see invisibility will be surprised by invisible guards, or, if they recognize her, that I would want her with me.”


“That should work, your grace.”


“And then we really do need to work on getting a new supply. Now, is that all?”


“Not quite, your grace. We also have the captured Harlequin to interrogate. We could take care of that without you…”


“No, no… let’s go find out what he knows. If he can get us leads on the last two, …”


They made their way to the palace dungeons. Following their usual pattern, Kit and Dame Brionna prepared to go in, while Alistair monitored the conversation through a mindlink from Kit. The warden and a priest of Glor’diadel hurried to their feet and began bowing when they saw who had come to the dungeon, but they were quickly put at their ease and ordered to open the cell.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

<<The mindlink is up,>> sent Kit to Alistair.

Alistair moped against the wall outside the actual cellblock and grumbled back.  <<I wish I could actually participate in the interrogation.  I don’t get to actually do anything anymore…>>

<<Oh, it’s so tough being Archduke.>>

Dame Brionna nodded to the captured Harlequin, who nodded, looking back and forth between Dame Brionna and Kit.  Unlike the officer, he did not appear to recognize Kit at all.  Dame Brionna began, “We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course.  I am your prisoner, and it is my duty to answer.”

“Now that you have been captured, how many Harlequins are left in the City?”

“Just the masters.”

“And how many of them are there?”

“Two.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“I don’t even know what quarter they are in.  It was rather a shock when you raided the place of the pleasure women.”

Kit smiled.  “Happy to oblige.”

“Do you know what they will do now?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Unless there has been a change in orders, they will try to find a time to strike at your lord.  They are greater than I, greater warriors… they may succeed where I failed.”

“Greater warriors?  Or are they mages as well?”

“They are trained in the great techniques-- the sword techniques, the dance of swords.  They are not without magic, but that is not where their mastery lies.”

“What about bows or thrown weapons?” asked Kit.  “Do they have skills to attack from a distance?”

“It is not their specialty, but they are competent with missiles, preferring the small crossbow.  It has a limited range-- it cannot reach more than 90 yards, and is only truly accurate to 30.  But it can be effective with poison.”

<<Oh, not far,>> thought Kit to Alistair.  <<Not more than *ninety yards*!>>

<<Yes, I’m *so* reassured.>>

<<At least we know some type of protection to load up on for the procession.>>


----------



## Ladybird

Once again, CP's words, my computer. Alas, for CP's computer woes! But yay for his Story Hour!

---
"Is there any way we could deter them from attacking?" asked Dame Brionna.

"Impossible, even though they know that the mission carries dishonor with it.  They know that if they fail, they dishonor the Society in one way, and if they succeed, they dishonor it in a different way."

"But would they be honorable if we captured them?"

"I do not think you would succeed in capturing them.  They would not surrender.   The honor of the Masters is different from the honor of one such as me."

Dame Brionna frowned.  "They would not give their parole and speak honorably?"

"Oh, they would speak honorably.  But they would not give their parole-- for as long as they lived, they would strive to accomplish their mission.   But of course they would speak honorably-- to not speak honorably would be to lack law!"  The Harlequin seemed shocked and appalled by even the notion of lacking law.

"Do you know anything about the strategy they will employ, or when they will attack?"

"I do not know for certain.  I suspect that one will wait to the last minute to strike, though perhaps that would be foolish.   Our strategist was taken early."

"Not very good at strategy, then, was he?" jabbed Kit.

The Harlequin's face took on a sour look.  "Perhaps you have reason."

Dame Brionna continued pressing on the tactical questions.  "Would they act alone, or get henchmen?"

"Henchmen are difficult to come by here.  There are plenty who will take your platinum, but few who will then act with honor.   Have you not found this?"

"Not when 'acting with honor' means killing the Archduke.  Our people are loyal to their liege," said Dame Brionna, a tad sanctimoniously.

"Our people also have a strong sense of self-preservation," added Kit.


----------



## Ladybird

CP's still having computer problems, alas! You know the routine - my post, but his words  Enjoy!

--
"Can they summon any extra-planar allies?"

The Harlequin nodded.  "The Fist of the North can."

"The Fist of the North?" asked Kit.  "What does that mean?"

"He is one of the four great masters of the directions in our order.  He is a master of the Air."

"So he can summon air creatures?" asked Dame Brionna.

"Creatures from the Plane of Air and from the Third Gloom of Hades.  You know what yugoloths are?   He can summon yugoloths of the air."

Kit sent a message to Alistair.  <<Something to set Stythus on.>>

<<Definitely.>>

<<Perhaps Stythus's people could embargo him?  No summoning for you!">>

<<Perhaps.  It's certainly worth a try, although we know that there have been some problems with demons on the Plane of Air.   I suspect he may summon corrupted air creatures, and those may be beyond the power of Stythus's allies to affect.>>

<<Probably, yeah.  But it would still be better to fight them on the Plane of Air than here.>>   Kit paused for a moment.  <<Heh.  Dame Brionna just sent me a message on my other mindlink:   maybe we can have Stythus block his summoning abilities.>>

<<At least we're all on the same page…>>

"What of the other master?  What can he summon?"

"The other grand master acts without finesse.  He will do no summoning."

"What are his powers?"

"Lord Algaroth does not grant the same abilities to every elf.  Some are born with great breadth of mind, some with great breadth of movement; some … are born with great determination.   He was born with great determination.  But it has taken him far, to the title of master and beyond the title of master."

<<I think we have our candidate for a last second suicide attack,>> sent Alistair.

<<Yeah.  Foolish frontal charge--  no brains, lots of determination.>>

"So you would expect him to simply attack directly?"

"That is what I would expect.  But he has surprised me before."

"How?" asked Kit, mostly out of curiosity.

"He seduced a woman to accomplish a goal.  We did not know that he knew that many words.   We asked him what words he had used, and he just smiled."

"Never underestimate the importance of body language."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Harlequin ignored this comment and shook his head, as if in a reverie.  “Eighteen out of twenty… I never could have imagined that a mission among humans could cost so much.” 

<<Hmmm,>> thought Alistair.  <<Ask him if his order would take a contract on Quinliart.  I’m sick and tired of him.>> 

<<Oh, nice…  Let’s see.>> 

“Would your Society be willing to accept a commission against Quinliart?” asked Kit, drawing a startled and dismayed look from Dame Brionna. 

“After this debacle?  Certainly.  The Order would entertain it.  But even if you did hire the order, the two who are not bested would still try to accomplish their mission.  They will keep trying until they are dead.” 

<<Interesting.  Get a price quote.>> 

“About how much would it cost?  We are not negotiating for the contract now but simply want more information to consider the matter.” 

“Quinliart has embarrassed the Order and tainted the Threefold Path.  The masters who negotiate our prices would take that into account and reduce our requirements accordingly.  I suspect not more than a million gold.” 

<<A million gold?>> boggled Alistair.  <<At a reduced price?>> 

<<Yeah.>>  Kit thought about it, trying to even imagine what a million gold meant.  She knew that the Archduchy’s finances involved vastly more money than she had ever thought about before leaving Enclaves-- probably more money than she had imagined existed in the whole world.  But even trying to get used to that new scale, a million gold, for a single assassination, was simply beyond comprehension. 

Dame Brionna asked a question to make sure they did not inadvertently mistreat one of their prisoners.  “Do we need to worry about a drug you have taken corrupting you?” 

“No.  I have taken no such drugs.” 

On Alistair’s prompting, Kit followed up.  “What about the Masters?” 

“The Master Unbidden may have.  There was enough for all of us, but few would take it, since it ends the life.  The Master Unbidden may have, for he believed this would lead to the fall of an elven kingdom.  He may have viewed the glory of accomplishing that goal as sufficient to justify his death.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Hmm, I wonder what Alistair's life (or death, I guess) is worth...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

It's a good question, Baron; I think we didn't ask.  I'm curious, too. 

As an aside, I've started another storyhour, about a different party on Aphonion.  So far, there has been no significant overlap in plot or similar matters; the second party is on Zest'qua, a different continent from where Canberry is.  But I thought people might be interested to know about it.  That storyhour will update every Saturday.  The Journals of Konrad Jagger, Licensed Diabolist

And now, back to our story.
-----
Dame Brionna continued, “How would you like to die?” 

“By garrote.” 

<<We’re not going to kill this one for the time being.  We have his parole-- I’m not sure we need to kill him.>> 

<<All right,>> responded Kit.  <<I’ll pass that on to Dame Brionna on the other mindlink.>> 

“After I have been slain, my body should be consumed by the cats.  I studied them, and my fighting style is called the ‘Tiger.’” 

Dame Brionna made a note of this request and then scrutinized the Harlequin carefully.  “Do you know anything about the Abomination of Shur?” 

“It was one of the reasons I volunteered for this mission.  I expected to be able to work side by side with the rakasta, although that hope was not fulfilled.” 

<<Well, he just made his death more probable,>> thought Alistair. 

“What can you tell us about the Abomination?” 

“The Abomination was once a Rakshasa.  He slew many of his fellow Rakshasa, and absorbed their power.  He could have become a Cthon, the Cthon of cats, but he declined.  If he entered that state, he could never shift, never advance further-- he would be a Cthon forever.  So he deliberately aborted his progression and undertook a war instead.  He lost, and was disembodied, his followers scattered, and his city and nation of Shur were forgotten.”  The Harlequin paused.  “From the perspective of your people, that would all be in ancient times.  Some time ago, the Abomination rose again, at first only a shadow in the South, but then he gained the help of one of the rakasta races that waited for him for hundreds of years.  His big break was forging alliances with the demons, and he thought that he could become a demonlord.  He only has followers of a few rakasta races.” 

“Which rakasta races follow him?” 

“Lynx men are most common-- straightforward warriors, with shamans, and a few witchdoctors.  The lynx men depend on the charge in combat the most of any rakasta.  He is also served by some smattering of cave rakasta, which you might think of as rather slow ogres.   The jakar are the others that often found service to him.  They were and are weakest of the bloodlines, but they have great muscles, and beautifully spotted coats, like leopards.  They were artifact builders.  It was the jakar that built the city, most of which still stands, and they provided most of his clerics when he began the path to godhood.  You have not seen the people who serve this ally of Quinliart?” 

“Would the jakar have designed the ritual that he seeks to enact?” asked Kit, passing on a question from Alistair. 

“Oh, no… the rituals predate all of them.  They are trapped within the rituals.  They can only determine the arcane feeds, and even those within narrow parameters.  How can you withstand him when you do not know such simple things?” 

“But you knew of the alliance to the Abomination when you accepted the contract?” 

“The alliance to him was advertised.  The alliance to the other was hinted at.  The alliance to the third was never mentioned.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“The third?” 

“The molydeus.  That was not mentioned to us.” 

“Did that violate your contract?” asked Dame Brionna. 

“No.  Our contract was not exclusive.  I was surprised that a Noldar lord would associate with such things.” 

“If their goal matched…” murmured Kit. 

“Perhaps.  Most of the Noldar lords would not consort with demons such as that even then.  But then, we have seen much that suggests that Lord Quinliart is not like his fellow lords.” 

“Do you know of the molydeus’s plans?” 

“No.  What have you seen of its actions?” 

“It does not appear to be doing much,” replied Dame Brionna. 

“That would worry me even more than its activity.”  

<<Ask if the Abomination is still vulnerable to blessed crossbow bolts-- and you might confirm that the stories about those against Rakshasa are accurate,>> suggested Alistair. 

“Do blessed weapons still work against the Abomination?” asked Kit. 

“About half the time.  Weapons that are ghost-touched are the most effective.  Are you considering a heroic hand-to-hand struggle against the Abomination?” 

“Not personally,” replied Kit with a grim chuckle.  Dame Brionna looked wistful about the idea… the glory involved would be tremendous.  “But we may need to send a group to attack it.” 

“Ah, you are wiser than I was starting to suspect.  It would be foolishness for any such as you to attack the Abomination directly.” 

“I should think that we would have convinced you that we were not fools with how well we have fended off your attacks,” replied Dame Brionna. 

“Indeed.  As I said, you have my respect for all you have accomplished, and despite the fact that we are much more personally powerful than any of you.  But it is entirely possible for people to be clever, and effective, and yet still be fools.” 

“And you should know about fools,” said Kit, gesturing at the Harlequin’s make-up. 

He nodded, smiling wryly.  “We are as clowns, but who better than a clown to know the difference between wisdom and foolishness?”  After a little more banter about fools and clowns, the Harlequin turned more serious.  “But if I may, I would ask a question of my fate.  Will it be done before or after?” 

“Before or after what?” 

“Your triumph or your failure, of course.” 

“We’ll see.” 

He nodded politely.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit gestured at his arms.  “The burns from the rope are still spreading, even though we removed it.” 

“Yes, it will spread until it has consumed me utterly.” 

“Is there anything that can be done to stop it?” 

“A psion might be able to stop the pain and the progression.  Your priest tried his methods; they could not prevail against elven magic.  I am surprised you are concerned.  It will be excruciating when it covers the whole arm.  I do not think the young elf realized the power of the item he used.  It was made of living Eldar hair; I will die of it, if it is given enough time.  It is ironic; they are fading.  We are fading too, but their knowledge is fading faster.” 

“We’ll have a redactor tend to you.” 

“You have my thanks.  Should I be permitted to live so long, I will be curious to see if you thwart the grandmasters as you have thwarted the rest of us.” 

Kit suddenly stopped talking and paused for a moment.  <<I’m getting a psionic message,>> she sent to both Dame Brionna and Alistair.  <<I’m going to step out of the cell to concentrate on it.>> 

The sycophantic voice she had heard before entered her mind again.  She almost thought she could hear it bending and scraping before her.  <<Lady… I’ve found a place where platinum has been spent, to purchase silence, and silence has been bought.  But the new owner cannot resist the urge to spend himself.  In Potter’s Flats, there is a small inn, far back from the Temple of Glor’diadel Help of the Poor.  Its owner has taken in platinum, bought new tables, and paid his debt.  It was platinum he took to the moneychangers.>> 

<<Any other places?>> 

<<That was the only rumor on the streets.>> 

<<Alright.  Keep looking.>> 

<<I will find him.  I am your good dog, lady…>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

As the voice left her mind, she sent a message to her companions.  <<Someone is spending platinum in the poor quarter to buy silence.>> 

<<That has to be one of the masters,>> said Alistair.  <<Do we have a location?>> 

<<In general terms.  We know a specific inn, near Glor’diadel Help of the Poor.>> 

<<I bet we can confirm that by having the priests from that temple detect evil, looking for a very strong evil.>> 

<<Yup.  One of the masters has to be there, and they’ll surely radiate strong evil.>> 

<<We’ll wait for dawn, though.  No point in giving them the advantage.>> 

<<Right.>> 

Kit re-entered the cell.  “Am I right in assuming that the masters would carry most of their money as platinum?” 

“Much of it, certainly.  They would not bother with any smaller coins than platinum.”  The Harlequin looked at her, and his eyes narrowed.  “You have a lead on their spending, don’t you?” 

Kit was resolutely silent. 

“Most interesting.  We shall see whether you can defeat one of the masters, then.” 

“Would the masters have warpstone?” asked Dame Brionna.  <<If they do, searching for chaos may be more reliable.>> 

“I cannot say for sure.  Both masters had warpstone before the taking of the safehouse, but I do not know if they escaped with it.” 

After a quick mental check on whether there were any further questions, Kit and Dame Brionna left the cell and rejoined Alistair.  As they left the dungeon, the Warden and the priest of Glor’diadel performed some obeisances.  Alistair gave several messages to the priest for delivery; one to the Minister of the Mind, asking him to examine the prisoner and stop the spread of the effect on its arms, and another to priests with instructions to search the area around the inn the following morning.  Alistair also mentally called Stythus to him and asked him to speak to his people about blocking the Fist of the North’s ability to summon air creatures.  With those matters addressed, Alistair returned to bed, and Kit and Dame Brionna returned to their chambers to continue working. 

A bright and shining morning dawned, two days before the coronation.  Kit awoke to a delivery of flowers, along with a poem that Alistair had hand-written and then had enchanted with a _magic mouth_ so that she would not have to struggle through reading it.  Alistair plagiarized the poem, stealing from all the most classic sources with full awareness that Kit was unlikely to spot the theft.  But while she smiled a little at the display of attention, her anger about the Mirabelle/Anna incident remained-- a few flowers and a little poetry would not make everything better.  Besides, there were new reports to deal with as the Council gathered.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“I have a message about the Abomination of Shur’s army’s progress,” she began.  “It’s involved enough that you should probably read it yourselves.” 

[See attached Report from the Right Foot.] 

“Are there good Rakshasa, then?” asked Dame Brionna.  “I thought they were evil.” 

“Most of them are,” replied Alistair, “but a small number are good.  The Rakshasa split centuries ago.” 

“Are we going to take in its wife and children, if they come here?” asked Kit. 

“I don’t see how we could not.  Besides, Rakshasa are powerful magically, even if they don’t have any color magic.  It could turn out to be significantly advantageous in the long-run, besides being the right thing to do.”  Alistair chewed on a pastry as he thought.  “Hmmm.  I wonder if we could recruit the Harlequin to serve as their bodyguard, assuming the Minister of Mind can save his life?  With his devotion to cats, he might view that as an honor, and he’s given his parole already.  It would be a better use than just killing him.” 

“That might work, your grace.  We would need to protect them in any event, in case the Abomination chose to strike at them.  But we would have to keep him out of your presence, your grace--I wouldn’t want to trust him at his word if he suddenly had a chance to finish his mission.” 

Alistair nodded.  “Prudent.  We don’t need to worry about it now.  We can deal with that if they arrive.  By the way, Dame Brionna, have we received any messages from Sir Derrick Brightspan recently?” 

“Yes, we continue to receive regular updates.  Based on the signatures, I think he’s actually signing them himself, now, but the signature is shaky and there are no personal messages from the Field Marshal.  He must still be grievously wounded.  There also is not a lot to report on the campaign--without him driving it, things seem to be moving slowly.” 

“I guess there isn’t much for us to do.  We’ve told Broadfields to be ready to teleport in if Sir Derrick doesn’t make it, and otherwise, we need to just wait for him to heal.”  Alistair held up another piece of parchment.  “I’ve received another letter, as well.  Baroness Francesca de Borde-Wais of the Principality of Korflok has asked for a private audience, and sends greetings from her sister and a gift.” 

“A private audience?  I don’t like the sound of that,” said Kit. 

“Personally, I’m hoping that means that she’s the assassin motivated by revenge.  I was thinking about the rumors about me… Think about the way that magic could be used to start rumors effectively.  Why simply tell people something has happened when you could make it happen?” 

“You mean mind-control?” 

“No.  That would certainly be a possibility, of course, but there’s been no sign that my mind has been tampered with.  I was thinking illusion or shape change.  Make someone look like me, then have them do whatever horrible things you want, and the rumors take care of themselves.” 

“Ugh,” said Kit.  “That’s a dreadful thought.  I hope you’re wrong.” 

“So do I, of course.  But I think we need to be ready for the possibility.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“If you think that she might be the assassin, how do you want to handle it, your grace?” 

“We should agree to meet her-- that way we can control the situation.  And then…  I wonder if the Treasury has any devices that would allow me to mimic a _projected image_ spell.  That would let me interact with her, and even cast spells like _charm_ or _suggestion_ if necessary, but still prevent her from being able to attack.” 

Dame Brionna considered the idea.  She didn’t like bringing a potential assassin even close to Alistair, but it was an opportunity to eliminate a threat.  “I think we could make that work, your grace.” 

“What’s the Principality of Korflok like, anyway?” asked Kit. 

“It’s a minor country.  Korflok has many more minor nobles than any other country I can think of, even when you compare it to other Paranswarmian realms.  Their ruler is a Despot, who is a like a king but not hereditary.  When the Despot dies, the nobles elect a new Despot from among their number.  As you might be able to guess, they typically elect a fairly weak Despot so that he won’t threaten their power, but that leaves them weak relative to their neighbors.  The Principality is gradually being partitioned by its neighbors-- Tang, Masque, and the Confederacy of Korflok.” 

[When the DM gave this description, several of us commented that Korflok is Poland.  He was surprised, and asked what we meant, and we explained about the Polish elected kings and the Diet and how this gradually led to its partition, and he agreed that that was the same as what he was talking about, but that he hadn’t known about that when he wrote Korflok.  He just inadvertently re-invented Poland.] 

Kit laughed.  “Can you imagine what it would be like to be taken over by Tang?  Having to deal with all of those threes.  That would be worse than just being annexed by another normal human realm.” 

“And Masque isn’t much better,” added Dame Brionna.  “Although maybe being annexed by Tang wouldn’t be as bad as it appears at first.  I suppose they would all be ones…” 

“Do we know anything about this Baroness?” 

“Not much,” said Alistair.  “I’ve never heard of her, or her family.  Presumably, they must be reasonably well placed for the next Despot election to have been able to arrange for a place in the Despot’s party at the coronation, but I don’t know anything beyond that.  Still, are we agreed that we should agree to meet with her?”  After noting no objections, Alistair said, “Dame Brionna, can you arrange that with the Chamberlain?” 

“Of course, your grace.  I also have news from him-- the delegation from Path has arrived, thanks to the Seachen Chief Engineer’s dire elephants.  Oh, and with your grace’s permission, I’d like to set up an elite group of mages and priests to check all of the coronation presents for evil, chaos, and traps, along with a group of guards to keep them safe.” 

“And a few of my people should help out with that,” added Kit.  “They may be better at finding certain types of traps.” 

“Certainly, that makes sense.  Take care of that as well.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After Dame Brionna left, Alistair spoke quietly to Kit.  “I’m sorry about yesterday.  And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the block against pregnancy before.” 

“Why didn’t you?”  Kit was still hurt and angry, but she was fairly sure that Alistair really was sorry. 

“I didn’t know how you would react.  A lot of women would be upset about it.” 

“What?  I don’t want there to be another succession crisis, remember?  I’m happy to learn you can’t have children right now.” 

“I know, and I should have trusted you.  It’s just… I grew up around people who defined being a man in certain ways.  Using magic to eliminate virility wasn’t really one of them.”  Alistair looked away.  “Anyway… I just wanted to say I’m sorry, about not having told you earlier, as well as the rest of it.” 

“Thanks.  And I’m still mostly angry for Anna.  She’s going to get hurt so badly, and she’s had a rough enough time already…” 

“I’ll do my best to make it as easy as possible.  I’m going to do what I can to fix this.” 

“Good.”  Kit remained far away, carefully sending unambiguous signals that all was not forgiven with her body language. 

“I also wanted to let you know about something, mostly in case the assassins succeed.” 

“They’re not going to,” said Kit firmly, looking back at Alistair. 

“But if they do… I asked Reverend Canon Toddle to look into a couple of things for us and got an interesting message back.  One of them was Snatterkaz’s effort to rescue Princess Anastasia, which we can talk about more fully once Dame Brionna is back.  But the other is about Dame Brionna’s fiance, Sir Denro.  He’s alive.” 

“He is?  Where is he?” 

“I’m not sure.  Reverend Canon Toddle’s vision was not very clear, although he described a black stone island in the south.  I think we’ll be able to figure out where he is with some work.  But it’s pretty clear that he’s been enslaved by the ratmen.” 

“Oh, no…” 

“The Reverend Canon’s vision was of a slave galley, although he also mentioned that the people near a stone engine on the galley must not be allowed to have children, so I think there was some magical effect as well.  When we rescue him, we’ll need to make sure that whatever has affected them is undone.” 

“I don’t think that Dame Brionna really planned to have children anyway…” 

“Really?  I had never discussed it with her.  I guess I assumed that she would feel that it was her duty.  And she seems to do everything based on duty.” 

“I don’t think that’s entirely true…” 

“But the point is, I owe a duty to her as a vassal as well, and part of that duty is making sure that we rescue Sir Denro.  But I can’t tell her about it until after the coronation.” 

Kit nodded in understanding. 

“It’s not that I’m worried that she would run off to try to rescue him-- if she wants to do that after the coronation, she’ll have my blessing and any support I can give, but she won’t before it.  But it might distract her…” 

“And we can’t risk having her distracted right now.  You’re right.  We can’t tell her.” 

“So that’s why I needed to tell you.  I have a letter from the Reverend Canon with the information.  If I don’t survive, I need you to make sure that she gets that information.” 

“You’re not going to get killed!”  Kit protested.  Alistair looked at her determinedly.  “But I understand, m’lord.  I’ll take care of it.” 

“Thank you.” 

“And after the coronation, with us all still alive, I’ll get my people to work on finding him so we can bring him back.” 

Alistair smiled.  “Indeed.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After Dame Brionna returned, Alistair brought up the other half of the scrying.  “I had Reverend Canon Toddle scry on Princess Anastasia, to confirm whether the Cov of Snatterkaz had succeeded in rescuing her.  Here’s his report.”  Alistair passed around copies of the portion of the Reverend Canon’s letter dealing with Princess Anastasia.  “As you can see, there’s a reasonable chance he will succeed, but it could still go either way.” 

“But he has to save her,” said Kit.  “If he doesn’t, the results will be disastrous.” 

“We can all agree on that.  But as it currently stands, it could go either way.  We need to figure out some way to help him.” 

“How, your grace?  I don’t disagree that it’s desirable, but the fortress they are assaulting is far away, and we do not have a lot of military assets to spare.” 

“What about the Scree?” asked Kit.  “We can contact them through Jet’s dog, and they have provided some assistance to the Cov before.” 

“We should definitely ask them to help.  And maybe we can do something directly.  We could have mages teleport down there.” 

Dame Brionna nodded.  “We could indeed.  We’ll have to be careful, your grace; this won’t be a safe operation, and we can ill afford to lose many powerful mages.” 

“Right.  That’s why I wasn’t thinking of having them actively engaging.  I was thinking more of a diversion.  Teleport in high, cast some illusions to make the ratmen think there is a major assault at the walls, probably with a few actual spells thrown in to make the effect more convincing.  They would draw off defenders from Snatterkaz and then teleport out again.” 

“I understand, your grace.  Perhaps we should use some of the Coven?  They could make the attack seem more real by sending a few devils, while we would not need to worry about any losses among the devils.”  Or even among the diabolists, Dame Brionna added silently. 

“Perfect.  And since the skaven are aligned with demonic forces and are holding a Paranswarmian princess, attacking devils will seem both natural and terrifying.  Also, by adding some real devils to the diversion, we make sure that it will succeed.  If they treat it as a full assault, they won’t be able to stop Snatterkaz.  But if they ignore it, the devils will actually be able to inflict real losses on the ratmen and help him directly.  All without significantly risking any of our resources.  And if the Scree can help, so much the better.” 

“We should also give him more information about where she is,” added Kit.  “I wouldn’t trust that a sending would reach him without detection normally, but while the diabolists are distracting the ratmen, we should be able to slip it past them.” 

They sent the orders to the Coven and the message to the Scree, and then there was nothing further they could do to help.  Fortunately, they had too many pressing concerns to waste any time on worrying.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Abigail entered with a report from the priests at Glor’diadel Help of the Poor.  They had checked thoroughly around the neighboring inn, but had detected no powerful evil or chaos, only a few random miscreants. 

“But that has to be one of the masters,” said Kit.  “How could he not detect as strong evil?  And if he had warpstone their checks for chaos could not miss it.” 

“He could be shielded,” suggested Dame Brionna.  “If he were in a lead lined room, or had certain magical protections, the detection spells would not reach him.” 

“Or he could have paid the innkeep to set up a safehouse elsewhere, either in other property he owns or as a go-between,” added Alistair.  “Still, the platinum had to come from one of the masters, and the innkeep will know where he is.  I think it’s time for a little mindreading.” 

“The Eldar?” asked Kit. 

“Who else?  We need to ask him to assemble a strike-team to deal with the master once we have located him, anyway.” 

Kit sent a message to the Farsensor, who quickly joined them.  “We would be happy to send a team to deal with the drowan assassin once we know his location.  And now you wish me to read the innkeep’s mind?” 

“Yes, but be discreet about it,” said Alistair.  “We do not wish to alert our quarry and make him flee.” 

The Farsensor seemed puzzled for a moment and then said, “Ah!  You wish me to use stealth.”  He thought for a moment longer.  “They are the Fallen.  It is reasonable.  I will touch his mind gently, so none can perceive it unless they are Farsensors of surpassing power.”  The Eldar’s eyes closed for a long pause, as he prepared his mind to act with the lightest touch, and then his expression returned to puzzlement.  “I have his thoughts, but I do not understand.  He took the platinum, and was told not to spend it, for absolutely nothing.  He has no greater understanding of why he was paid than we do.  But he would not turn down the money of a crazy man, or a crazy elf, even though it confused him.” 

“But why would he pay for nothing?” asked Kit, a moment before understanding dawned.  “It’s a red herring.  He knew that the innkeep would break his promise and spend the money, and he wanted him caught…” 

“So we’ve been looking in the wrong part of the City,” reasoned Alistair.  “For all we know, he may be in the Inner City now-- where platinum would be much less obvious, as well.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

They mulled it over for some time, trying without success to come up with a new plan.  But within twenty minutes, Kit held up her hand.  “I’m getting another message.  There’s more talk of platinum.” 

<<My lady… I have found another place where platinum has been spent.  In the lower market, considerable spending in the stalls.  It is the talk of the shopkeepers.  He refused all change.>> 

<<What did he buy?>> 

<<He purchased a donkey, two cows, bolt of cloth, some candy, and tipped a bard--well, a singer, perhaps bard is too much--a platinum as well.  All this was yesterday evening.>> 

<<Can you tell us any more details?  We might be able to find those animals.>> 

<<Oh, yes, lady, I discovered as much as I could about the animals.>> 

<<Excellent.  Give me their descriptions.>> 

<<Thank you, lady, your good dog serves lady,>> the mind simpered, reveling in Kit’s praise.  It then passed on detailed descriptions of the animals, which Kit relayed to the Farsensor. 

“Can you scry based on those descriptions?” 

“A small matter.  They are in a stone building, with no windows, with some other cows and some sheep.  There is dead grass on the ground.” 

“Probably feed,” commented Kit. 

The Eldar looked vaguely horrified, but kept his opinion to himself.  “There is brackish water nearby, in a trough.  And now a door opens.  A human man, with the signs of age that you get so young, has entered. He wears gray robes and the sun disc of Glor’diadel, and he carries a bucket.” 

“We need to look at a map,” said Alistair.  “We may be able to figure out where the assassin is going based on his route.”  They quickly adjourned to the map room, where Alistair unrolled a large map of the City, perhaps a yard on a side.  “He started out here, in the southeast of the City, and then moved north to the markets.  The animals are in a temple or monastery, probably near the market… perhaps the monastery of the Brothers of the Hope of Dawn, in the Middle City?  So the question is where he’s headed now… he may be heading in towards us now.” 

“I’m getting another message,” interrupted Kit. 

<<Lady… does giving away platinum count?>> 

<<Yes!>> 

<<Then he gave at the Church of St. Agatha this morning.  The priests and vestry were very surprised to see platinum in the offering-- they rarely see gold in that church.>> 

“He was at the Church of St. Agatha this morning,” said Kit, pointing at the map. 

“So he’s still heading north, and the Brothers of the Hope of Dawn were just a detour,” deduced Alistair.  “The question is where he will head now, since he’s at the north wall of the Outer City.  Perhaps he’ll turn east, and continue around the Outer City?” 

“If he does, the next church that he would be likely to reach is St. Areata’s,” noted Dame Brionna. 

“Farsensor-- could you watch that Church?  If he passes through there, we may have the chance to catch him.” 

“What are these large buildings in the northeast of the City?” asked Kit.  “They have no label on the key.” 

“That’s because they are sealed up buildings, owned by private merchant houses.  One of my ancestors built them as barracks to house and train a large military force in the City, but then that plan was cancelled and they were sold to merchant houses, presumably for use as warehouses.  But ownership disputes broke out, and the courts are still occupied trying to sort everything out, with multiple sales, inheritances, and so forth.  So they sit empty.” 

“Or at least officially empty.  In my experience, unless they are guarded, ‘empty’ buildings don’t stay that way long.  Plus, that would offer plenty of space for an assassin to set up a safehouse.”  Kit snapped open her fan with a flick of her wrist and concentrated for a minute or so.  “I’ve sent two of my people who I have mental links with to search those buildings.  They’ll bring along a couple of friends to cover them more quickly.  As it is, it will still take them a while.” 

“Good.” 

The Farsensor said, “There are a few dozen people at the Church of St. Areata.  This must be one of the major daily services?” 

“Yes, the service of Sunheight,” said Dame Brionna.  “Usually the most heavily attended service of the day, although of slightly less liturgical significance than the Dawn service.” 

“But I do not see the one for whom we seek.  Perhaps he has gone elsewhere?” 

“Please keep watching for the time being,” said Alistair.  “It’s possible that he will come after the service is over.” 

“As you wish.” 

The Council waited for the better part of a half-hour, trying to calm their nerves as they hoped for more news.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Wondering what the map that we were following his trail on looks like?  Wonder no longer.  I've attached the map and key to Canberry City.  Except that I'm having trouble attaching the file.  Perhaps it's too large?  7 MB.  I'll fix this later if I can. If you want to actually assemble the map, the pages should be arranged as a rectangle (would be square except the pages aren't) so that the pages fit together like so:

567
418
329
(start in the middle, go down, then go clockwise around the middle.)

But let's get back to the storyhour:
<<Lady… there was another donation.  Much platinum at the Church of St. Areata.  The head priest has collapsed from the shock of the size of the donation.>> 

Kit shared this news. 

The Eldar frowned.  “He must have concealed himself well…” 

“At least he’s still following the pattern.  There’s a small temple by the east edge of the City… he might be traveling there, or he might be headed towards the Church of the Holy Sacrament.  Or he could be headed to the unused merchant-house buildings…” 

“I have an idea, your grace.  The main thing we know is that he has platinum.  I think a dwarf might be better at finding metal than we are.  With your grace’s permission, I would like to ask the aid of the priests of Dain that are with the delegation from the Twin Dwarven Kingdoms.” 

“Of course.  We’ll be here and will try to cover all three of those sites with the Eldar’s scrying.” 

Dame Brionna quickly secured a meeting with the senior dwarven priest in the City.  “Greetings, good father.” 

“Greetings, Dame,” said the jovial dwarf, rolling the r heavily.  He was a classic dwarf out of stereotype:  strong and stout, full of beard, and dressed in his full plate vestments.  “Would you care for some ale?  And how can I help ye?” 

Dame Brionna politely accepted a stein, resolving not to comment on the fact that the stein was nearly two times the size of a typical human one, despite the smaller size of the dwarves.  “We are seeking two assassins in the City and hoped that you might be able to help us, in the name of the Ecumenical Alliance.  We know little about how to find them, except that they are traveling with large amounts of platinum.  Can you detect specific metals?” 

“Ayup, as long as we’re within 120 feet of it.  Comes in most handy in guiding the shafts in our minds, let me tell you.  We’d be happy to help, me and my acolyte, Thruffin.  I’m afraid there are only the two of us along this time.” 

Dame Brionna thanked him, drank enough of the ale to please him (meaning finishing the one stein but declining a second), and asked him to go to the Church of the Holy Sacrament, with his acolyte covering the small temple on the east edge of the City. 

“We have the priests of Dain watching the two temples,” she announced to the Council.  “But I think we’ll want to have the Eldar scry on them, and maybe send some people to watch them as well.  They’re very, um, dwarven.” 

The Eldar simply raised an eyebrow, not really understanding how they could be otherwise, but Alistair and Kit nodded. 

“I’ll send a couple more of my people to watch each of them,” said Kit.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thruffin did a fine job of befriending the parish priest at the church he went to.  The priest was a little surprised that a priest of Dain wanted to discuss ecumenical cooperation, but within a few minutes they were getting on famously. 

The senior priest of Dain had a somewhat rockier time of it.  He banged his gauntleted fist on the door to the rectory, and simply pushed his way through the door when it was opened.  “Greetings! We are visiting in your City, and I thought I should have an ale with one of you priests,” declaimed the dwarf. 

The rather confused priest of Glor’diadel responded weakly, “Greetings….” 

“We are both of the Ecumenical Alliance,” continued the dwarf determinedly, setting up the small cask of ale that he had brought as a guest gift.  “Both of our gods are gods of good.  So we should be good together!  Even if your god does focus rather more time on the sky and suchlike, to the neglect of the mines that hold all that is of true value… meaning no disrespect, of course.” 

“Of course, but… uh… why…” 

“Here you go my lad-- this will put some whiskers on you.  It’s so sad, how many of you people have thin beards.  I don’t know how you can stand it.  And your poor women, almost all cursed with chin-baldness…”  The priest of Dain shook his head mournfully.  “But enough of that.  Now is the time to drink to our Alliance!” 

The priest was mildly insulted by the dwarf’s odd rant about beards, but was more concerned that a mad dwarven priest appeared to have invaded his rectory’s sitting room.  “But… but I have a service in less than half an hour.” 

“All the more reason to drink up now!  You wouldn’t want your throat to be dry during the service.” 

“You don’t understand. Priests of the Lord of Light do not indulge in drinking before services.  It would not be proper.” 

“Ah, so you fast before you drink in the service?” 

“No, not exactly.  Well, I suppose there is the sacramental wine, but that’s not really what you mean.” 

The dwarf listened and then suddenly rocked back on his heels as he understood.  “By the good God’s beard!  You mean you are not supposed to drink before leading a service?  And you call yourselves servants of a good and just god?” 

“Most assuredly,” said the human priest sharply.  Criticizing humans for lack of beards was one thing, but insulting Glor’diadel was quite another.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should like to finish rehearsing my homily.” 

“Oh, aye, suit yourself.  And I suppose we’ll just have to share an ale afterwards.”  The priest of Dain showed no signs of leaving, or that he saw any reason to not finish his drink. 

“But… oh, very well.” 

The priest of Glor’diadel discovered that the only thing he wanted less than for the dwarf to stay behind in the rectory when he went to the adjoining church was for the priest of Dain to accompany him.  And yet, he did, settling himself into an almost lying position in the first pew.  The human priest sighed deeply.  There was nothing to be done, he supposed, watching as the congregation filed in-- at this church, the three o’clock services were well-attended, with a couple hundred congregants.  Just as he cued the organ master to begin the prelude, the dwarven priest shot up. 

“By my beard!” the priest of Dain cried, before hurrying across the aisle and overbearing a young man, smashing into his knees and driving him to the floor of the nave.  While the parish priest tried to figure out what was going on and how to deal with this without causing a fight with a priest of an allied faith, the priest of Dain hauled the young man over, binding his arms squarely behind him.  “Ye’re under arrest!  In the name of the Ecumenical Alliance and, um, the Archduke, I think!”  The dwarf began marching his captive out of the church and looked around as he went.  He was pretty sure someone had been sent to watch him, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out who it was.  “I’m going to take this ruffian to a watch post or somesuch.  If any of you want to come along with me, well, go ahead and do it.” 

The parish priest watched them go in slack-jawed amazement.  Was he a bad priest, he wondered, for mostly being grateful to be rid of the dwarf?


----------



## Ladybird

CP's out of town, so he's asked me to take over posting duties. It's my post, but his writing - you know the routine  Enjoy!

--

Back at the Council chamber, the Eldar looked up.  “The priest of Dain has arrested a young human man.”

“A human?” asked Kit.  “Might he be in disguise?  Or is he under mind control?”

“May I examine his mind more thoroughly?”

Alistair nodded.  “Don’t hurt him.”

“He has no defenses.  There will be no danger that I would inadvertently harm him.” The Eldar reached his mind out and probed more thoroughly.  “Ah.  There is no mind control, but he was hired to bring platinum to the churches of the City.  He was hired just south of the Church of St. Agatha and told that he could keep the last ten platinums.  He seems to think that that is a lot of money.”

Kit struggled to suppress a giggle at the Eldar’s confusion.   She knew that you could feed and house a poor family for years on that much money.

“But he obeys because he fears the figure who hired him.  He is a day laborer.  But he saw the figure… this is the face of one of those you seek!”  The Eldar projected the image of the face of a drowan man into all of their minds.

“So it was just a decoy…” said Dame Brionna.

“Send a message to the dwarf!  Have him release the prisoner!” said Alistair suddenly.  “We don’t want the drow realizing that we’re on to him.”

The Eldar sent the message, and the priest of Dain stopped in mid-stride.

“Och, ye can go, lad.  Ye’re not the one we’re looking for.”  He turned and walked away, not even apologizing for the inconvenience.  The young man stared after him in amazement, then shook his head wonderingly and walked away.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

The last couple of posts have been truly brilliant! And this continues to be a most entertaining storyhour. Keep up the good work.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks HOHB!  It's always great to hear that people are enjoying the storyhour.

-----
Back in the Council chamber, they debated what to do now.  “I suppose that if he’s trying to draw our attention to the Outer City, the most likely place for him to be is the Inner City.” 

“That makes sense, m’lord,” Kit responded.  “Although I still think the empty merchant buildings run a high chance.   They’re just too convenient for his purposes.” 

“But that’s why you have people searching them.  Your grace, we ought to have people search the inns of the Inner City.” 

Alistair nodded.  “Good call.  It will be relatively easy for him to get lodgings there, and  many of them have views of the processional path that would allow an effective attack.  Not to mention the fact that he can spend platinum there without anyone even noticing.”  He drummed his fingers on the map absently.  “For the Inner City, we’re probably better off sending guards to do the searching.  It will seem like a routine precaution, and they will raise less concerns than Kit’s people would.” 

“Wait… I’m getting a message from the people searching the empty buildings.”  Kit opened the fan to get a cleaner link and then swore under her breath.  “I have two people there who are linked to the fan.  They searched as much as they could personally, but they had to rely on some others as well.  One of the others didn’t come back--after checking the stables.  I don’t want to send the rest in to look more closely in case the Harlequin is there, but…” 

“Then I will check,” said the Eldar.  “I need not fear contact with one such as him.”  The Eldar reached his mind out, scrying through the area to first find the stables, and then search more carefully.  “The buildings have lead in the walls.  It slows my scrying.” 

“A standard precaution in heavily fortified buildings,” Dame Brionna noted.  “A legacy from when they were intended as barracks.” 

After several minutes of pressing his mind against the barrier, the Eldar opened his eyes.  “I have found a body.  He was garroted and lies in a crawl space beneath the stables.  I think it was intended for use in removing waste.  I do not detect the enemy’s mental signature, but that could be blocked, especially with the lead in the walls.” 

“What about warpstone?” asked Kit. “Can you detect that?  It might tell us if he is still there indirectly.” 

“Yes, I can sense its resonance with effort.”  The Eldar settled into a meditative posture and probed for a few minutes.  “Ah.  It was there.  I have found a place where warpstone used to rest, in a casket, but it moved.  It’s not there anymore.  There is only the resonance its aura left behind.” 

“So he was hiding there, but has left,” said Kit.  “But if the platinum isn’t him, and he isn’t in the hiding place anymore… how are we supposed to find him?” 

“Damn it!” said Alistair.  “We were so close.  We can’t let him slip away-- we may not have another chance before he strikes.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council studied the map, thinking hard and looking for anything that might suggest where he might be hiding.  “Wait a minute… Didn’t Reverend Canon Toddle say that he could see the Harlequins when they move, just not when they are hiding in a specific place?  If he just left the merchant buildings, he should still be in motion, and the warpstone will only make him easier to trace.  Call for Father Waters!” 

Father Waters quickly prepared a _sending_ asking the diviner to scry for moving warpstone in the northeast corner of the City, although he sent it to the Archdeacon at the cathedral, not to the Reverend Canon directly.  That way, if Reverend Canon Toddle had one of his periodic fits, no information would be lost. 

Almost immediately, he received a message from the Archdeacon in response.  <<Reverend Canon said “Unity Park, among the trees.”  Then collapsed.  Will not be able to scry further for some time.>>  Father Waters relayed this to the Council, and the Eldar nodded and began scrying on the park. 

“I have the casket, but I cannot see him.  The casket has been placed in the fountain in the center of Unity Park.  There are children there.  They play…” A look of horror contorted the Eldar’s face.  “I apport.”  Having placed the wards on the palace, the Eldar could circumvent them to apport directly to the park. 

“But… we need to find the assassin,” said Dame Brionna.  She could not really fault the Eldar for abandoning the search to protect children, but he was their only effective means to search. 

“So we’ll send someone else to the park to find the drow,” said Kit.  “He has to still be there.  I bet Lady Constance has some way to help.” 

“Under the circumstances, I don’t see any better option,” answered the paladin.  “I’ll send some guards, but they probably won’t be able to do much.” 

The Council quickly called for Lady Constance and explained the situation.  She rotated her most ornate summoning ring and an enormous devil appeared, easily the largest that any of the Council members had ever seen.  “Hear me!” cried the diabolist.  “Your hundred years of service are now at an end if you can find the one who last touched the casket of warpstone that now lies in the fountain in Unity Park and tell me where he is.” 

The devil smiled, showing a maw filled with razor sharp teeth, and concentrated.  A moment later, with a very irritated expression, he ran quickly through the palace to the nearest balcony, throwing himself off the edge and beyond the wards against teleportation.  Lady Constance hurried off after him, twisting another ring to summon a flight of bat-devils to carry her there.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council opened a fresh scrying connection to the park, where they saw the most curious scene.  In a well-maintained park in a reasonably prosperous but not wealthy area of town, several strange things were happening.  The Eldar had kept all of the children away from the fountain, mostly by projecting distracting pretty things into their minds.  When the first guard arrived and approached, the Eldar sent him to fetch a blanket containing at least 100 pounds of lead.  That took some searching, but the guard posts keep such things for dealing with dangerous magics.  The Eldar gingerly moved the casket into the blanket and then ordered the bemused groundskeepers to drain the fountain.  They protested, as the fountain was part of the design of the park that they were charged with maintaining, and the Eldar lost his temper.  He did not strike them or directly affect their minds, but he did reveal himself in his full power and glory.  Even through the scrying pool, the image was hard to look at.  The gardeners and guards, faced with the full effect at close range, threw themselves prostrate and shielded their faces.  When they had adjusted some and the Eldar had begun easing off his full anger and power, they quickly crawled forward and began rapidly draining the fountain, still never fully standing or looking at him directly. 

Meanwhile, across the park, the pit fiend teleported in.  He tiptoed around the park, trying to obey his instructions to be gentle to the locals, while periodically doing things like lifting up rocks, looking behind trees, and saying with a smile, “I know you’re here!”  Before long, he had a large train of children following him in wonderment, although never approaching closer than sixty feet.  A mendicant priest joined the children-- his effort to turn the pit fiend, mostly on reflex, failed miserably, and he resolved himself to stay with the children.  If the devil turned on them, he might be able buy one or two of them enough time to flee before the pit fiend ripped him asunder.  After nearly a half hour of searching, a broad grin spread across the fiend’s face.  “Got you!”  he shouted, pointing at a small tree.  As the fiend approached, the tree morphed into a drow that drew twin blades and charged.  The drow literally walked on air, rising to attack with the advantage of height, as it carved the pit fiend up with eight vicious blows in the first seconds of battle. 

Back in the Council room, Alistair gestured to Father Waters.  “Send a message to Lady Constance; we need that drow dimensionally anchored.  We cannot allow him to escape.” 

The priest nodded, and moments later Lady Constance sent a green ray of arcane energy arcing into the battle.  The first ray penetrated the drow’s spell resistance, but failed to encircle him, but she quickly followed it with a second.  The green energy ran across the drow’s entire body, flashing in mystic runes and binding him in place.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

<<My captain and I will join this,>> projected the Eldar into the minds of the entire Council. 

<<Be careful,>> thought Kit back. 

<<It is unlikely that a drow, however skilled, could kill us.  My Captain, maybe.  But we will exercise such caution as is needed.>> 

As they apported to the drow, he finished off the pit fiend and began climbing through the air-- not flying so much as walking on an invisible staircase.  With the dimensional binding in place, he could not hope to escape, at least without defeating the Eldar and his grey elf captain.  And yet he continued carefully walking, not charging towards the palace, and acted with exaggerated care to avoid harming any who did not try to stop him.  Two city guards yelled at him to stop and thrust their spears at him, but he simply ignored them until he passed their position, when he casually cut them down. 

In due course, the drow was trapped, between a troop of heavy soldiers from the palace, who could do little to actually harm him, the Eldar and the grey elf, and a group of very determined dwarves.  The dwarven priest, who led that group, said proudly, “This time, laddie, I’ve got you!” as he swung his hammer. 

The battle was long and fierce, with the Fist of the North directing every one of his attacks at the Eldar.  But ultimately, the two elves of light were victorious, aided by the very occasional dwarven hammer blow, each of which produced a roar of triumph from the dwarves.  The Harlequin saluted the Eldar, saying “I hate you, traitor,” and then collapsed to the ground, dead. 

The extraordinarily badly hurt Eldar turned to his captain.  “Summon a skiff.  I return to the ship.”  Indeed, the Council would not have imagined that an elven body could contain that much blood, or survive that many attacks.  But the skiff slowly bore him back to his voller, and then two hours later a very weak voice echoed in their minds and confirmed that he would survive his injuries:  <<One left.>>

End of Session 18


----------



## Ladybird

Once again, I'm posting on CP's behalf. Enjoy 

--
Session 19

The Council felt triumphant from having finally dealt with the Fist of the North, but they could not relax.  While there was now only one of the Harlequins left, he was the Master Unbidden, perhaps the greatest threat of any of them.  So after dispatching some additional guards to deal with the clean-up after the Fist of the North-- rendering the body unresurrectable, gathering up his equipment for the treasury, checking for any lingering enchantments that might be dangerous, and so forth--they turned to the last Harlequin.  They had no leads for where he might be, but they had some information about his personality. 

Alistair looked at his friends.  “You know, we questioned the last prisoner about the two Masters, but we never asked the Harlequin officer we had captured earlier.  He might have more insight, since he was more highly placed.”

“And the dust won’t have begun killing him yet,” said Dame Brionna.  “We should question him immediately.”

They proceeded down to the dungeon, where they followed the usual pattern of Dame Brionna and Kit entering to actually conduct the interrogation while Alistair waited outside with a mindlink.

The Harlequin nodded gravely as they entered.  “Is it the time of my death?  Or do you have additional questions?”

“We have some more questions,” said Dame Brionna.

“Then you had best ask them before the dust progresses further.”

“Has the pain begun?”

“Pain begins almost immediately, but it is not yet too bad.  As long as you execute me within the next several days, I will avoid the worst of it.”

“We will keep our promise,” reassured Kit.

“I trust the honor of your compatriot,” responded the Harlequin.

<<Note he doesn’t say he trusts _my_ honor,>> sent Kit to Alistair, a little insulted.

<<I’d challenge him on your behalf, but that’s just a bad idea.>>

<<Yeah, it would be.>>

_Edit: I accidentally left off the first paragraph. Silly copy-and-paste!_


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

As usual, Dame Brionna pushed to get down to business.  “What can you tell us of the Master Unbidden?” 

The Harlequin raised one eyebrow as he thought about what that question implied.  “You must be doing well indeed to ask that.  In terms of physical prowess, he is the mightiest of us.  In terms of complexity of thought, he is, or at least might be, the least of us, even counting all twenty of us.” 

“We understand he’s tougher than the rest of you,” said Kit, “but how powerful is he in absolute terms?” 

The Harlequin thought about the question for a long time before answering.  “I do not understand.  How can power, especially prowess in battle, be assessed except by comparison?” 

“Well, how many could he take in a fight?” 

“How many?  Of whom?  The number of your average guards that he could defeat would be many more than the number of us he could best.” 

Dame Brionna responded, as much to deal with Kit’s rising frustration as for any other reason.  “You were captured by the grey elf who serves as the captain of the Eldar ambassador’s guard.  How many of him could he best in battle?” 

“Ah.”  The Harlequin thought, but analyzing the idea rather than the words, as before.  “He could defeat perhaps a half-dozen warriors of the same skill as that grey elf.  Perhaps as few as four if he were sufficiently enraged before the fight, as he might make mistakes.” 

Kit thought about that.  That sounded bad, but maybe not so bad…  “How would you have compared him to the Fist of the North?” 

“Would have…  You have done better for your liege than I would have thought.  But to answer your question:  the Fist of the North would never willingly engage in a fair fight.  But if he were stripped of his tricks, his elementals, and the other forces he has… he would be equal to perhaps two of the grey elf captains.  In a straight battle, the Master Unbidden would have been able to defeat him with ease.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna smiled, glad that they had deprived the Fist of the North of his elementals through Stythus’s efforts.  “What of his fighting style?  What weapons does he use?”

“By preference, he fights with two longswords, although any two weapons of equal length would do just as well.”

“Do his swords have any particular properties?”

“Indeed.  He brought three sets with him.  His first set is a pair of powerfully enchanted weapons, his favorite longswords, that were made from the teeth of a mighty daemon.  His second set is a pair of unenchanted rapiers, in case he had the opportunity to fight an honorable challenge.  And the final set is a pair of cavalry sabers, in case mounted combat is called for.  He brought no mount, mind you, but he thought that he should have the swords in case he needed to fight on a mount.”  The Harlequin’s tone suggested that he thought that the sabers had been an example of the Master Unbidden’s mental limitations.

“He brought rapiers for dueling?  Would he accept a challenge to a duel?”

“Without question, and without even thinking about it.  His honor would require it of him, and he would believe that he could triumph against any duelist--certainly against any duelist who might challenge him in a human land.”

<<Our job just got easier…>> sent Kit to Alistair.

<<Sorry, I can’t lie about that.  If I challenged him, I would have to fight him.  It would hurt our diplomacy too much if we lied.>>

<<I am *so* not suggesting that you challenge him.>>

<<Oh.  Good.  I thought you might be thinking about setting up an ambush.>>

<<Well, yes.  But not having you be there.  Maybe we could have an illusion of you challenge him--it would at least get him down to rapiers from those demon longswords.>>

<<No.  If we set up a challenge, it has to be real.>>

<<But it can’t be *you*.>>

<<I wonder if Lord Davion could take him.  And I wonder if he would.>>

<<Oh.  There’s a thought.>>

While Kit and Alistair strategized, Dame Brionna continued gathering tactical data.  “Does he poison his blades?”

“The Master Unbidden uses poison on his longswords and cavalry sabers, but not on the rapiers.”

“What sort of poison?”

“A powerful toxin from Krashmere, infused with negative energy and magic.  There is no specific antidote.”

“What about his defenses?  Is there anything notable?”

“He wears ancient crystal plate armor.  It is not as wise a choice as other armor could be, as he lacks psionics and cannot empower it, but he is very attached to it.  It once belonged to a grandmaster coercer, but the Master Unbidden is immune to coercion--probably because he is too simple to have enough of a mind to be affected, but he believes that it is a special blessing from Morgrath.”

“Does he have any powers of regeneration?”

“No, at least in the sense of true regeneration.  If he is slain, he will remain dead.  But he does heal very rapidly--much more rapidly than I ever did.”

<<Ask if he thinks the Master Unbidden would bite at a rumor that I was in a specific place,>> suggested Alistair.

“Would he follow a rumor to the Archduke’s location?”

The Harlequin thought it through aloud.  “Except for the Master of the North, he is alone, and you may have even done away with the Master of the North based on how you have spoken.  He well might.  If the Master Unbidden is alone, he will fear that the mission is in danger of failing.  That would make him tend towards fast action.  Attacking a rumor may not be the wisest of strategies, but there is a significant chance he would do so anyway.  Our strategist was supposed to guide him and keep him in check, but you took our strategist early and slew him before we realized how dangerous you were.”

<<So much for being a good strategist.>> Kit chuckled silently.

<<Indeed.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

With no further questions, the Council regrouped in their meeting room to formulate a plan.  “I see two options,” began Alistair.  “We could have a proxy challenge him to a duel, or we could try to lure him to a secluded location and then use the skyguard’s energy lances to destroy him.  I was thinking that we could say that I was going to the Vale of Tabewatha for a vigil.  The Vale isn’t significant except for traditional reasons, and there would be no one nearby.  Nonetheless, a duel would be the cleanest way to deal with him, if we’re confident that our champion would win.”

“Perhaps we could ask Lord Davion Aufaugauthal’arim to serve as your grace’s champion?” suggested Dame Brionna.

Kit smiled.  “That was exactly what m’lord suggested.  And then we might be able to have some hidden mages cast a few spells during the duel to make sure it went smoothly.”

“No, Kit,” said Alistair firmly.  “As I said before, if he is challenged to a duel, we have to do everything by the book.”

“Of course!” said Dame Brionna.  “Anything else would be highly dishonorable.”

Kit responded, “But it’s my duty to make sure that Canberry is safe, even if we have to use dishonorable means to do it.  A lot of what the Mouth does isn’t the sort of fair and honorable things normal knights do.  That’s part of the reason we have a Mouth.”

“We know,” said Alistair, “and we’re not angry at you.  Under many circumstances, leading an enemy into an ambush through a challenge to an honorable duel would be an excellent strategy.”  He ignored the look of horror on Dame Brionna’s face.  “But here, it would not be effective in dealing with the bigger picture.  Even if Lord Davion were willing to tolerate interference in his duel--which he would not be--it would create a political disaster.  No other countries would trust us again in diplomacy, we would lose support among our vassals, and we might even alienate the elves.  You did the right thing in watching all the angles and suggesting a way we could gain an advantage.  But if we set up a duel, it has to be fair.”

“I understand, m’lord,” Kit grumbled.  “I just want to do everything we can to make sure we stop the assassin and keep you alive.”

“Believe me, I completely agree.  Now then, we need to set up a meeting with Lord Davion to discuss the possibility.”

Dame Brionna nodded, “I’ll send a messenger to ask him to attend on you.”

“I wonder if I should go to him?  We’re seeking a great boon from him.”

“You can’t, your grace.  We can keep you safe from most threats within the palace.  But if you leave the protection of these walls and your entire guard, an assassin could reach you.”

Kit nodded vigorously.  “What if the Master Unbidden attacked us on the way to Lord Davion’s quarters?  It would defeat the whole point, and I’m not certain there would be anything we could do to stop him, especially with the Eldar still badly injured.”

“Fine.  I don’t like it, but you’re right.  We’ll send for him, but be as respectful as possible.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Within the hour, Abigail entered to announce the arrival of “Lord Aufaugauthal’arim the Forsaken and someone named Arrrgggghhhhsnap.”  Arrrgggghhhhhsnap remained in the antechamber while the Noldar lord entered, wearing the colors of his allegiance to Gateways.  He inclined respectfully to the Archduke, who responded with the same degree of formality and respect traditionally given to an Eldar.  Lord Davion smiled, pleased with the compliment. 

“You summoned me, your grace?  And may I congratulate you on eliminating the Master of the North?” 

“Thank you, Lord Davion.  And it is well that you mention the Master of the North.  We seek your advice on dealing with the last of the Harlequin assassins, the Master Unbidden.” 

“Ah, they sent him, did they?” 

“You know of the Master Unbidden, Lord Davion?” asked Dame Brionna. 

“He is their strongest physical combatant.  I do not know much of this one directly, but I am familiar with his title and its history.” 

“We currently have but a few ideas for how to deal with him,” continued Alistair.  “We are considering luring him into an ambush and using our vollers’ energy lances against him.” 

“You would take collateral damage if you used the artillery,” replied Lord Davion. 

“He could stand against energy artillery?” asked Alistair in horror. 

“Not forever, but long enough to do significant damage.  He wears master coercer armor, which would redirect most of the energy away from him, at least until it was overwhelmed.  It could work, but the costs would be high.” 

“What more can you tell us of the Master Unbidden?” 

“As I said, it is the title that they give to their strongest warrior.  I knew more of the previous Master Unbidden.  He was a half-drow, half-shadowelf warrior.  But he reached the point of Elevation, and had the honor of being slain by Algaroth himself in personal combat, his lifelong ambition.  The current Master Unbidden would be his successor.” 

“Half-shadowelf, Lord Davion?  I’m not familiar with the shadowelves,” said Alistair. 

“Ah.  The shadowelves are rarely seen outside of Krashmere.  They are offspring of the Noldar, like the drow, but less numerous and more accepted.  They are perhaps analogous to the high elves.” 

“To the high elves?  I would have thought that the drow were their equivalents.” 

“In magic, perhaps, your grace.  But not in numbers or in fertility.  If the shadowelves are like the high elves, than the drow are like the grugach.”  Lord Davion paused for a moment as he thought about unpleasant memories.  “All of the Houses, even my own, accept their shadowelf offspring.  Each great house has a shadowelf cadet house, whereas almost all of the Morgothian drow belong to cadet houses beneath House Moriquenda’rim--only the lone cadet house of House Cuniri’rim serves another house.  The rest of the great houses routinely expose their drowan children--it was the exposure of my sister that caused me to forsake my people.” 

“We are sorry for your loss, Lord Davion.” 

“Thank you, your grace, but there is little point in dwelling on it.  It is the way of the Noldar, and is why I turned to the Light.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Lord Davion… we were wondering how you would fare in a duel with the Master Unbidden.  That is the other means we have thought of to deal with the threat, if you were willing.” 

“Ah.”  The Noldar lord smiled.  “An interesting question.  He would be quite a challenge, like none I have faced in many years.  I should say that I would have an eighty-five percent chance of winning.  If I lose, of course, your life would be forfeit.  But I believe that he would abide by the terms of an honorable challenge.  If I prevailed, it should end the threat from that quarter.” 

“Eighty-five percent?” asked Dame Brionna.  That was not as good as she had hoped.  “Where do the risks come from?” 

“There is always the opportunity for stupidity on the part of myself or any other fighter.  If anyone tells you they never make mistakes, do not believe them.  They will have just given you a reason to question their veracity or their judgment, or both.  The chance that I will blunder represents perhaps a five percent chance of defeat.  There is also the possibility that he will demonstrate great brilliance.  I understand that he fights with two weapons; I do as well, but he uses matched blades of equal length, which will provide him a small advantage.  The chance that he will outperform his reputation is a second five percent chance.  Finally, there is blind luck, which enters into all battles to a greater or lesser degree.  That accounts for the last five percent.” 

“Do you distinguish between fate and luck, Lord Davion?” 

“Of course, your grace.  If I am fated to win, there is no risk, and vice versa.” 

“Perhaps then we could seek the intervention of the Lady of Fate.  She is Lord Glor’diadel’s daughter and may be amenable to aiding us if we beseech her through the Church.  Would you have any objections to that?” 

“None, your grace.  I have devoted myself to the Lord of Light and could hardly complain about prayers for His support, or that of His Family.  I merely ask that my personal chaplain, Bishop Berry, be included in any such effort.” 

“Of course, Lord Davion.” 

“We know his weapons aren’t enchanted, and he has no psionic abilities.  Would that help you?” asked Kit. 

“I assume that we would gain some advantage from that.  Magic is forbidden, but I can activate my armor with psionic power, although casting a spell or directly harming him with psionics would not be permitted.  That will give me some advantage, as my armor has some fortification effect, while his armor, though powerful, will remain inactive.  Indeed, perhaps the chance of defeat is as low as ten percent.” 

“Do you know anything of a substance called dust?” asked Dame Brionna.  “We do not know but believe he has used it to augment his abilities.” 

“Ah.  If he has taken dust, that would move it back to fifteen percent.  It is a powerful substance, though vile.” 

Alistair mulled over what they had been told.  “If we asked you to challenge him on our behalf, would you be willing to?  I would not think of trying to order you to do so, but it would represent a tremendous boon.” 

The Noldar looked intently at his face for a few moments.  “If you ask me, I would do this.  I would see my adopted homeland have a successful rule, although your reign will be short in any event.  I had never seen a monarch live less than a millenium until I came to these lands, but even reigns such as your grandmother’s, accounted long by the standards of humans, end in little time.” 

“Thank you, Lord Davion,” replied Alistair, “although we cannot be sure yet that we will ask you to duel him.  If we could find a safer way, without the risk to you or the danger of failing…  But he is so dangerous.” 

Lord Davion nodded his head politely.  “Indeed.  He has perhaps half of my overall ability, but all in combat.  He is a Drow, and thus not truly ancient, so he has not reached the highest levels of skill.  But he is very, very strong, and in the millennium or two that he has lived, he has become a master duelist.  Fortunately, so am I.”  The characteristic arrogance of the great elves crept into Lord Davion’s voice as he said the last, with a smile. 

“Is there anyone else who could duel him?  Who might make the odds better?” asked Dame Brionna. 

“No one else in the Kingdom could possibly win,” replied Lord Davion with confidence.  “The Eldar is too much of a bard and not enough of a warrior.  He demonstrated that yesterday, although his victory over the Master of the North was impressive.  No one besides the Eldar and myself would have even the slightest possibility of victory, and he would have only one chance in a thousand or worse.” 

“Lord Davion fighting the duel could work,” said Kit thoughtfully.  “And we could have the Archbishop resurrect m’lord if you lose, and you as well, if your body was intact?” 

“Impossible.  The life being forfeit would prevent any possibility of resurrection.  It is the Law, and the two great gods enforce it.  The number of duels that have been fought on behalf of a member of one of the lesser races numbers less than a half-dozen, but the two great gods would still enforce the terms.  I have forsaken Morgoth’s worship, but he still binds my blood and is tied to my very essence.  Know full well that if I challenge him on the Archduke’s behalf and lose, it will be the end of the Archduke.” 

Despite the gravity of the speech, Alistair almost smiled when Lord Davion mentioned how few such duels had ever been fought.  He could hear clearly that the Noldar Lord was eager to become one of the vanishingly few who had taken on such a task.  “We thank you for your willingness to assist us in so serious a matter.  We will inform you quickly if we wish you to issue the challenge, but we must discuss the possibilities among ourselves first.”  Lord Davion nodded gravely.  “Would your companion--Arrrrgggghhhhsnap, was it?--wish to meet us while he is here?” 

“He would be most honored, your grace.  We were together when we received your summons, and it seemed easier to allow him to accompany me than to explain that it was for me alone.”


----------



## Alratan

Another interesting set of updates

Is there a rogue's gallery for the SH, anywhere, for those of use who are curious about quite how ludicrously stronger these Eldar are than the PCs.

Another question, how's this rather arm's length, strategic rather than tactical play managed. Do the PCs play out the combats, controlling their allies, or is it all done by the DM?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

There is not yet a rogue's gallery--I'll try to post one at some point soon.  At this point, the party is about 8th level.  Lord Davion is something ludicrous like in the 80s.  The Master Unbidden is probably something like Ftr20/Bbn20, but that's just a guess.  It's worth noting that the critical hits system that the DM uses makes groups of low-level characters fighting one or two high level characters more dangerous for the high level character--if you get really lucky, you could get a one-shot kill.  But one of the things you learn early in this campaign is that you need to choose your fights, or be prepared to lose characters.

As for how the strategic level control of combat is handled:  we don't play it out.  Typically, the DM has us roll a d20, or sometimes a couple of d20s, for how well the fight goes, based on what the odds are like going in.  He then narrates the outcomes.  So if we chose the duel, what we would expect is to be told to roll a d20, with a 1, 2, or 3 meaning Lord Davion lost, and a 4+ meaning he wins.  Pretty good odds, but scary with death without resurrection on the line. 

----

The Council accompanied Lord Davion into the antechamber, where Arrrrgggghhhhsnap was waiting.  The uruk witchdoctor was contorted over a chess board.  He appeared to be playing both sides, but with a dubious, at best, understanding of the rules.  The position of the pieces was highly improbable, if it were even theoretically possible, and as the Council approached he made a move that was as devastating as it was illegal.  He looked up excitedly and began fawning, literally rolling on the ground in front of Alistair.  Alistair told him to rise and thanked him for his loyal service, and the uruk rose to its knees, grasping at the hem of Alistair’s clothes.  They thanked him for his loyal service to the Archduchy, producing a proud and tusk-filled grin, and Lord Davion led him away.  Dame Brionna carefully scrutinized the motley assortment of talismans and totems that he wore for any that would indicate evil.  She was pleased to discover that no evil entities were represented but the sun disc of Glor’diadel featured prominently.

After Lord Davion and his friend had left, the Council resumed discussing how to deal with the Master Unbidden.

“We cannot take the risk involved in the duel, your grace.  There simply has to be a safer way.”

Kit nodded vigorously.  “Fifteen percent is far too high a chance.”

“I don’t like the odds more than either of you, but I’m not sure we have much of a choice.  I don’t know if there’s any other way we could kill the Master Unbidden.”

“He did not say that using artillery would fail, your grace, only that it would involve collateral damage.”  Dame Brionna paused, thinking.  “Perhaps we could use the remaining knights and guards who wear black armbands to stop him?”

“If he is as powerful as Lord Davion says, I don’t think eighty or a hundred elderly knights will be able to defeat him.”

“But they don’t need them to, your grace.  If we lure the Master Unbidden out to the Vale with rumors that you are at a vigil, we could send the black armbands as an honor guard.  When he attacks, they would only need to prevent him from returning to the City while the voller attacked with its energy lances.”

“They wouldn’t be able to hold him for long, though.  And I don’t know how they would survive the first barrage.”

“But they might not need to hold him for long, m’lord,” responded Kit.  “They only need to keep him out of the city to keep the people safe.  And as for surviving, they’re planning on killing themselves anyway.  I’m not saying that’s good, just that it’s true, and they would probably prefer dying in a last burst of glorious heroism.”

“I don’t doubt that.  Let’s see whether Reverend Canon Toddle can tell us anything about how that plan would work.  We need to contact the Archbishop and the priests of the Lady of Fate anyway to try to make sure fate favors us with either plan.”

Kit nodded.  “But we have to be able to do better than a fifteen percent chance of you dying.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council sent a message to the Cathedral of the Sun, asking the Archbishop to come to the palace with Reverend Canon Toddle and the senior priest of the separate but allied and subordinate priesthood of the Goddess of Fate.  They bypassed Bishop Hoggsworthy completely; even if he could be trusted, involving him offered no benefits.  Within the hour, the Archbishop and Reverend Canon arrived.  The third priest, Father Percy Mondaven, arrived somewhat later, on foot.  He was a slender man with a somewhat scholarly mien, who looked to be in his early sixties.  Father Mondaven also wore distinctive vestments:  with grays instead of the white and gold of the Glor’diadelian robes, and with scales worked into the pattern.

The Reverend Canon began talking before the Council even had the opportunity to say why they had asked the priests to the palace.  “He walks in the lowest quarters, you know.”

“Oh, he’s started moving?” asked Kit.

“Yes.  Just recently, based on when he returned to my vision, but he is definitely moving now.”

“What is he doing?”

The diviner paused.  “In my vision, he distributes food to the beggars and the alcoholics in the poorest quarters, and he weeps.”

“Do the beggars then die?” asked Alistair, expecting some sort of treachery.

“No… No…. They do not die.  He buys food for the poorest from any venders on the street, using sums of money they have never seen.  Some do die, though--he wreaks havoc in ways he does not understand.  When first I awoke, he gave a diamond, pried from a ring on his hand, to a young girl.  He had not gone a block when she was slain.  It has passed hands four times by now.”

“What does he think he’s doing?” asked Kit.

Father Toddle shrugged in response to the question.

“Trying to create chaos?” speculated Alistair.

“Helping as alms, I would say,” said Father Toddle.

While the Council thought about this, they turned to Father Mondaven.  “We must soon act against this Drow assassin, the Master Unbidden.  Do you think we can gain the favor of the Lady of Fate?” asked Alistair.

“The Lady hears Her children, and the place you bear in the skein She weaves is important to Her,” replied Father Mondaven.  “I believe She would intervene to aid with luck, but you cannot change your place in the skein once it is woven.”

“All the more reason to try divinations to see what may happen,” said Dame Brionna, with a nod to the Reverend Canon.

“Would you pray for my fate in the coming days?” asked Alistair.  “We may have a more specific request soon, but I would like to ask a few more questions of Reverend Canon Toddle first.”

“Of course, your grace,” replied the Archbishop.

Father Mondaven nodded as well.  “If I may use the main chapel?”  When Alistair nodded, Father Mondaven headed off confidently in the direction of the main chapel, despite never having been in the palace before.  The Archbishop went to the private royal chapel to conduct his own prayers.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Foolish guard…” muttered Reverend Canon Toddle.  “A city guardsman has tried to stop it.  How odd… the Harlequin has picked up the body and is walking purposefully away.  Ah, I see now.  He heads to the guardsman’s house.”

Dame Brionna looked to Kit in concern.  “We need that house cleared.  I don’t want the guard’s family meeting his killer.”

“I believe he means to compensate the family.”

“Even so,” said Kit.  “Maybe especially so.  I’ll have some of my people clear it out.”  She quickly discussed the house with the Reverend Canon until she could identify its location, then snapped open her fan and sent a message.

<<Yes, lady, I obey.  He will meet no one when he gets to the house.>>

<<But don’t hurt them… we’re trying to protect them.>>

<<Yes, lady, all safe.  We will keep them safe.>>

A few minutes later, Reverend Canon Toddle nodded again.  “He has laid out the body in the house, with great respect.  He now places some coins and a note by it.  He is leaving.”

<<Go back to the house.  I want to see what was left there.>>

<<Yes, lady.  I serve well, you’ll see.>>  A few minutes later, the message continued.  <<There is a body here, along with a note and these coins… I do not know what they are.>>

<<What does the note say?>>

<<I’m sorry, lady, I do not mean to fail you lady, I can find out…>>

<<I’ll see through your eyes.>>  Kit reached out her mind and was suddenly in the room.  The body had been killed with a single, perfectly accurate stroke that had shattered through the guard’s armor and pierced his heart.  She looked at the note, which had been written in painstaking, block-letter Common--a relief since it made it easier for her to read.

The note was short and direct.  “Dear family:  I am sorry.  I had to kill him.”

The coins were stranger.  There were three, all of a strange smoky crystal.  Each coin was octagonal, with a strange sigil that Kit did not recognize stamped on them.  Kit relayed the information to her friends.

“I’m not sure what exactly those coins are--laen of some sort, I would assume,” said Alistair.  “But they are surely enormously valuable.  They are almost certainly more valuable than either mithril or even adamantium coins.  The question is whether they are worth thousands or tens of thousands platinum.”

Kit boggled briefly.  “Thousands of platinum?  In a single coin?”  She shook her head in disbelief, and then returned to the matter at hand.  “I’m going to have my agent take the note.  It won’t help the family right now.”

“Best to have him take the coins as well,” Alistair added.  “We’ll be able to give them a fairer payment for them than any moneychanger would, and it will be less troubling to them to receive a pension from the Archduchy.”

“Right, I’ll have him grab both and bring them to us.  And then I guess I’ll have him inform the family.”

“No, don’t do that,” interjected Dame Brionna.  “We have protocols for how to handle the deaths of guards.  We’ve needed them enough recently.  Contact the local guard posts officer of the watch.  They’ll take care of the body, and handle informing the family.”

Kit relayed those instructions to her agent, who quailed mentally at voluntarily going to a guard house, but agreed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair looked thoughtfully at the diviner.  “Reverend Canon, you described time as like a river which forks occasionally.  The main channel now presumably runs through Lord Davion challenging the Master Unbidden to a duel.  Can you see another fork, where we lure the Master Unbidden into an ambush and use the vollers’ energy artillery?”

“There is such a fork, but I see it ending in disaster.  Thousands dead…  The ships exploding in plumes of energy…  The armor returns the energy to its source, and then radiates in concentric circles.”

Alistair closed his eyes and lowered his head.  “That’s it, then.  We have to have him fight the duel.”

“But if he loses…” said Kit, not really disagreeing but still upset.

“What choice do we have?  Are we supposed to risk thousands of lives to prevent a small chance of my death?  I never wanted to be Archduke in the first place.  I only came back to prevent the loss of many lives in a civil war.  I’m not going to inflict them through cowardice.”

“No one is suggesting that you would or should, your grace,” said Dame Brionna, with surprising gentleness.  “We just wish there were a better way.  But I fear you are right.”

“He speaks!” Father Toddle said suddenly.  “He speaks of ancient times, he speaks of rapid movement in his mind and sinews; things of which he rapidly loses control.  He seizes a priest, and presses a great sum of platinum on him.  He says to the priest, do good now, make up for what you have done before.”  The diviner looked a little dismayed as he said the last--the notion that any engaged in charity would view the work of the priests of Glor’diadel as something that had to be made up for offended him deeply.

“Rapid movement in his mind and sinews?”  asked Dame Brionna.  “He must have taken the dust already.”

“He burns, burns brightly.  I do not think he realized that his greater strength and drive would cause the burn to happen that much faster.”

“Then he might not live to the coronation,” reasoned Dame Brionna.  “I wonder if we could speed up the flow of time for him somehow?”

“I know there are psionic effects that can slow or stop the speed of time,” said Alistair.  “It might be possible to reverse those processes.  We would need to ask the Eldar.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit nodded.  “I’ll send him a message.  With his wounds, we can’t ask him to come to us.”  She closed her eyes.  <<Grandmaster Farsensor?  Are you aware of the Master Unbidden?  He burns with the power of dust.  We were wondering if the rate it affects him could be increased.>>

<<His metabolism burns too brightly.  The Dust is taking him earlier than expected, because he uses it faster than he should.  It could be accelerated, but I fear that it would do no good.  He could not but notice, and he would charge the Archduke when he sensed the acceleration.  You would merely force him to battle his way through your guard on your schedule.>>

<<Is it clear he will last to the coronation?>>

<<No.  He will certainly live most of the time to then, and most drow would live many days past the coronation.  But he might not.>>

Kit relayed this information.

“Are we agreed then that we should have Lord Davion challenge him?” Alistair asked his Council.  “We can set the duel for immediately before the coronation is scheduled.  If the dust kills him before the duel, so much the better.”

“I still think there has to be a better way,” said Kit.

“Can you think of one?  We have to decide.”

“No.  But there has to be something…”

“Hope of an easier way is not enough.  I think we have to take this best chance and hope.”

“I have to agree, your grace.”

Kit nodded reluctantly.  “Alright.  I don’t like it, but…”

“None of us do.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

They sent for Lord Davion, as well as for Bishop Berry to join the Archbishop and Father Mondaven in prayer. 

Lord Davion entered and inclined respectfully. 

“If you remain willing, Lord Davion, we would ask you to challenge the Master Unbidden.” 

“I will do so, your grace.” 

“He burns brightly from the dust he has taken, so we wish you to schedule the duel for just before the coronation.  With luck, the dust will consume him before the duel itself is fought.  Also, you should know that he is giving his wealth away in the poor quarters.  That is probably how you will find him most easily to deliver the challenge.” 

“A wise decision, on the schedule.  He has begun the ritual of divestment.  He has misestimated how long it would take to find you, or at least to find you with honorable means.” 

“Why does he give away his wealth?” 

“It is the way of my people, when they know death approaches and that they will have no heirs.  He must also be baffled by the existence of poverty.  It is unknown in the Empire of Krashmere.  Even the lowest goblin in the least horde of troops is fed and has its needs taken care of.  I have never understood why there is such poverty in human lands, even lands such as yours with able and good-willed rulers such as Canberry.” 

“We do what we can.  There are none that starve within Canberry.  That is about the most that we can ensure.  Few human kingdoms can say even that much.” 

“I know, your grace.  I meant no criticism.  In some lands, a bad harvest means hundreds or thousands will die.  I simply do not understand.  How can poverty persist, even in lands of plenty?  Why do human lands not plan ways to prevent it?  And how, when you cannot manage problems that the least of the elven realms avoid completely, can you be so strong in other ways?  As I said, it is not that you are evil, or that you do not care or understand, and yet…” 

“It is part of being human.  The very things that make us strong--how quickly we can respond to new circumstances, for example--leave problems as well.  We do not have time to solve our problems, and so we simply continue along, trying to address them as well as we can while worrying about what will happen next.” 

Lord Davion nodded.  “There is the ring of truth to what you say.  In any event, that should explain something of why he acts as he does.  He would understand far less than I.”  The Noldar Lord inclined again.  “I will go to deliver the challenge.” 

<<Was this wise?>> asked the Eldar, in Kit’s mind alone. 

<<The only thing we can do.  There was no other way,>> responded Kit. 

<<I shall speak to Lord Eiru and Lady Elberith and ask them to favor you.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Within the hour, Lord Davion returned.  “He has accepted my challenge and has repaired to the Inner City, where he may be bathed, groomed, and dressed.  He does not wish to die without looking his best.  The dust burns rapidly in him; he may not live to see the challenge.” 

“We know that your son is serving in the field with his army,” said Alistair.  “If you wish to recall him, that you may see him before the duel, you may do so.” 

“Thank you, your grace.  I would not wish to disrupt his service.  But he can apport.  Perhaps I could summon him shortly before the duel.” 

“We would not wish you to face the possibility of death without those you love.  You may call him back anytime before the duel.” 

“I thank you, your grace.” 

Shortly later, Father Mondaven returned from the chapel.  “The Lady smiles upon you.  She responded most forcefully.  Chance will play no role.  Skill will be all.  I have the feeling that I will be paying for that spell for years, but if it helps his grace, it’s worth it.” 

“If it helps his grace, you’ll be rewarded for years to come,” answered Dame Brionna.  They thanked Father Mondaven and he returned to his temple. 

While Alistair attended to some routine matters, Dame Brionna pulled Kit aside.  “Alistair’s conduct with Princess Mirabelle was disgraceful, and he needs to be taught a lesson about that, but with the peril he faces through the duel, perhaps this is not the best time for it.” 

Kit looked at Dame Brionna like she was insane.  “You’re saying that maybe I should make up with him because he might die?  Thanks, I figured that out on my own.” 

“It’s just… he’ll be very afraid.” 

“He’s not the only one who’s terrified about it,”  Kit snapped at Dame Brionna, who looked abashed at not having thought enough about Kit’s feelings.  “And if there’s even a chance that he might die… I haven’t forgiven him for what he did, but I’m not going to give up what could be our last days together either.” 

Dame Brionna considered suggesting they would be reunited in the Heavens, but thought better of it.  “I’m sorry.  I just wanted to make sure you didn’t do something you would regret.” 

“I understand, and thanks.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

When Alistair returned, Dame Brionna said, “Your grace, we need to make certain plans.  You need to designate an heir, just in case, and…”

Alistair interrupted.  “Yes, I know.  And there are some specific things I’d like to take care of with each of you.”

They discussed the question of heirs at length, finally settling on the candidate that seemed best.  

While Kit addressed other matters, Alistair talked with Dame Brionna about some specific additional preparations.  He drew up letters-patent, conferring the title of Baroness of Lyneham and rule over all its domains on Dame Katherine and the heirs of her body.  Technically, the grant would not be valid if the letters were not delivered to Kit while Alistair was still alive, but he figured that Dame Brionna would carry out his instructions despite the niceties of Canberry estates law.

When that matter was finished, Alistair said, “I would like you to come with me to speak with Lady Constance.  There are a few magical preparations I would like to make as well, including checking whether the clone plan would still work.  I still don’t think it will help for Kit to know about that.”

“Probably not, your grace.  It would only increase her worries.”

They approached Lady Constance and explained the situation.  “Would you still be able to make a clone from the sample we gathered if I’m killed by the magic of the duel?  We know resurrection magic would not work, but cloning is different.”

Lady Constance pursed her lips in thought.  “I’m afraid I cannot say for certain, your grace.  The circumstances are so rare, you understand.  There has been only one previous such duel fought on Drucien, ever.”

“Oh?  Who were the combatants?” asked Dame Brionna.

“The father of the Controller of the Zorplona Aragoni fought on behalf of a human noble of the Broken Lands, while an Eldar bard championed the gnomish head of the Enclave that is now Glittertowers.  But to the best of my knowledge, no one has ever tried to clone the losing principal in such a duel.  There have been attempts at resurrection, and as you said, all have failed.  No similar attempts have been made at cloning, at least to the best of my knowledge.  As an arcane matter, it should succeed.  There is no reason in conventional magic theory that would change matters from any other death.  But the elven gods might intervene, so I cannot say for certain.”

Alistair nodded.  “That makes sense.  Based on what Lord Davion said, I suspect it is more likely to fail than not, but please attempt the cloning if Lord Davion is defeated and I am slain.”

“As you wish, your grace.”

“It would give us the opportunity to prevent another succession crisis, if it succeeded.  That would be worth the attempt.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair paused.  “There is another, more delicate, issue that I would like to discuss as well.  As you may know, my grandmother placed a magical block on my fertility, to avoid any illegitimate children that could complicate the next succession.  The block will dissolve of its own accord in four months or so.”

“A sensible precaution,” replied Lady Constance.

“Is there any way to counteract that?  If I am killed, and the cloning fails, I would like to make sure that my line continued.”  Alistair held up a hand to Dame Brionna to forestall objections.  “I know that any posthumous illegitimate children would be unable to inherit the Archduchy.  We would need a new Archduke immediately, not in many years.  But my line might continue, and might inherit Lyneham.”

“It is possible, your grace.  But you may not wish to.  The process is very unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant?” asked Dame Brionna, fearing the involvement of infernal powers.  “Unpleasant how?”

Lady Constance cleared her throat.  “I could stabilize a portion of his grace’s seed, so that it would retain its potency.  Once the block expired, it could be used to impregnate a woman.  But to do this, we would need to extract some of his grace’s seed, by inserting a catheter and… suffice to say, I do not think that his grace would enjoy the experience very much.  But either I or one of my devils could perform the insertion.”

Alistair winced as he thought about it.

“No devils!” said Dame Brionna determinedly, terrified by the possibility that this would result in a tiefling heir.

Alistair nodded.  “I think it would be best if you handled it.  I know that you at least will not deliberately inflict more pain than is absolutely necessary.  But despite the pain, I want to go through with this.  Dame Brionna, perhaps you could wait outside?  Oh, and summon Father Waters.  I’ll want a cleric immediately afterwards.”

“Of course, your grace.”

After Dame Brionna left the coven chambers, Alistair looked plaintively at Lady Constance.  “I don’t suppose we could have one of your devils extract the sample in a more pleasant manner?”

“I’m afraid not, your grace.  There would be a risk of contamination, and the sample needs to be pure in order for the preservation magics to work.”

“Oh, very well then.  But let’s give the priest time to arrive before we begin.  I don’t want a wait.”

“I should think not.”

“Do you have any children, Lady Constance?” asked Alistair.  After her services, he would be happy to grant her a minor title or similar reward, but at her age there was little point if she had no descendants.

“Oh, no, your grace.  At least, I hope not.  There’s a small possibility that from many years ago, but I don’t think so…”  She saw Alistair’s brow furrowing at the idea that she could not be sure and added, “I experimented a little when I was young.”

“But… I don’t… What kind of…”

“Best not to dwell on it, your grace.”

Alistair decided that that was almost certainly true and nodded.  “I think that’s Father Waters outside.  If we could take care of this?”

“Yes, your grace.”

After an awkward, painful, and remarkably clinical experience, Alistair limped out to Father Waters, who quickly cast a powerful enough healing spell to both undo the incidental damage and to stop the pain.  As Dame Brionna and Alistair returned to his set of rooms, he said, “If I do die, please bring the topic up with Kit at an appropriate time.  I would never order her to, and I don’t want to discuss the idea with her now, but I hope that she might be willing…”

“I understand, your grace.  Don’t worry.  I’ll take care of it, if it’s necessary.”

Alistair also took the time to write a long letter to Kit.  They had the audience with Baroness Francesca scheduled for later that afternoon, but Alistair and Kit spent almost all of the rest of the time after he had dealt with preparations together.  They did not discuss Mirabelle at all, and indeed, few of their discussions had much meaning.  They were afraid, and in denial, and sometimes in tears, struggling to deal with the possibility.  But mostly, they were together.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

At the appointed time, they prepared for the meeting with Baroness Francesca de Borde-Wais.  Dame Brionna and Alistair waited in a small reception room, without any other guards.  Or at least, so it appeared.  In reality, Dame Brionna waited with a projected image of Alistair, while the real Alistair, Kit, and Princess Cecilia waited in one of the secret passages that ran by the reception room and allowed them to look in.

A guard announced the Baroness, and a maid who had accompanied her passed a package wrapped in cloth to the Baroness before she entered, but did not accompany her in to meet the Archduke.  As the Baroness walked in, she saw Alistair and froze, her face going completely white.  Alistair could tell that she was terrified, but Dame Brionna also saw that she was very determined.  Princess Cecilia murmured in the hallway, “oh, that poor dear… I didn’t know that it was possible to stand upright and be that frightened.”

The Baroness inclined deeply to Alistair, more like a client greeting a sovereign than like one noble greeting another, even a higher one.  She was young--certainly no older than Alistair and Kit.  Alistair guessed that she was as old as seventeen or eighteen, but also thought that she could be as young as fifteen, although she was very poised for a girl that age.  Based on the signs of rank on her gown, she was no more than fifth in line for the Despot’s throne, well within the nobles who could prevail if the election were soon.  However, her gown was also the most severe clothes imaginable.

Kit reached out with her mind.  She had a clear read on the Baroness’s thoughts, but what she heard as she listened worried her.

<< Oh, great Lord of Light, what am I doing here?  He will not dare do to me what he did to my sister.  They are not *that* powerful.  People know that I’m here…>>

“Greetings, and welcome to our court.  You wished to speak with me?” said Alistair’s image.

Baroness Francesca swallowed nervously before responding.  She also glanced at Dame Brionna, but concluded that this was as private an audience as she would get, or at least as private an audience as she could both get and want.  “Your eminent grace, I come before you on behalf of my sister Echila.  I bring you greetings from the Principality of Korflock and from our barony.  I bring this gift that you left with my sister, that she thought you should have.  She regrets that she cannot be here herself, as she is in retreat at a convent in light of her condition.”

She advanced forward, holding out the package to Alistair.  Dame Brionna moved to intercept her and to take the package herself; it was unlikely that anything could hurt the Archduke through the projected image, but there was no point in taking chances, or in revealing that the image was not the real Archduke.  Besides, the image would not be able to physically hold the package, which could rapidly become very awkward.  The Baroness and Dame Brionna did a small dance of maneuver as she tried to pass Dame Brionna and Dame Brionna resolutely moved to keep herself between the Baroness and the image.  Finally, the Baroness admitted defeat and handed the package to Dame Brionna:  a baby, perhaps a year or a bit less, stirring gently from the agitation but still basically asleep.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“You have our condolences for what befell your sister,” replied Alistair seriously, “but I must correct your misapprehension.  I am not the father of this child.  I have never met your sister, nor ever been to the Principality.”

The Baroness’s eyes widened.  <<I never thought he would be so false as to deny that he had visited our lands altogether.  I feared he would deny Echila and the baby, but not this.>>  After a moment she composed herself.  “But I saw you.  You had dinner with my father, and claimed your right as a noble to our hospitality, for shelter and food.  And Echila was most taken with you.”  The last sentence became an accusation, with equal parts sadness and anger.

“And then the one who looked like me ill-treated her?”

“Yes!  He… you!... forsook all chivalry and…”  The Baroness broke off mid-sentence, but there could be little doubt what she was going to say.

“I swear to you, with Lord Glor’diadel as my witness and upon the honor of my family, that I did not do this thing.”

“Lord Alistair speaks truthfully,” vouched Dame Brionna.  “He was not in Korflok when your sister was assaulted, and he could not be the father of her child.  We fear that there is an imposter seeking to harm His Grace’s reputation, and using your sister as a tool to that goal.”

“But… but I saw him.  And I know, he was the Archduke.”  Still, Dame Brionna’s statement made her wonder.  Dame Brionna was a Knight of Valor, and probably a paladin.  Surely she wouldn’t lie in the face of an oath to Glor’diadel, even to protect her liege?  Unless she was as false as he…

“No.  You know that he looked like me--like someone you had never met before and are only seeing more than a year later.  Magic makes it trivial to appear as someone else.  Watch.”  Alistair cast _alter self_, which as an illusion could affect the projected image, and transformed the image so that there were then two Dame Brionnas in front of her.  “If you look very closely, you could probably spot errors in the disguise, and certainly I might say or do things while disguised as Dame Brionna that would give away the illusion.”  He gestured and the illusion faded, returning to the image of Alistair.  “But could you tell the difference, when looking at someone you had never met before, and comparing them only to rumors and story?  And that was among the most petty of disguise magics.  We fear that the imposter uses much greater magics, that he may inflict more harm.  And so I swear to you:  we will take in this infant, if you wish, and ensure that the child has a fine life and noble rank, as befits its mother.  But I also swear that I am not its father and did nothing to harm your sister, though I fear my enemies did as a means to strike at me.”

The Baroness thought this over.  <<The Archbishop is right to ban all arcane magic, then…>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Why is your sister in the convent now?  Surely she has recovered from her injuries by now…”

The Baroness blushed a little and looked away.  “Your grace, she is sullied by the loss of her virginity.  Other nobles look down on her, treat her as unworthy…  None will even think of marrying her.  The Convent of the Silvery Veil does not judge her.”

Alistair scowled.  It was what he had expected, but even so…  “I know that she may want nothing to do with Canberry, for she believes that we attacked her, and in truth she was attacked by our enemies because of Canberry.  But if she wishes, if she comes to Canberry, I promise you that she will marry well and will be treated with respect.”

“Thank you, your grace,” replied the Baroness, although perhaps the thanks were more of a formality than real.

“What of the child?  As I said, though it is not mine, we will take it in if you wish.  But if your family would rather raise it…”

“No, your grace.  As long as you will neither kill him nor cast him out, he will have a better life here.  My father would not cast him out, but he cannot bear to look on the babe.  Every contact with him reminds him of my sister’s disgrace, and of his inability to protect her.”

“Very well.  We will raise him and provide for him.”  Alistair paused.  “Let me ask you something.  Did you consider attacking me?  Seeking revenge for your sister by trying to kill me?”

Honest surprise crossed Baroness Francesca’s face, as Kit could verify by the surprise in her thoughts.  “I did not even think of it, your grace.  You are a great prince.  I could not hope to succeed, and it would be beyond the pale for any such as I to dream of striking at you directly.”

<<Blast,>> thought Alistair to Kit.  <<I had really hoped that she was the last assassin.>>

<<Yeah.  We’ll have to keep looking.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Does he have a name?” 

“In the Principality, bastards of noble birth receive only the names of slaves.  We thought it best to allow you to name him.” 

“The names of slaves?” asked Alistair in confusion.  “But then… is the Principality Paranswarmian, if slavery is legal?  Why then did your sister go to one of our orders of nuns?” 

“It varies from noble house to house within the Principality, your grace.  Many follow Paranswarm, but some, such as my house, follow the Lord of Light.  And likewise slavery is legal in some of our lands, but not in all.  Most of the lords who permit slavery are Paranswarmian, but some of the Glor’diadelians do as well.” 

“But the Church forbids slavery--its teachings on that subject are unmistakably clear.” 

“Yes, your grace.  And my family forbids slavery in our lands.  But some of our neighbors stray from the Lord of Light’s teachings.” 

Alistair turned to Dame Brionna and said, his voice cold with anger, “Make a note.  After the coronation, we will send a message to each and every Glor’diadelian noble in the Principality that permits slavery, from the highest dukes and princes to the pettiest manor lord, informing them that the Protector of the Light has noted their apostasy and is displeased.”

“Yes, your grace,” replied Dame Brionna with enthusiasm. 

“And give some thought to the right emissary to deliver that message.  We may need to follow it with strength to enforce their repentance.” 

The Baroness’s thoughts shifted from confused suspicion and fear to guarded respect, although fear still colored all of her thoughts.  “My father will be most pleased to hear of this message, your grace.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Let me return to the issue of the imposter’s attack on your sister,” said Alistair.  “Was the incident widely known?”

“Many know of the rape, your grace, but few of the perpetrator.”

“Are there other reports of similar misdeeds by his grace’s imposter?” asked Dame Brionna.

“There are whispered rumors, although none with this issue,” replied the Baroness, gesturing at her nephew.  “The rumors elsewhere were of whippings and horrible abuse heaped on women.  The noble houses that suffered those attacks were less careful about keeping it quiet.”

Dame Brionna stammered.  “How dare he… The imposter… we will…”

“When we find who is responsible, they will die,” said the image of Alistair flatly.

“Yes, your grace,” replied the Baroness, curtsying.  “Thank you, your grace.”

The image of Alistair looked at Dame Brionna for a moment to see if there were any further questions, then dismissed the Baroness.  The Council quickly returned to its chambers.  As they walked back, Alistair spoke emphatically to Kit, while Dame Brionna carried the baby.  “I know that this was before we met, but I wanted to make sure that you know that I was telling the truth when I said that it was an imposter.  I never even went to Korflok.”

“I know.  I never thought she might be telling the truth.”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that I would never do something like that.  I know I haven’t always behaved perfectly, but…”

“Don’t worry.  I knew that you wouldn’t, couldn’t have done something like that.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “What are we to do with the babe, your grace?  People will assume that he is an illegitimate son of yours.”

“I think we’ll give him over to the care of Mommy Cupcakes.  He’ll be well taken care of that way, and we wouldn’t be able to place him with a family outside of the palace without it creating even more rumors.”

Kit cursed.  “All the efforts to make sure that there are no actual illegitimate children, and we’ll still need to worry about succession issues.”

“Not for a long time, I hope,” said Alistair.  “And by then, if things go according to plan, there will be a well-established legitimate heir to ensure there are no problems.  Although I suppose we could use him as an illegitimate heir if Lord Davion loses… do you think that succession would be smoother than the ones we have discussed?”

“Your grace, we couldn’t,” said Dame Brionna determinedly.  “His father is a rapist, and possibly worse.  For all we know, he is half-demon.”

Kit nodded.  “I hope the baby is fine, but it can’t be the Archduke.”

“And we would need to have a regency for years; it’s hard to imagine that a regent could keep Brightspan, at least without a war.  And you are right.  Besides, at least if we follow our current plan, a true descendant of the House of Ashberry will be on the throne.  I owe my family at least that much.”  Alistair nodded.  “Very well.  Who should we claim the baby is?”

Dame Brionna swallowed hard.  “Your grace… if you wish, we could claim that it was mine.  I would not wish the harm to my reputation, but if it protects the Archduchy, I will agree.”

“Thank you, Dame Brionna, but that will not be necessary.”

“I don’t think we could make the story stick, anyway,” added Kit.  “You would have had to give birth right around when you left the Archduchy to find Alistair.  Too many people know that you were not pregnant then.  And even if we also lied about the baby’s age, no one will believe that you were in the late stages of pregnancy and then gave birth while defending Alistair on his return to Canberry.  It would be recognized as a lie, and people would assume that Alistair was actually the father, with an unknown mother.”  She thought about it some more.  “What about one of your half-brothers?  We could claim that they were taking after your father, and that the baby is a nephew of yours.  That would be believable.”

Alistair rubbed his chin.  “Or even make the baby another half-brother himself.  The timing would work; he could be the result of a fling of my father’s, shortly before his death.  And there would be no other household, not even one of my siblings’, to take the baby in.”

“It could work, your grace.  There will still be rumors, but I fear there is nothing we could do to prevent that.”

“I like it,” said Kit.  “It gives us just the right level of connection, while also keeping the baby safely far from the succession.”

They quickly passed the baby off to Mommy Cupcakes, who was thrilled to learn that Alistair’s father had had another baby that she would need to care for.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

With that matter dealt with, the Council retired, even though it was still early.  Dame Brionna continued working and planning long into the night, while Alistair and Kit made the most of what might be one of their last nights together.

The Master Unbidden still lived in the morning of the day before the coronation, even as the dust consumed his body.  He had a brush with permanent insanity in the middle of the night, but he came back from the brink.  By the morning, he was visibly thinner and gave forth a pale glow.  He ate breakfast quietly, talking to any who spoke to him, but conserving his energy.  Now, there was only waiting and then the duel the following day.

Abigail knocked quietly on the private door between Kit’s room and Alistair’s chambers in the morning.  “Dame Katherine?  There is a package for you that was delivered to the palace this morning.  It’s been checked for traps, and none were found.  It was addressed ‘To the Mouth.’”

Kit quickly returned to her chambers, dressed for the day, and went to examine the package.  The writing on the outside of the small pouch was clearly done by a professional scribe; even Kit could recognize that from the perfectly formed, measured letters.  The package’s contents were more interesting:  three strange coins or discs, each a precise circle, formed from laen.  The discs glowed when she touched them, and a cursory psionic examination revealed a small reserve of power within each coin along with the presence of thoughts.  Kit decided to call the Minister of the Mind as psionic back-up before doing anything further, along with Alistair and Dame Brionna because it seemed like these could be of some importance.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Once they were gathered, with Alistair at a safe remove, Kit reached out with her mind and examined the discs more closely.  The thoughts she had detected were there, but not because there was a mind present or even in communication.  Rather, they were memories, psionically inscribed into the high glass receptacles, waiting to be unreeled but nothing more.  She probed deeper, and a voice echoed in her head.

<< This is the declaration of the death time of a master of the Order of the Black Tear.  It is delivered unto the one who best represents the goals and the understanding of the Black Tear, within the organization of the purchased foe.>>

The mind fell silent and then a very different mind continued.  << You are smart.  You move wisely.  Your people are weak.  You make up for weakness with thoughts.  Only I remain.  Dust begins to take its toll.  I wait.  Your lord has a great one who speaks for him.  I wait.  There is no personal hatred of me for you or for him.  I think we had been deceived.  Many innocents.  Many innocents.  Some have already died.  This is not the Way.  But I am stupid.  I should not think.  I wished you to have this declaration, because there is no one else.  Win or lose, your people will remember that I was here.>>

Kit continued to hear the presence of the discs in her mind for quite some time, but no further thoughts--apparently, the people who prepared the discs expected them to be used for a longer message than the Master Unbidden placed in them.  Kit repeated the message to the Council.

“Much the same as we have heard from the other Harlequins,” noted Dame Brionna.  “They are being used by Quinliart for a purpose that they don’t support.  Of course, they are assassins for hire, so why they think they could end up being honorable anyway is beyond comprehension.”

“Still.  Interesting, but nothing we need to deal with,” said Alistair.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“There are a few more tasks we should try to get done today, starting with the woman with the lynx jewelry.  Since she isn’t the Baroness, she must be someone else in the City.”

“Yes, your grace.  It would be stupid to spend so much time on stopping the Harlequins only to allow a much less dangerous assassin to make an attempt.”  Dame Brionna adjusted her armor as she thought.  “Perhaps Reverend Canon Toddle could detect her?”

“Worth a try,” said Kit.  “Besides, he’s always at least entertaining.”

They called the diviner over and asked if he knew anything of the woman assassin with lynx jewelry.

“Yes… She walks often in my dreams.”

“Have you seen anything distinctive about her?  Any way we might recognize her?” asked Dame Brionna.

“She dresses in beautiful clothes, but the lynx is her only jewelry.  Or almost her only jewelry--she wears earrings.  Those earrings.  They are opals, but carved to look like drops of blood.  Beyond that, I see nothing of her.”

“Opals like drops of blood?  Ugh.  Anybody know what that could mean?” asked Kit.

“There are two possibilities I can think of,” said Alistair.  “There is a subgroup of the Sisters of the Weeping Woman who use drops of blood as port of their symbols, instead of the more normal tears.  And the actual priesthood of Borsh’tro--not the priests of the servant deities, not the various demon cultists, but the priesthood of Borsh’tro directly--use drops of blood as part of their symbology.  I fear the second group is more likely, though I was not aware of any priests of Borsh’tro in this region, or even on Drucien at all.”

“It fits the overall plan well, your grace.  But even if we know more of what she is, how do we find her?”

“Perhaps the Eshen Bladelord would know something?”

“He won’t cooperate honorably like the Drow, your grace.”

“No.  But we might be able to trick him into cooperating all the same.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

They proceeded to the dungeon, and Alistair used the helm to project his image into the Bladelord’s cell.  The ratman raged, almost frothing at the mouth, and slammed against the chains that bound him but to no avail.

“You will die a thousand deaths!  We will rip you to pieces and feed on the corpses of you and your kin!”

“I think not.  You have already failed.  It must sting to not even know how we found you.”

“You found me, but your death will still come!”

“Not from your kind.  Not when one of your allies decided they would rather have you eliminated, to keep all the gains for themselves.  The information from the priestess of Borsh’tro was most useful.”

“Rargh!” growled the Skaven, fury overwhelming its ability to speak.  “The torments of your death will be nothing to how she will suffer.  She thought she was so clever, coming here with entourage, living in shell.  Sell me out, will she?  I will get free one day.  If not, she will be hunted down by others.”

Alistair probed further, but was able to get no additional information.

He shook his head dejectedly as he rejoined his friends.  “I guess we won’t be getting anything from him.  Too bad--I was hopeful.  But that was pretty much a bust.”

Kit’s brow furrowed in thought.  “Maybe not completely.  We know that she has an entourage.  And what does ‘living in shell’ mean?”

“Good point.  That’s a pretty common way to describe a demon that has possessed a body.”

“Then we can find her based on the evil aura, your grace,” said Dame Brionna.  “If she has an entourage, she is almost certainly staying within the Inner City.  That’s a small enough area that we can sweep it with _detect evil_--we can make that look like a routine pre-coronation check.  There will be other evil people, but a demon should show up as a bright spot of iniquity.”

“And then, since we know the threat is extra-planar, we can send in priests to use _holy word_ to neutralize the threat safely,” added Alistair.  “Remind the searchers that she may be in a second story, or a basement.  They will need to search up and down as well as sweeping side to side.”

They quickly dispatched paladins and a few priests for the search.  Within a few hours, word returned of an intense knot of evil in one of the finest inns in all of Canberry.  Dame Brionna quickly prepared a strike force:  several priests to cast _holy word_, reinforced by one hundred church knights as back-up if the demon were able to resist.  The group of church knights began with all of the remaining knights who wore black armbands, just in case.  But the precaution was not necessary:  the priests entered the inn and let loose the powerful magic of the _holy words_, and then they swept unopposed through the building.  In the entourage from the Cities of the Gates was a beautiful woman whose jewelry matched the description given by Reverend Canon Toddle.  She had collapsed at the first of the _holy words_, and no amount of effort could revive her.  Dame Brionna checked the last pre-coronation threat besides the Master Unbidden off her list, and Alistair prepared a letter to Princess Mirabelle informing her of what had happened and suggesting that she might wish to investigate the noble whose “companion” the possessed woman had been.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council spent a little additional time wrapping up loose ends.  Alistair drew up, signed, and sealed a bill of attainder declaring the eldest son of the Duke of Brightspan guilty of treason and ordering his execution.  The execution could not be carried out as long as he was surrounded by a hostile army, but attainting him would ensure that he could not inherit the Duchy of Brightspan if the current Duke died, and that if Alistair were replaced as Archduke, his heir would know of the threat.  Alistair took care in drafting the bill to make sure that it specified that the attainder did not work corruption of blood, but instead accelerated the inheritance of Lord Brightspan’s children.  The other nobles would revolt, possibly literally, if the Archduke tried to declare the lands of one of the great houses forfeit, and the Duke of Brightspan’s eldest grandson, serving as a page to the Archduke, remained completely loyal.  Alistair also decided that a young boy, even one who would be a high noble one day, did not need to know that his father had been condemned to death and his father’s lands and holdings transferred to him.

With everything taken care of except the great duel, Alistair and Kit retired to privacy, to make the most of the last day before the coronation.

The dust burned brightly within the Master Unbidden on the night before the duel, but through shear force of will he continued to live.  Indeed, he managed to maintain his full concentration and showed no signs of imminent death.  [The DM had us roll an additional three saving throws for the last night for the Master Unbidden.  Suffice to say, we did not consider it an auspicious sign when we rolled three consecutive 20s.]  The Master Unbidden then went about a series of ritual preparations.  He ate a fine breakfast and carefully dressed in his crystal armor--armor that he normally wore at all times, but had not since accepting the challenge.  His clothing-- Noldar silk clothes of enormous value--went to the poor as charity.  He carefully boxed his favorite swords and then asked the innkeep to throw them in the river.  Finally prepared, he hired a boy to carry the banner of his order to the field of honor, and brought only himself, his armor, and his unenchanted rapiers.

Lord Davion, for his part, brought a large entourage to the field of battle, including uruk drummers, a drow carrying the banner of House Aufaugauthal’arim--a deliberate slap at his house, with its refusal to tolerate drow children, but one they could do nothing about, because using the banner was clearly his right-- and the bishop who served as his chaplain to heal him after the battle, assuming he was victorious.


----------



## Quartz

Encore! Encore!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Well, since you asked... 

-------

The Council gathered in a private chamber to watch the duel via a scrying.  Alistair and Kit clutched each other’s hands nervously as they waited the gamble that would determine whether Alistair lived or died.  Dame Brionna simply stared at the image, outwardly stoic but inwardly panicking about a threat to her liege that she could do nothing to stop.

Lord Davion and the Master Unbidden discussed dispositions of bodies and then crossed to opposite sides of the field to begin.  They executed flawless salutes.  And then Lord Davion’s banner bearer called out the first form.  They both responded almost instantly, with their swords flashing as swiftly as lightning, but the drow was a hair’s breadth faster, raining blows upon Lord Davion’s armor.  Lord Davion’s armor glowed brightly as it blocked most of the attacks that made it past his guard, but blood flew from the handful that penetrated.  Lord Davion’s counterattack was every bit as vigorous, and he weaved a few more blows through than the Master Unbidden had managed, aided by the Master’s inability to charge his armor with psionic energy.

Lord Davion overextended slightly on one blow.  A lesser swordsman would have risked catastrophe, but even Lord Davion suffered several trying blows before getting his guard back in position.  He also put rather more weight than he would have preferred on one foot.  If luck had been an issue, the ground might well have given ground, tumbling him down and making his defeat inevitable.  But with the Lady of Fate excluding all chance, his foot landed on a particularly firm patch of the field, and the ground held.

They battled on, far longer than any true fight the Council had ever witnessed before, with Lord Davion’s herald calling each successive form.  They fought through stylized forms, following ancient rituals of dueling that were all but forgotten in this Age.  Both warriors suffered terribly.  Finally, a rapier snaked in completely past both defense and armor.  For a single protracted moment, all movement stopped, and then Lord Davion stepped back as the Master Unbidden fell.  Lord Davion very ceremoniously decapitated the Master Unbidden, and then announced, “Davion of the House of Aufaugauthala’rim declares on the behalf of Alistair, Archduke incipient of the Archduchy of Canberry, victory over the Order of the Black Tear, and an end to the feud with the Controller of Region 6, now and for all time.”  Even as he spoke, the body of the Master Unbidden became desiccated and withered.  With the battle over, Lord Davion cleaned and sheathed his blades, while his chaplain cast more healing spells than the Council would have imagined possible--_heal_ after _heal_.


----------



## Alratan

Wonder what's going to happen to the armour....


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Actually, I'm not sure that we ever determined what happened to the armor.  I'm confident that we didn't just leave it there, but whether Lord Davion took it, or it went to the Treasury, no clue.

---

The Council gave a collective sigh of relief.  After a few moments of giddy happiness, Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “Your grace, perhaps it is time for the formal coronation robes.”  Dame Brionna turned to Kit.  “Do you have the ring of invisibility?” she asked, referring to a plan they had adopted for her to invisibly accompany Alistair in the procession.

“Yeah.  Time for you to go become Archduke,” Kit said to Alistair.  “Time for me to become invisible.”

Alistair looked sharply at Kit.  She covered it fairly well, but there was an unmistakeable note of bitterness in Kit’s voice as she referred to becoming invisible.  He resolved to speak with her about it later, but immediately before the coronation was not the time.

The Council made its way to the Vale of Tabewatha, along with a small army as a largely ceremonial honor guard.  A large number of fey appeared as the procession began its long progression into the City--mostly sidhe, but with a smattering of lesser fey.  They watched with a mix of curiosity and approval before disappearing completely as the procession left the Vale.

All told, the coronation procession took hours, as they looped three times around each of the three walls of the city, before finally making their way through the Inner City to the Cathedral of the Sun.  Huge crowds surrounded them at every step of the progression, with great cheering for the Archduke as he passed by his people.  The cheering was distinctly loudest in the Outer City, perhaps because the people there felt less of a need to maintain a sense of decorum.  With the last of the assassins dead, the progression was a formal event of pomp and ritual.  While Dame Brionna and her chosen guards spent the entire procession searching for hidden threats or blades, they saw nothing untoward.  And finally, the procession crossed the Cathedral Square and entered the Cathedral itself.

Alistair strode through the nave where only a few short days ago they had fought the rat-ogre and knelt before the high altar.  The Archbishop led Alistair and those honored with places within the Cathedral through a brief prayer and asked for the blessings of Glor’diadel upon Alistair and Canberry.  He then lifted up the crown of the Archduke of Canberry and spoke in a loud, ringing voice.  “By the authority vested in me by the Holy Mother Church;  by the authority vested in you and your family by your bloodline as Archdukes and Emperors of this land; and by this land itself and its people, I invest you as Archduke.  You are bound to the land, and the land to you, from now until you die.”

The Archbishop placed the crown upon Alistair’s head, crying “Long live the Archduke!.”  Alistair felt a rush of energy rising up through his feet and filling his entire body.  Suddenly, in a much more concrete way than he had ever experienced before, Alistair was the Archduke of Canberry.

[End session 19]
-----

A couple of notes.  First, I hope the tension was apparent-- as players, we were very worried going into that duel.  The Master Unbidden rolling three consecutive 20s on his last three saves before the duel didn't help.  Fortunately, his rolls on the representative round of combat were so lousy that it all turned out okay.

Second, we asked whether we got any bonus XP for the Master Unbidden's death (beyond the plot arc completion bonus that we got).  The DM's response:  no, but Lord Davion leveled up.  Given how many XP it takes him to level at this point, we were just fine with that. 

Finally, we all leveled as a result of this session.  Back in the day, the norm was that you wouldn't get land until "name level", or more or less 9th level.  I was tremendously amused that Alistair became 9th level in the same session that he officially became Archduke.

As a thread management question:  I'm thinking of starting a new thread for the continuing adventures, since this is the end of a major storyarc.  I would include a link in this thread, of course, to facillitate following it.  Do people like this idea?  Dislike?  I'm hoping to bring in some new readers who may not want to start reading a thread this long, but might start in the middle.


----------



## Quartz

If it's continuing with the same characters, then count my vote as being for continuing this thread. What you might do is edit an early post to have pointers to the starts of the storyarcs. Look at Jollydoc's Age of Worms Story Hour. As for the length of the thread, I'll point out that a lot of your updates are very small. The postcount is deceptive.


----------



## Quartz

And bravo!


----------



## Ladybird

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> Finally, we all leveled as a result of this session.  Back in the day, the norm was that you wouldn't get land until "name level", or more or less 9th level.  I was tremendously amused that Alistair became 9th level in the same session that he officially became Archduke.




Also, this session took place on Cerebral Paladin's birthday. How many times do you get an archduchy as a birthday present?


----------



## Artoomis

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> ...As a thread management question:  I'm thinking of starting a new thread for the continuing adventures, since this is the end of a major storyarc.  I would include a link in this thread, of course, to facillitate following it.  Do people like this idea?  Dislike?  I'm hoping to bring in some new readers who may not want to start reading a thread this long, but might start in the middle.




Either way, but KEEP GOING...

Fun stuff!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks for the kind words, everyone!

----
[Session 20]

After the coronation itself but before the formal banquet, Kit pulled Alistair--now the Archduke-- aside.  They briefly celebrated having survived and defeated the assassins, and Alistair extended the palace wards to protect Kit.  But after only a few minutes, Kit pulled away and brought out some pieces of parchment.  “M’lord, there are some things we should discuss immediately.  I received a couple of reports when I got back from the coronation.  You should probably just read them.”

[Please see attached Report to the Mouth Regarding Visitors for Coronation.]

“Huh,” said Alistair.  “I’m not sure how to handle any of that…”

“Let’s start with what to do about the visitor from House Despana.  We don’t want to insult her by not recognizing her rank.  Also, I wouldn’t want her to think that we didn’t figure out who she was on our own--that could also insult her.  But she must be in disguise for a reason…”

“Maybe we could recognize her privately?  Treat her in public with her assumed rank, but invite her to a private reception where we address her as who she truly is?”

“That might work, but do we know how the Drow would respond to that sort of thing?  Is there a rule for how they would expect us to handle that?”

“I don’t know.  I know some about elven etiquette, and a tiny amount about Drowan, but that’s well beyond anything I was taught.  We should ask someone discreet to investigate it.  I’ll ask the Lord Chamberlain.”


----------



## Yavathol

Wow, I'm really enjoying this storyline!  Reminds me of the Birthright campaign setting

One thing that was difficult, at least at first, was figuring out what all the names meant...for example, Aphonion is the world, right?  And Drucien is one of the continents?  Is Zorplona Aragoni another continent, or on Drucien?

Is there any chance of a world/continent map please, even a rough one, so we can see how many continents there are and how many states exist in-between, say, Shur and Canberry?  That would make things so much clearer, though I realise it is not your world.


----------



## Baron Opal

I would love more info about the color pools, myself...

(Which I've been trying to get for ~20 years...)


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Assuming that this attachment posts properly, this should help as a map.  It's worth noting that there may be some inconsistencies with the storyhour-- we didn't get this map until after a bunch of stuff had been written.  The big north-south continent is Drucien.  The northern east-west continent is Khamista.  The third continent is Zest'qua.

Zorplona-Argoni is less of a place than a society of slavers.  Thinking something like SPECTRE (or the Scarlet Brotherhood) gets you on the right track.  They do control some chunks of land (like one of the Enclaves in the City of Enclaves), but mostly they divide the world up into areas of influence/control without regard to other countries' borders.

Baron Opal, I can't really help you much with the color pools.  There's a little bit of discussion about them coming up, but only in passing.  Unfortunately, none of the main PCs in this group is particularly interested in them, so we haven't been learning much.

------

Kit nodded.  “What about the Cu’rinirim issue?  It’s pretty clear that Princess Cu’rinirim’s guard captain killed him in self-defense, but I don’t see an easy way out.”

“Yeah.  If we quash it, we have a mess domestically.  If he is tried and convicted, we run the risk of alienating House Cu’rinirim, and we have enough enemies as it is.  But any sort of trial could make things worse.”

“What if we tried to handle it quietly?  Have him acknowledge wrongdoing, fine him, tell him never to return to Canberry…”

Alistair frowned.  “I don’t like it.  He isn’t guilty, if the report is accurate.  I’m not even sure that we could get the Cu’rinirim to agree to it.  It’s one thing to submit to local justice--it’s another thing entirely to admit wrongdoing when they don’t think there is any.  It might insult them if we even ask, or it might make them think we aren’t honorable.” Alistair rubbed his chin as he thought.  “What if we arrange for a judge who we can trust to rule honorably, but the mob will know is against the Noldar?  I was thinking of the half-Eldar who is an advisor to one of my vassals.” Alistair flipped through a stack of parchment.  “Here it is.  Caleoglas Mal’quenwe, advisor to Count of Soaringspire.  I’m pretty sure he would rule honorably, which would mean acquitting the Noldar, but appointing him will make the builder’s family happy, because they will know he hates the Noldar.”

“That could work.” Kit thought about it.  “Are we sure he won’t convict just to hurt House Cu’rinirim?”

“Pretty sure.  I can’t be certain, but I think his sense of honor and commitment to the truth would prevail over his animosity towards the Noldar, especially where the actual defendant would be a Shadowelf, not a Noldar.”

“I like it.  Makes everyone happy-- or maybe it makes everyone unhappy, but not so unhappy that they’ll make trouble.”

“It also gives us an excuse to hold the trial in Soaringspire.  Once the captain goes off in captivity to trial by an elf, most of the locals will think he’s as good as dead, but the Noldar will barely notice.”

“Right.  I think that’s everything we need to deal with now, except for the military situation, and we should take care of that when we can get Dame Brionna’s perspective.”


----------



## Orichalcum

*Post-Coronation Brionna*

Brionna was notably not involved in this discussion? Why? Well, immediately after the coronation, she went to her quarters, informed a guard to alert her only in case of immediate emergency, and fell asleep, barely managing to stay awake long enough to take off her ceremonial armor. Perhaps, she thought, she might dream of her long-awaited paladin's warhorse, which she had had no time to seek since returning to Canberry.

In the two weeks leading up to the coronation, she had slept no more than four hours on any night, and pulled eight all-nighters in her effort to protect Alistair. Paladins are capable of pushing for long periods, especially when they have decent constitutions, but there are limits for anyone, and Dame Brionna had reached hers.

***
On an out-of-character note, it may interest people to note that Dame Brionna stopped taking paladin levels after the return to Canberry and switched into marshal. She's currently 5th level paladin/4th level marshal. She had always conceived of herself as a knight errant, but after suddenly becoming Captain of the Archducal Guard and, functionally, one of the three most important people in the government, she felt that command training, diplomacy, and the ability to assist Alistair and Kit in making will saves was more important than personal military prowess. Her skill and feat selection has totally changed, though she's still a fairly deadly mounted combatant.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Good.  But there are some things I wanted to talk about with you.”

“Yes, m’lord?” said Kit, with a hint of caution in voice.

“Not with you as the Mouth.  Just with you, Kit.  I’d like to give you and Dame Brionna baronetcies, to reward you for your service.”

“Thank you,” said Kit, a little surprised.

“I’ll offer Mahler one as well, although I can’t imagine he’ll take it.  He hasn’t accepted any of the other titles we’ve offered him.”

“Yeah.  Although he did agree to be Chancellor of the Exchequer,” noted Kit.

“Yes, he accepted a position of responsibility.  But he’s turned down the knighthoods that we’ve offered.  If I thought he would accept it, I would have given him a barony for going through everything when he was being attacked by assassins who were really after me.  But he’s always refused.”

“Yeah.  I wonder why…”

“I have a theory.”

“Oh?”

“Well, we know he’s a master of disguise, right?  My theory is that he’s another incognito noble, like I was.”

“Oh, so he won’t accept any titles that would actually be a step down.”

“Right.  He either doesn’t want a knighthood because it’s beneath him as the son of a baron or whatever, or he figures that he left home to get away from that sort of thing and he doesn’t want to go back.  Or maybe he thinks that accepting a title from Canberry would be inconsistent with his oaths in his homeland.  It also explains why he was quick to suggest that I could just stay in disguise, back when we first learned my father had died.”

“Right.  Hmm.  What country do you suppose he comes from?  I hope he isn’t loyal to one of our rivals or enemies.”

“I think we would know if he were.  Besides, he could have gotten me killed any number of times.  He could even have claimed the bounty on me.  I’m sure we can trust him.”

Kit nodded.  “I wasn’t really worried about him.  It’s just… it’s just my job to think about these sorts of things.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“But leaving that aside… I wanted to ask whether you wanted to accept the baronetcy publicly.”

“What does it mean?  I don’t know that I have time to be the noble for some land in addition to my other duties.  Besides the land I have in Lyneham, I mean.”

“Most baronetcies don’t come with substantial land.  We would probably give you a grant from the Treasury to buy an appropriate townhouse and estate, but nothing more than that.  Mostly, it’s just a higher title.  It would mean that you would outrank other knights and have a higher status.  And unlike a knighthood, it’s hereditary, so your eldest child will eventually inherit the baronetcy, and so forth.”

“So my children would be noble, regardless of who their father was?” Kit asked attentively.

“Yes, they would,” responded Alistair with a look on his face like he had just bitten into something sour.

Kit thought about it for a moment, then nodded.  “I think I will accept it then.”

“You know that we won’t be able to prevent people from assuming that it’s because you’re my mistress?”

“But they would be wrong, right?”

“Of course.  You’ve earned this through your own actions and service to the Archduchy.  But it won’t be like the knighthood, where we could try to make people understand that.  Especially because most of your service is secret.”

Kit nodded.  “I understand.  But I think I’ll accept it anyway.  We’ll know that I earned it, and I don’t want to let what they think take away something I’ve earned.”

“Good,” said Alistair with a smile.  “By the way, you should pick a name for your house.”

“For my house?  Shouldn’t that wait until I’ve bought one?”

“No, for your noble house.  For your family.  It’s traditional for baronets to have a house name.  We could just continue calling you ‘Dame Katherine of Lyneham,’ but with the baronetcy title, that would suggest that you were the ruler of all of Lyneham.  So the normal thing would be to add a family name, so that you would be ‘Dame Katherine So-and-so of Lyneham.’”

“Oh.  I’ve never thought about that before… my family never had a family name.”

“I know.  You can just choose one that you would like.  The easiest thing would be to take a variant of my family’s name.  Instead of Ashberry, you might be Ashland or something else -berry or something like that.”  Alistair deliberately failed to mention that people would take that as an even clearer signal of her status as his mistress, since that would ensure that any of her children had a link to his house, something most appropriate for an illegitimate cadet line.  He also did not mention that it would make it extraordinarily difficult for her to ever marry within Canberry.

“Oh.  Can I think about that and get back to you on a name?”  Kit thought, <<I have to ask Dame Pressa about this.  She’ll be able to give me good advice.>>

“Of course.  Take as long as you need, as long as you decide before we have the public ceremony.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair paused.  “I want to talk to you about something else as well.  It’s kind of a related topic.  You seemed a little upset when it was time for the coronation, and you had to be invisible instead of being with me publicly.”

“Yeah.  It was nothing, though.” Kit’s tone belied her words.  “I understand that you have to be the Archduke, and that there isn’t a public place for me with you then.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.  There could be.  We could make your status more official.  I can’t marry you-- but it’s not unheard of for an Archduke to give his lover an official place in the court.”

“What, so I would have the official title of Archduke’s Mistress?” Kit’s question mixed confusion and derision in equal parts.

“Well, no, not in so many words.  But we could give you a more lofty title that would give you public status-- make you a countess or something.  Duchess would probably be too high--we wouldn’t want to offend the current Dukes.  And then we would let it be publicly known that you are my mistress and a major figure within the court.  So instead of our going to things like the coronation banquet separately and maybe finding time for a dance together and some conversation in passing, we would arrive together and you would be announced with me and sat at my side and so forth.  Everyone would quickly understand what that means.”

“Oh.” Kit thought about the possibility.  The idea of having her role defined as Alistair’s mistress made her uncomfortable.  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea…  My role as the Mouth is easier if I keep a lower profile.  People know we’re lovers, but they don’t necessarily assume that I’m part of your inner circle…”

“They probably assume not, in fact.  They would think that if you were, you would have been given higher titles than just a knighthood and baronetcy.  And I agree, it would make things more difficult for you as the Mouth.  It would also interfere with the efforts to arrange a political marriage.  It’s one thing for me to have a quiet relationship on the side, and something else entirely to have a widely acknowledged mistress who has been given high status, especially because of what happened with my father and stepmother.”

“That makes sense.  I think we shouldn’t do it, then.”

“As you wish.  I simply wanted to offer you a way to have a more public position in the court.”

“Yes, I understand.  And thank you.  Knowing that you would be willing to is the most important thing.  But it would create more problems than it solves, and my duties as Mouth have to come first.  And no matter what else happens, I will always be the Mouth.”

Alistair looked at Kit closely, began to open his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.

“What?” asked Kit.  “Say it.”

“And I will always love you,” said Alistair, quietly and tentatively.  Even once he had said it, he wondered if he should have.  He had said things like that before, to other women, but he had always been lying.  This time, he thought he was telling the truth, but wasn’t sure.  And precisely because of the way he felt about Kit, he did not want to say it if it were not true.

Kit’s eyes widened at the statement.  “I love you, too…”  She could not promise that she always would, but she had no doubt that she did right then.


----------



## Quartz

Aww....


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council met for a quick meeting as Alistair dressed for the coronation banquet.

“M’lord, we’ve been getting reports of serious problems in the areas around Caldra and Caligshire,” Kit began.

“What sort of problems?”

“With their armies serving the Abomination of Shur, there are no forces to keep the lands safe, or to deter aggressors.  One of the orcish hordes has taken advantage of this and invaded.”

Dame Brionna added, “I’ve been receiving some reports about this from the military as well.  The Horde of Fury, as it is called, is fairly dangerous, with about 5,000 adult uruk warriors and another 2500 uruk youths.  They are besieging the walled village of Groken.”

Alistair cursed.  “Can we reinforce the village in time?”

“That will be very difficult, m’lord, because of the distance.” said Kit.  “But it’s worse than that.  Derek, the heir to the sheriff of Cogswood, has been leading a group of friends and retainers in trying to deal with the threats and maintain order.”

“Right, we knew about that before.”

“He’s inside Grokken.  If it wasn’t for him, Grokken would probably have fallen by now.  But if we don’t do something, he’ll be killed with the rest of the villagers.”

Alistair turned to Dame Brionna.  “What sorts of troops could we get there in time?”

“Unsupported cavalry might be able to reach it in time, your grace.  Airships are the only other option.”

“And our airships can’t carry any substantial numbers of troops.  A few marines, but that’s about it.”

“They could still provide artillery support, your grace.”

“And they could evacuate Lord Derek if necessary.  We should certainly send the airships.  They can only make the situation better, and we must make sure that Lord Derek survives.  We can’t afford either the distraction of the Sheriff of Cogswood or the eventual instability the loss of his heir would create.  Do we have any cavalry we could get into position in time?”

“Not without uncovering the capital and leaving us with no reserve, your grace.  We’ve already deployed as many troops as we could spare with Field Marshal Brightspan and among the refugees in the South.  If we were willing to send the forces immediately surrounding the capital, the cavalry might be able to reach Groken in time to relieve the garrison, although even they would have difficulty.”

Alistair shook his head, though not without regret.  “We face too many enemies still for that.  If someone attacked and we had no cavalry reserve at all…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What about less conventional troops, m’lord?” suggested Kit.  “Mages or things like that?  Maybe some of Stythus’s people could help?”

“Certainly worth asking.  Hmm.  There is also a substantial sidhe population near there.  We might be able to convince them to help by reaching out through the sidhe of the Vale of Tabawatha.”

“Are they friendly to us?”

“Oh, definitely.  The sidhe who are near Grokken are less close to us than the sidhe of Tabawatha, but even so.  And the links between Canberry and the fey of Tabawatha are ancient; the first Duke was crowned in the Vale and an assassin struck one of the sidhe princesses with a poisoned arrow intended for him.”

“I would have thought that would make them hostile to us, your grace,” said Dame Brionna.

“It could have, but the Bishop of Glor’diadel was able to heal her, where she would have died without his aid.  In gratitude, they have always sent a noble as an observer to our coronations, and the ties have only strengthened in the intervening time.”

“Then we should definitely speak to them, m’lord.  With their powers of illusion and enchantment, they might be able to distract the uruks or lead them away from Grokken.”  Kit looked at Dame Brionna thoughtfully.  “Perhaps I should handle that?  Brionna’s aversion to chaos might be a problem.”

“Good idea.  And I’ll be busy speaking with Lady Susan of Furrows and the Sheriff of Cogswood.  They both need to be informed, and Furrows will need to mobilize its army in response.”

“Indeed, your grace.  I think the main question is whether you should order all of the Archduchy’s vassals to mobilize their troops.”

“It’s worth thinking about…” replied Alistair.  “But I’m hesitant to do so unnecessarily.  There will be people who respond negatively, especially this early in my reign.  Let’s hold off for the moment.  If the problem becomes more serious than just the attack on Grokken, we can do so then.  Besides, it would take any troops from neighboring duchies too long to get to Grokken to save the village.”

“What about asking Lady Brightspan to send some of her devils?” asked Dame Brionna.  When the other Council members boggled, she shrugged.  “They are expendable.  Any devils that are lost fighting the uruks would still be a gain.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” responded Alistair.  “We still can’t fully trust her, and I don’t want to encourage the Duchy of Brightspan to begin intervening in the neighboring duchies.  Let’s see if we can’t handle this with more conventional forces, and the fey.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

With that, the Council dispersed to carry out their respective assignments.  Kit approached the sidhe observer where he sat calmly in a garden, encouraging the plants to grow.  The flowers had already become much more dense and colorful than they had been just a few days earlier.  She had been told that he was very old, although there was no way to tell directly from looking at him, and had been acting remarkably sane.  Dame Pressa also told her that the normal form of address for all sidhe nobles was “great lord,” but Kit could not resist using this noble’s particularly entertaining honorific.  “Pardon me, Flower Lord…”

As Kit prepared to introduce herself, the sidhe lord smiled at her.  “Yes, Dame Katherine of Lyneham?”

“We wished to speak with you about something.”

“We?  Oh, yes, you are part of the Archducal Council, aren’t you?  Should we go to the council room then?  I assume the room will want to participate in the conversation.”

“The room, Flower Lord?” Kit asked in confusion.

“Of course.  My council chamber is one of my most trusted advisors.  Doesn’t the Archduke rely on his?”

“Uh, no  The council chamber doesn’t say anything.”

“It just listens?”  Where Kit had been a little confused, the sidhe lord was amazed, although he then nodded slowly.  “Ah, I had noticed that most of your walls are mute.  I just assumed that the council chamber would be different.  How sad it must be for them to have to just listen, never saying anything.  Perhaps I should try to help the walls find their voices…  Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?”

“Not exactly, Flower Lord.  That would probably be a bad idea, really.  We actually wanted to talk to you about an uruk horde that is besieging one of our villages, Grokken, in the Duchy of Furrows.  It’s near a sidhe sept, and we thought…”

“You wish our brave knights of the Flower to relieve the village!” the sidhe said excitedly.

“You could,” said Kit, “or you could distract and mislead them.  If your forces can defeat the uruks, that would be perfect.  But we thought there might be a few too many of them, and since they probably are easily fooled by illusions, your glamours might be able to lead them away.”

“I shall inform Lord Daisytop, as his tor is much closer than ours.  He will send either troops or a thousand giggling pixies, or both.”

“You have our thanks for anything that you can do.”  Kit resolved to have Stythus report on how effective the sidhe were.  She liked the Flower Lord, and she certainly could not complain about his enthusiasm, but somehow she was not entirely convinced that he would take care of things.  She didn’t expect a lot of focus from those troops.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Stythus contacted a few of his friends from the Plane of Air, and a group of four young air elementals, about the same age as him, set forth to scout out the enemy army and to report.  They would not be able to do more than a little harrying, if that much, but they would provide substantially more information about the threat.

Alistair met briefly with each of the Sheriff of Cogswood and Lady Susan of Furrows.  The Sheriff was, as expected, terrified to hear of the danger his son was in.  Alistair assured him that the Archduchy would do everything it could to ensure his son’s safety, but he understood the situation.  No amount of intervention could eliminate all of the danger his heir-apparent would face, and the very features of courage and gallantry that made the Sheriff so proud of his son would make it difficult to extract him easily.

Lady Susan also quickly understood the gravity of the situation.  She agreed with Alistair that there was no need to involve the Duke of Furrows in dealing with the uruks; even knowing about the attack would upset him greatly, but he would be unable to give any constructive aid.  Lady Susan agreed to dispatch the two legions of horse archers that formed the bulk of the Furrows army to relieve Grokken.  It would not be without risk, as that would leave the capital of Furrows largely undefended, but even the small infantry guard there should be sufficient to hold the heavy walls and fortifications against anything short of another entire uruk horde.  Because a quick and decisive victory against the Horde of Fury was the best way to deter other hordes from attacking, the risk was worthwhile.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After discussing the scouting mission with Stythus, Dame Brionna went to attend to a meeting that had fallen by the wayside up to this point.  For several days, Grand Dame Sophia of the Order of the Pure Azure Flame had sought an audience with members of the Archduke’s inner circle, but the meeting had not been scheduled because of more pressing matters.  The Orders of Flames were powerful, but not on a level with major realms.  Grand Dame Sophia had perhaps the same level of influence as the head of a major merchant house.  Additionally, each of the Orders was dedicated to a single religion, and the Order of the Pure Azure Flame was Paranswarmian.  While her request was still sufficient to arrange a meeting, it did not need to be handled as expeditiously as a request from the Grand Dame of the Order of the Pure White Flame, the Glor’diadelian order, would have been.

Grand Dame Sophia rose as Dame Brionna entered the audience chamber.  The Grand Dame was a striking woman-- not young by any stretch, but extraordinarily expert in the use of at least cosmetics and likely also magics that both concealed and staved off aging.  She was dressed in formal robes, in a perfect azure of course, with an unusual heraldic badge of sorts on her chest.  She bowed politely to Dame Brionna.  “Thank you for accepting my petition for a meeting.”

“I am sorry that we did not join you sooner, but his grace has survived thirty-three assassination attempts in the recent weeks.  We had been rather preoccupied dealing with those.”

“Indeed.  I would not have wished to draw your attention away from such matters.   Nonetheless, my Order has important information of which we wish the Archduke apprised.”  Grand Dame Sophia paused for a moment to choose her words with care.  “We would see stability in this realm, because this realm stabilizes the entire South.  I first approached my counterpart in the Order of the Pure White Flame with the information I bring, but religion and ideological differences intervened.  The Grand Dame of that Order would not believe that I spoke truth--she thought I sought to slander her Order and create additional difficulties.

“The vast majority of your enemies have been dealt with, or will be drawn into confrontations inevitably that will be won, according to my divinations.  But there is another figure that stands behind, a master of deceptions, a master of lies.  Victory against him is not inevitable.”

Dame Brionna responded to a rap upon the door, opening the door a crack.  “With your permission, Grand Dame, I would ask that you allow Dame Katherine of Lyneham to join us.”

“I would be most pleased to make her acquaintance as well.”

Kit walked in.  She was a little surprised that the Grand Dame stood and bowed at her entrance, but she was getting more used to such things.  She returned the bow, somewhat more awkwardly, and gestured for Grand Dame Sophia to sit again as she slipped into her own chair.

The Grand Dame smiled.  “I am pleased to see that the Archduchy has taken my request so seriously that you have arranged a meeting with the two most powerful women in the Archduchy.”

Kit startled at that description.  For a moment she thought that it was intended as mockery, but then realized that it was serious.  What was even harder to deal with was the realization that it might be true.  She swallowed and responded, “Given the urgency of your messages, we thought that it was only fitting to meet with you personally.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“As I said, you have my Order’s thanks.  As I was explaining to Dame Brionna, the enemies that one can see have either been neutralized or are in a position where destiny weighs in your favor. The final battle with the demonlord of cats will be more vicious, but I can see that he will fail.  The binding to the land will give the Archduke another push, another strength in the struggle.  That is beyond the Abomination of Shur, and it will be defeated.

“However, there is one behind.  I cannot get a clear reading.  My focus is divination, and I have spent many years attaining a mastery of my field.  But I have been unable to even see his surroundings or characteristics.  He is a master of deception, a master of lies.”

“You say ‘he’ is; are you certain of the enemy’s gender then?” asked Kit.

“I am certain that he is male.”

Dame Brionna nodded thoughtfully.  “Based on what you’ve said, he must be enormously powerful, to be beyond such as the Abomination.  Are we talking about an evil god?”

“I do not think a god,” replied Grand Dame Sophia judiciously.  “Gods are bound by the Compact, except Borsh’tro, and his stench is unmistakable.  A demon-lord, perhaps?  A Baron, an Earl?  I approached my sister, but differences in ideology and faith can blind us to what we do not wish to see.  But you can act, and I am convinced that this deceiver has infiltrated the Order of the Pure White Flame.  It has not touched my sister, but she is oblivious and will not clean her own house.  And if I understand the rules of the Order within this realm, the government cannot do anything until a crime has been committed.  Since the faith of Glor’diadel does not maintain an Inquisition… the government must keep an even more vigilant eye.”

“And the government does keep a vigilant eye,” said Kit.  “But what makes you so certain that the Order of the Pure White Flame has been infiltrated?”

“I have seen them in visions.  Not their faces, but there are three of them.  One is a woman who has sought refuge with them, who has some reason to hate the Archduke.”

Kit closed her eyes momentarily, both in sadness and to focus her thoughts.  “Does this image match that one?”  She projected an image of Baroness Francesca’s sister into the Grand Dame’s mind.

“Yes, that is the one who has fled to them.  I think she is a pawn in this.”

“She is a pawn,” Kit said definitively.  “She has been hurt terribly and lied to.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” replied the Grand Dame, with a tone of true compassion.  “But she will be a danger.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Is there any way that we can remove the danger?  Draw her out of the influences?”

“Perhaps, but the key to that does not lie with her.  There is an image that moves in the North, and that could be the Archduke.  I know that it is not.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “There is someone impersonating his grace.”

“It is more than impersonation; it is of his essence!” The Grand Dame gestured emphatically.  “If I did not have the Second Sight, I would be unable to tell, and I have been trained in observation all my life.”

“That could be the master of deception you spoke of.”

“Perhaps.  If I had to guess, I would say that the false one even believes that he is the Archduke Alistair.”

“Do all of the Grand Dames have the Second Sight?”  asked Kit.  “How could the head of the Order of the Pure White Flame remain oblivious then?”

“I was picked for having both the Gift and Arcane power.  Not all of the Great Dames have both, but it is better when they do.  My sister in the Order of the Pure White Flame does not.”

“I still want to focus on the nature of the imposter,” said Dame Brionna.

“It seems to me that somehow, at sometime, probably in the last two or three years, someone has obtained items of Lord Alistair’s.  Possibly blood, possibly… other bodily fluids,” the Grand Dame said awkwardly, with a quick glance in Kit’s direction.

Kit said quickly, “Yes, we understand.  Unfortunately, that’s all too plausible.”  She added a curse under her breath about Alistair’s behavior.

Grand Dame Sophia cleared her throat and continued, “And has used them to mock him in this one.  If, perhaps-- obviously you, Dame Brionna and Alistair’s other confidants, cannot leave Canberry any time in the next several years, but-- if you have trusted ones, you should send them north.  If you can bring the false one back alive, you can then break the threat.”

Dame Brionna nodded curtly.  “We do have trusted agents we can send.”

“When you say that we could break the threat, could we release Baroness Francesca’s sister from their hold?”

“Indeed, and identify the three who are traitors.  Uncoerced testimony would, I believe, be enough to allow you to question them.”

“It would,” confirmed Dame Brionna.

“Then, as I said, all may be well if you send your agents north to bring this one back alive.”

“We’ll take care of it,” assured Kit.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Grand Dame Sophia smiled and relaxed.  “I am glad to hear it.  I must say, I was worried that I would not be listened to, especially with the delay before you met with me.  It was quite necessary, of course, but I was still concerned.  Some nobles do not wish to hear anything that comes from beyond their own circle, especially when the matters touch on their… indiscretions.   And while I have achieved a certain rank, I am not of high birth.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Kit.  “I’m not exactly of the blood myself.”

“I forgot that you, as I, rose from beneath.  It is well that the Archduke relies on those he can trust, regardless of their origins.”

“Can you tell us anything about the other traitors, besides the one who sought refuge?” pressed Dame Brionna.

“I have no idea of the other two at all.  There are hundreds in this city’s order house, and three other order houses within the borders of your realm.  I do not even know which order house they are in.  If only Grand Dame Vivian was not so pig-headed, she could order a purge of her order, but she believes I am only trying to cause trouble.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Wow, the temples of Glor'diadel and Paranswarm are positively chums in this game. Is this a product of the locale or have relations between the two improved over time?

I remember a very different Paranswarm.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I think the main thing is that relations have improved over time.  The work of Paranswarm in the Ecumenical Council has really pulled it towards being viewed as a lawful neutral, anti-Borsh'tro religion.  But there's still lots of distrust and animosity.  None of the PCs in this campaign like Paranswarm.  We just think we need to work with the temple for the greater good.  Also, the PCs are friendlier with Paranswarmians than we would have been because of the role of the Inquisitor General in saving their lives, sacrificing himself against the Noldar.  That made a big impact.  Before that point, I would say we really distrusted and disliked Paranswarm.  Now we just distrust and dislike them, but need to work with them. 

* * *

While Dame Brionna and Kit discussed matters with Grand Dame Sophia, Alistair responded to an urgent request from Lady Meredith the Dazzling of Northern Aurelian for a private meeting.  In light of Lady Meredith’s sterling reputation, great power and influence, and close friendship with his grandmother, Alistair had immediately responded that he would be available at her convenience.

Lady Meredith was an elegant and stately half-elven woman.  She was clearly very old, even for a half-elf, but she retained a graceful manner and alert, piercing eyes.  In many ways, she reminded Alistair of his grandmother--not during her last days, but as she had been before he left Canberry.  Lady Meredith was done up in cloth of laen, with the high glass worked to the point that it was flexible enough to be worn.  Such a level of craftsmanship was so rare, even among the elves, that Alistair had never heard of laen cloth before, let alone seen it.  Lady Meredith’s hair was done in long strands, with beads of laen and mithril worked in.  The effect was tasteful and attractive, but Alistair knew enough to realize that she wore a large fortune as casual decoration.  The Archmage stepped in and curtsied politely to Alistair, receiving a polite bow in return.

Lady Meredith began speaking without preamble.  “Well, I must say, in these last few weeks you have done your grandmother proud, my dear.  I come for three reasons:  first, you have two orc hordes, the Horde of Fury in Caldra, plus another in Caligshire.  There are nine hordes, in the west.  You must defeat them quickly, to prevent the others from getting aggressive.  For that reason, I offer the use of my battle disks.”

“Thank you, Lady Meredith.”  The battle disks could travel faster and were more maneuverable than Canberry’s vollers.  While they would not be able to evacuate many people or to carry an army into position, they would provide incomparable platforms for spell casters to rain attacks upon the hordes from a safe position.  “We have already begun our response to the incursion, but your assistance will be most helpful and we gratefully accept it.”

“The second reason I have come is that I think you will need this kerchief.  It is a neckpiece of the cavalier.  When you are wearing it, you will gain the ability to ride most proficiently.  I do not quite understand why you were not properly trained in horsemanship, but you may have need of riding skill, and this kerchief will remedy that deficiency.”  [The neckpiece provides a +15 bonus to Ride checks.]

“We thank you for this gift as well.  You should perhaps know of the background to that.  I was, in fact, trained in horsemanship.  However, the enemies of Canberry used a Thorian artifact set to erase my riding instructor from history.  Along with all memories of the instructor, I lost all of the skills he taught.  We have recovered the artifact and are seeking to obtain access to a Noldar crystal that would allow us to reverse its effects, but until we have done so, I will have certain deficiencies.”

Lady Meredith nodded thoughtfully.  “I could not understand how Amelia could have allowed her son to neglect your education, but the use of hostile magic explains that.  Have you lost other teachers?”

Alistair nodded.  “My strategy instructor.  And my mother.”

Lady Meredith shook her head sadly.  “Great losses, indeed.  This has explained much, but there is little I can do for now, beyond the neckpiece.  I wish you good fortune in recovering the means to restore them.”

“Thank you.”  Alistair paused.  “You said that you came for three reasons, though.  We have only discussed two.”

“The third reason I have already accomplished.  I wanted to make it sure that you were actually you.”

“You know of the imposter, then.”

“Indeed.  It was most difficult to determine without personal observation whether the Alistair that is here or the Alistair that is in the North was the true you.  Had the alternate Alistair ascended to the Archducal throne… it hardly bears thinking on.  I would have needed to intervene.  Now, however, there is no doubt.  You are Amelia’s grandson, and the one in the North is an imposter.”


----------



## Orichalcum

To be fair, it wasn't actually "the enemies of Canberry" who eliminated Alistair's riding knowledge. That was the Eldar experimenting, as I recall.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

True enough, if you care about precise factual accuracy.  Obviously, Alistair doesn't.   (To be honest, I'm just glad the Eldar didn't have a more important person to test it on....)

* * *

Young Lord Brightspan knocked politely and entered the room.  “Dame Brionna and Dame Katherine wish to inform your grace that they have returned.  They await in the Council chamber.”

“Oh, please, have them join us, my dear,” said Lady Meredith.  “We have concluded the matters that I wished to keep private, and there are some matters of state that we should discuss.”

Alistair nodded to his page, who quickly went to fetch the knights.  They knew that something unusual was taking place, because there had been two immaculate minotaur guards in mithril half-armor and with mithril horseshoes supplementing the Archducal guards outside Alistair’s chambers, but they had not understood the significance.  Dame Brionna and Kit entered and Alistair introduced them to Lady Meredith, who smiled and greeted them warmly.

“I am an old friend of his grace’s family, and we were taking a moment to catch up and discuss matters.  But I am glad that you have joined us for the next discussion.

“As you know, Lady Amelia was a member of a fairly secret order centered in my Enclave, but covering the entire north of the continent of Drucien.  I tell you this because you probably do not know that her passing has left a void in the South.  We have always had one and often two south of the Barrier Mountains.  Now we have none.  We are an order devoted to the rule of law, good government, the end of slavery, and, for some of us, the ending of the eating of beef.  I ask that you consider, even in the absence of a mage of her power, appointing an associate member to the Order of Northern Aurelian for the good of all the lands of Drucien.”

“Of course, we would be happy to nominate a new member, although it may take us a little while to identify the right person.”  Alistair paused for a moment in thought.  “All of the members of your Order that I have known of have been women.  Does your Order accept male members, or should we concentrate on identifying a female wizard?”

“The Order does not discriminate on the basis of gender, although you are correct that most of our members happen to be women.  We currently count two male wizards among our number, a gnomish artificer and an elven archmagus out of the Forest of Singing Leaves, although he now lives in a keep north of the mountains, because that is where his research has taken him.”

“Very well.  We will consider who the best nominee would be, and then we will let you know.”

The discussions continued for some time, and then Lady Meredith excused herself to prepare for the banquet.  [I have a note here that they discussed “the evil fae.”  I can’t figure out what that refers to, although it might be a reference to the Privy Secretary’s mother.]


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Just dropping in to express my continued admiration for this storyhour - and its updating schedule.   

Whether you start a new thread or keep this one going, I don't care - just keep going!!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks!

* * *

When Kit returned to her chambers, Dame Pressa was waiting to dress her.  “Did you pick out a scent for the banquet?”

“I don’t know… one of the nice flowery ones?”

Dame Pressa nodded judiciously.  “We can do flowery.”  She gestured to a couple of lady’s maids, who quickly stepped forward, helped Kit into more “appropriate” garments, and cinched her in.

“I’ll be carrying these,” said Kit definitively, holding up her jeweled fan and the shawl.

“The fan will work perfectly, of course.  It even looks to be elven-made, which will give you a certain cachet.  As for the shawl… black isn’t really.... Oh!”  Dame Pressa stopped mid-sentence as the shawl changed color, without any apparent action on Kit’s part, and matched Kit’s dress.  “Yes, that will be fine.  I trust you’ll be wearing your hair up, Dame Katherine?”

“I guess so…”  Kit recognized from Dame Pressa’s tone that she was only nominally being given a choice.

“Excellent.  We’ll be able to make do with just twelve pins, especially with the jeweled combs that came earlier.”

“Jeweled combs?” asked Kit suspiciously.  “Did they come with a card?”

“No, Dame Katherine.  I presume that you have an admirer who recognizes that it would not be appropriate to give you presents openly, because of your relationship with His Grace.”

“Maybe,” said Kit dubiously.  “Or maybe it’s more sinister.  Put them aside.  I’m not going to wear anything from an unknown source until we have fully examined them for magic, psionics, and other possible dangers.”

“Yes, Dame Katherine.”  Dame Pressa moved the jeweled hair combs away and laid out a set of other hairpins.  “Now then…”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit looked down at her blouse in concern, tugging and adjusting it.  “Blast!  How am I supposed to hide a dagger in this stupid outfit?  I know it would look strange if I wore a sword, but I’m not going unarmed.” 

Dame Pressa coughed.  “A hairpin dagger, perhaps?” 

“Yes, that would do.” 

“Very good, Dame Katherine.  It will be the one furthest to the left.”  Dame Pressa continued working on Kit’s hair, carefully piling it up into an elaborate arrangement.  After several minutes of work, she stepped back, looked Kit over, and gave a small nod followed by a smile.  “That will do, Dame Katherine.  If you would care for a mirror?” 

Kit spent a moment looking at the mirror.  The length of the process and the restrictions imposed by the clothing were more than a little frustrating, but she couldn’t argue with the results.  “Thank you, Dame Pressa.  I look beautiful.” 

Dame Pressa just smiled happily in response. 

“Now then… I want to look at those combs more closely.  If someone is trying to attack me, they may have made other attacks as well.”  Kit reached out with her mind, checking the gems on the combs for psionic activity.  Sure enough, she immediately sensed the characteristic energy focused on what were actually small crystals.  With her mind open, she could feel a gentle hum from the crystals, but it was not threatening.  In fact, it was very soothing.  All of Kit’s concerns about the banquet ebbed away.  Kit felt extremely calm and sedate, more so than she had at any time since she met Alistair and the constant threats had begun. 

“There,” said Dame Pressa as she finished applying the perfume.  “You’re all set.” 

“Uh-huh.  Yup.” 

“Are you feeling all right, dear?” 

“Everything’s fine.”  Kit became extraordinarily cooperative with Dame Pressa. 

Dame Pressa gave Kit an interminable set of instructions about deportment, how to sit for best effect, how to manage her long skirt, and so forth, and Kit simply smiled, nodded, and agreed placidly, much to Dame Pressa’s relief.  She decided that Kit was one of those ladies who fussed and fretted during the actual process of dressing, but then relaxed and became genial as soon as fully prepared.  She made a mental note of that--knowing Kit’s pattern would make future preparations much easier. 

Where Kit simply had to deal with Dame Pressa, Alistair was robed by committee.  The chamberlain and chancellor each had their say as to what garments the Archduke had to wear for his first official function.  Alistair noted with amusement that a favorite stuffed animal from his childhood had been slipped into one of the pockets--apparently Mommy Cupcakes was also on the committee.  Alistair simply did as he was asked, knowing that any efforts to control what he wore would simply make things more tedious.


----------



## Quartz

What an interesting cursed item!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Finally, they all entered the Great Hall.  The Archduchess Amelia rarely used the Great Hall--even Alistair had only eaten there a half-dozen times.  But it was perfect for a large state banquet, with enough room to hold hundreds of guests and magical lighting that made it seem bright as daylight.  Alistair spent most of his time meeting with various guests and accepting their congratulation.

Dame Brionna approached Kit as Alistair returned to the head table to actually eat a little food.  “I hope you don’t mind that we weren’t able to seat you by Alistair.  It would have been a little too awkward.  And I hope you aren’t finding the formality difficult.”

“It’s fine,” replied Kit serenely.  “Everything is fine.”  She paused for a moment.  “I look pretty in this dress.  And they gave me this perfume.  It’s flowery…”

“Umm, yes,” replied Dame Brionna, a little taken aback by Kit’s responses.  It was just as well that she was not overly nervous or concerned, but something seemed off.

“And people are sending me gifts.”

“‘People?’  People who?”

“I don’t know.  They didn’t include a note, but I’m sure they’re nice…”

“What sort of presents?”

“These jeweled hair combs.  I didn’t wear them.”  Kit looked at Dame Brionna sharply for a moment, before fading back to a placid expression.  “I don’t know why you would worry.  It’s all fine.”

Dame Brionna hurried away from Kit, who seemed unperturbed by the abrupt departure, to Princess Cecilia.  “Can you look at Dame Katherine and make sure she’s not possessed or something?’

“Oh, she’s not possessed,” replied Alistair’s aunt. “She’s just being ridden by a mindflayer.  It can’t do anything to her.  It’s just keeping her calm and watching.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“A mindflayer?” echoed Dame Brionna in horror.  “Can anything be done about it?  Can you throw it out of her?” 

“Oh, it would splatter me all over the high table,” said Princess Cecilia calmly.  “And people would be upset.” 

“Could it use her to attack the Archduke?” 

“Oh, no.  Let’s see...”  The princess studied Kit more carefully.  “The Didactic of Horloq--that’s its sect.  It wanted a close up view, and it didn’t get an invitation.  It’s just watching, observing… and enjoying the appetizers.” 

“It crashed?  That’s just rude!”  After a moment, Dame Brionna returned to focusing on the security breach, rather than the etiquette of the situation.  She sent a quick note to the Minister of the Mind asking him to have a psionic exorcist meet them in the powder room.  With the preparations made, Dame Brionna hurried back to Kit.  “Kit?  We need to go powder our noses.”  She grabbed Kit’s arm firmly and began pulling her along. 

“What?  Oh, alright, I’ll come with you if you need to go.  I’ve just been enjoying the stuffed mushroom things… have you tried them?” 

“Um, no, I’ve been busy…”  Dame Brionna hustled Kit into the bathroom, where a very pale young male gnome psion met them.  He fidgeted nervously, looking around like at any moment people were going to scream about his being in the women’s bathroom.  Kit just looked at him a little--it was odd that there was a man here, but she was sure that it was fine.  Dame Brionna pushed Kit towards him.  “Good, you’re here.  She has an illithid in her.  We need it banished.” 

“An illithid?” asked Kit, momentarily worried before the feeling of calm washed back over her and she relaxed again.  “It isn’t Alvin, is it?  If it is, tell him he’s fired…”  By the time she finished that statement, Kit’s voice had gone completely back to the dreamy tones she had been using and her face returned to a placid smile. 

The gnome nodded and murmured, “I see what you mean.”  He slipped out a crown made of many crystals wired together--perhaps the ugliest piece of jewelry either Kit or Dame Brionna had ever seen.  He put the crown on, pulled a small and inexplicable device out of another pouch, spun a wheel on the device, and concentrated. 

Suddenly, Kit had full control of her mind again.  “Ugh!  Where is it?” 

“It’s out,” answered the psion.  “It’s quite upset-- I think it’s young.” 

“Yes, but where is it?” 

“I just ejected its astral form.  It would now be back in its own body.” 

“How did it penetrate the palace defenses?  Can it come back?” 

“I shouldn’t think so.  The wards are quite strong--much too strong for even most adult mindflayers.  It had to have ridden an artifact in.” 

“Those blasted combs,” said Kit.  “I knew they were dangerous, but it clouded my thinking after I examined them.” 

“At least you’re free now,” said Dame Brionna. She thanked the psion, who rapidly fled the women’s bathroom.  “We should get back to the banquet.  We don’t want people noticing our absence or trying anything while we’re gone.” 

Kit nodded, still seething.  They returned, and the rest of the banquet passed uneventfully.  Kit felt a little awkward as Alistair approached her, danced with her once, and then moved on, but she knew that that was the most that they could do at such a public event.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The following day, Abigail announced visitors to the Council from the entourage of the Ambassador of Dhoren.  A mindflayer entered, dragged a very small illithid over to Kit, and gestured to the small one imperiously. 

In a tiny mental voice the young illithid said, <<I am sorry.  I took advantage of a free-willed person with the combs; we are of the Didactic of Horloq, and we don’t do those sorts of things.>> 

“You’re very lucky,” said Dame Brionna.  “We could have responded with violence.” 

The adult illithid--possibly the young one’s parent--replied, “We are most grateful for your forbearance.  Please, accept the apologies of the Didactic.  I thought we had trained him better than that.” 

Kit smiled, still a little angry but also amused.  “We accept your apology.  But please, don’t do that again.” 

<<I won’t,>> the young illithid promised.  <<But the mushrooms were very tasty.>> 

After the illithid departed, they went over a couple of other reports.  Most of the ambassadors and dignitaries who were not permanently stationed in Canberry were preparing to depart over the next few days.  The one major exception was Lord Silverleaves, who had had such an exciting time that he was looking to buy a townhouse.  He had informed the chamberlain that he was planning on staying for a short period to learn more about humans.  Based on their prior experiences with his sense of time, the Council concluded that a “short period” was likely to be decades long.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair turned to Dame Brionna.  “Now that the coronation is over, there are several things we should discuss.”

“Yes, your grace?”

“First, I intend to grant you and Kit baronetcies in thanks for your service.”

Dame Brionna startled.  “Thank you, your grace.”

“The second is a less happy matter.  When I asked Reverend Canon Toddle about Princess Anastasia, I also asked him whether he could see anything about Sir Denro.”

Dame Brionna swallowed.  “Is he dead, your grace?”

“No.  He is enslaved by the ratmen.”

“But your grace, that’s good news.  We can rescue him.”

“And we shall rescue him.  But he has likely suffered greatly, and it may not be easy to bring him back.  Also, you should know that some of what Father Toddle said was particularly worrisome.  He saw Sir Denro rowing on a slave galley that carried a great stone device as they approached an island of black stone.  He also said that the one near the stone device must not be allowed to have children-- I do not know if that referred to any who are near it or some specific individual.”

“We hadn’t particularly planned on children, anyway, your grace.  My sister’s line will continue my family.”

“Ah.  Then would you like the baronetcy to have a special remainder allowing Abigail to inherit?”

“Yes, your grace, thank you,” said Dame Brionna, surprised by Alistair’s thoughtfulness.  “Do we know where this island is?”

“No, but I think we know enough that we will be able to find it.”  He showed her the rest of the letter.  “If you wish to take a leave to quest after him, we would be happy to allow it.”

“No… I have my duties here, and they must come first.  I’ll find another way to arrange for his rescue.  Unless you are displeased with my performance as guard captain and want an opportunity to replace me?”

“No, not at all.  We would miss your services greatly.  But I wanted to make it clear that you could go if you felt the need to.”  Alistair paused.  “I can’t promise that I will devote the full resources of the Archduchy to this--our military is needed too badly to deal with the Abomination of Shur.  But I promise that we will find him and bring him back.  One of my duties to you as one of my vassals is to protect you and your family, and I will carry out that duty.  Once we know exactly where he is, we will send a rescue force.”

Kit added, “I’ll have my people start looking for the island.  Don’t worry-- we’ll find him.”

“Thank you.  Thank you both.”


----------



## Orichalcum

> “We hadn’t particularly planned on children, anyway, your grace.  My sister’s line will continue my family.”




Just to add a little bit of detail here - Sir Denro, as it turns out, is actually gay, and Brionna's just not very interested in being a mother or even sex in general (unlike Alistair and Kit!) They were childhood best friends, and when their parents suggested a marriage to unite the families, they happily agreed, as it was far better than most of the other possible options. But they are in no sense romantically in love, and any marriage would presumably have been one of duty and friendship.


----------



## Quartz

Orichalcum said:
			
		

> But they are in no sense romantically in love, and any marriage would presumably have been one of duty and friendship.




FWIW From a RW historical POV that makes no difference - indeed the latter would have been a plus. Indeed the dynastic element has always been strong, so if an opportunity to rid Sir Denro of his curse were offerred, it would be in (RW) character to follow it.


----------



## GrandArchon

Orichalcum said:
			
		

> Sir Denro, as it turns out, is actually gay...




Just a random passer-by whose been reading your story- but I mean to ask, what is the Glor’diadelian Church's opinion on homosexuality? I assume it must be different for every region and sect. And I take it that the Church in the Archduchy is probably more liberal than most?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Hi Grand Archon!  Thanks for dropping by.  I'll answer your question as best as I can below.

Quartz:  There's a lot of truth to that, but remember that Dame Brionna is a younger child.  But for the titles she's earning for herself, all of the family inheritance will go to her sister's children (presumably mainly to Abigail).  Having penniless noble cousins is not necessarily a good thing...

Grand Archon:  It's not entirely clear.  My best guess is that the Church has no opposition to homosexuality anywhere, but I don't know for certain that's true.  In general, Aphonion is highly heteronormative, in the sense that I have never seen a same-sex marriage in the game world or social conventions to allow for a noble to not marry a member of the opposite sex and yet still produce legitimate heirs.  However, I've also never seen anti-gay bias in the game world.  Mostly, the occasional gay characters have relationships on the sly, often with a fair amount of being closeted, but don't face condemnation for it.

It's worth noting that the DM is gay and out.  He also typically has PCs randomly generate orientation and lust levels.  (Thus, Alistair and Kit's characters are both meaningfully affected by having rolled high lusts, while Dame Brionna rolled low on lust.)  But the social norms are fairly conservative in what's expected but without the condemnation that was historically present in the real world.

I would also draw a comparison to the treatment of sex (in the sense of male-female distinctions).  There are powerful female characters and they can become monarchs and so forth, but there's a lot of implicit patriarchy and a general assumption that military officers, knights, priests, and so forth are male unless they happen to be distinctive for being female.  It's sorta nominally egalitarian but without the deeper care and work necessary to make a game world fully egalitarian.  (And of course with regard to sex discrimination, there is regional variation, with some very male dominated areas and some matriarchal areas, but with most in a sorta "egalitarian but with patriarchal assumptions.")

And now, on to the storyhour:
-----
[Session 21]

The following day began with a few routine but important tasks.  Alistair used his new power as the Archduke to confer the protection of the palace wards on a list of trusted and important people, including the other members of the Archducal Council.  Dame Brionna reported multiple requests for audiences.  The Archbaroness of Mandrath, as representative of the Holy See of Paranswarm and the Council of Thirteen, sent a request for an audience with the Council and preferably with “His Divine Grace.”  She had phrased the request in the most carefully polite manner and engraved it in cloth of platinum.  The Council of Thirteen is the ruling council of hierarchs of the Temple of Paranswarm and consists of eleven ecclesiastical leaders, the Protector and Defender of the Faith, and the Archbaroness herself as the one secular member.  Dame Brionna also reported that the Archbaroness had delivered the Temple’s official gift, a chest filled with 5,000 platinum.  Alistair observed that that was a fairly standard gift from the Temple to a major non-Paranswarmian ruler, although also perhaps the least that they could give without being impolite.

A young male drow brought the second audience request.  He was unarmed--from which it could be presumed he was in abject servitude--and carried a message requesting an audience for the Matron Mother of Dispania.  He did not identify her as more than the Matron Mother of the house in a single city, but he also did not identify a specific city.  The chamberlain had concluded that this was fully consistent with the usual pattern of a Matron Mother of Matron Mothers, because publicly announcing her position would encourage a host of assassins to attack her.  It was all but inconceivable that the ruling Matron Mother of a drowan great house would not have a substantial price on her head.  Even if the assassins all failed, they would be a nuisance and a distraction, so traveling incognito would make matters simpler and more efficient.

The Council resolved to deal with the audience requests later in the day.  In the meantime, they decided that Canberry needed a means to fight the disinformation that its enemies were spreading.  Kit asked her secretary who the best rumormongers in the court were.

Her secretary nodded thoughtfully.  “You need to know who to pass news to so that it will spread.  A wise thought.  As with so many other aspects of the court, I’m afraid it’s a little unsettled right now.  A couple of the matrons are still passable, but none are nearly as good at it as Lady Horskirt was.”

“But Lady Horskirt…”

“Was very close to the late Archduchess, yes; she followed her at the funeral.  You will need a noble lady, of course.  Mistress Tuttle, for example, is an excellent tongue-wag, but not noble, so no one takes her seriously.”


----------



## Fimmtiu

Just finished chewing through this thread -- marvellously done! Political games are tricky to run well, but this one is a real gem. The frequent update schedule is really impressive, too. Keep it up!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, Fimmtiu!  I'm glad you're enjoying it.

----

“So who are the best gossips that are properly noble and still alive?” pressed Kit.

“I should think that the best options would be the Lady of High Pass and the wife of the Lord of Burleytown.  Now, the Lady of Burleytown is…” The secretary paused as he struggled to choose his words carefully.  “The Lady of Burleytown is a matron, in the strongest, least positive sense of the word, but the other women will take her seriously.  The Lady of High Pass is more prominent, but her family is well known to be completely loyal to the Archduchy.”

“So she’s useful for spreading rumors, but only rumors that we want to be known as official.”

“Exactly, m’lady.  I’m glad you understood.”

“I think we’ll need to cultivate them both then.  The Lady of High Pass should be easy, since she will want to help the Archduke.  I guess I’ll just have to let slip a few choice bits to the Lady of Burleytown.”

“M’lady, if you give her any reason to think that she can get interesting and fresh gossip from you, she will make a point of speaking to you at any function she can in an effort to pump you for more information.  The only difficulty will be preventing her from realizing that the information is being deliberately planted.”

“So I need to ‘let it slip,’ and perhaps even seem annoyed or ask her to keep it quiet.”

“Precisely.  Is there anything else, m’lady?”

“I don’t think so… things seem quiet around the court now that the assassins have been dealt with.”

“I agree,” replied Kit’s secretary.  He shook his head with a frown.  “It worries me.  I am always happier when we can identify the threats and difficulties.  Quiet suggests that the conspiracies are still in hiding and thus more dangerous.”

Great, thought Kit.  Even the good news is supposed to make me worry.


----------



## GrandArchon

Ho! I see! Thanks for replying and explaining things to me. Rolling lust and orientation, that's nifty...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Yeah.  It's funny-- I didn't like it when I first encountered it, and I still don't have PCs in games I run do it, but it does produce some interesting effects.

---
Shortly after Kit reported back on her efforts to develop a rumor network, the page of the day poked his head into the Council chamber.  “Excuse me, your eminent grace, but the young drow is still in the hallway, groveling.”

Alistair sighed.  “Tell him to inform his mistress that we will receive her… let’s see, we don’t want to slight her, but we don’t want to lose face by seeming too available… we will receive her late this afternoon.”

The Council welcomed the Matron Mother in one of the formal throne rooms.  Dame Brionna supervised her arrival, noting that she was a drowan woman of striking appearance and evident age, a very unusual characteristic among the drow.  Even before Dame Brionna could ask them to, the Matron Mother and her four guards, all female, began disarming themselves.  The process was long and involved as they removed both the obvious weapons and a remarkable series of concealed blades.  The Matron Mother herself had by far the largest number of weapons.  When she was finally ready, Dame Brionna gestured for her to enter the throne room and the Matron Mother calmly walked in, followed by a chest that walked under its own power and her clearly very nervous guards.

Alistair and Kit were talking quietly as the Matron Mother entered.  She walked forward, stopped ten paces away from the throne, and genuflected, remaining prone and silent until acknowledged.  Alistair noted the distance with interest, as it was a longer, more respectful distance than he would have expected from a drowan leader.  He continued talking quietly with Kit, apparently ignoring the presence of the Matron Mother.  She appeared to be treating him the way she would treat another Supreme Matron Mother of one of the 38 drowan great houses, and Alistair judged that the best response would be to behave as the leader of a drow house would when receiving an equal.

After a few minutes, Alistair turned to face the Matron Mother.  With a carefully uninterested tone, he said, “Yes?  You wished to impose on our time?”

The drow matriarch smoothly rose to her feet and then bowed from the waist as she spoke.  “Thank you for the boon of this audience.  I am the Supreme Matron Mother of my House.  I wished to convey the deepest gratitude of my House.  You saved my House’s honor by revealing our error to us.”

Alistair waved a hand dismissively.  “We pursued our own goals.  It served our purpose to inform you of how you had erred.”

“Nonetheless, you have our gratitude, and we would offer some gifts as an expression of our thanks.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

She waited for a signal, and at a small nod from Alistair continued.  “You have already received our gift of state, an extensive set of maps of the Underdark.  After considerable consideration, I have prepared personal gifts for yourself and your counselors.  I will provide as well a piece of information that may be useful to you.”  The Matron Mother drew the first gift out of the chest that had trailed behind her.  “For Dame Brionna, I present this adamantine buckler, blazoned with the ancient arms of your house.  We were careful to work the adamantium without the use of freesia radiation so that it will not degrade when exposed to the sun.  In recognition of your principal duty, the shield will produce an orb of force once per month that will protect you and one other from all harm for a period of ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” said Dame Brionna as she took the shield.  “I hope I will rarely need to call on that power, but it will be most useful if I ever need to.”

“For Dame Katherine, your position is more delicate, more feminine, if you do not mind my saying so.  It required a great deal of thought to discern what might be appropriate.  I have had a bustier prepared for you, similar to the one I wear.  While some great houses prefer the fireball and lightning bolt throwing bustiers, I prefer a dart thrower, as it is both more subtle and can be more effective.  It holds but three darts per nipple.  I have also prepared a supply of some 400 additional darts with which it can be reloaded.  All have been treated with our sleep poison.”  [DC 17 sleep poison, duration 1-6 minutes]

Kit carefully examined the black leather bustier, with its intricate bone ribbing and the mechanism so cleverly concealed that even without other clothes over the bustier, it was hard to notice.  “My thanks for both the great craftsmanship this gift demonstrates and the appreciation for subtlety that motivated it.”

The Matron Mother smiled slightly at that praise.  “Finally, for the Archduke himself, we prepared this.”  She held forth her hand with a small adamantine serpent with ruby eyes.  “Its name is Snick.  Under normal circumstances, it can appear as a bracelet, but it is intelligent, although a construct.  It generates its own poison.  And, for when you need a tiny spy, if you say the command word, you can see through its eyes and hear through its ears.”  [(DC 16 sleep poison, 1-6 rounds), 6 times per day; AC 42, 26 hp (with a hardness of 20)]

“We thank you for all of these gifts,” said Alistair, coiling Snick around his wrist.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The matriarch bowed.  “And now, I promised you a piece of information.  Your enemy, who is also our enemy, has traveled far to the south since he entered the Underways.  Though he was injured when he entered the Underways, he and those with him were able to resist the troglodyte slave race.  They have hired four hundred mercenaries--drow who know no masters or mistresses, those who serve the God of Masks or the God of Worms.  They have forgotten their ancient feud and have followed him to the south.  We believe he will surface at the point nearest Seachen.”

“Thank you for this, above all, for information is the most valuable of all possible gifts.”

“We are willing to keep you apprised of any further movements of which we become aware.”

“That would be most appreciated.  We should, perhaps, discuss maintaining contact in the future.  I might send an emissary to your home city.  It would facilitate sharing information that can be mutually beneficial.”

“Indeed.  I shall leave one of my males-- I shall leave one of my junior officers to staff an embassy at the rooms of the inn at which we have been staying.  After the service your house has done mine, we would be most interested in building our ties.”

“It was but a trifle.”

“Nonetheless, your grace, it is of such trifles that alliances between great houses are made.”

“Let me ask you,” continued Alistair brusquely, as the drow would expect, “Are there other threats from the Underdark that we should watch, besides our mutual enemy?  And are there drowan great houses that you would warn us against?”

“I could warn you to watch the cult of the Worm.  They grow in activity and represent a grave threat.  As for the other drowan great houses… even if we become close allies, we would not expect you to limit your trade to our allies, as you are a surface people.  However, of the great houses, I would warn you of two houses.  One is not an enemy of ours, but has tendencies, the House of Erebani.  The other is a house that is our enemy, best known for extreme and unwarranted cruelty, and that is the House of Mylyl.  They are allied to the Russet Shelf Fungi merchant clan, just as we have considerable dealings with the Teal Curve.”

“That information may prove useful.”  Alistair paused, giving both his friends and the drow matriarch the time to volunteer anything additional or ask further questions.  After a few seconds of silence, he waved the drow away coldly.  “Dismissed.”  As part of the pretense of behaving how a drowan great house leader would, he immediately pulled Kit over to him, as if the drow were not even present.

Upon being told that they were dismissed, the drow matriarch and her guards immediately and rapidly genuflected and then backed out of the room as quickly and quietly as they could.  They averted their eyes as they went, doing nothing that might draw attention to the fact that they were still there.

As soon as they were gone, Alistair apologized to Kit.  “Sorry about that-- I just thought it would be valuable to make the right sort of impression.”

“It’s fine.  I understood.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“And now I guess we need to set up an audience with the Archbaroness of Mandrath.  She may be Paranswarmian, but at least we won’t have to be deliberately rude to avoid seeming weak.  It will be something of a relief to be able to be ordinarily polite to someone.”

“Your grace, before we do that, I would like to check all of the items for evil and to have them examined for curses or the like.”  Dame Brionna held out her sun disk.  “Huh.  None of the gifts are evil.”  A more thorough examination confirmed that they were also free of curses.  The shield had a lingering psionic effect, but that was probably just a result of the forging process.  Besides that, the only magic or psionic effects were the ones that the matriarch had described.

Before the meeting with the Archbaroness, the Council conferred briefly with the chamberlain.  In response to the Council’s questioning, the chamberlain explained that the Archbaroness was not a member of the Order of the Pure Azure Flame and could not be a member of any of the other orders.  Each order is dedicated to a specific religion and there is only one order per religion.  The only exception to that rule is the Order of the Pure Ebon Flame, which is not devoted to any god, but even that order is connected to a religion of sorts--its members are associated with the worship of the archdevils.

The Archbaroness entered in a formal gown.  She wore a thin adamantine chain with silver through her hair and dropping to her belt, with a pin in her colors but not her arms.  Alistair recognized the chain as a symbol of service to the Protector and Defender of the Faith of Paranswarm.  The Archbaroness bowed respectfully, as one sovereign to another, and Alistair returned the bow.

“Your eminent grace, I bear greetings from the Grand Duchess of Ergmoth and from the Council of Paranswarm.”

“We welcome their emissary to our court.”

“There are several things I wish to discuss.  First, there is the matter of a gift that I purchased on my way here.  I was fortunately able to come directly east to here and was thus able to stop in the realm of Hanal.  On behalf of the Council, this certificate represents the purchase and payment in full of twenty men-of-war from the voller yards of Hanal.  These should arrive within a year’s time and with the promise that they will be of the same box as the voller for the navy of Hanal.  Also, in my own name and out of my own funds, I present certificates of purchase and manumission of 1000 halflings from the slave farms of Hanal.  We have transported them to just north of the border.”

Even Dame Brionna’s suspicion of the Paranswarmian thawed some in response to that gift.  It was perfectly designed to appeal to the Council.  The vollers would represent an enormous increase in the Archduchy’s air power, with serious strategic consequences, and the manumission of slaves supported one of the Council’s clearest policies.  The Council thanked the Archbaroness heartily.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Moving on from the gifts, there is an issue that you should be informed of.  Your grace will of course be aware of the recent completion of the Inquisition on Drucien.  The Inquisition took action against many groups with vile practices.  What you are probably not aware of are the two most pernicious of those groups.  While the Grand Duchess has been firm with any practice of demonism, she has been gentler than many in her position would have been.  For other groups, there could be no mercy or hesitation at all.  The two pernicious cults were the cult of the Abomination of Shur and the cult of the Many-Tongued Worm.”

“We are well aware of the Abomination of Shur.  The Archduchy has been taking strong action against the Abomination and its allies.”

“That is well, but it is the Grand Duchess’s belief that the cult of the Many Tongued Worm poses the greater long term threat.  Lord Paranswarm received no less than 9900 members of the cult to his Eternal Darkness.  Furthermore, three separate factions of the cult indicated connections to the outer duchies in Canberry.  The lack of an Inquisition may have allowed things to breed that should not have.”

“There will be no Inquisition here,” responded Alistair, “but we can investigate them.”

“Holy might will need to be brought to bear if they are located,” warned the Archbaroness.

“While we do not have an Inquisition, we have many church knights.”  Dame Brionna’s tone was perhaps a little huffier than ideal, but the assumption that the Inquisition was an altogether good thing offended her.

“Scribes will forward to you the most relevant confessions and names.”

“Can you tell us anything about the cults that we could use to begin our investigations in the meantime?” asked Kit.

“Some of the situations were grim.  Fortunately, only a few seemed to impact Canberry.”  The Archbaroness thought about the most important pieces of information.  “We believe the cult of the Many Tongued Worm has a connection to the rise of the island in the Eastern Sea.”

Alistair looked up intently at that.  “An island of black stone?”

“Yes,” confirmed the Archbaroness, pleased that Canberry was aware of the island.  “We have tried to investigate by ship, with ships from Masque, but no ships have returned, even though we sent four warships with full complements of marines, mages, and priests.  The vollers have been more successful.  Two from Hanal have seen it with the aid of optical devices and reported negotiations with the ratmen.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Do you know who the Unspeakable is?”

“No… I have not heard that title.”

“One of our diviners had a vision of the black-stone isle.  He saw skaven offering an alliance to the residents of the island.  They said they sought alliance with the ‘Unspeakable.’  We have as yet been able to learn nothing more.”

“May I bring this to the Council?  I do not know what that would mean, but it may be that we can learn more from it.”

“Of course.  We are sharing this information with you because of our desire to enable both our faiths to act effectively against our mutual enemy.  We only ask that if the Council does have more information on who or what the Unspeakable is, that you inform us as well.”

“You mentioned the Worm… is that one of Borsh’tro’s followers?”

“The Many Tongued Worm appears to be of neither Borsh’tro nor Arthranax.  It is the worm that when its head is cut off grows two more.”

“The hydra,” said Dame Brionna.  “Your grace… I remember something related from my youth.  When I was very young, about five, a serving maid in the household of whom she was never fond, was found by my mother, doing something, but I am not sure exactly what.  The servant was horse-whipped and driven out of the house.  She cursed the family in the name of the Many Tongued Worm, and my parents had a long talk with a priestess of Berta.  They discussed how worrisome it was that a cult was trying to bring back one of the old progenitors of chaos, a lord of life and death that was banished from shortly after these realms were created.  They said that at one time, his servants gathered at mountains of ebon and basalt, and his servants were not of the younger races.  But the priest told my parents not to worry, since they were gone from ages ago.  But then, the priests of Berta were fools, and could not recognize the threat that menaced our lands until the Kingdoms were destroyed.”

Alistair frowned.  “We’ll certainly want you to follow up on that.”

“I’ll ask my parents for more details, your grace.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Does the reference to elder races mean anything to you, Archbaroness?  Have there been beings more ancient than humanity among the cults you have dealt with?”

“It is difficult to say.  Only twice did we find nonhumans among the cults.  Both were in rural cults, and in both cases they set upon the train of the Inquisition in an attempt to slay the Grand Duchess.  In both cases, they came in the semblance of farmers and goodwives, but the seeming was stripped away, revealing creatures--- well, worm was appropriate.  We were never able to confirm that they were allied to the Abomination of Shur’s cult.  There was cooperation among cells, but that meant nothing.

“You should know what little more we have learned of the Many Tongued Worm’s followers.  We are aware of four centers for its followers that have emerged worldwide:  the eastern island, an island off the southern coast of Khamista, a mountain in the southeast of Drucien against the lands of the Skaven, and a center within the Arctic Circle.”  [I have a note that says “no connections to the mountain in the southeast,” but I don’t know what that means.]

“We will investigate any reports we hear of them, and if we learn of any other foci for its power, we will pass that information along as well.”  Alistair waited for a moment to see if the Archbaroness would make any additional comments, then proceeded.  “We have mentioned the Abomination of Shur several times, but I would like to discuss a few more specific things in detail.  As you may know, a large army supporting the Abomination is marching on the Spice Lands.  We believe that it intends to perform a ritual of apotheosis there.  We are mobilizing our forces, and those of our allies, in an effort to defeat its army and prevent it from reaching the ritual site.”

The Archbaroness nodded.  “We have been following your actions and have been pleased to see that a great power is taking actions to stop the Abomination.”

“As part of our effort, we have been trying to draw allies in.  With our commitments among the refugees and the need to maintain a defensive force in the Archduchy, we need additional forces.  We have been attempting to persuade the Baron of Augurt to commit his house’s forces, but without success so far.  We wondered if you might help to convince him.”

“Ah.  The Baron is a cautious man, from what I hear, but very faithful.”

“We thought that perhaps the Temple could be more persuasive than we could.”

“Perhaps.  The positioning allows me to stop at Augurt on my way back, before the baron can return.  This will allow me to speak to the Archbishop in private.  I can promise that the Archbishop will attempt to persuade the Baron, but I can promise no more.”

“That is still a significant gain.  The battle will currently be desperately close.  Any additional troops could make the difference, particularly because most of the troops that will currently face the Abomination’s army will be very green.”

“I can also dispatch two regiments of the Order of the Ebon Shield under my own authority.  I know that it is not many troops, but they will be well equipped with holy might and should be utterly fearless.  That should help bolster the morale of the troops they are joining.”

“Thank you.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“By the way, it is wise that you have committed forces among the refugees.  We have some priests and church knights tending to their needs, but the situation remains dangerously unstable.”

“Our thoughts exactly.  We should also discuss a matter involving the refugees.  As you know, I will need to marry soon.  One of the possibilities would be to marry Princess Kaitlyn of Stormreach.  If we did marry, we would seek to annex all of the refugee lands.  Would your temple object or create any difficulties?”

“No.  We would ideally prefer to see the lands come under a Paranswarmian ruler, but stability in the South is more important.  We would prefer your control of the region to the current disorder.”

“Excellent.  And you understand that if we do annex the refugee lands, the Church of Glor’diadel will necessarily follow the banner of Canberry into those lands?  Cuius regio, eius religio, and all that?”

The Archbaroness answered very carefully.  “We understand, and we would discontinue our prosyletization.  At the same time, it would create difficulties if you interfered with the observances of those who have already entered Lord Paranswarm’s service.”

“As with Canberry itself, we would permit the worship of any of the gods of the Ecumenical Alliance.  We would ask that you draw the priests for any of our lands from the orders that are least likely to give offense, and certain rituals, such as human sacrifice, would not be permitted, even with condemned prisoners.  But I should not think that we would have any more problems in the southlands than in the present Archduchy.”

“I agree.  Those terms would be acceptable to the Temple.  While we are on the subject of state religions and tolerance, I would ask if you could do anything to moderate the behavior of the Temple of Sytry.  They are a religion of the Light and thus easier for you to approach than for us.  But we do not know if you are aware of some of the acts of their more fanatical Knights of Truth near Mandrath.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What sort of acts?”

“The incident I know of most directly happened after the lands to the east had fallen, although most have now been reclaimed.  Four thousand troops were sent from our lands to meet the 25,000 refugees.  When they met the train, a force of Knights of Truth had required conversion in exchange for their aid, which was sorely needed, and they had made an example of several hundred who refused to convert.  I see nothing wrong with seeking to convert refugees but to cause death for those who do not…  Now, nearly seven years later, I am still not sure how we should act.  I of course obey the commandments of the Protector and the Council, but it bothers me.”

The Council simply listened in horror for a few moments.  Finally, Dame Brionna asked quietly, “Does their entire temple encourage such things, your excellence?”

“No.  It is only the most fanatical who do so; indeed, always their paladins.”

“It’s hard to imagine any paladin allowing the innocent to die.  Certainly, none of ours ever would.”

“I know.  The Eldar might be able to speak to it.  A lord from the Steading of the Elven Lords intervened in one such situation.  There were similar incidents reported in merchant cities after the fall of Purdun.  We felt that while many of them were without help or were of your faith, it was our duty to offer succor without expectation of conversion.  They did not kill anyone directly, but they refused aid, leading to the death of many young.”

Alistair shook his head in horror, and then asked, “Are you sure the reports are true?  Pardon me for questioning the story, but we know that there are tensions between your faith and Sytry’s.  There have been many claims of wrongs on both sides.”  He did not really believe the Archbaroness would be deceived but clung to the hope that the reports might be false.

“I am afraid that I am very sure of the reports.  As you say, the relationship has been strained for a very long time.  Unfortunately, that does not change what we know to have happened.  As I said, perhaps the Eldar can provide you with confirmation.  In any event, as you may be able to have more influence with them than we could ever hope to, and both our faiths are active among the refugees in the southlands, I thought I would bring it to Canberry’s attention.”

“Indeed.  We will look into this matter, and if we can confirm your reports, we will approach the Temple of Sytry about it.”

“Thank you, your grace.  I can ask nothing more.  That is all of the matters that I had for our discussion.  Are there any other issues you would raise?”

Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “As we mentioned, his grace will need to make a dynastic match soon.  Are there any possibilities that you know of that we are not aware of, perhaps from further away?”  She resolutely ignored the uncomfortable looks on the faces of both Alistair and Kit at the topic.

“Perhaps… I can think of one.  Would you consider a widow, your grace?”

“We might, if the circumstances were right.”

“Then at least consider the Lady of Purdun.  They have reclaimed much of the island kingdom, and there is substantial magic and even great wealth to be had there.  She is even of the same faith as you.  She loved the Blue Mage, but he could of course not produce an heir for her dynasty.  Now that he is gone, she will need to remarry.”

“He could not produce an heir?  Why?” asked Alistair.

“The great color mages are consumed by their color and cannot produce children.  Their apprentices can still have children, even after they are marked by the color-- there are occasional dynasties based on children sired or born before ascending.  But once the color completely infuses them, they lose that ability.”

“Thank you.  We will consider the possibility.”

“Every major family on Khamista is courting her, but you might still be able to prevail.  If I had a brother, he would be courting her, even if I had to stand behind her with a whip.”

They thanked the Archbaroness, and she departed.  The Council briefly discussed the newly revealed threat and the possibility that the cult worshipped something trapped within the black mountains and islands, or might be responsible for the unusable land on the west coast.  Still, there was nothing to do at this point but to seek more information.

[End Session 21]

-----
I'm going to be travelling for the coming week, attending some weddings and taking a vacation.  I don't expect to be able to post again until July 9.


----------



## Quartz

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> I'm going to be travelling for the coming week, attending some weddings and taking a vacation.  I don't expect to be able to post again until July 9.




Howl! Wail! Whimper!!


----------



## Artoomis

More!  More!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

And we're back!

-----
[Session 22]

The following morning, Dame Brionna and Kit each received a new, fairly odd document from the “Deep Brain” and the Chief Archivist.  [See attached once I get the document small enough to post.]  They each read through the document, Kit with the assistance of her secretary, and independently reached the judgment that Alistair needed to see it.

“It’s a discussion of the greatest long-term threats to the Archduchy,” explained Kit as they handed a copy across.  “That means that it basically doesn’t touch on most of the threats we’re currently dealing with.  There’s some discussion of the Noldar and drow, and even of the elves in case they turned hostile, but it says that none of those are a serious threat for the foreseeable future.  It focuses on the Old Ones as the main credible threat, but we know nearly nothing about them.”

“What do we know about the Deep Brain and the Chief Archivist?  Can we trust their analysis?”

“I don’t know.  I get the sense that the Deep Brain isn’t human and may have been doing this job for a very long time.”

“The document mentions that they are waiting in the Royal Chapel, your grace. The document makes it clear that they think you may decide to have them killed.”

“What?  Why would they possibly think that?  It’s bad enough that so many officials killed themselves without our making it worse.”

“Apparently, some of your predecessors-- not the late Archduchess, of course, your grace-- had some of their predecessors put to death to replace them with people to whom they were closer.”

“Madness,” said Alistair, while Kit and Dame Brionna nodded agreement.

“But since we know where they are, maybe I should go find out who they are?” suggested Kit.  The rest of the Council agreed, and she quickly slipped off to make her way to the Royal Chapel.  She slipped into one of the balconies quietly.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Bishop Hogsworthy was conducting a small private service-- Kit was relieved to see that he appeared to have just finished the service.  The only congregants were two older men, each dressed in fine but not fancy clothing.  Kit recognized the Chief Archivist, one of the innumerable functionaries that she had met in the past few weeks.  Simply seeing his title on the report had not given her a clear sense of who he was, but now she could match the title to a face.  The other man was completely unfamiliar and not even quite human.  He appeared to be quite old but his weirdly enormous head was by far his most distinctive feature.  Kit thought about it for a moment and realized that those features were familiar from one of the lessons in psionics she had received.  He was probably half-Gyth, although she had no idea which of the three Gyth races.  All three are very thin with large heads and mainly experts in psionics.  Kit had considered trying to read their thoughts to see if there was any evidence of treachery but thought better of it.  The risk that the Deep Brain would turn out to be a much more powerful psion was simply too great.  She slipped away silently and returned to the Council.

Back in the Council chamber, a guard entered, saluted, and delivered another report to Dame Brionna.  She skimmed through it.  “Oh… oh dear.”  She looked up at Alistair.  “Your grace, we need to discuss the situation at Grokken.  Another orcish horde has joined the attack.  They mounted an attack before dawn, pierced the wall, and…”

“What about Lord Derek?”

“The young lord was evacuated by voller.  His chief guardian, Sir Vincent Morim, was mortally wounded, and Grokken will probably fall.  The young lord acquitted himself well.  The attackers have a non-orcish mage advising them, along with a group of stone giants.  Grokken would need a much more substantial defensive force to withstand the attack.”

“I wonder if we could at least evacuate more of the populace.  If we send our vollers back…”

“They still would not be able to carry many people, your grace.  The vollers are not designed to move large numbers of troops or evacuees.”

“Do we have any better options?”

“No, your grace, and the vollers will be able to save some.”

“We can also send Lady Meredith’s battle disks.  Those will be even less useful at saving the population, but they will let us bombard the enemy with a great deal of arcane magic.  If we can clear out part of the enemy army, it will allow us to evacuate as many of the children as possible.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “I’ll pass on the necessary orders, your grace.  We still need a plan to deal with the underlying threat, however.  We need to get an army into position to actually defeat the orcs.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“I agree, but where are we supposed to find that army?  Between our commitments in the south and the war with the barbarians to the east, we don’t have any forces to spare.”

“What about the Order of the Falcon, your grace?”

“We’ve committed them to dealing with the Abomination of Shur’s army as well.”

“Could we hire more?”

“I think we hired the entire Order already.  I suppose we could try to hire some of the other available Masque mercenary orders, but even if we could, I don’t see how we could get them into position quickly enough to deal with the threat.”  Alistair thought for a moment.  “I suppose we could call up the armies of all of our vassals…”

“If we have to, we could deploy some of the reserve forces we have kept near the capital, your grace.  With the coronation past, the threat of an attack on the capital has diminished substantially.  I must admit that I don’t feel comfortable leaving the capital unprotected.  If this is primarily intended as a diversion…”

“I agree.  We might be able to reduce the protective force here, but we need to keep our defenses substantially intact.”

“We could send the knights who are planning on committing suicide,” suggested Kit.  “They’re mostly elderly, and it’s kind of gross to take advantage of their planned suicides, but . . .”

“We might as well.  Most of them would rather go out fighting gloriously, anyway.”

“What about the young lord, your grace?  I’m worried that he will attempt to return to Grokken.”

Kit nodded in agreement.  “He’s hurt, right?  We can try to keep him in recovery for long enough to make sure that he doesn’t run back to the fight before its over.”

“And while we’re at it, we can make sure he has a very cute nurse taking care of him.  See if we can distract him a little.”

Kit quickly endorsed this plan, and Dame Brionna said that she would take care of it.  She decided that there was no need to let the rest of the Council know that she interpreted “very cute nurse” as “virtuous young noblewoman.”  After all, if they were going to be setting young Lord Cogswood up with someone, they might as well facilitate a proper match.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Alistair cursed under his breath.  “It sounds like Canberry is now surrounded by orcish armies.  How did we end up in a full-scale war without even realizing it?”

“Your grandmother was very ill for a long time, your grace.”

“Still.  Things shouldn’t have gotten nearly this bad without our being aware of it.  And I’m a little concerned that none of our regular reports are discussions of what’s going on in the rest of the world.  We get the intelligence reports, but we need more.  Things are happening without our even knowing it, let alone why.”

“I’ll speak to the Chancellor and arrange for more regular briefings, your grace.”

Abigail rapped politely and entered.  “Your grace, Dame Katherine, there’s a visitor waiting for an audience.  It’s a drow woman, waiting and meditating in the hall, with a note on platinum.  The guards say she disarmed completely before they even asked her to.”  Abigail held out the platinum sheet with the note on it.

Alistair took the note and read it aloud.  “From the Matron Mother of House Dispania to Archduke Alistair of Canberry:  I present one additional gift.  The bearer of this note is my sixth daughter.  She is a trained assassin and a mistress of assassins.  She will remain with you and serve loyally as a retainer until such time as you pass.”

“A skilled drowan assassin?” repeated Dame Brionna.  “That could be very useful.  I wonder if she could reach the Abomination of Shur in Lord Brightspan’s body…”

“We have to figure out if we’re willing to accept her service first,” said Alistair.  “If the Matron Mother thinks of her as a slave, we cannot accept her into our service.”

“Yeah,” said Kit.  “The note called her a ‘gift.’  You don’t give people as gifts.”

“I really don’t want to offend House Dispania if we can avoid it, but we wouldn’t be able to ignore the insult of being given a slave.”

“So how do we figure out if this was just a poor choice of words?” asked Kit.

“I think we start by asking her.  Let’s have Abigail send her in.”


----------



## TDRandall

I was shocked - shocked I say, to read this:


“A skilled drowan assassin?” repeated Dame Brionna.  “That could be very useful


I realize her paladin-ness has lost a bit of the luster what with her focus on her government role and her sidelining into that prestige class, but really!  It may be expedient to have an skilled assassin in the back pocket, but once used it seems like it could be a small step from "kill the evil people" to "kill the neighborhood baker because he burned my bread" to who knows what?!?

But of course, this was really more an excuse to chime in to say that I truly enjoy this story, more than having any real beef on the issue.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Yeah, I've been pretty surprised by some of Dame Brionna's expediency, as well, although I think that the use of assassins in war-time to eliminate enemy leaders would not actually violate a paladin's code of conduct.  But thanks for the praise.

----
The drow woman, clearly fairly young, entered and genuflected, waiting to be addressed.  The drow assassin would probably be attractive, except that her entire upper body was covered with nasty scarring, clearly from innumerable whip blows.  She moved smoothly, but Kit noticed that her eyes roamed the entire room, stopping three times:  once on the secret door to the security passages; once on the credenza, which Kit knew contained a secret compartment; and once on a spot on the floor about six feet to Alistair’s right.  Kit resolved to check out that patch of floor thoroughly.  While the drow remained kneeling, Dame Brionna held out her holy symbol and scanned her for evil.  She was pleasantly surprised to learn that the drow was not evil.

“Rise,” said Alistair.  “We would like you to describe your position in your mother’s house and your understanding of what your mother intends for you in our service.”

“I am the Sixth Daughter of the Ruling House of House Dispani,” she replied, speaking that phrase both like a rote formula and with a clear sense of pride.  “As the Sixth Daughter, I am my mother’s emissary, but not her ears.  I am your … servant.”

The Archducal Council thought about that for a moment.  It still did not answer their basic concern.  Alistair tried again.  “What can you tell us about the structure and the ranks within your house?”

“Within the House, first there are the daughters, and then there are the sons.  Below them, there are all those who have sworn allegiance to the House, the craftsmen and merchants; then there are those who owe unto us wares; and lastly there are the merchant clans.  Below that, there are only the prisoners and those who break their word.  But that is only my family and its direct followers that I have spoken of.

“Within the Great House, my family comes first, followed by the 22 families in other cities.  Below them are the merchant clans, then the freemen who owe us service, then the lesser races-- especially the troglodytes, may I never see another one.  After even the lesser races are the oathbreakers, the prisoners, and captives from battle who have not been ransomed, and finally the driders.”

Her answer assuaged some of their concerns, but Kit pressed a little further.  “Who of those would your mother consider her slaves?”

“The prisoners.  When you commit a crime, you have forfeited your rights.”  The Drow paused for a moment, then added, “And sometimes some of the lesser races, particularly the troglodytes.  Do you have troglodytes?”

“No.  Or at least, no appreciable numbers,” Alistair reassured her.

“Good.  They are disgusting creatures, and I saw enough of them on my journey here to last for millennia.”


----------



## Orichalcum

TDRandall said:
			
		

> I was shocked - shocked I say, to read this:
> 
> 
> “A skilled drowan assassin?” repeated Dame Brionna.  “That could be very useful
> 
> 
> I realize her paladin-ness has lost a bit of the luster what with her focus on her government role and her sidelining into that prestige class, but really!  It may be expedient to have an skilled assassin in the back pocket, but once used it seems like it could be a small step from "kill the evil people" to "kill the neighborhood baker because he burned my bread" to who knows what?!?
> 
> But of course, this was really more an excuse to chime in to say that I truly enjoy this story, more than having any real beef on the issue.




Brionna believes she can draw bright lines between the accepted practice of killing enemy military leaders by any means necessary and the murder of civilians for political reasons. It's certainly treading awfully close to the line, but she's a very ends-justifying-some-means kind of paladin. Part of her character development has been the recognition for flexibility, ever since she had to start lying about the identity of Alistair (and putting his innocent decoy, Mahler, constantly in danger as a result). 

Remember also that for Brionna, preserving the stability of a good kingdom like Canberry trumps just about everything. Having come from a land that fell to horrors because its chaotic goddess abandoned it, she's determined to prevent that from happening again. If that meant killing 10,000 definitely evil people, she'd do it without blinking. 

To put it another way, she's good, not nice. Sir Malachite, of Piratecat's SH, was one of the initial inspirations and has very similar views in many ways.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“But what is the relation of your sisters to the house?” asked Alistair.

“The First Daughter is in waiting-- the heir?  And the Second Sister directs the military--Yrlith.”  She made her sister’s name sound like a curse.

“No, that is not what I meant.  Or rather, we will want to discuss this at length later, but it is not the matter we are interested in right now.”  Alistair thought about how to phrase the question.  “What duties does your mother owe to you and your sisters?”

“The liege protects her children, even her daughters; it is the Law.  Our matron mother is strong.  None would dare to hurt my sisters for fear of the matron mother’s wrath, just as none would strike at Canberry for fear of ...” She paused in confusion.  “The matron father?”

“You may refer to his grace as the Archduke,” said Dame Brionna with a smile, before continuing in a more concerned tone.  “You said your matron mother protects you, but someone injured you badly.”

“My sister, Second Daughter Yrlith.  The matron mother was most wroth with my sister for what happened to me.”

“What happened?”

“My sister has a great temper.  I ruined the finery of her consort when they were about to enter a grand ball in one of the pleasure houses.”  A small smile twitched on her face as she remembered.  “She figured out it was me.  He was a great fop.  She used her priestess’s whip upon me many times and refused to permit healing magic that would have prevented the scarring.”

The Council thought about that for a while.  Finally, Dame Brionna could not resist asking about some of the strategic issues.  “We understand that you are a skilled assassin.  How quickly can you travel?”

“By night or by day?”

“Either,” answered Alistair.  “Give us both.”

“At night, I could travel as fast as one of your horses.  By day, I am not yet used to the Burning Eye.  I can travel no faster than one of your commons.”

“If we had protection from the Burning Eye, could you travel at high speed during the day?”

“Yes.”

Alistair nodded thoughtfully.  “We will think about what you have told us.  We will speak again soon.”

After she left, Dame Brionna commented, “She doesn’t seem to think of herself as a slave.”

“Agreed.  But we still need to be cautious-- the beating worries me, and I’m still not comfortable with her being referred to as a gift.  I think we need to speak with Lord Davion.  He’ll be able to give us more insight into their society.”


----------



## Quartz

Hmm... Dame Brionna does seem to be gaining a certain amount of expediency that is contrary to Paladinhood. And Canberry does seem to be getting a lot of help from Lord Davion.


----------



## Quartz

I do love this Story Hour. Keep it up.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

While they arranged for Lord Davion to come for an audience, Abigail knocked and entered.  “The Chief Archivist is waiting in the antechamber, your grace, Dame Katherine.”

They had her bring in the Chief Archivist, who promptly genuflected to the floor.

“Get up, get up,” said Alistair, a trifle testily.  “Don’t genuflect to me except in the most formal circumstances.  Bowing is more than sufficient for ordinary meetings.”

“Yes, your grace,” said the Chief Archivist as he rose.  “I must admit that kneeling is not as easy as it once was, and I am grateful to not have to, but I did not wish to risk offending your grace through any perceived disrespect.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.  Now then, we would like to discuss some of the information you have from my grandmother’s reign that we don’t fully understand.”

“Yes, your grace.”  The Chief Archivist’s voice quivered a little as if he assumed that that after he had transferred any information he had, he would be eliminated.

“Lord of Light!” cursed Alistair, drawing a slightly reproving look from Dame Brionna.  “We’re not going to kill you.  We don’t do things like that, and even if we did, we’ve lost too many people to the damn suicides to add to the list.  But we need to understand certain things that weren’t explained beyond my grandmother’s council.”

“Ah.  I see, your grace.”  The Chief Archivist visibly relaxed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We understand that my grandmother had a plan prepared for great emergencies.  Could you explain it to us?”

“I would be most glad; do you have a copy of it?”

“No.  We thought that since you keep the Archives…”

“Ah.  Her grace forbade the existence of more than one copy of the plan, as a security measure.  There are false copies throughout the archive, but they are incorrect in many ways.”

“Why would she have done that?” asked Dame Brionna.

“She believed there was a possibility of a traitor in the court.”

“I wonder why she would have thought that,” said Kit sarcastically.

“I must admit-- though that wasn’t our job--  I don’t know of anyone that was sure they were there, except your grandmother,” added the Chief Archivist, completely missing Kit’s tone.

“Let me guess-- the Privy Secretary had the only accurate copy of the finished plan.”

“Most likely, Dame Katherine.”

“What role did you play with regard to the emergency plan?” asked Alistair.

“I was part of the team that developed it, along with the Rt. Rev. Clarence Williams; Lady Deborah Brightspan, the Privy Secretary; Sir Dudley Coddinggourd, the Interior Secretary; the Foreign Secretary; and the Minister of Defense.”

Dame Brionna looked at the Chief Archivist intently.  “Was there anything Lady Deborah was particularly responsible for adding?”

“She suggested a series of keyed teleport platforms that would allow people to teleport out through the wards to certain preset locations.  We agreed that that would be prudent.”

Alistair closed his eyes and reached out his perception through the system of wards.  He was not certain he would be able to sense anything, but he found that he could feel the entire system, along with certain weaknesses, including one six feet to his right.  He moved his hand gently as he exerted his will over the wards to close the weak points.  “I found the teleport passages and closed them.  I can open them again if we need them, but until we have had a chance to make sure that Lady Deborah didn’t build in any nasty surprises, I don’t want them open.”

The Chief Archivist nodded nervously.  “She was also responsible for the preparation of the twelve rings-- each would let its wearer move easily through the wards.”

Dame Brionna’s eyes widened as she thought about the threat.  “Who were the rings given to?”

“I don’t rightly know.  Her grace handled the distribution personally. I suspect that the accurate copy of the plan included that information, but I cannot be certain.”

“Was there anything else that Lady Deborah suggested?” asked Kit.

“Not that made it into the plan.  She also wanted to create a means to override the golems--to make the golems imperceptible to the wearers of the rings.  She worried that the golems could make a mistake.  We overruled that, of course.  The golems are essential to the palace’s defenses, and there have never been any indications that they would not defend the monarch loyally.”

“At least that’s something,” said Alistair.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Let me ask you a different question.  Did my grandmother have preparations for a full-scale invasion?  She must have had some plan for an attack.”

“She wasn’t really herself for the last year, but before that, she called up whatever army was available, called up the mage order she was part of if necessary, and off she marched.  You could see it in the Battle of the Hag’s Teeth.  But no actual plans for a massive invasion.”  The old man thought for a moment and then continued more slowly.  “Well… that’s not completely true.  When you were a bit younger, when the Southlands fell, there was a danger the southern duchies would be invaded.  She started the process of making a number of additional field armies.  But then the skaven fell back, and the Noldar slavers started raiding the refugees.  So we never created any additional units, except the one that was almost wiped out under your, ahem, sainted father.”

“How far into the preparations did she get?”

“She stockpiled all of the weapons, armor, and equipment for four additional infantry field armies-- one heavy, two medium, and one light.  She also had us ready all of the supplies except for the horses for another cavalry field army.”

“Are the supplies still available?”

“Of course.  They have been in storage ever since, waiting for a decision to actually constitute the armies.”

“We may have need of them…” said Alistair.  “On an unrelated subject, does the archive have records that are magically protected against alteration?”

“Of course, your grace.  Our warded records are among the best protected records of any realm.”

“Please search the warded records for any mention of my mother.”

“Your mother, your grace?”  The Chief Archivist paused.  “I’m afraid I can’t remember her name or background.  You have my deepest regret for my faulty memory.  Could you give me some information with which to search?”

“That’s the problem.  People’s memories of her have been erased.  Even I don’t remember her name or anything about her.”

“How terrible… and the records of her?”

“Also gone.  That’s why I’m hoping the warded records might have survived.”

“Yes.   I’ll check immediately.”

“Send me a message if you find anything.  Don’t copy out the information, and whatever you do don’t bring the records outside the wards, but send for me and I will come to you.”

“Yes… that would be the best way.  I will send a message to your grace as soon as I can.”

“While you are at it, also look into any references to Thorians.  We were told that this was done by a Thorian artifact, but we don’t know what that means.”

“‘Thorian’ … that sounds familiar, somehow, but I cannot remember the precise context.  Perhaps the research will remind me as well.  I will send you a report as soon as possible on any mentions of ‘Thorians’ or their artifacts in the archive.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Sorry about the missed update.  Back on schedule:

----
After the Chief Archivist left, Dame Brionna looked at Alistair.  “Your grace, we need to get those field armies operational as quickly as possible.”

“Agreed.  Recruiting the troops will not be too difficult, but we will have to be careful about the officers.  With green troops, it will be all the more important to have able leaders who can train them into an effective army.  Perhaps we could get the various knightly orders to assign some of their knights with command experience to serve as officers?”

“I’m certain that they would be happy to provide the field army with officers, your grace.  We could also ask the Church for additional officers; between the church knights and the more militant priests, we should be able to fill in much of the command.”

“We’ll need a fourth field marshal as well.  I’m not sure how to fill that one-- there aren’t any obvious candidates among our current generals.  I suppose we could choose from among the nominees from the knightly orders,” mused Alistair.  “They would all want the honor of having their member placed in command.”

“We could, although that might also cause resentment among the other orders, and I’m not certain that we could rely on finding an officer of superlative ability that way.  Perhaps a servitor of Lord Glor’diadel, your grace?  We could ask the Archbishop to summon a solar.  We would have to convince it that the cause was just, but I’m sure we could manage it.”

“Huh.  That’s a possibility I hadn’t thought of.  Or what about Lord Davion?  I know he’s commanded troops, including Gateways’s field army.  If he has the strategic ability, he might be an easier choice.  That would also let us call on Glor’diadel more easily to deal with a specific crisis.”

“Since we’re already going to be meeting him about the drow assassin, we can ask him about his command experience then,” noted Kit.

“Good.  Let’s ask the knightly orders to nominate their suggestions as officers, and then we can figure out who to make our field marshal after we speak with Lord Davion.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A quiet knock at the door alerted them before a slender half-elf man slipped in.  “You requested a security expert, Dame Katherine?”

“Yes.  Please examine that area of the floor.”  Kit pointed to the spot where the drow assassin’s gaze had lingered.

The half-elf had a skeptical look but moved over to that area and began running his hands over the floor, lightly tapping.  He seemed only marginally interested for a while but then stopped and whistled quietly.  “Very nice work… I might not have found it if I hadn’t known where to look.”  A few seconds later, he popped a hidden catch with his belt knife and slid a five foot square tile away.  Underneath, a large array of crystals were organized in concentric circles.  A gray mist hung over the entire collection.  He examined the crystals for a few moments, then looked up.  “I’m fairly certain that the crystals are a teleportation device, Dame Katherine, but I don’t specialize in arcane or psionic devices.  I can’t be sure where it leads to, or whether it can be used in more than one direction.  Also, the gray mist seems to block its function, but I have no idea what is causing the mists.”

“That’s fine,” said Alistair.  “The mist is part of the palace wards.”  That much was obvious to him as soon as he saw the mist--he could feel his dominion over it.

“Ah.  That would explain why I could not even begin to figure out how to bypass it.”  The security expert smiled wryly.  “I was beginning to wonder whether I was losing my touch.  As I said, I’m not the right sort of expert to study the underlying teleporter.  I would suggest consulting a skilled psion.”

“Way ahead of you,” said Kit, who had already sent a mental message to Lord Silverleaves.

The security expert nodded to Kit, with a sardonic smile that somehow conveyed a sense of respect, and departed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

A few minutes later, the Eldar Farsensor walked into the room and bowed politely.  “You said you had something you wished me to examine?  Ah… I see.  Yes, that would be worth bringing to me.”  He crouched near the circle of crystals.  “You will have figured out that it is a teleport circle, I expect.”

“Yes,” answered Kit.  “We’ve recently found out that there are several throughout the palace.”

“Indeed?  Interesting.  The worksmanship on this is quite impressive.  Gray elf work, I should say, or perhaps twilight elf.”

“Twilight elf, your lordship?” asked Alistair.

“The Noldar equivalent of the gray elves.  They rank above the shadow elves and below only the Noldar and the half-Noldar in the hierarchy of the Fallen.  But as I was saying, the teleport circle is nice work, although the wards block it completely at present.  It teleports any who use it to one
of several preset locations.  The crystals also recharge themselves over time, but they will only permit twelve people to use it within any given twenty-four hour period.”

“What happens if an additional person tries to use it?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Oh, that would not be wise at all.  It shunts the thirteenth person off plane, although it is not clear to where without further study.  Moreover, it drains the life energy of the additional people to power the plane shift, leaving them in a weakened state when they arrive.  I would say that it was a deliberately designed feature, to render pursuit difficult for all but the most powerful.

“The most interesting thing about the design, however, is the rune work.  If you observe, there are two distinct sets of runes.  These are standard runes, in the eldar style, although as I said, the work is of high but not eldar quality.  But then there is this second set of runes, which do not appear elven at all.  I should say they were human runes-- from a very old human language, but human nonetheless.”

“Could those runes be in the ancient language of Shur?” asked Alistair.

The eldar stared at the runes a moment longer.  “They could be… It could be that this is actually… Wise of you to block that.  There may be a small psionic ability tied in to the teleport ability, bleeding away so little energy as to have no effect on the principal psionic construct.  Nonetheless, that small amount of energy could allow eavesdropping.  The wards will have blocked that, of course.”

“Can you tell where the eavesdropper is?”  asked Kit.

“Not based on a cursory examination.”  The Eldar turned to Alistair.  “If you remove the wards over it, I will disassemble the additional effect and determine the other point to which it is connected.”

“Thank you.”  Alistair gestured and the gray mist blew away from the ring.

The Eldar knelt into a meditative posture.  A small dome appeared around him.  A sign then appeared, saying “I will be back in 1-3 hours.”


----------



## Quartz

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> A sign then appeared, saying “I will be back in 1-3 hours.”




Wix!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

(Technically, the sign said 1d3 hours, but I found that just too silly to include.)

* * *

While they waited for the Eldar to complete his work and for Lord Davion to come for his audience, Kit went to discuss the security plan with her scribe.  Perhaps Lady Esmerelda had kept a copy of the final report.

“You wished to see me, m’lady?”  Kit’s scribe was, as always, polite, attentive, and slightly stuffy.

“I was wondering if you could tell me about the emergency plan that the late Archduchess developed.”

“Ah.  I should have figured you would be interested in that, m’lady.  It was heavily revised after the Intaking, because of the fears that that could lead to an invasion of the Archduchy.”

“Do you have a copy of the plan?”

“I’m afraid not.  I was told of a series of preparations, but if Lady Esmerelda had a copy, she did not see fit to share it with me.”

“Well, maybe you can answer some questions then.  Do you know where the teleportation circles connect to?”

“Certainly, m’lady.  The teleport spots lead to several different areas where one can go.  Three of those spots were deliberately created in the extreme south:  one in the Spicelands, one to a hamlet just over the border into the Southern Kingdoms, and one to a great mountain that had recently risen.  None can be used by more than 12 people in 24 hours.”

“Yes, we know that.  What other preparations were there?”

“Her Grace made various preparations by increasing the material available in case of crisis.  She acquired two courier vollers.  They were purchased, but never put into the air.  The Archduchy also increased its number of golems, especially stained-glass and stone.   Her grace also prepared to invest an additional five field armies.

“Beyond the strategic supplies, there were a group of plans for the City.  They prepared flood points in the sewers, secured the cisterns against poison, warded the wells, and placed purification grates at all of the major entrances into the sewers in the high City, as well as the principal ones in the lower City.  Her grace also distributed communication crystals among twelve members of her Court, along with twelve rings.”

“Do you know who the twelve were?”

“I’m afraid not, m’lady.  Dame Esmerelda made an attempt to find out, but her grace kept those decisions too close to her chest.  Oh yes… there was the other piece.  I only knew bits.  My former mistress confided in me on many levels.  There was a special option-- I’m not sure how she did it or where she placed them, but clones of members of the royal family were created and kept in stasis.  Her grace did not tell Dame Esmerelda where.”

“Who would know?”

“She presumably told the Privy Secretary,” answered Kit’s scribe.  He blinked and decided to simply ignore the most unladylike words that provoked from Kit.  “I believe the clones were of all the closest members of the royal family, but not of the Archduchess herself.  She found the idea unpleasant.”

“Could the clones be activated without the deaths of the originals?”

“I shouldn’t think it likely, m’lady.  The only possible way they could be activated without the death of the real person is if a demonist or diabolist implanted a demon to act as a soul, and the Archduchess would have been unlikely to permit that.  In any event, they were never activated.”

<<Shows what you know,>> thought Kit.  “Who made the clones?”

“A companion of the Archduchess’s from the Mages of Northern Aurelian, who is a specialist in two things, and two things only:  Cloning and magical tattoos.”  

“You said that we have the courier vollers but without crews.  Where are they?”

“They are at the planned royal airfield to the northeast of the City, along with the other vollers in the Archducal service.  There are some twenty-four or twenty-five vollers total.”

Kit nodded.  “Definitely useful to know about.  Let’s turn back to the teleport circles.  Where did the others go?”

“Well, there’s one in the… umm… the …. private quarters of an older gentleman you may have met.  Sir Alonzo Cumbersnatch.”

Kit smiled.  “Yes, we know about him.”

Her scribe cleared his throat and continued, glad to not have to directly say that Sir Alonzo was the Archduchess’s lover.  “There was also one in the library, one in the royal solar, one in the laboratory, two in the lower chambers, and one in the kitchen.”

“Yes, but where did they go to?  They can’t have only reached those southern points.”

“Oh, no.  There were the three southerly destinations, but also one in Northern Aurelian, one in the Archbarony of Ecsilias, and one to somewhere in the Principality of Debonai.  I must admit that I am not sure who our ally was there.  Debonai’s politics fluctuate so rapidly that I can’t keep track of who’s friends with whom there, at least at a given moment.  I do know that a friend of His Grace’s father was a ruler there.”

“Which circle linked to which destination?”

“Any circle can go to any destination, but no more than twelve people can pass to any one destination in a twelve hour period.  That was another one of the safety precautions.”

Kit thanked her scribe and returned to share his information with the rest of the Council.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

They listened, and then held out another scroll that had arrived.

“Lord Derek Brightspan has reported from the battle with the barbarians,” explained Alistair.  “I don’t think he wrote this report, or that he’s leading from the front again, but the signature on the bottom is definitely his, although shaky.  I think we can assume he’s recovering from his wounds.  But almost as important is the information in his report.  He has the barbarians bottled up in a canyon.  There are a lot of them, and if he launches an assault, the casualties will be severe.  Nonetheless, he’s basically beaten them.  He wants to know if he should negotiate with them or press the battle.”

“Negotiate,” said Kit.  “We need him and his troops back here.  They could eliminate the threat from the orcs and provide us with a reserve to use against Shur.”

“I agree, your grace.  What we need is a quick end to that campaign, as long as we can make sure that the barbarians will not resume raiding as soon as his troops depart.”

Alistair nodded.  “So we’re all in agreement.  We’ll draw up orders for Lord Derek to reach peace with the barbarians on any reasonable terms.  I think his first offer should be vassalization of the Khan and his people.  This Khan is clearly a strong and effective leader.  I’d rather have him as a duke within Canberry than as a chronic threat on our borders.  Plus, over time that will gradually settle the barbarians and end the raiding permanently.  But the Khan may not agree to that offer, and we’ll give Lord Derek the authority to agree to any deal that stops the raiding and gives us some hostages to enforce the deal.  The Khan’s heir-apparent as a page should do nicely.”

“That makes sense,” replied Dame Brionna, “but I think we may need more than one hostage.  I’m not convinced that he would have as clear an heir-apparent as a Canberran noble would--or at least should.  Also, because the barbarians practice polygamy, he will have many-- perhaps dozens-- of children.”

“Hmm.  Good point.  Perhaps all of his children with his favorite wife?  And maybe the wife, as well?”

“I think all of the children of his favorite wife will give us enough leverage,” said Kit.  “I’d be worried that insisting on one of his wives as a hostage would offend his honor and make him look for opportunities for revenge.”

Alistair nodded.  “Very well then.  We’ll set as a minimum condition for peace a cessation of raiding and all of the children of the Khan’s favored wife as hostages.  Anything more that Lord Derek can negotiate is gravy.”

“I’ll have your grace’s secretary prepare appropriate orders,” said Dame Brionna.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Abigail entered and informed the Council that Lord Davion had arrived.  The Council adjourned to one of the thronerooms to meet with him-- they would not use the regular meeting room until Lord Silverleaves informed them that he had removed the psionic effect, and Lord Davion was more likely to prefer excessive formality to insufficient.

Lord Davion bowed deeply as he approached the throne.  “You wished to see me, your grace?”

“Indeed, and our thanks for your prompt attendance.  We have several questions for you.  First, I know that your son is serving as one of our generals.  How would you assess his abilities?”

Lord Davion thought about the question carefully.  “I am proud of what my son has accomplished in the short time of his life.  Though he has chosen to embrace his Noldar parentage rather than his human ancestry, he is still very young.  He is a good general, although not yet a great one.  It remains to be seen if he can learn the hardest lesson of command.”

“What would you say the hardest lesson of command is, Lord Davion?” asked Dame Brionna.

“The hardest lesson that all good commanders learn is that they must spend their men’s lives that others need not spend theirs.  It is one thing to learn to plan a battle so that you will lose the least number of troops possible.  It is a much more difficult task to learn to send your troops to their deaths, knowing that is what you do, so that they can save a civilian population, or even the lives of other troops.  My son has no shortage of courage, and he is devoted to the principles of the Lord of Light, but many try so hard to avoid making certain difficult choices that they end up making worse ones.  As I said, it remains to be seen whether he will learn that lesson.”

“How is your son at the aspects of being a general that do not directly involve strategy?”

“He is an excellent administrator, your grace.  He maintains his troops in a high state of readiness and strikes a very good balance between avoiding waste and making prudent preparations for the future.”

“Thank you.  That assessment will be very helpful as we consider him for certain other tasks.”  Alistair paused as he considered how to raise one of the main reasons they had summoned Lord Davion.  “We know that you command Gateways’s field army currently.  What other command experience do you have?”

“I’ve commanded forces both large and small, both in the time of my service to Aufaugauthal’arim, then as a commander of mercenaries, and then here.”

“How would you assess your own capabilities as a commander?”

In measured tones, careful to not make any overstatements, Lord Davion said, “I am a good field commander, a competent administrator, a good strategist, although not nearly as good as the Bleeding Lady.”

Recognizing that as the title of one of the greatest Noldar generals, Alistair probed a little further.  “Are you familiar with our current field marshals?  How would you say that you compare to their abilities?”

“Ah, when compared to human officers…  Only one of your field marshals will ever be better than me-- Lord Brightspan.  He needs to mature more, develop his patience and his finesse, to surpass me, but in time he will.  At the present, Field Marshal Broadfields is your best commander, but he will not improve and is below my abilities.  His mind is sharp and able, but I can see it begin to harden and to slow.  When I first noticed it, I spoke to a redactor and to my chaplain about whether they could heal him, but they said that it is an effect of aging, and that while aging can be slowed with great magics, it cannot be reversed.  And he is so young-- scarcely into his seventh decade!  For all that humans shine brightly, you pay a heavy price by burning so fast.”

“Indeed.  Many humans have made terrible choices because they fear aging.  But you must try not to view Field Marshal Broadfields as overly young.  By human standards, he has already lived a good life and his death is not yet at hand.”

“I understand, your grace, but it is difficult.  I am fond of Lord Broadfields.  I served with him at one battle.  And I can see in his aging my wife’s fate, and that of my children who have chosen to follow their mother’s ancestry.”

“You said you expect the field marshal to decline,” said Dame Brionna.  “Through the normal process of aging, or faster?”

“The healers say that some human minds go stiff and then decline rapidly, while others diminish more gradually.  Lord Broadfields will be in the first category.  Within ten years, the decline will begin in earnest.  When it comes, it will be rapid.  He will lose his abilities and may even lose his ability to recognize his friends and families.”  Lord Davion paused.  “It troubles me even to think of it.”

Dame Brionna made a note to have Lord Broadfields watched carefully.  They would need to act quickly when the decline comes.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

My apologies for missing yesterday's post.  Also, just so it's not a surprise, I will probably be posting tomorrow and then not posting again for a little over a week while we're on vacation.  Regular posts should then resume, although things may be a little irregular until mid-August.

* * *

Alistair glanced at each of his advisors.  They both nodded, and he spoke again.  “Lord Davion, you may be aware that we face the dangers of much more war.  Lord Brightspan has already engaged one set of enemies, while orcish hordes attack on another flank, and the great battle with the forces of the Abomination of Shur lies ahead.  We have recently decided to raise five full field armies to meet these threats.  We are working to arrange for officers for the field armies, but we need a fourth field marshal for overall command.  We would like to offer you that position.”

Lord Davion pursed his lips before reluctantly speaking.  “My thanks for your confidence, your grace.  I will accept this position.  However…  I am concerned about matters of discipline.  Some of the things permitted with our troops may not be appropriate with human troops.  I am most concerned about how to handle the most egregious offenders.”

“After a court-martial, you may execute soldiers who engage in particularly egregious misconduct such as murder, rape, or mutiny,” said Alistair.  “And I understand the need to maintain military discipline.  Torture is forbidden, and even executions should be done as painlessly as possible.  I won’t condone unnecessary cruelty.  But if you need to authorize corporal punishment to maintain order, that is permissible.  Likewise, making an example out of a few early offenders is fine.  We understand that matters are different in the military than among the ordinary subjects of the Archduchy.”

“Ah.  I think that I will be able to maintain discipline adequately, then.  I had been concerned that even that level of discipline would be considered too much.  I have not found cruelty or wanton conduct necessary, or indeed helpful, even when dealing with orcs and uruks.  I will accept this command.  I do not wish to serve indefinitely as one of the field marshals, but I would be more than happy to serve for a decade or so to aid during the current crisis.  With your grace’s permission, I will begin making preparations to bring my family to the capital.  I will have to be separated from them when I am in the field, but I would prefer them to be closer to my command than Gateways would be.”

“Of course.  Make whatever preparations you see fit, but we will want you to take on your new duties essentially immediately.

“We also have a question about an unrelated matter.  We received this odd message from one of the renegade drowan houses, purporting to ‘give’ us the Supreme Matron Mother’s Sixth Daughter.  We want to understand whether she should be understood as free, as one does not give free people.  We are concerned that even she should be considered a slave of the Supreme Matron Mother, in which case we would need to respond, but we don’t want to give offense unnecessarily.”

“The Supreme Matron Mother is doing as much to honor you as she knows how.  The rebel structure is extremely striated, so there is something to what you say, but the Sixth Daughter is the member of the ruling house of a great house.  While she is closer to the status of a slave than any child of your house would be, she is as free as anyone besides a ruler would be within their society.  Indeed, I doubt that her house has any slaves at all, except for battle prisoners.  To be more precise:  they would have lesser race slaves, but they would not consider any drow except prisoners to be slaves.  She is free.  She can also be trusted.  As long as she remains in your service, she will obey you alone and will keep your confidences secret.”  Lord Davion looked over the message.  “She is probably most helpful working with the head of your intelligence service.  That was probably the intent of her Matron Mother.”

“We had already reached that conclusion,” replied Kit.  “The only question was whether we were going to accept at all.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Bonus length for last post for a while!

* * *

Lord Davion nodded.  “And now, a question for you.”  He opened a small bag, which kept on opening wider than would have been possible without magic, and dragged a humanoid cat out by the scruff of the neck.  “Do you want this, or should I just kill it?  It was spying last night, at my lord’s townhouse.”

“I should think we would want to at least interrogate it first.”

“It had spells that it thought would conceal it from my sight, foolish thing.  It is a half-breed; half-rakasta and half-rakshasa.  I took away its magic, its communication crystal, and this odd note.  I am afraid that I do not recognize the language in which it is written.”

Dame Brionna held up her sun disc and concentrated for a moment.  “It is clearly evil.”

“Thank you, Lord Davion.  We will question the prisoner and have the note deciphered.  If we find anything of interest, we will let you know.”

Lord Davion bowed seriously and prepared to depart.

“Oh, Lord Davion, we had one other question,” added Kit.  “Do you know what these coins are?  We know they’re from Krashmere, but…”  She showed him the crystalline coins that the Master Unbidden had left with the city guard’s body.

He chuckled.  “How remarkable to see such here.  These are laen hoard tuals.”

“Do you know how much they are worth?”

Lord Davion drew a small abacus out of his bag of holding and made a rapid series of calculations.  “Well, at present value, if you market them carefully… about 275 gold each.  The Noldar keep much of their wealth in this form, but they are very rare outside of Noldar lands because they are never spent.  These are among the middle-value coins.  Besides the various common metals that humans use as coins, there are also osmium coins below the value of laen tuals.  Osmium is a bone-white metal, like ivory.  Those coins are worth about 125 gold.  And both the osmium and the laen coins are much less valuable than adamantium, but adamantium is rarely used publicly.”

“Really?  I thought I had heard of adamantium coins in more common circulation than these,” said Alistair.

“Ah, but the small rebel adamantium coins are adulterated, of course.  I was referring to the pure adamantium coins that the Noldar use, not the rebel counterfeits.”  Lord Davion thought for a moment.  “The key with these will be figuring out how to get full value.  Your best bet would probably be to sell them back to the embassy.”

“Thank you, Lord Davion.  That is most helpful.”

The Forsaken bowed deeply and departed.

“I like him,” said Kit with a smile after he left.

“I’m certainly glad he’s one of ours,” replied Alistair.  “I asked the questions about his son because I think he might be a reasonable candidate to receive the Earldom of Caldra or Caligshire.  We’ll need to verify Lord Davion’s statements, but if he is a skilled general and an excellent administrator, that would make him a good choice.  It would also be a good way to honor Lord Davion for his service-- I think he would appreciate it.”

Dame Brionna nodded thoughtfully.  “And his son is a paladin of Glor’diadel, so we can both trust his integrity and expect him to be good at rooting out corruption.”

“Plus, as a half-elf, he’ll live a long time, which will be good for stability.  I like it,” said Kit.  “Anything we can do to hold down succession issues is a good thing.”

“Actually, my understanding is that he has chosen to take after his father’s heritage even though he’s Glor’diadelian.  As a half-Noldar who embraces his elven blood, he’ll be immortal, or all but.”

“He might still choose to abdicate at some point, your grace.  But I agree that we could expect him to reign for a millennium or more, which would make it more stable than any of the rest of the Archduchy.”

“As I said, we will need to do some more research.  Also, it’s ultimately the Duke of Furrows choice, not ours, but I think that he will be likely to take our counsel very seriously.”

After checking it for traps and confirming that the only psionic effect on the cat-being was the mental malaise that Lord Davion had put on it, the Council sent it off to the dungeon to be interrogated.  They also sent the note to a sage for translation, and quickly received a report.  The note was the equivalent of a wanted poster, describing a female catperson and two kittens.

Kit immediately set her network on the task of locating and securing the rakasta family.  Based on the details included in the note, she should have arrived in Canberry City about a day earlier.  Kit also made sure that her people understood that the rakasta might have sufficient magic to conceal its appearance.  They also sent for Reverend Canon Toddle in the hopes that he would be able to help locate the rakasta before the agents of the Abomination of Shur could.

The diviner arrived soon after the message for him had been sent.  He was holding a cat as he entered, petting it calmly.  The Council was immediately suspicious, but the cat gave off no signs of psionics or evil, and appeared to simply be a cat.

“May I ask how you ended up with a cat?” said Dame Brionna.

“Of course, Dame Brionna,” replied the Reverend Canon.  “It was meowing in an alleyway for several days, and I shared my dinner of fish with it.  It purred happily and has been clinging to me ever since.”  The cat meowed contentedly as the diviner continued petting it.  He seemed mellower and less agitated than on any of the previous occasions they had seen him.  Reverend Canon Toddle then continued firmly.  “You wished to see me because of the branching of the prolipses.”

Not exactly, thought Alistair, but if the prolipses is branching, we should probably know.  “Indeed, in part.  Can you tell us about this branching?”

“Three great branches lie directly ahead.  One leads to the place where the stone boat has gone.  That branch must not be taken.”  His tone was unusually emphatic, and the Council noted that that was the first time he had ever definitively rejected a choice.  “Of the other two:  Both lie before the Archduchy like fields at the feet of the farmer.  You can have one or the other.  Before you lies either growth to the South and war to the West and Southwest, or growth to the East and loss to the West.  The path before your feet is crystal clear, but a middle way would yet avail you.

“You must commit your energies, though you do not wish to, to one of the two.  Your heart you will never commit, but your energies you must.  If you commit to the one to the South, then the Archduchy will gain great lands, and those who seek their demise will become an implacable foe.  If you choose the one to the East, who is still a more viable one than you think, you will gain lands to the East, but give offense to the ones in the South.  Because of the offense of the one to the South, the West will crumble.”

“What about the middle way?”

“You take neither.  You make alliances, and you choose another from far away.  You keep all that you now have.  The war that comes eventually ends.  And what you pass on is greater than what you have, but less than what it could be.”

Alistair thought for a moment.  “Will war come to the South either way, with the only question whether we are involved?”

“Indeed.  The enemies of the South will strike at it regardless of your choices.  If you stand with the South, our armies will be pulled into these battles, but will triumph after much war.  If you do not, Canberry will remain secure, but the refugees will suffer greatly.”

“And what about the stone boat?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Why must we not choose that?”

“Its sending will come soon.  Its allies have brought forth the one that is to seduce.”  Reverend Canon Toddle looked at Alistair intently.  “If you take that path, their last hope, the kingdom falls.  It is not one that has been spoken of before.  You will know her by that.

“Is there aught else?” he asked.  “My vision is clear today.  I can see nothing else but the branching.”

“Have you seen a female catperson and her two children?” asked Kit.

“Yes, she steps here and there.  There is great power within her, but great power seeks her.  She has taken refuge in the poor quarter, where he will not think to search for her.  There are assassins sent for her.  Three entered the City.  One watches the palace, one searches the noble houses, one watches the gate.  They hope to still catch her; traitor they call her, though true she is.”

Kit grimaced at the mention of assassins.  “We’ll need to catch them first and deal with them quietly.”

“If you take out the assassins yourself, they will know that you know that they know she’s here.”

“We’ll just have to be more subtle, then,” replied Kit.  “Things happen by chance at times.  If we work carefully, we should be able to create incidents that will appear more general, but will engulf the assassins anyway.”

Reverend Canon Toddle nodded.  “That could fool them, at least for a time.  But now, I must ask.  There is a baby in the nursery.”

“Yes.  What about him?” responded Dame Brionna.

“He confuses me.  Because he is, but he is not, the Archduke’s child.”

“There is an imposter,” answered Alistair.  “We think the imposter might be a clone.”

“A clone?  A clone…” Reverend Canon Toddle’s voice faded away as that word triggered memories of other visions.  A moment later, he slipped back into a trance and began talking emphatically but without any conscious though.  “A nest of clones below the hunting lodge has been disturbed.  Many have been brought forth.  Some died when they were raised, but some walk.  Three walk!  He walks, a mindless general walks, and another, a woman.  A woman I have seen before.  A member of the royal family, but not a member of the royal family.  I see her clearly, dimly.  But she passes out of time.  I cannot see her footprint in time.  It is like seeing a ghost, but it is not even like seeing a ghost.  It is a horrible thing they have done.  The one in the north, the one in the north walks to Ecsilias now. Now!”  He tottered forward and fell.  For a moment it seemed he would land on the cat, but Dame Brionna and Kit leapt forward and caught him before he could.  The cat looked worried, for the first time.

After an hour, the Reverend Canon recovered and could be led back to his dormitory.  A note from the Archdeacon informed the palace that they had seen a similar pattern before and that it would be weeks or months before he could foresee again.

The Council quickly dispatched warnings to Ecsilias and to Lyneham warning them about the imposter.  Ecsilias was the highest threat--the Archbaron had daughters, nieces, and granddaughters, any of whom the false Alistair might target, and an incident involving Ecsilias could easily develop into a diplomatic nightmare.  The warning for Lyneham was more personal.  Without a warning, the people of Lyneham would welcome Alistair as their liege, and the people the imposter would attack would be people that the Council had met and grown to like during their visit there.  Any atrocities in Lyneham would be all the worse because of the betrayal of trust involved.

The Council then discussed what to do about the Sixth Daughter.  They agreed, based on Lord Davion’s assessment, that she was free.  At the same time, the notion of being given her services still rankled, as did the notion that upon Alistair’s death she would return to her mother’s house, regardless of her preferences.  Finally, they decided that they would accept her services, but upon their terms, not upon the terms of the drow.  They sent a message to the matron mother informing her that her Sixth Daughter would be accepted into service through a relationship of fealty, as with the knights of Canberry, and that upon Alistair’s death, she would be given the choice between returning to her homeland or continuing to serve as a vassal of Alistair’s heir.  The messenger reported that the matron mother was not displeased by this, and if anything seemed amused.

They then sent for the Sixth Daughter and met her in a throne room, where they asked her if she wished to enter into service to the House of Ashberry.  When she said that she did, not without some confusion, Dame Brionna instructed her in taking an oath of fealty to the Archduke.  Alistair, for his part, swore to carry out the duties of a liege to a vassal and presented her weapons back to her, as she was now an honored vassal.  She remained confused, but at the same time was honored and beginning to understand that surface societies were even more different than she had realized, and perhaps better.  Alistair also offered to have a redactor cure the extensive scarring if she wished.  She decided to consider the offer rather than deciding immediately--there were advantages to being underestimated and shunned, but it had its costs as well.

[End Session 22]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

We're back from vacation, so I'm going to resume posting.  I may not have access over the weekend-- we'll see.  But other than that, it should be back to daily updates for the foreseeable future.

-----
[Session 23]

Later that afternoon, Dame Brionna set forth from the palace to discuss various matters with her family.  She set out to speak with her sister first about taking a role in the court.  The Council had agreed that she could be useful for gathering information, especially with regards to the refugees from the Southlands and the process of vetting Princess Kaitlyn.  Lady Elaine received Dame Brionna in her salon.

“It is good to see you again, Brionna.  I trust that Abigail is behaving herself?” she asked, a little tentatively-- Abigail had been a trying child at times.

“Indeed.  Dame Katherine has mentioned no complaints about her service as a page.”

“Excellent.  I remain grateful to you for finding a place for her-- it would have been difficult to arrange for her to meet the right people without your sponsorship.  I’m afraid that the rest of the family has little place in these lands.”

“That was what I wished to discuss, Elaine.  His Grace would like to ask you to provide some assistance to the crown.  We don’t have as many sources of information about the talk among the nobles, and among the nobles of the old Kingdoms, as we would like.  We thought that you might be able to develop some useful sources of information.”

Lady Elaine nodded, a shrewd smile on her face.  “I think I could, at that.  But of course I would be unable to hear much of interest while a mere refugee… would the Archduke be willing to give me a more established place within proper society?”

“He would.  He will be holding open court next week and would be happy to formally receive you.  He would even receive you according to our family’s old title, rather than just with the courtesy of ‘Lady Elaine.’  I think that would provide you with the entry to polite society that you would need?”

“Indeed.  And in return for that, and for the service of giving my daughter a place of honor in the court, I will be happy to listen carefully and to ask a few of my friends to listen as well.”  Lady Elaine lifted an eyebrow to be certain that her sister understood that she was in effect promising to build a small intelligence network, although of course she would never be so gauche as to directly speak of it that way, and continued after Dame Brionna gave a short nod of understanding.  “Are there specific topics His Grace would be particularly interested in?”

“There are.  We would like to hear of the talk among Princess Kaitlyn’s retinue.  As you may know, she is among His Grace’s suitors, and we wish to know more about her companions and whether they pose any dangers.”

Lady Elaine nodded.  “It should be a simple enough matter to arrange for a friend from the Confederation to join at least the outskirts of Princess Kaitlyn’s court, such as it is.  I’ll make certain that it is a friend with no familial connection to us, so that an investigation of your kin and allies will not turn up any ties.  I also know some of the people in her retinue and should be able to get the public gossip of the court in exile directly.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Excellent.  The other issues are more a matter of observing the mood of the court and rumors about Alistair, among all the nobles, but particularly the ladies.  We would wish you to apprise us of anything of consequence that you hear, but we are most interested in three specific matters.  First, there is an impostor pretending to be His Grace who has been committing atrocities and offenses against women in various foreign courts.”

Lady Elaine pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “I see.  That could be particularly disruptive, with the path that Canberry is on, towards becoming the dominant power on the continent.”

“Any information that aided us in apprehending the imposter would be most useful.  We also wish to know if the rumors begin souring opinions of His Grace.”

Lady Elaine nodded.  “Of course.  The next matter?”

“We wish to know of any potential brides for His Grace, and of the opinions of the nobles about the various possibilities that are already being considered.  In particular, any information on Princess Kaitlyn would be most appreciated.”

“I take it then that His Grace does intend to wed quickly if a suitable dynastic match can be arranged?”

“Indeed.  His Grace remains very aware of the need to ensure a smooth succession and wishes to arrange for an heir as quickly as possible-- but we need to be certain that we have the right match.”

“That will of course be a key topic of conversation among all of the Canberran nobles, and among any other nobles who hope or fear that their sovereigns might contract a marriage with His Grace.  It should be the simplest matter to hear extensive reports.”

“Finally, we need to gather more information about his grace’s half-siblings and other relations.  They are likely to be used as marriage prospects.”

“Of course.  Without doubt, noble houses will already be sizing them up and beginning to lay the groundwork for more overt negotiations.”

“We need to know how loyal and reliable each of them are.  Some of them we know to be supporters of His Grace, and we have imprisoned those we know would seek to lead a rebellion, but we want to minimize the possibility of giving a disloyal vassal or a foreign power a cadet line that they might use as a pretext for a succession war.  At the same time, if we can use a marriage with a prince of Canberry to draw in neighboring realms or to cement the loyalty of one of the duchies, that would be a great opportunity.”

“I understand completely.  Again, this will be a focus of gossip among the noble ladies for the next many years-- I daresay that it will be a major topic of discussion until every last one is married off and unavailable or until His Grace’s own children begin coming of age.  I should be able to assemble detailed information without arousing any suspicion.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna thanked her sister and moved on to a more delicate task:  discussing the Old Ones with her parents.  Dame Brionna’s father was out of the townhouse when she arrived, but her mother quickly met with her.

“Ah, Brionna!  We’re so proud of all that you have accomplished.  Captain of the Archducal Guard!  I am sorry that I ever doubted your decision to join that knightly order.”

“Thank you, Mother.  I have been fortunate in my ability to serve Lord Glor’diadel well.”

“And to have made close ties to the greatest people in this land.  To think-- a confidant of the Archduke himself.”

Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “It is because of my position in the court that I have come here today.  I remembered something from long ago that we thought might be relevant to some recent developments.  We dismissed one of our maids, many years ago.  I think it had something to do with the Old Ones.  Can you tell me anything about it?”

“Now, Brionna, that’s not the sort of matter that is wise to spend much time dwelling on.  She was a follower of the Old Gods.  When we discovered this, we sent her forth from our service immediately.  What more could you need to know?”

“What can you tell me about the Old Gods?  We worry that their followers pose a threat to the Archduchy.”

Dame Brionna’s mother sighed.  “I would not have wished to speak of it, but I suppose you are old enough now…  In their time, it is said that there were four that preceded the Great Lady of Chaos.  In those early days, when all rose out of the sea of being, there were four beings who arose, or who some say came from elsewhere in the first days.  Those four dominated creation for a long time.  Eventually one of them subsumed another, and gained a great hunger for her brothers and sisters.  Other gods arose, and war broke out among the planes.  The other gods prevailed, which drove the Old Gods out of time, but never out of their hunger.  In the faith of Berta, there was a remembrance of them, for we were closest to where they came from.  Three remained, and there was a continuation of the cults.”


----------



## Quartz

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> [Session 23]
> yay!






> He would even receive you according to our family’s old title, rather than just with the courtesy of ‘Lady Elaine.’  I think that would provide you with the entry to polite society that you would need?




With their mother still alive? Might be a bit of a faux pas on the etiquette side. And anyway, wouldn't she have the title of her husband? Or didn't she marry Abigail's father?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

We actually discussed that out of game, but I didn't include it in the Storyhour.  Our assumption is that Lady Elaine has a courtesy title as the heir-apparent of her parents (much like how Alistair's father was Marquis Belconnen as the heir-apparent of the Archduchess of Canberry, and his eldest child will be styled Marquis or Marchioness Belconnen).  She could use a dowager title (from her husband) if that were higher, but it is fairly clear that her husband was at best a manor lord or landed knight, because otherwise Abigail would have inherited a higher title than "Lady" upon her father's death.  This would all be clearer if we knew exactly what title Dame Brionna's parents held, but we don't, so...  (At least in Canberry, succession order is not dependent on gender.)

* * *

“Do the three Old Gods have names?”

“They had many names, but the most common names were titles: the One Beside; the One Other; and many titles for the last one who consumed her brother, the Devourer of All, the Goddess of the Pale Bone.  It is said that so great is her hunger, that all of her creations are intended only for one purpose, to consume the world so that she can consume them and everything.  Her cult exists in other lands but it has always been strongest in the lands devoted to Berta.”  

Dame Brionna bit back curses at Berta-- her mother might still be offended by criticisms of the family’s traditional religion.  “What did our maid do?”

“She offered blood sacrifice to the Goddess of the Pale Bone, slaying various animals.  She had killed several animals, probably in an attempt to bring a here’ku through.”

“Here’ku?”

“One of the chief servants of the Goddess of the Pale Bone.  I do not believe she brought them through.  The here’ku are like dopplegangers, but substantially more powerful.  They might take the place of anything.  The only way to tell is to cut them.  They do not bleed blood, but a colorless ichor.  They can mimic perfectly besides that test, even mimicking mannerisms and reading the surface thoughts of those within fifty feet, allowing them to tailor responses to match expectations.  The here’ku nearly toppled the South Kingdoms eight-hundred years ago.”

“Do they have weaknesses?  Could we fight them?”

“While they are potent in combat, they are not as potent as the demons of the Horned Rat.  They can be slain as anything else, but you need to hit them hard because weapons do not bite as deeply into them as you would expect.”

“What of the other Old Gods?  Would they seek to infiltrate as well?”

“No.  The One Other and the One Beside also have their servants, but they cannot pass within human society, so they raise up their mountains and fortresses.  But you cannot treat them as separate threats; they work as a triumvirate frequently.  Many years ago, a temple of the One Beside arose to the east of the Kingdoms.  It was the cause of long-term combat, particularly with the fey of the Silentwood.  Then the sea rose up and consumed the island, and not seen since.  If the island were seen again, would mean he had enough cultists and power to raise it from the ocean.  I can’t imagine that would happen, even with the desperation of the refugees.”

“The refugees?  Surely they would not follow the Old Gods.”

“Not originally, but many believed the Lady of Chaos failed us.  They might turn to the other gods they knew of, the One Other and the One Beside.”

Dame Brionna thought about that for a moment.  It was insane, but she could understand, if only barely, how they could have reached that point.  After all, she had rejected Berta after the fall of the South Kingdoms as well.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We’ll have to take steps to deal with that, then.  What do the cultists seek to do?”

“The Goddess of the Pale Bone was cast out to a different universe.  There are doors from that universe to this, but opening the doors has to be paid for with blood.  The sacrifices of the cultists are meant as those payments.  A single worshipper could bring someone through, but it would take many offerings.”

“Do you know what happened to the maid after you dismissed her?”

“I’m afraid not.  It was only two days later that we found she was trying to bring a here’ku through, but we could not find her then.  We reported her to the Office of Heresy, but the priests did not devote enough time to such things.”

“We might be able to locate her.  Would you allow us to take an image of her from your mind for use in scrying?”

Dame Brionna’s mother hesitated, clearly troubled, before answering.  “It does not please me, but I would permit a psion to take an image from my mind for scrying.  Your father would probably not.  It is probable that I should meet you elsewhere with the psion.  I do not think he would approve.”

“Thank you, Mother.  Our priests will be able to do more to prevent the further progress of the Old Ones than the priests of Berta did.  They could not even prevent the attack of the demons.”

Dame Brionna’s mother winced.  “But how were they to have even seen it coming?  It caught everyone by surprise.  Or perhaps not everyone-- some time before the fall, I met a priest of Paranswarm who predicted the destruction of the Southern Kingdoms.  He was a powerful psion-- I think his name was Canon Deloren.  But I had no reason to believe him, especially as priests of Paranswarm would always tend to predict the worst for Bertan kingdoms.”

Dame Brionna listened carefully.  Someone who had figured out what was coming could be a useful ally--and someone who knew the demons’ plans in advance might be an extremely dangerous foe.  “Do you remember how you met him?  I would not have thought you would have met many Paranswarmian priests.”

“No, I should say not.  He was a member of the entourage of Lady Castilia Mandrath.  She paid a visit to the court, and everyone of consequence attended the state functions.”  Dame Brionna’s mother smiled a little as she recalled a happier time.

Dame Brionna thanked her mother and returned to the palace, where she reported on what she had learned.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“That’s another story about a dead god, like what the Seachen are involved with,” said Kit with concern.  “Maybe they’re trying to bring back the god that was eaten?  And even if they’re not, maybe somebody else is.”

“We’ll have to investigate it further,” said Dame Brionna.  “My concern is more about the here’ku.”

“Do you think the imposter is a here’ku instead of a clone?” asked Kit.

“No-- we know that the imposter is His Grace’s clone.”

“Not necessarily,” replied Alistair.  “We know that there are clones, including clones of me, and we know that they have been disturbed, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t also here’ku.  For all we know, it could have even started out as a clone and then been replaced.”

“Be that as it may, we also need to focus on the problems among the refugees.  We need to cut off the ability of the Old Ones to recruit among the people who have lost faith in Berta, which means we need to work on converting them to a new religion.”

“Agreed.  Really, even if they became Paranswarmian, it would be better.  I’m not saying that would be good-- but better than following the Old Gods.”

“I was thinking we could send down some priests to convert them to Glor’diadel, and perhaps some bards to tell them encouraging stories.  Tales of knighthood and chivalry and the like.”

Kit shook her head with a derisive smile.  “Or give them food and protection.  People who are safe may be interested in stories.  People who are worried about starving, or being carried off by slavers, just want safety and food.  Right now, actual knights would make a difference, but tales of knighthood would be worthless.”

“Kit’s right,” said Alistair.  “We’ll need to get as many troops down there as we can, although we’ve already sent the armies we can spare.  Maybe the temple can provide some church troops, along with some priests who can provide actual protection.”

“I’ll ask the Archbishop for an audience, Your Grace.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

While Dame Brionna made arrangements with the Archbishop, Kit ordered her people to investigate the sales of krif.  She knew the basics:  taking krif produces hallucinations, delusions, and a sense of hyper-activity.  It is also extraordinarily addictive, with regular users becoming increasingly emaciated as their metabolism accelerates.  Kit’s secretary quickly agreed to pull together the relevant reports.  She then informed him that she wanted to see her lower city people in person.

At that, her secretary produced a magical silver mask.  “You will find that this will change your form to any you may desire, to keep your true identity secure.  Most Mouths select a small number of preferred forms, so that the form they use can serve as a recognition signal.  Dame Esmerelda favored a husky middle aged man with one leg or a small pig.  I really can’t imagine why, but there you have it.”

Kit thought about it for a while and then chose to be a hawk.  She wanted to take on a bird form, both for aesthetics and because the ability to fly might be useful, but at the same time, she wanted a bird that gets taken seriously.

Kit quickly located her head agent in the lower city and sent a message requesting his appearance at a safe house.  He was a man of middle-age, totally beaten down by a hard life.  At least that’s what he looked like at first, but his eyes were sharp, alert, and probing, giving lie to the despair that covered the rest of his face.  The hawk flew into the room where he slumped and landed on a rafter.  He bowed deeply to the hawk, without asking questions.  “I have come as you asked.”

Kit replied, “Thank you.  I am trying to find out if anyone in the City is on krif.”

“Krif?  Let me think.  I know the symptoms, but there are not many people with them.  I’ll have to do some active investigation, then.  Should I use the standard contact protocols when I learn more?”

“Yes,” answered Kit, without a clue as to what the standard contact protocols were. “We know that enemies of the realm smuggled a sizeable amount into the City.  We are most worried that it might be the beginning of a group spreading it here directly.”

“I understand.  It would be essential to cut it off quickly.  I can’t say that it seems likely, but I won’t discount the possibility.”

“We don’t think they would dare do that here, either, but we need to keep an eye on it.  If Canberry is just being used as a waystation, we want to know that as well.”

He nodded.  “Either way, we’ll find out and let you know.  If that is all?”

The hawk nodded, and he slipped out, staggering as he went.  Kit returned to the palace and met with her secretary again, back in her natural form.  “What are the ‘standard contact protocols’?”

“Ah.  No use of force, information gathering only, with a reporting chain back to you.  They would not contact you directly, of course, for security reasons.  I am glad that you are not escalating the instructions-- there was concern in some quarters that you were too inexperienced, or that you would be overzealous and pursue bloodier tactics.”

“No!  I want the least bloody tactics possible.”  Kit paused and then amended that a little.  “Or the least bloody tactics that will accomplish our goals--I know that we can’t always avoid bloodshed altogether.”

Her secretary smiled.  “Good, good.  It can be a delicate balance, but too many people have a first instinct to err too far in one direction or the other.  I knew from your earlier efforts that you could act firmly when necessary, but it’s good to see that you have a sense of that as well.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“I have another matter I want to discuss with you.  Do you know anything about this fan?  It’s linked to a group of agents-- are they the main part of our network?”

“Ah.  I had not realized you had taken that directly.  The fan belonged to one of the people who ran a subpart of your predecessor’s operation.  It has been generations since the Mouth used it directly.  Dame Esmerelda put it in the hands of one of her most trusted agents, who was also something of a friend to the Archduchess.  So she is the one who built the network of agents on the fan.  Have any of the other prime agents checked in?”

“No, I don’t think so.  Who are they?”

“There were four all told; we know what happened to this one, so three remain unaccounted for and presumably still active.  They’re all somewhat independent, of course.  One was sent to Khamista to infiltrate the temple of Paranswarm.  Dame Esmerelda was most worried when the Inquisition swept the continent.  He reported about once every sixth months, so it is unsurprising that you have not yet heard from him.  When last I heard, he remained embedded in the hierarchy of the Inquisition and the Inquisitor General.  Second:  a close friend traveled north in the guise of a merchant, who set up a network in Hanal.  Over time, she was able to set up as both a merchant and a strommess.”  Kit raised an eyebrow at that.  “She married into the title, and her husband was suddenly and fatally ill shortly after the marriage.  The third remaining prime agent is in Brightspan, but she has been singularly unsuccessful in creating a network thus far, making the reports of minimal worth.”

“The Brightspan prime agent is also a woman?” asked Kit.  When her secretary nodded, a little hesitantly, Kit asked, “What was her cover?”

“Ah… you see…  well, m’lady, it was hoped she could get close to the Duke… She… umm…  She was a very beautiful woman!”

Kit did her best to cover a smile at her secretary’s prudishness.  “I take it she might be a good leader for the Naughty Bits, then?”  She also reflected that the psionic effect on the Duke of Brightspan would have made the plan of infiltrating a mistress all but impossible--his paranoia would cause him to suspect the truth even without any evidence.

“Yes, m’lady.  I suppose we will need someone coordinating that effort,” he said with distaste.  “But in any event, those are the prime agents.”

“Did the fan-bearer put the other prime agents on the crystals?”

 “Perhaps.  The uses of the fan’s crystals was left to her discretion-- you will have to check the crystals directly to be sure.”

Kit nodded.  “I’ll make that a priority.  With the Brightspan agent-- what was her supposed reason for being there?”

“Ah.  She was ostensibly in flight from her family, the Overfifers.  The story was that she was ‘dishonoring the family name.’  There was nothing to it, of course; her branch of the family has been merchants for year, solid grain merchants.  Lady Mayor Overfifer probably doesn’t even know they exist, and there is no actual rift within the family even if she does.  But it provided a convenient excuse for her to be traveling lightly and quietly, while still letting her use her rank to gain entrée.”

Kit drummed her fingers.  She would have to consider whether to recall the agent.  She could serve as a very useful leader for the Naughty Bits.  At the same time, once the psionic effect on the Duke of Brightspan dissolved, she might be able to accomplish her original mission.  Kit didn’t trust the Duke enough to want to reduce the Archduchy’s surveillance of him.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Once Kit returned to the Council, Alistair brought up a longer term concern.

“We keep getting caught unaware by developments in foreign countries.  We really need to start getting regular briefings by a foreign policy advisor.”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” responded Dame Brionna, perhaps with a bit of surprise at Alistair actually showing an interest.

“Who’s our current Foreign Minister?”

“I’m afraid that’s another vacancy, Your Grace.  The last one was among the many ministers who killed themselves by the funeral.”

Alistair grimaced.  “For protocol reasons, we should probably appoint a noble to the post.  As a practical matter, most of the work will be done by an aide, but a foreign minister who is not a noble won’t have enough clout with foreign powers.”

“Makes sense,” said Kit.  “Besides, then we’ll have another way to encourage the loyalty of our nobles by having their relatives serve in high positions.  Who are the reasonable choices?”

“The clearest pick would be Dame Olga Bigglesberg, I think.  She’s the younger sister of the ruler of the City of Bigglesberg in Tusslefields.  She’s experienced, well-regarded, and was formerly captain of the house guard.  If we wanted a more daring pick, I suppose we could go with the cousin of the Count of Gateways.  He has dealt with combinations of uruks, dwarves, orcs, and gnomes at the same time.”

“Wow.  That is impressive.  Is he a high enough noble for purposes of appearances?”

Dame Brionna thought for a moment.  “I think it would be accepted if the Archduke appointed him, and viewed as an appropriate award for service.  Still, I’m not sure that’s the best use for him.  He won’t fit in as well with human realms, and he might be better used as an ambassador to Underdark powers when we need one.”

“Are there any other possibilities you can think of?”

“What about the older children, or nieces or nephews, of Lord Kelven and Lady Bibi, the Duke and Duchess of Westmarch, Your Grace?”

“They certainly have the rank.  Even one of the bastards would do.  That might be best-- high enough rank to be taken seriously, and a reward to Westmarch for their loyalty.”

“Who are the possibilities?” asked Kit.

“The Duke and Duchess have eleven children, as well as fourteen nieces and nephews they’ve adopted, all from Lady Bibi’s deceased sister.  There are also four recognized bastards, along with other children who are presumed but not acknowledged.”

“Eleven children?  And fourteen nieces and nephews from one sister?” asked Alistair incredulously.  “Are they Gunnoran or something?”

“Yes, Your Grace.  The only nobles of any meaningful status who are Gunnoran.  All accounts are that they are remarkably happy family, but looking for marriages.  They are also known for keeping hunting dogs in the manor, along with trained lions.”

“Hmm.  I think about the five oldest children would be old enough to serve-- the other six are all sixteen or younger.  I think the second oldest child has a reputation for being intelligent?”

Dame Brionna checked some of the files that the Archduchess maintained on the nobility of Canberry and nodded.  “That’s right, your grace.  Based on what we know, their second child and eldest daughter is quite smart, perceptive, and level-headed.  She should do admirably.”

“Does she have current responsibilities?” asked Kit.

“Not substantial ones.  She is in her early to mid-twenties, married, but with no children.  She doesn’t have any substantial land of her own to administer.” Dame Brionna looked up from the file with a smile.  “And she’s Glor’diadelian, rather than following her parents’ faith.”  

“Fine.  We’ll make her foreign minister.  Does she have a title of her own?”

“No-- only her older brother inherited a title, and her husband is the younger child of an earl without any title of his own.”

“We’ll make her Countess Westreach, then, to give her more rank.  A comital title for the child of one of our direct vassals shouldn’t offend any of the existing nobles.  If anything, it will motivate them to serve better in the hopes that their children will be similarly preferred.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “Should we look for lands to grant her as well, Your Grace?”

“Not at this point.  We can make her a carpet noble for the time being.  If she serves well, and if we expand as we expect, we can then land her later.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

When the Council informed Countess Westreach of her appointment, it triggered rejoicing throughout the Westmarch family.  Her parents were ecstatic, and her husband was floored by the shock-- he had expected that they would never hold titles loftier than “lord” and “lady.”  In addition to the appointment, the Council informed her that she would be expected to provide a briefing promptly.  Her predecessor had been less thoughtful than some of the royal officers about giving a significant time before suicide, and thus the files and records were in a certain amount of disarray.  The Countess spent a day or two studying before coming to the Council with her predecessor’s privy secretary.

“Your Grace, honored counselors.  May I ask what sort of information you will be wanting from my office?”

“On an ongoing basis, we’ll need regular updates and assessments,” replied Alistair.  “Regular briefings, perhaps once a fortnight, should do for most of it, along with additional meetings when something urgent arises.  For now, we simply need an overview of the current situation.”

“Of course, Your Grace.  Starting with our immediate region:  nothing is stable south of the Barrier Mountains, except for us, Singing Leaves, and the Silent Wood.  None of the other realms are large enough to be able to weather serious problems.  The most serious threats of disruptions to Canberry are in the South:  the refugee crisis, the appearance of war in the southwest, and the fact that the economics of the kingdoms that previously bordered Confederacy have been severely disrupted.  My assessment of the gathering conflicts around the refugees and the Spice Lands are bleak:  there will be war, regardless of what anyone does.  Nonetheless, the long term seems bright for us.  Twenty years from now, we will likely rule an Archduchy twice this size.”

“Did your predecessor consider the possibility of using our resources to stabilize the economies of some of the neighboring realms?”

“Yes, Your Grace.  He did not believe that the amount of money we have in the treasury is enough to reverse the financial damage.”

Alistair whistled softly while Kit boggled.  Dame Brionna alone remained impassive.  Canberry had an enormous amount of treasure in the royal accounts--the problems in neighboring realms had to be deep indeed for Canberry to be unable to help.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Let me ask another question.  We are considering two possible courses of action with regard to the refugees.  One would be to seek to annex them, probably with a dynastic marriage to support the claim.  That would almost certainly pull us into the midst of war.  The other would be to provide some support, but avoid any close ties.  We would presumably be able to avoid fighting the war ourselves, even if we could not prevent it.  Would our involvement make the war worse?  Or would it simply mean that we would bear some of the costs?”

“Overall, Your Grace, our involvement would probably reduce the casualties and prevent the skaven from taking more land.  They raid, and they attack in hordes, but those sorts of threats could be easily dealt with by our armies.  The great clans are more organized but have their own agendas and conflicts.  I believe this report was prepared for Her Grace the Late Archduchess on the matter but not delivered due to her decline.”  Countess Westreach handed across a carefully drafted document.  “If we do not intervene, it is difficult to say what will happen.  If the neighboring lands bankrupt themselves of treasure and troops, they would gain additional lands.  But the costs would be high.  Alone among the skaven great clans, the Skree appear to be uninterested in more lands.  Furthermore, they appear to be the most powerful of the great clans.   If we have to deal with any of them, they seem the best, but our prior embassy never returned.”

“We have made direct contact with the Skree.  We have reached a certain détente and have a line of communication if we need further contact.”

Countess Westreach arched an eyebrow.  “Indeed, Your Grace?  That is useful to know.  It also greatly increases the likelihood that we could win a decisive war in the South and then create a true peace.

“There is one other thing we should discuss.  There are several major powers that we have no ambassadors to at all.  The Kingdom of Haunted Mountains, on Khamista, is one of the five great powers on the continent, mostly orcs and uruks, ruled over by the White Witch.  We withdrew our ambassador in protest of the slave state, but they are Paranswarmian.  There is also a question of whether there should be an ambassador to the capital of the ‘New Pardun.’  Likewise, we have no embassy to the Hastur-- the traditional assumption has been that the Temple of Light would represent our interests.  Finally, we have no embassy to Lady Jane Peryton, whose forces withstood the attack of the great chaos dragon’s forces.  We had considered Lady Jane’s demesne to be at best a minor power, but there recent success requires a re-evaluation.”

“I don’t like the idea of giving recognition to a slave state,” said Kit.

“Particularly not while we are pressuring other states, such as Korflok, to prohibit slavery,” added Alistair.  “The White Witch may be powerful, but she’s also far away, so the slight should be just the right level.  We can always communicate with her about any necessary diplomatic matters through the Temple of Paranswarm.”

“The other three all seem very sensible, Your Grace,” commented Dame Brionna.  “I’m sure we could rely on the Temple for the Hastur, but even so…”

“Especially with the efforts of the Shadow on this continent and with our desire to develop more psionic resources, we should have a direct link.”  Alistair turned back to Countess Westreach.  “Please prepare a list of recommended ambassadors for New Pardun, the Hastur, and Lady Jane Peryton.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.  Lady Jane will be the most difficult, since they hold courtesy in higher esteem there than anywhere else.  We will need an ambassador who is unfailingly courteous without ever even needing to think about it.  I am sure I will be able to find someone, however.”

“There is no particular hurry, so let’s make sure we do it right.”

“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?”

After a moment, Dame Brionna spoke up. “I would also like you to prepare a list of all the marriageable high and mid-level nobles on Drucien, and the high nobles on Khamista.”

“Is this specifically for His Grace, or should I include men as well?”

“Please do;  His Grace has a half-sister and cousins who could still provide important relationships for us.  I would also like an evaluation of current marriage and betrothal alliances among other powers.”

Countess Westreach nodded and her secretary wrote down a quick note.  “Has Your Grace reached any conclusions about marriage?  It would be useful for my office to be able to anticipate.”

“Nothing definite, although we have some thoughts both in general and specific,” said Alistair.  Dame Brionna then filled Countess Westreach in on the details, including Rev. Canon Toddle’s prophecy.

Countess Westreach thought carefully.  “I’ll see what we come up with as well.”   She then curtsied and exited.

[End Session 23]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

[Session 24]

A grim Dame Brionna met Alistair and Kit the following morning.  “We’ve received a new report from Grokken, Your Grace.”

“And?”

“Grokken has likely fallen by now.  Last night, drow of the House of Qu’ellar’veld’larn joined the fight on the side of the uruks.  There were only about a dozen drow, but Dame Hilda reported that Grokken would be unable to stand against them.  She sent the message by squire, believing they would not be able to stand another attack.”

“She probably sent her squire to get him out before it fell,” commented Kit.

“Likely,” said Alistair.  “It sounds like the sort of thing Dame Hilda would do.  We’ll find him a new appointment, of course.  Do you know if Dame Hilda has any children or other survivors?”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “She leaves behind a sister and several nieces and nephews who have no other means of support.  Perhaps a pension, your grace?”

“Find an appropriate manor and make her sister the lady of it.  That should take care of the family.”

“What about the drow, Your Grace?  They are the first definitive proof that the uruks are not just random marauding; should we inform Region 9 about it?”

“We need to understand more first.  We should talk to Lord Davion about this; he said at the end of the duel that this settled the dispute between Quinliart and Canberry, but Quinliart seems to disagree.  But I want to know how the Noldar will react before we pass this information on to them.”  They quickly dispatched a messenger to ask Lord Davion to come to the palace, with the additional instruction that if Lord Davion was not available, he should ask Lord Silverleaves for an audience instead.

“And the strategic issue, Your Grace?  Furrows is largely unprotected.”

“We need to get a protective force to the capital of Furrows as quickly as we can, since we sent their troops to Caldra and Caligshire.  I don’t see any alternative to instructing all of our vassals to mobilize their troops.  I don’t like it, but I don’t see a choice.”

“I agree, Your Grace.  I’ll draw up appropriate orders.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The discussion was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the projected image of an officer in the Sky Guard.  “Your Grace, the Tether Towers report a voler in distress.  The voler is Hanalian, coming from the west, and not going to make it to the tower.  Clearing a street offers the best possibility for a landing.”

Dame Brionna dashed away barely without waiting for the officer to finish a report.  Along with several other mounted guards, she quickly cleared a street, taking full advantage of the power horses have for clearing pedestrians.  She quickly spotted the voler, covered with people and signaling distress as it came in fast and low.

Moments after the street had been mostly cleared, the voler hit.  The voler’s captain tried to get it to land on its keel, traveling straight down the street, but its landing was not quite even, and in any event, full-sized volers are never meant to land.  It did not ram any buildings, but ultimately rolled onto its side.  As it rolled, many civilians in local garb spilled out, along with Hanalian knights in uniforms.  Canberran healers rushed in before the voler had even stopped rocking.

Dame Brionna spotted two Hanalian knights assisting an older, rather frail looking man who was bleeding profusely.  She hurried over as he finally got to his feet-- based on his insignia, he was a Hanalian strom.  She quickly healed him, closing the most grievous wounds at least.

“Thank you, Dame Knight,” he gasped as she assisted him.

“I am Dame Brionna, Knight Captain of the Archducal Guard.  What happened?”

“Ah!  I can be candid then.  We were en route to assist my liege, the Duke of Snatterkaz, when we saw a walled town to the west of here under heavy orkish assault.”

“Grokken.”

“Yes, I think that’s what the captain said its name was, from the maps.  Some of the people had already escaped, and we evacuated many of the rest of the people, leaving behind some volunteers from my forces to augment the defenses and to free up additional room in the voler for the refugees.  We then made for the City with as best speed as we could manage, but between the damage we sustained at Grokken and the added weight, we were not able to make it.”  He surveyed the wreckage as the full scope of the damage sunk in.

“We thank you.  Your bravery and that of your knights have saved many lives today.  If we may assist you in any way, please let us know.  I’m sure the Archduke will also want to meet with you.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The strom nodded absently.  “We must continue on to Snatterkaz as soon as we can.  But… the voler is not reparable, after a landing such as that, and I believe the pilot is dead; he would have been in that chamber there, which was crushed entirely by the landing.”

“Perhaps we can assist.  I’ll see what we can do about arranging for transportation.  If you will excuse me, Your Excellence, I should report to the Archduke.” 

As Dame Brionna turned to head back to the palace, the strom’s knight commander reached out a hand to pull her aside. “A word, Dame Brionna, if I may.  We counted 16,000 orcish warriors; at least forty trolls, with what we think is a hill troll; and ten drow from a cadet house, one of whom we think is an archmage.  As we departed, Grokken was being overwhelmed, and the outskirts of the army were already beginning to move on.  We saw the direction they traveled:  southeast.  I believe that they were targeting another city.”

Dame Brionna quickly returned to the Council chamber and reported the new information.
“Immediately southeast of Grokken is Storr.  In fairly short order beyond that, Cinderhaven.”

“Do either of them have a chance of withstanding the attack?” asked Kit.

“Cinderhaven has a substantial militia and is fairly defensible, but Storr has a one regiment garrison and only a fortified manor and wooden walls.”

“So they could basically destroy Storr without even stopping.”

“Yes, Your Grace.  Cinderhaven is walled in stone; most of the buildings are also made from stone walls, and it has an actual castle.  The garrison is 800 militia and 400 regular troops.  They won’t be able to withstand a sustained siege or a determined assault, but it will still take the orcs time.  The other matter you should consider is the implications of the size of that horde.  Historically, the orc hordes didn’t cooperate like this.  Based on the reports I’m receiving, one large horde and two small hordes are all working together.”

“Wait a moment.  Before we deal with that, there are some immediate problems.  We need to recall Furrows’s army.  It’s only about 800 total.”

“They’d just get slaughtered,” said Kit.

“Although… most of Furrows’s army is cavalry.  If the orcs are not mounted, they might be able to harry the horde effectively.”
The strom nodded absently.  “We must continue on to Snatterkaz as soon as we can.  But… the voler is not reparable, after a landing such as that, and I believe the pilot is dead; he would have been in that chamber there, which was crushed entirely by the landing.”

“Perhaps we can assist.  I’ll see what we can do about arranging for transportation.  If you will excuse me, Your Excellence, I should report to the Archduke.” 

As Dame Brionna turned to head back to the palace, the strom’s knight commander reached out a hand to pull her aside. “A word, Dame Brionna, if I may.  We counted 16,000 orcish warriors; at least forty trolls, with what we think is a hill troll; and ten drow from a cadet house, one of whom we think is an archmage.  As we departed, Grokken was being overwhelmed, and the outskirts of the army were already beginning to move on.  We saw the direction they traveled:  southeast.  I believe that they were targeting another city.”

Dame Brionna quickly returned to the Council chamber and reported the new information.
“Immediately southeast of Grokken is Storr.  In fairly short order beyond that, Cinderhaven.”

“Do either of them have a chance of withstanding the attack?” asked Kit.

“Cinderhaven has a substantial militia and is fairly defensible, but Storr has a one regiment garrison and only a fortified manor and wooden walls.”

“So they could basically destroy Storr without even stopping.”

“Yes, Your Grace.  Cinderhaven is walled in stone; most of the buildings are also made from stone walls, and it has an actual castle.  The garrison is 800 militia and 400 regular troops.  They won’t be able to withstand a sustained siege or a determined assault, but it will still take the orcs time.  The other matter you should consider is the implications of the size of that horde.  Historically, the orc hordes didn’t cooperate like this.  Based on the reports I’m receiving, one large horde and two small hordes are all working together.”

“Wait a moment.  Before we deal with that, there are some immediate problems.  We need to recall Furrows’s army.  It’s only about 800 total.”

“They’d just get slaughtered,” said Kit.

“Although… most of Furrows’s army is cavalry.  If the orcs are not mounted, they might be able to harry the horde effectively.”

“There are worg riders, Your Grace.”

“Then there’s nothing for it.  We’ll need to pull them back.”


----------



## Quartz

Please keep this up! Though I must confess that I've lost track of who's who. I'm guessing that many of the people are named on the fly, both by the GM and the players.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Keeping track of names has been a chronic difficulty in this campaign.   We often refer to people by their positions/roles rather than by their names (thus the references to "the Farsensor" and "the Eldar" instead of just calling him Lord Silverleaves).  Also, the DM frequently introduces NPCs without giving them names-- "your sister" or the Minister of whatsit, which compounds the problem.  Usually, if they appear often enough, we eventually attach a name to them.

Back to the Storyhour!

----

“Now, Your Grace, if I may turn to the details of the hordes?  The Horde of Fury is the larger horde, consisting mostly of uruks.  They are from the northwest, and we know where they left their dependants behind.  The other two hordes are local.  One has an uruk-hai bodyguard for its chief, but is otherwise all orcs.  Dame Hilda also mentioned a band of stone giants with that horde, but the Strom’s knight commander did not.  The third is the Horde of the Splintering Spine, about three thousand orogs with a few other creatures.  The local hordes can usually be bought off or scared away, although that would probably be more difficult or impossible as long as the Horde of Fury is present.”

“You said that we have information about where the uruks’ dependants are?  Perhaps we can use that to force a withdrawal.  Capture them, hold them as hostages.”

“Ugh,” said Kit.  “I really don’t like the idea of using children, even uruk children, as hostages to threaten their parents.  There has to be a better way.”

“In principle, I agree,” replied Dame Brionna.  “But we must find some way to stop that army and we don’t have the conventional military forces available to defeat it in the field.  We would not be actually hurting the children, just taking them prisoner.  In a way, it’s not so different from what we’re doing with young Lord Brightspan.”

“There’s a difference between giving a single child or two positions as pages, where we actually treat them well and are as concerned about making them allies as coercing their parents.”

“Still, it may offer us an opportunity we have to take,” maintained Dame Brionna.  “However, I’m not certain that we will be able to convince the uruks to break, regardless of the reason, if we don’t deal with the drow first.  The archmagus is likely the commander of the drow.  We need to find some way to remove him.”

“So how do we take out a drow archmage?” asked Kit.

“I have no idea,” said Alistair.  “We could try sending the Sixth Daughter, but her odds aren’t likely to be good against an archmage.”

Dame Brionna thought aloud.  “We could hold a contest, where whoever kills him gets to be the head of the new magic academy we’re building.  Somebody would succeed eventually.”

“And what about all of the people who would get killed trying?” asked Kit.

“Not to mention that it might saddle us with a completely unsuitable head for the academy.  We’ll have to find a better way.”  Alistair drummed his fingers as he tried to come up with a solution.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Abigail announced Lord Silverleaves, and the Council gave him their full attention.

“I received a message that you wished to ask me some questions.”  A very large parchment sheet with careful drawings on it filled his arms.  With a smile, he said, “And while I’m here, I thought I would show you the architectural plans I have prepared for a performance amphitheater for the new magic academy.”

The Council politely looked over the diagram.  “Very impressive, your lordship,” commented Dame Brionna.  “That will be the largest performance space in the Archduchy.”

Lord Silverleaves nodded.  “At first, I thought about a smaller space, suitable more for internal events.  But then I realized that all of your performance spaces are small, and the school simply needs to have a venue for major performances.  So by expanding its size, I could fill both the general need of the City and the specific needs of the school at once.”

Alistair thought about the cost involved, but quickly decided that maintaining the Eldar’s support was worth even an enormous expenditure.  “Please let us know when you have finished the design-- we’ll want to begin construction quickly.”

Lord Silverleaves appeared slightly confused for a moment.  “Ah, of course.  I must always remember how quickly you work on your projects.  Now then, what were you interested in asking me?”

“At the end of Lord Davion’s duel with the Master Unbidden, he stated that it ended the feud between Quinliart and Canberry.  Would the Noldar consider that statement accurate?”

“Oh, yes.  As the victor, Lord Davion is entitled to set the conditions.  That is clear.  If Quinliart breached the conditions, it would be grounds for expulsion from his house, making him a renegade.”

“We have strong evidence that he has sent drow troops to continue to attack the Archduchy, perhaps as part of service to the Abomination of Shur,” said Dame Brionna.

“How appalling… it would seem impossible that Quinliart could worship a mere created being, but he seems to court renegade status.  It should be reported to his house.  They will not tolerate a flouting of the Law.”

“Do you have any recommendations as to how we should inform them?”

“Has the Princess left?”

“Not yet,” answered Kit, who had made it her business to track the activities of the various diplomats.  “She’s been shopping.”

Lord Silverleaves nodded.  “I should have expected that.  If you inform her, she will inform Moriquendarim when she returns to Khamista.  If they are satisfied of the truth of the accusations, he will be declared renegade.”

“Would the cadet drow continue to obey his commands?”

“His followers will be given a choice.  Most of that house that were here have been slain by the neighboring controller’s troops, but some survived, and apparently have been redeployed.  Some would likely choose to continue in his service, but most will leave him to remain in their house.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Excellent,” said Alistair.  “That could greatly improve our strategic situation.  Your lordship, if we may, there are some other topics we would like to discuss with you.  We spoke with the Archbaroness of Mandrath who told us that the Temple of Sytry has been involved in atrocities.  We were skeptical because of the hostility between their faiths but agreed to ask you whether you could confirm these reports.”

“It depends;  how do you define atrocities?”

“Refusing to provide food, water, and healing to refugees in desperate times unless the refugees would agree to convert, leading to starvation and death.  Slaughtering large numbers of innocents because they have been infiltrated by a few with Shadow corruption.  And similar acts of intolerance and severity.” 

“Their knights have committed such things from time to time,” said Lord Silverleaves sadly, nodding his head.  “Their nuns have never participated, and these incidents were not on this continent.  They try to serve the light, but they lack discernment.  They also strike at the fey, the lesser fey-- they cannot tell the difference between Seelie and Unseelie, so they seek to kill all.  In some ways, they are harder than the Inquisition of Paranswarm.  We have at one time, not that many turnings ago, intervened on behalf of a group of refugees who were in danger of being wiped out because the Knights of Truth could sense taint, but could not determine who among the refugees were tainted.”

“I’m surprised that you would tolerate their deeds,” said Kit.

“They are powerful in the fight against evil, so we did not want to fight them directly.  Matters are too delicate for us to oppose them strongly.  Do you know of the reasons for their harshness?”

“I am afraid that we do not, your lordship.”

“The Sytry god came from elsewhere, beyond the wheel of Time and Space.”

“As the Horned Rat did?”

“Indeed, from the same place as the Horned Rat, but he was a God of Law, not of Chaos.  The Sytryite god is rough, but he came here to retire.  Once a human, he was a sorcerer who so attained the perfection of law that he became a god.  First a champion of law, and then he became a god through his perfection of law.  He fought long and long in war with Chaos, but finally he rested, and brought his followers here.  But the war was here as well, so he set up his temples and forbade certain things, such as resurrection of the dead, because of fear of the taint, although resurrection has never resulted in taint here.  Three orders pursue his goals, the Horned Sisters through peace, the Knights of Truth through war, and the Priests of Eternal Light through knowledge.  His temple would not view the actions of the Knights of Truth as atrocities if there was taint among any of the refugees they slew or left to die.  It might even be only one tainted among thousands, but they would view that as acceptable."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What do they define as tainted?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Much as the Hastur define it:  those who have been touched by the demon places.  But the Sytryites do not cleanse, they destroy.  They are the most fanatical of the paladins.  We have sought to moderate them without success.  A great star priestess offered the services of one of our greatest coercers to uncover the taint, but was rebuffed.”  A slight tone of anger and pride crept into the Eldar’s voice as he described that.  “They are serious in their war against evil and taint, but they think they follow the only way.”

“Can the taint be removed from a single person who has it?” asked Kit.

“I have been given the grace of Eiru to see a family of humans, where the entire family had received the taint, so I found the demons one at a time, and ripped their spirits into small bits, and the children grew old, and had children, and grandchildren, and died of old age--you have to do something about this, the way you age and die so quickly--if I can do this, so can they.  Your priests can do it.  The Hasturs can do it.  But they will not listen.  They insist that any who have the taint must be purged and that if they know that some in a group are tainted, it is better to purge them all than to let the tainted remain as a threat.”

Alistair leaned forward.  “That sounds more like the doctrines of devils to me than anything I would associate with the light.  Is it possible that devils are manipulating them, twisting the actions of the Sytryites to serve their own goals?”

“I had not considered that possibility, although you are right that their conduct, whil orderly, is also in a sense evil.”  Lord Silverleaves thought about it.  “As for the Knights of Truth?  No.  They are too walled off from anything but their faith and their holy books.  The harm they cause is of their own making, not the work of devils.  Other Sytryites, religious but not the Knights of Truth, possibly.  They may have been deceived.”  He thought for a while longer, and then continued in a whisper, “It really is their nature.  Their purity is at the expense of all things gray.  There is no middle for them.  If they were more numerous, I would be more worried about them.”

“Thank you for this information, your lordship,” said Alistair.  “We will reach out to them through our temple and encourage them to be more circumspect in the future, and we will begin quietly investigating whether there is any possibility that they are being manipulated."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

"We have one more matter we would like to discuss with you," continued Alistair.  "We have seen signs of new activity by the Old Ones or their followers, and seek to learn more.”

“Yes, the cracks are open again.”

“The cracks, Lord Silverleaves?” asked Dame Brionna.

“You know of course that there are other universes?”

“Do you mean other planes, or other entire systems of planes?” clarified Alistair.  “We know of both, but it would be best to understand which you discuss.”

“I speak of other whole systems of planes, like where Sytry came from, but vastly different.  Imagine, if you will, a number line.  The further you get from this reality, the more different from this reality you get.  If we are at zero, Sytry and the Horned Rat came from here, at about fifty.” The Eldar held his hands apart by about a foot to demonstrate the distance.  “On that scale, the Old Ones came from over there.” A bright light appeared at the far side of the room through his psionics.  “They were not created in the backwash of the creation of reality by Eiru, or whoever; rather, there were cracks in reality and they came through from beyond.”

“How can there be cracks in reality?”

“Ah.  To understand that, we must begin by discussing…” Lord Silverleaves talked rapidly, using unfamiliar words and definding many new concepts as he proceeded.  Four hours of explanation later, Dame Brionna had a vague idea of what the concept meant, while Kit and Alistair ignored him completely and conducted a private conversation through Kit’s mindlink.

“In any event, these beings had existed for as long as any creation had lasted.”

“They’re everlasting but not eternal,” said Dame Brionna, drawing on her theological training.  

“Correct.  They creep anywhere there’s a crack.  Anywhere that they can get into, they do.  They have overlapping but different goals.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit, having realized that the conversation was comprehensible again, asked “Is the one that was eaten, eaten everywhere? Or only in our universe?”

“They are always the same, everywhere.  The most dangerous wishes to unmake every universe, everywhere.  The One Other has a somewhat more comprehensible desire set; no one understands the One Beside.  The One Other has a desire to bring back the One Eaten.”

“There seem to be a lot of plots to bring back dead gods these days,” said Kit.  “I wonder if the Seachen also want to bring back the One Eaten, in addition to the Abomination of Shur.”

“Perhaps.  I cannot say for sure.  The Seachen have turned aside every effort we have made to send an embassy, including when we sent star priestesses.”  Lord Silverleaves made it clear that he thought that turning aside an embassy of star priestesses was nigh incomprehensible, and a terrible affront.

“Do you know where their old strongholds were?” asked Alistair.

“I am not expert in the followers of the Old Ones.   I will communicate your question to the Repository on Khamista.  They will be able to answer definitively.  As I think about it, there was another attempt to bring back the One Eaten, in the Second Age.  I will inquire about that as well.”  Lord Silverleaves closed his eyes and projected the message to one of the Eldar seers.

The Council thanked him for his information and then, after he departed, returned to the issue of how best to use the orcish dependants as hostages.  Whether by taking them hostage directly, or by trying to cause the horde to rush off to defend the dependants from a perceived threat.  Dame Brionna suggested sending false information about an attack to draw the horde off without needing to actually threaten incidents as well as the possibility of arranging a natural threat.  But while the Council discussed it at length, they could not reach any clear consensus.  They did dispatch sendings to Storr, Cinderhaven, and the Furrows army, warning each of them of the coming threat.  The sending ordered an evacuation of Storr, likely to Cinderhaven, and a retreat of the army.  But the forces of Cinderhaven were warned to ready themselves for the siege to come, while the most mobile civilians evacuated further.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Still reading ... still enjoying every word ... still looking forward to more ...


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, HOHB!  Since you asked for more... 

----
That evening, they received Princess Curini’rim for another visit.  “My congratulations, your grace, on a smooth coronation.  It was rather calmer than I am used to.”

“You think of multiple assassination attempts as calm?” spluttered Dame Brionna, before belatedly tacking on “your highness.”

“None of the later ones came particularly close to succeeding, they did not disrupt the coronation itself, and relatively few of his grace’s subjects, particularly his grace’s subjects of high rank, were killed.  Added to the fact that there was neither a major civil war nor any other military attack on the capital, and I would say that it was quite calm, indeed.  Perhaps your people have gained more experience in smooth transitions, since your successions take place so frequently.”

“Thank you,” replied Alistair.  “We hope that you have enjoyed your time in our demesne.”

“Oh, yes.  I have been assembling an art collection.  You have a remarkably fine market in primitive,” she caught herself a moment too late, “of human art.  I believe I will soon have the finest collection in all of Krashmere--certainly the finest collection of Drucien human art.  I will need to consider how to display it best.  Part of the joy is that it will offend and anger some of my rivals, so I will need to make sure that they cannot avoid seeing it.  I think I may put the tile floorings in my gardens, so that they will see them when they are on my lands or when they overfly them.  But it will be a shame to give up the flowers for it.”

“What about the roof of your manor?” suggested Alistair.  “You could install the tile work there, which would make it even more prominent from the air, without giving up scarce garden space.”

“A capital idea, your grace.  And the topiary that I intend to complement it with could be grown on the roof as well.”

The discussion of art and pleasantries continued for some time before Princess Curini’rim took pity on Dame Brionna and Kit, neither of whom had either sufficient interest in and knowledge of art to participate or a polished enough sense of diplomacy to tolerate the pace of a diplomatic meeting with a Noldar.  “Now then, you did not ask me here to discuss my tastes in art.”

“No, your highness, we did not.  As you know, Lord Davion Aufaugauthala’rim fought a duel as my champion against the Master Unbidden as champion of Quinliart Moriquenda’rim.  Upon his victory, Lord Davion declared an end to the feud with Quinliart, now and for all time.  We have of course respected this declaration and taken no hostile actions against him since the duel.  However, we have reasons to believe that Quinliart has sent some of his minions to lead uruk and orc hordes in attacks upon our vassals.”

Her calm expression suddenly turned sharp at the last statement.  “Do you have evidence of this?”

“We have not observed Quinliart’s vassals directly, but we know that orcish hordes have destroyed the town of Grokken and marched southeast.  Reliable sources that we trust inform us that the hordes were led by Morgothian drow in a cadet house beholden to Quinliart.”

“If I may summon a revelator, I will be able to confirm this directly.”  After Alistair nodded, she twisted one of her rings and a small daemon appeared.

It smiled at her and said unctuously, “Do you have a command for me, mistress?  This will be the last service that I owe you.”

“I command you to show the town of Grokken and then to move the image as I command.  When I have seen all that I wish to see, your service will be at an end.”

The revelator projected an image of devastated Grokken.  The town had been utterly destroyed and broken, with little hope that anything still lived within what had once been its walls.  The Princess commanded it to move the image to the southeast, and as it went through the town, it passed over the bodies of many dead, including Dame Hilda and a knight of Hanal who appeared to have died after a great fight in which they vanquished many attackers back-to-back.  Dame Brionna raised her sun disc as the image panned across the burned and desecrated church.

The projected image continued to move, past the broken walls of the town and through a ravaged countryside.  The revelator adjusted the image, moving the viewpoint to higher above the land so that a wider area was covered.  An enormous army came into view, and they spotted a palanquin carried by trolls at the rear of the horde, with drowan banners flying.  

“There,” said Princess Curini’rim angrily, gesturing for the revelator to magnify the banners so that their heraldry would be unmistakably clear.  “This must be reported to the Council.  It is an abomination.  He has defied the Law.  I regret that I do not have the volers to rescue your civilians.  And if I attack his forces before I present the case, it will become a house war and the case will mean nothing.  But while I cannot help directly, I will depart immediately to begin the case.  We will not tolerate this.”

[End Session 24]


----------



## TDRandall

Dang!  I didn't realize this was the condensed version.  I bet the four hour explanation of Alphonion polymorphic-alternate-realitives-and-perferated-discontinuous-nexuses was completely riveting.  Shame we can't get the unabridged version.    

Alas, I am sure it would be over my head anyways, since I really don't see the differences in meaning between "everlasting" and "eternal".

Since it worked for HoHb... I'm looking forward to more too!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

"Everlasting" and "eternal" are terms from theology or philosophy of religion.  "Everlasting" means within time, but without an end (and often without a beginning).  "Eternal" means outside of time.  Most monotheistic religions, including mainstream versions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, believe that God is "eternal"-- outside of time, unchanging, and interacting with the world without being within the world's time.  Most deities within D&D (as well as, for example, the ancient Greek gods) are everlasting-- they do not age and they can live forever, but time passes for them, and their future self can have different knowledge and motivation than their present or past self, as opposed to being all one entity for whom past, present, and future self are not meaningful.

And, since you asked for more storyhour, ....  

-----
[Session 25]

The Council devoted its attention the next morning to dealing with some routine security matters.  They finally had enough time to deal with several concerns that they had identified but had not yet been able to prioritize.  Kit began by mentally scanning over her fan in more detail.  She knew that a large network of agents existed to provide intelligence to the Archduchy, but she had no contact with many of them.  She did not even know who many of them were.  She spent some time contacting the minds linked to each of the twenty crystals and taking their measure.  None of them had urgent messages to report, but she identified three vacancies.  She had no way to tell whether they were among the people who had chosen to follow the Archduchess into death or whether the links had been deliberately left unused to provide room for other agents.  Either way, she resolved to identify key members of her network to promote to contacts on the fan.

After she finished that, Kit joined the rest of the Council with a recommendation that they procure items that would permit mindlinks within the Council as well.  The flexibility, speed of communication, and secrecy was simply too valuable to ignore, and while Kit could establish mindlinks manually, it would be easier to not have to rely on her presence.  Alistair and Dame Brionna rapidly agreed that mindlink devices were essential.

“Perhaps we should make them more than mindlinks, Your Grace,” added Dame Brionna.  “It might also be convenient if they allowed teleportation to each others’ locations.  In particular, it would allow us to respond to attacks on your person, and it would allow Your Grace to escape.”

“An interesting thought.  But I think we need to consider the palace’s wards.  Do we know what happens if someone attempts to teleport in through the wards?”

“The Eldar explained once,” said Kit.  “It sets up a ‘dimensional shunt.’  Anyone who tries to teleport in arrives in holding cells in the palace dungeons rather than where they intended to arrive.  But I think that’s only for psionic teleportation.”

“Let me see if I can figure out what the magical wards do.”  Alistair concentrated on the palace wards and focused his awareness on their magical energy.  He found the component that warded against teleportation.  It was complicated, he thought, but not so complicated as to be beyond his understanding.  “Ah.  That would be unpleasant.  The wards rather messily splatter anyone attempting to teleport in magically.  The various parts of the intruder would end up on random moons.”

“Ugh.  I’m surprised your grandmother would allow such a thing.”

“The wards far predate her.  I suspect she thought it was not ideal, but that there was nothing to be done about it,” Alistair rationalized.  What he did not understand was that, unlike him, his grandmother had understood the wards’ actual effects.

“Your Grace, do we know if anyone has triggered the psionic wards?  They might be worth interrogating.  We haven’t received any reports of prisoners, but…”

“Brightspan!” called out Alistair.  When the page entered, Alistair said, “Please go to the palace dungeons, to the psionic ward holding cells.  I want you to look over the warden, to determine whether he has been corrupted.  You should then ask him whether there are any prisoners in those holding cells.  If there are any, look them over as well, but do not have him release them.  Then report back to us.”

Lord Brightspan saluted and departed.  The better part of an hour later, he returned.  “The warden seems to be a loyal man, rather strict, but not cruel or evil.  He said that those cells contain one prisoner.  The prisoner teleported in about four years ago-- he reported the arrival at the time to the Privy Secretary and then assumed that a decision had been made to keep the prisoner isolated.”

Kit cursed the Privy Secretary’s treachery.  “Who is the prisoner?”

“A very irate fey, Dame Katherine.’

“Evil?”

“No, Dame Brionna, I don’t think so.  Highly chaotic, though.  From his aura and his appearance, I should guess that he is one of the Sidhe, and Seelie.”

Alistair shook his head.  “I hope this hasn’t created a problem with the fey.”  He quickly scrawled out a message on parchment and sealed it.  “Take this to the warden.  Have him bring the prisoner up, without chains, to one of the audience chambers.  We’ll meet him there.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council met the fey in one of the audience chambers, with Alistair appearing as a projected image.  The fey was not very large and carried a long, tassled scroll.  He bowed in the complex fey matter.

“On behalf of King Michael O’Brien of the Silent Wood, I bring greetings and message to the Archduchess and Empress of Canberry.”  The messenger was young and wore the livery of the King of the Silent Wood.  He appeared irate, but unaware that anything was wrong.  The four-year wait wasn’t long enough, more like an extra day for a human.  “There is a rising in the East and the West.  Those in the North who seek godhood have raised up their fortifications and prepare to make the blood sacrifice.  Now is the time for all who serve the gods of good and light.”

“We thank you for this message,” replied Alistair.  “The Archduchess Amelia has passed, but we assure you, as her heir and as the new Archduke and Emperor, that we will act.  We have learned of these activities through our own means, and we have set our plans to deal with them in motion.  May we ask who it is that comes before us?”

The fey bowed again.  “I am Sir Thistledown, of King Michael’s guard.”

“Welcome, Sir Thistledown, and be assured that the old alliances remain firm.  We will send you with what intelligence we have that it may aid your liege.  How did you come to know of the threat?”

“King Michael was alerted by kidnappings of children.  A foul business, and our investigations revealed that it was worse even than we had believed.  Also, there were encounters with followers of the old gods, who had not been seen in the south since before my birth.”

“Indeed.”  The Council briefly described their similar findings, thanked Sir Thistledown, and had him shown out.

Dame Brionna scowled after he left.  “If Deborah Brightspan weren’t already dead, I could kill her for this.”

“At least it was a fey ambassador,” said Alistair.  “If we had unknowingly incarcerated a human ambassador for four years, it could have caused a war.  But we also need to do some more work on the Privy Secretary front.  We’re still turning up surprises.”

“Did we ever search her personal quarters?” asked Kit.

“I remember ordering them sealed, but I can’t remember ordering them searched,” said Dame Brionna.

“Well, let’s get on that.”

Kit nodded.  “I’ll send a team of my people to handle it.”

“Make sure you send some people with both magical and psionic capabilities.  There may be traps, or concealed secrets,” said Dame Brionna.

“Please.  You think my people are amateurs?  We’ll take care of it.”

“We never searched Caldra and Caligshire, either, did we?  Either their estates or their townhouses.”

“I’ll get people on those as well, m’lord.”

“And what about Deborah Brightspan’s mother?” asked Dame Brionna.

“We had the Duke of Brightspan investigating her.  I don’t want to offend him by acting too heavily in his duchy.  Still, I’ll have Father Waters use a sending to the Duke of Brightspan’s chaplain asking for an update.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Archbishop of the Sun arrived shortly after the meeting with Sir Thistledown.

“I received a message that Your Grace wished to meet with me?”

“Indeed.  Thank you for coming, your excellence.  Are you familiar with the Old Ones?”

“I was briefed on them after investiture as a bishop, though I must admit, they have become more familiar of late.  Father Winchell, the priest assigned to the archdiocese to watch the Old Ones, reported movements among their followers to the South.  The Old Ones provide an enormous threat.  You have copies of the documents about the last three risings?”

The members of the Council looked around at each other.  After a moment, Dame Brionna spoke up.  “I don’t believe we do, your excellence.”

“Ah.  As Archbishop, I clear those of the Privy Council to read the documents, with neither prejudice nor punishment, for the knowledge within.  I will have copies sent over, for your eyes only, of course.

“In any event, the Old Ones are clearly the greatest threat we face.  Our hierarchs recognized the threat at the time of the ratification of the Ecumenical Council documents.  The Ecumenical Council’s agreements offer so much power to forces that are neither of Light nor Order that we may form a united front against the Old Ones, rather than just Borsh’tro and his ilk.  The Protector and Defender of the Faith of Paranswarm correctly identified the threat, after only one outbreak.”

“It’s that dangerous?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Worse even than the Shadow?”

“We could not bring Borsh’tro into the agreement.  We asked that they agree to forswear further conquests while the threat lasted, while we would have sworn to curtail our efforts to liberate areas under Shadow.  The threat of the Old Ones is that great.”

The entire Council thought about that for a while in silence.  Finally, Alistair spoke.  “If you were willing to make that concession to Borsh’tro… what concessions did the Temple agree to with Paranswarm and the rest?”

“Our concessions were difficult to accept.  Most importantly, we were required to acknowledge co-equal gods, or at least religions, equal in dignity to the Lord of Light.  That was the major theological agreement extracted from us.  Non-theologically, we agreed not to seek to become establishmentarian in four split countries, with Paranswarm making similar concessions.  The rest of the points were easier.  We were to permit Whimseyites to continue operating in areas where they are, and to permit Mider to continue operating, restricted to the areas where he has been traditionally worshipped, in ten regions.  Other establishmentarian religions made similar agreements, although of course this had a greater impact on ourselves and the Dark Temple than on any others.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What can the Church tell us about the recent activities of the Old Ones, your excellence?” asked Alistair.

“Several of their old bases of power are active again.  There has been a recent rising of a mountain and an island that were centers of their power in ancient times.  We also know that those that are seen but not seen are abroad again, but we have not captured any.”

“Based on what we have learned, we expect an attack on His Grace from one,” said Dame Brionna.  “We were hoping your excellence could give us more information on their capabilities.”

“An attack on the Archduke is a dangerous prospect.  By the information in the sealed files, if one of them of any strength in this plane manages to touch a person, it can draw out a copy of that person’s knowledge.  They can transform freely, but are limited to appearing as a humanoid between roughly four and seven feet.  While they use the knowledge they draw out to deceive, they need to update regularly to prevent stale knowledge.  Their most common method of reaching a target is to use sexual congress, if possible.”  The Archbishop either did not notice or tactfully ignored the concerned looks that Dame Brionna and Kit exchanged.  “One of our advantages is that there are usually not great numbers of them.  They position themselves well, but never well enough.”

“What sorts of roles have they assumed?” asked Kit.

“In the past, they have taken positions as:  the mistress of midlevel general;  a body servant to powerful merchant who directed large amounts of grain;  the assistant to a warehouse manager who could taint a supply of wine; a caravan master; and an artillery commander.”

“Do they have weaknesses, Your Excellence?”

“In the second outbreak, we determined that they were abroad.  Our clergy obtained a method of shunting them from this Plane.  Unlike any of us, their spirits are still bound to the plane where the goddess of the pale bone is imprisoned.  The people they had replaced instantly became heaps of rotting organs when we performed the ritual.  We have written record under oath that in every case the person’s mimicry was perfect.  None had been suspected.”

“Is there any way to reveal them, then?” asked Alistair.

“The only known means to identify them is by checking their blood, or rather, as they do not truly have blood, drawing a sample to ascertain whether it is blood or ichor.”

“We will need an excuse to check blood samples without revealing what we know.”

“Perhaps certain parasites can be detected through analysis of the blood, Your Grace?”

“Certainly true,” said the Archbishop.  “Blood examination is an important tool to deal with efforts by the aboleth to infiltrate their agents.”

“Perfect.  Our public explanation will be that we have received a report that Quinliart may have recruited aboleth allies.”  Alistair drew his dagger and pricked his thumb, showing the clear line of red blood before wiping it away.  He then proffered the dagger, hilt-first, to the Archbishop.  “I’m sorry, Your Excellence, but we must guard against infiltration within the Church as well.”

The Archbishop breathed in heavily, clearly taken aback by the directness of the Archduke, but he took the dagger, drew blood on his arm, and passed it on to Kit and Dame Brionna.  “I will send over four priests with special knowledge to advise you on this matter.”


----------



## Quartz

By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.  

Encore!


----------



## Artoomis

Two days without an update or explanation?!?  I am having withdrawal symptoms!!

Which is just my way of saying,  "Great story hour... more, please!"


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

My apologies-- I was occupied with business travel.  I'll try to give the posts to Orichalcum or Ladybird in the future.

----

“We also wish to discuss the issue of the Southern refugees, your excellence,” said Dame Brionna.  “We have intelligence that some of the refugees are falling under the influence of the cults of the Old Ones.  We hope that the Church will be able to provide the refugees with a more acceptable source of faith.”

“Indeed.  We have been working on that for some time, although not in a particularly organized fashion.  Nearly five hundred mendicant priests of the Lord of Light are spread among the refugees.  Some of those priests have successfully established parishes.  Others have disappeared, presumably due to the slavers and other forces of evil in the South.”

“An admirable start, your excellence, but we think more may be needed,” replied Alistair.

“I will see what we can do.  I can strip out some two hundred priests from their current assignments in the areas under my direct supervision and make a request for additional priests from dioceses within the province.”

“We can provide supplies of food and other necessaries to aid in your efforts,” said Kit.

“That will be helpful.  You are aware, I trust, of the presence of Paranswarmians also working to convert the refugees?”

“We are.  Under the circumstances, we view that as better than the alternatives, although of course we would rather convert as many of the refugees to Glor’diadel as possible.”

“The Church is inclined to agree.”

“You should know that we are seriously considering annexing the South.  That’s most likely if we make a marriage alliance with Princess Kaitlyn, since that would give us a colorable claim to the thrones of the old South Kingdoms, but we may annex at least parts of the South even without any real claim.  We discussed the possibility with the Archbaroness of Mandrath.  She said, in veiled and coded discussion, that the Temple of Paranswarm would not oppose that stabilization and would recognize that the faith would follow the flag.”

“That probably means that the Protector and Defender of the Faith has tacitly approved the idea.  The Church would support such an effort, because of the tremendous humanitarian need and to bring the Light to the refugees.”

“What sorts of supplies do the refugees most need?”

“For the most part, farm animals didn’t make it north.  As a result, there has also been overhunting, with both pending starvation and large predators turning to attacking humans.  The Archdiocese has sent some cattle, but the number needed is too high to purchase on the open market or for the Archduchy to supply directly.  Supplying additional animals would help.”

“We could send fertilized chicken eggs,” suggested Dame Brionna.

“And we’ll have Mahler Fife, our Minister of Trade, look into acquiring more cattle from abroad.”

“Good.  Most of the refugees are farmers, but without stock and tools.”

“We’ll have the Minister of Agriculture look into the issue of tools and seed.  This will take some time to coordinate, but we should be ready by the time that you have the additional priests to send.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Archbishop nodded.  “Are there other issues you wished to discuss?”

“A few.  You should know that we intend to send messages to the realms within Korflok that permit slavery informing them of the displeasure of the Protector of the Light at their apostasy.  We will concentrate on the Glor’diadelian nobles that permit slavery, but we’ll try to pressure all of the Korflok nobles.”

“Excellent.  The Church has been displeased about that for years but unable to do much directly.  You should know that Korflok is one of the regions I mentioned before, where we agreed to not seek to make the area uniformally establishmentarian, in exchange for a similar agreement from the Temple of Paranswarm.”

“We will take care to be sufficiently clear in our messages to the Paranswarmian realms, then, that we do not seek to require their conversion, but only their adoption of secular laws consistent with their coexisting with Glor’diadelian states.  Are there other areas where Glor’diadelian nobles tolerate slavery that we should also address?”

“We will send you a list of relevant areas, including all three of the other contested areas.  The areas that remain divided between Glor’diadel and Paranswarm tend to be areas where Glor’diadelian nobles are most likely to slide into orderly evils.”

“We understand.  Send us the list, and we will see what we can do.”

“I am glad to see you taking an active role as Protector of the Light in enforcing orthodoxy.  I must admit that it is somewhat unexpected, but it is welcome, and the Church will back you.  I will send messages to the local bishops, exhorting them to bring their authority to bear in support of your efforts.”

“Our thanks.  We should also discuss the Abomination of Shur.  An army from Debonai is en route to ally with the Abomination’s forces.  We would like the help of Debonai, but at least to get them to stop supporting the Abomination.  We are also trying to recruit the support of Augurt, mostly through the Archbaroness of Mandrath, but so far the lord of Augurt resists involvement.”

“I will contact my counterpart in Debonai, who may be able to help.  I cannot assist with Augurt; we have no influence there.”

“Thank you-- we will continue to work on Augurt through other channels, then.  There is one last personnel matter we should discuss.  Father Waters has been functioning as something of a personal chaplain to the royal household.  We largely inherited him from his similar role in my father’s household, but we find him agreeable.  Would you be amenable to a formal appointment to that position for him, perhaps with an elevation to a more appropriate rank?”

“I would be happy to give him that appointment as an assignment.  He does not have the scholarly background necessary for installation as a bishop, but we could make him a canon, if your grace would not be offended by having a personal chaplain who is not of episcopal rank.   Elevating him to canon would also oblige him to get the scholarly background.  Perhaps in ten years he would be ready for advancement to bishop.”

“That would be acceptable to us.  You don’t think he would view that as too much of an obligation too close to retirement?  He’s not old, but he’s also not young.”

“It will surprise him, no doubt.  I cannot imagine that Father Waters ever thought he would advance in ecclesiastical rank.  But I shouldn’t worry that he would view it as an imposition.  I expect that he will strive as hard as he can, as he always has, and as for the possibility of retirement, I doubt that Father Waters will ever retire.  He is of the type to die with his armor on, if I may borrow a martial metaphor that has a certain appropriateness given his inclinations.”

The Council thanked the Archbishop, who performed the expected blessings and departed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit went to Lady Overfifer’s townhouse to meet with the Strom to discuss Duke Snatterkaz’s efforts to rescue Princess Anastasia.

“Good day, your lordship.  I am Dame Katherine of Lyneham.  I met Duke Snatterkaz earlier in his efforts to rescue the Princess, and I wished to find out if we could do anything to assist you.”

“A pleasure to meet you.  I’m afraid that we will need quite some assistance if we are to be of aid to my lord, Duke Snatterkaz.  With the voller, we could travel there reasonably quickly.  It was an older, slower ship than some, certainly than the best ships of the imperial navy, but a good model nonetheless.  I am not certain how we will reach His Grace in time.”

“You are traveling to assist the Duke’s efforts?”

“Oh, yes.  Duke Snatterkaz is a very good liege, embodying the best virtues of the nobility.  When he requested our aid, we hastened to arrive as quickly as we could.”

“Did he request your aid in particular?”

“All twelve of his vassals were called up and traveled down in their vollers; about nine-hundred troops total, mostly knights.”

“How does the Duke fare?”

“The last news we have was from two days ago.  They were in room to room combat at the time.  Some of his vassals may already have arrived, in strike vollers.  I did not have any vessels faster than the one we took that could hold an appreciable number of troops.”

“Do you have a sense of how the battle was going?”

“They should surely prevail.  If the ratmen reinforced it might be different, of course, but they don’t seem to be.  There are a few demons, of course, which pose a greater threat than mere ratmen, but Lord Paranswarm gives the means to strike them down.  The alternative does not bear thinking of.”

“I take it you support the Duke’s efforts out of more than personal loyalty.”

“Oh, yes.  Princess Anastasia must be rescued,” the Strom said with emphasis.  “Great Lord of Darkness, if she isn’t, her sister would inherit.”  

“We quite agree that Princess Anastasia would make a far better Queen-Empress than the alternative--that is why we have offered our assistance to His Grace.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The strom looked pensive.  “I wonder where the Queen-Empress’s forces are.  They have only sent scout parties, distributed throughout the southlands.  They look for the Princess, but do not trust Duke Snatterkaz’s word as to where she is.”

“That is unusual in Hanal, right?”

“More than unusual-- it is perilously close to an insult to the Duke’s honor, which could lead to a challenge in the House of Lords, and then open war.  Except that would be disastrous, so Snatterkaz will treat it as a minor insult, be hostile, and refuse to speak to the Queen-Empress for a couple of years.  Then Princess Anastasia inherits, then her daughter or son inherits, and all is well.”

“How close might the succession be?”

The strom chuckled.  “You mean will Queen-Empress Thyastis die before she can do any more damage?  Her death was closer last end year than this.”

“Was she ill?” 

“No.  A couple of the saner nobles tried to hurry things along.  They did not succeed. But now…  She could last twenty years, but more likely only five or ten.  Once the bouts begin, they get worse rapidly, with a steady pace of increases.”

“The bouts, your lordship?”

“Bouts of insanity, not remembering what was done afterwards.  It skips some generations, but always recurs.  A representative from the Holy See said that it had to do with the piping in the capital, but I don’t understand how that could be true.  We’ve used lead for hundreds of years.”

“You mentioned that the Duke was in room to room fighting.  Do you know anything about how the Princess is?”

“I don’t know much, but the last I heard about Anastasia’s personal condition was that she was resistant to whatever they were trying to do.  I must admit that I did not much understand the message.  Perhaps she is resisting the curse of the ratmen, and they are trying to turn her into one of them?  I hear they can do that, partially by putting their spittle on their blades.”

“I think that those are wererats.  As far as I have seen, ratfolk are different.  I’ve never heard of them transforming a person into a rat creature.”

“Ah.  We will see when we get there.  I fear it will be quickest if we wait for our replacement voller.  Traveling by land would get us there after the battle has been won.”

“How many troops do you have?”

“About fifty men,  plus the surviving members of the voller’s crew.”

“We should be able to teleport a group that size down without much difficulty.”

“My thanks, but that was what we tried first.  We were unable to teleport across the border; the mage said it felt like crossing an impenetrable barrier.”

“Oh, really?  That’s very interesting.  I’ll speak with some of our mages to find out what the problem is.  Is the mage with you?”

“No, I don’t have a mage with me.  The mage was the personal mage to one of my allies, who should already be there.  We sought to travel down together by magic but then took our vollers when the teleportation failed.  I have no mages now, only a couple of mild psions.”

“Be careful relying on them for communications.  We have had some psionic communications with the Duke, but our psions sensed what may have been eavesdropping by the enemy.”

“Thank you for informing me.  We know that they have some psions.  Fortunately, their magical support disappeared about two weeks ago.”

Kit rose.  “Thank you for your aid to Grokken.  We will see if we can get you to the Duke’s aid faster than waiting for another voller.”

“I only wish I could have done more for your people.  Grokken reminded me of the siege of the City of Crystal, some twenty years ago.  The Queen-Empress commanded that siege.  The City was built by the elves, but abandoned, and then occupied by humans.  We charged, but the walls did not fall.  So we besieged it for six months.  They ran out of food, sortied, and we seized the gate.  After that… it was short.  I prefer not to remember that.  It was then I learned what we had gained as Empress.  She commanded death to all within the walls.”

“All the more reason for us to work to recover Princess Anastasia, your lordship,” said Kit slowly after swallowing hard at that description.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit reported her conversation with the strom to the rest of the Council.  “I’m worried about the block on teleportation.  I don’t know what it means, but it’s worrisome-- and it will make it harder for them to get Princess Anastasia out?  Maybe Lady Constance will be able to suggest a way to deal with the problem?”

“Why not ask the Minister of Magic?” asked Dame Brionna.  “He’s also an archmage, and unlike Lady Constance, he isn’t in league with devils.”

“But Lady Constance has been so helpful in the past,” said Kit.

“And teleportation is a form of conjuration magic.  A summoning specialist like Lady Constance will know more about the dimensional lock or whatever it is than a generalist like the Minister would.”

Lady Constance arrived shortly.  The Council described the problem, and she nodded thoughtfully.  “Drift is beginning, then.”

“Drift, Lady Constance?”

“The forces in the South are largely extraplanar.  More importantly, they are routinely gating in demons, ratlords, and other extraplanar creatures.  That is causing their territory to drift out of alignment with the Prime Plane.  Teleportation is more difficult because of the drift.  If a mage is inexpert in planar travel and adjusting a teleportation, it would be like striking a steel wall.”

“Drifting out of alignment with the Prime… do you mean that it is becoming overlayed with the Abyss, like in the Shadowlands?”

“It is the same process, but it will be decades before the South becomes like the Shadowlands with a permanent connection to the Abyss.  At present, it is just less connected to the rest of the Prime Plane.”

“Is there any way to stop or reverse the process?”

“A very simple way,” said Lady Constance dryly.  “Take back the territory.  When the Shadowline advances or retreats, it is decades or a century before the land is fully absorbed into the Shadow or returns to the light.  The Shadowline itself is a border that becomes a physical manifestation of the difference between the Prime and the foreign plane.  Lands that have been absorbed and are retaken gradually must shift back.”

“Does the presence of the ratfolk inherently cause the shift?”

“I should think not.  While they are not native to this plane, the South is barely out of kilter currently.  If they did not continuously open uncontrolled dimensional rifts, it would not get worse just because they live there.  But the rifts are a deliberate effort to let free willed beings through-- demons in the case of Shadow, sometimes demons but usually ratlords in the Southlands.  In theory, the South could slip out of the Prime into another world completely.  In practice, that has only ever happens in Shadow.”

“Another reason for us to push against the ratfolk, Your Grace,” observed Dame Brionna.

“Indeed.  Lady Constance, could you help us teleport a small contingent of troops into the Southlands?  We would like to assist the troops that were on the voller that recently landed in the City to reach their destination.”

“How many?”

“About fifty knights.  Ideally, we would also want to be able to extract some troops back in a few days time--these knights are part of a rescue force, and there are some politically important people in the Southlands.”

“We could bring fifty knights down easily, with a gate.  For the return, we would need a contingent of knights and scouts to secure our position, so we can then open a second gate for extraction.”

“Your Grace, the palace guard will be perfect for that mission, especially because they understand how to fight defensively.”

“Good.  Pick out a company of your best guards, and let’s get them through.”

Lady Constance bowed slightly and began her preparations as Dame Brionna organized the guards who would accompany the mages.

* * *

Later that day, while doing one of her regular full patrols of the palace, Dame Brionna prayed for Glor’diadel to provide her with a vision of her warhorse.  She walked and walked and prayed and walked and prayed.  As she crossed the catwalks on the top of the palace, she heard a sudden whinny.  A pure white horse with wings and a horn stood on the wall.

Dame Brionna’s eyes widened.  “Lord Glor’diadel, I am not worthy.”  She knelt by the unipeg, not before it but with it, and then gave a full round of prayer.  It waited patiently, understanding what she was doing.  She then extended her hand with a bit of honeycomb.  The stallion ate it and whinnied again.  Dame Brionna opened her mind to it, and the unipeg communed with her a bit before flying down to the courtyard to wait.  Dame Brionna traveled down to it, and together they began the process of teaching her to fly on it safely.

[End Session 25]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

[Session 26]

Before the Council formally assembled the next morning, Dame Brionna pulled Kit aside.  “I’d like to have a word with you about Abigail.”

“Sure.  What about her?”

“I would like to make sure that she receives a proper religious education.  Too many people from the South Kingdoms have either no faith to speak of or even bad faiths.  I would like to try to make sure she’s loyal to Glor’diadel.  I know that you and the Archduke miss many of the morning services, but if you don’t object, I’d like to bring Abigail with me to the morning services.  Or the noon services, if you would prefer, and I would not ask for her to come on days when you have specific duties for her.  I’m not trying to intrude in your education and governance of your squire, but…”

“Don’t worry about it.  You’re her family.  Of course you can take her to services if you would like to.  Why don’t you plan on regularly bringing her to the morning services?  I rarely have tasks for her to do in the early mornings.  And when I do, you can bring her to later services.”

“Thank you.”  Dame Brionna’s gratitude was so clear, over such a minor matter, that Kit had to suppress a smile.  “I didn’t want to intrude on your role as her knight, but…”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it.  She may be my squire, but you’re her family.”

Alistair came into the room and greeted his counselors.  They chatted briefly and then turned to the day’s work.  Alistair asked if they had received a report from the Duke of Brightspan’s efforts to investigate his cousin who was aligned or worse with the Unseelie, the former privy secretary’s mother.  A little investigation determined that the Duke’s troops were still marching towards her manor.  The Council ordered a voller from the Sky Guard to offer its services in moving the troops along.  They still did not want to intervene directly without giving the Duke a chance to deal with the matter first-- the risk that they would offend him further was too great.  But the sooner they could get more information, the better off they would be.

With that dealt with, they turned to the issue of Debonai’s support for the Abomination of Shur.  Kit reported that one of her contacts through the fan was well placed in Debonai, but that she had not had time to get a full report yet.  The Council adjourned to allow her to do so.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Before reaching out to her agent, Kit discussed her background with the rest of the Council.  Kit’s prior scan had identified Lady Baroness Breena Talinis as her agent in Debonai.  Unlike almost all of the other agents linked through the fan, the Baroness detected Kit during her scan of the various agents.  Both Alistair and Dame Brionna recalled persistent rumors of silver dragon ancestry in the House of Talinis.  The House was also notable for the many paladins in the family, along with some hospitalers.  One had even disgraced the family by becoming something of a private inquisitor-- something that might have won even greater honor if they had been Paranswarmian, but was viewed as contrary to church tradition by Glor’diadelians.

Kit was surprised to hear of the draconic ancestry and asked about whether Canberry should be reaching out more to good-aligned dragons.  Alistair, who had been taught of dragons as more than just children’s stories, explained that while dragons are very powerful, they are even less likely to intervene than the Eldar and Noldar.  The one major exception is that some lineages have long-standing alliances with human or elven families, and the dragons, even chaotic ones, will always obey their alliances.  Half-dragons and quarter-dragons, on the other hand, tend to be very involved, because they are fascinated by humans.

In planning out Kit’s efforts, the Council focused on their analysis of the current situation.  If the troops in the army marching from Debonai to support the Abomination remain loyal to the crown while the army’s leadership is not, the army would probably fall apart if the troops understood the situation.  At the same time, the rank-and-file are unlikely to actively fight the chivalry leading them.  The key would thus be to break the control of the leadership long enough to convince the troops, who would then mostly desert. 

Kit snapped her fan open and focused on the crystal linked to Lady Breena.  As soon as she made the mindlink, Kit heard “M’lady” in her head and the sense of a slight bow, although less of a bow than most of her contacts give.  Kit heard Lady Breena shooing people away and then the amount of focus increased, as the Baroness could speak aloud.

“My apologies for the delay, m’lady, but you know how servants are.  Mine are loyal and mean well, but they still gossip.  I would not want them hearing anything inappropriate and creating security risks.”

“Quite.  We wanted to discuss Debonai’s current military movements.  We understand several detachments of troops have headed out under unreliable commanders.”

“I would hardly call them detachments.  Several entire calvary units have gone missing.”

“Missing?  You don’t know where they’re going?”

“The throne doesn’t and the great council doesn’t, but I have been quietly tracing them through friends.  They represent some twenty thousand troops altogether.  They left through the southwest border and are heading to meet up with the great horde ahead of them heading to the Spice Lands.  We have had problems with the upper echelon of the knights for some time.  There is a question of the legitimacy of the royal house.  The old nobility support the royal house and control most of the money not controlled by the merchant clans.  The younger nobility, the ones elevated in the recent border wars over the past three to four centuries have much less money, more sons, and a desire for conquest.  These would be the ones leading the twenty thousand.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

No update today-- sorry.  Work is a little crazy right now, and I've run out of pre-written updates.  With luck, I should be able to post tomorrow, but I'll be travelling tomorrow and Monday, so there may not be any posts until Tuesday.  By Tuesday at the latest, we should be back to a regular daily update schedule.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Back to regular updates.

-----
“Which specific noble houses are the ringleaders in leading the missing army?”

“Duke Edelford is the overall commander and, along with his family, the ringleader.  He has three younger brothers, out of seven total siblings, and nearly a dozen sons.  He is a powerful warrior and a reasonable scout.  He also looks very young--as young as his sons-- despite no known non-human ancestry.”

“Huh.  That’s unusual.  Has he always looked younger?”

“No, he looked his age when he first came to court at sixteen.  His father died shortly after he came to the court, and then his aging seemed to slow down.  I’m sure that’s some trick of genetics, though.”

Kit did not believe that for a second, but felt no need to argue the point with her agent.  “What religion is Duke Edelford?  Glor’diadelian?”

“He attends the temple, but I would say he is not a man of great devotion.  His wife was, but she died in the last childbirth, some five years ago.  Since her death… he still goes to services, but not particularly frequently and without any great indicators of faith.”

“I guess a death in child birth isn’t that surprising even for a noblewoman after that many children.  Does he have any children from the other side of the sheets?”

“Oh, Lord of Light, yes.  The gossip of the court was that he couldn’t lie down without making someone pregnant.  He has dozens of bastards, to the point where the Bishop reprimanded him.  There is an understanding.  Most nobles take one mistress, who is cherished, because the marriages are arranged.”

“Mmm-hmm,” murmured Kit noncommittally.

The Baroness did not hear Kit’s interjection, or at least if she had, she chose to ignore it.  “But proper nobles do not have a vixen in every village of their domain.”

Lady Breena’s prim tone helped Kit form more of an understanding of how her agent thought.  She made a mental note to make sure that the Baroness did not allow her primness to interfere with her analysis, or with Canberry’s intelligence network.  “No wonder he wants wars of conquest…  That leaves a lot of people he’ll want land for.  Do you know if he has magical support with him?”

“I do not know for sure, m’lady.  He has a very powerful archmage in his service, but I don’t know if the the archmage is with him.”

“We need to know that, so you need to find out.”

“Yes, m’lady.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“When did Duke Edelford leave the court?”

“He departed during the Canberry coronation.  I do not know if that was a coincidence.”

“Still, it’s interesting.  Did he act differently in the weeks before that?  Unusual communications, secretive behavior?”

“Quite the opposite.  I would say unusually non-secretive behavior.  He demanded that he be allowed to accompany the royal delegation to the coronation.  This was denied-- it was not his place to make such a demand and the crown did not particularly want him as an ambassador.  The decision was that ruler himself would send representatives but would share the Duke’s sorrow in not being allowed to attend.”

“Could that have been a manufactured slight?”

“That’s possible, because the request was not in his character.  He has no particular love or hate for the Archduchy or for courtly functions.”

“Thanks for that information.  Do you know anything else notable about him, or about who his allies might be?”

“There is one other thing.  He is part of the Brotherhood, a claimed knightly order but without a clear lineage.  It existed thousands of years ago, as the Order of the Ram, but then disappeared very unceremoniously.  I only know of the Brotherhood’s past because of my father, who was a military man who spoke often of history.  There are many orders in Debonai, most attached to the church, but the Order of the Ram has no ecclesiastical sanction.”

“You said it disappeared?  What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it was disbanded--all the principal members died on the same night, although I have no idea how.”

“That’s another thing we’ll need to find out.  Are their records?”

“There should be, but in the military library.  It would be rather conspicuous if I went there… but I can send one of my knights to do the research, along with a cover mission.”

“Good.  What about the other leaders of the missing units?”  Kit read off her list.  “Na-Duke Alonzo Avon, Sir Montevale Higgins, Dame Brittany Tirtoroth?”

“Dame Brittany was, but I do not know about the rest.  I will have my knight attempt to verify that as well.”

“Good.  Let me know as soon as you learn anything.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Now then, I have some more general notes.  The rebels in the capital have been put down.”

“Rebels?  We haven’t heard anything about that,” replied Kit, perhaps a tad critically.

“I sent the note by the usual route, several days ago.”

Kit resolved to find out what the usual route was and whether the message should have arrived.  “Go on.”

“There was a sudden rising, led by common men, in the capital after the chivalry departed.  It was not very successful, because the commoners tend to be content.  The monarchy is not oppressive and loyal to the Church, as are most of the people.  When the rest of the people did not rally to support the rising, it collapsed fairly quickly.”

“Were the instigators captured?  What did they say?”

“From what I gather, they claim that they can’t remember rebelling.  I was not permitted in the questioning chamber, because I am both female and a mage.  I am considered too delicate for such matters.”

“I don’t know that a mage is what is needed.  Under the circumstances, I think you want a psion to check out their minds.”

“Ah, that could be…  I will pass that advice on through the right people.”

“Did the revolt cause any damage before it was put down?”

“It was aimed at the Archbishop’s quarters and offices.  A number of younger priests were badly injured, but His Excellency was not harmed.  They also made off with a few relics.  Some of the participants were quite distraught-- they were devout followers who could not believe that they had attacked the Church.”

“What relics?”

“One moment, m’lady.  Bridget!  Come in here.  Do you recall which relics were stolen during that unpleasantness?  Enunciate clearly, now.”

“Yes, m’lady.  Three things were taken:  the crook of Archbishop Augustus I, the Chalice, and the Lamp of Havens.”

“Ah, yes.  Thank you.  That will be all.”  Lady Breena waited a moment for Bridget to withdraw and then explained.  “The Crook was a gift from the Forest of Singing Leaves.  The Chalice, used as a treasure in the Cathedral, was created by the House of Segilen, about a thousand years after that-- it is not laen like the crook, but is high glass crystal.  Lastly, the Lamp of Havens is a lamp that was perpetually lit, also a laen item.  It was a gift of a half-Eldar who converted to the Holy Church.”

“When were these taken?  Around the time the army left?”

“Well, it was about the time we became aware of the army heading south, but three to four days after it actually launched the expedition.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Baroness waited for more questions and then continued with the miscellaneous reports.  “The crops are doing well, and there is no drought.  Tensions are easing with Augurt, but you should know Augurt is bristling in every direction and fortifying.  We are not particularly concerned, because the fortification is with troops that are not capable of rapid movement.”

“Sounds like Augurt suspects something.”

“I agree.  Augurt’s current ruler is not courageous, but it is also notable that he is sending more defensive troops south than north.”

“Huh.  Do you know anything about what the missing chivalry hope to do?”

“I don’t know what they’re planning.  They’re chivalry, but in their direct path there is only jungle, and to some extent desert.  Horses don’t do well in either.  They are heading south by the fastest route possible, while avoiding major population centers.  They should pass to the west of Canberry, but they are still to your north at this point.  Oh, and they are vigilant-- they put up a ward yesterday against my scrying.”

“Are the regular members of the army loyal to their leaders?”

“Most of the chivalry would only be younger sons of nobles.  The top sixty or eighty would be very loyal to the commanders, the rest would be more loyal to the Kingdom.  That said, there would be a fair amount of discontent with the ruling house, because of the failure to vigorously prosecute a war of expansion.”

“They want land and glory.”

“Exactly, m’lady, but mostly land.”

“Very well.  Thank you for your information.  I want to find out more about who’s leading them;  the Order of the Ram and this archmage.  Check out the Duke’s ancestry as well.”

“I will have a report for you soon.”

Kit closed the fan and suddenly noticed how drained she felt.  She slumped onto one of the couches in the Council chamber, and Alistair rubbed her shoulders as she passed on Lady Breena’s report.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“I have heard some legends about the Order of the Ram,” said Dame Brionna.  “It has been quiescent for the better part of a thousand years.  The Order promised great vitality to men who were members of it.  It was only present in a few kingdoms, and only a few of those were Glor’diadelian.  I don’t think there was ever an Order here, but it did exist in the South Kingdoms.  Reputedly, men who joined it became more virile and physically able in combat.”

“I wonder…” said Alistair.  “Rams aren’t as associated with demons as goats, but there is still some association.  And great strength leading up to sudden mass deaths sounds demonic.  

“That would explain why they avoided lands under Lord Glor’diadel’s watch, and that of His Church.  I’m not certain, but it could also have been timed with the previous attempted fall of the South Kingdoms eight-hundred years ago.”

Abigail knocked quietly and entered.  “Your Grace, there is a message from the Moriquendi’rim.  Princess Curini’rim wishes to inform you that the Council has requested her personal presence in Krashmere to present the charges against Quinliart and for other matters.  She has sent her younger cousin to act her stead while the matter is resolved.”

“Who is her cousin?” asked Kit.

“I have no idea.  And it’s probably best if we not ask directly.  Maybe Abigail could find out from the messenger?”

Kit nodded and gave Abigail her instructions.  

Abigail returned to where the messenger, a young drow man, waited.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Who is Princess Curini’rim’s cousin?  The Council assumed that I know, and I don’t want to admit my ignorance by asking.  They seemed pleased by the appointment.  But I don’t know who she is, and I’m worried that I’ll make some gaffe because of it.”

The drow chuckled.  “Who he is, not she.  They really didn’t tell you anything.  Isn’t always the way?  If you ask, they get mad because you asked, and if you don’t, they get mad because you don’t know.  Her regent is Lord Hinuu’sintu ap Curini’rim-Moriquendi’rim.  He’s coming with his whole household, planning on staying and visiting others in the Northlands.  You’ll like him, he’s our age.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow at that and waited to see if the messenger would fill the silence.

“His seneschal will do most of the ruling.  The seneschal’s a half-Noldar, although that must never be said--Lord Hintu.  He does not have the right of a family name.”

“Thanks.  Do you know the other reasons that the Princess was called back?  Our Council seemed to think it would be obvious, but…”

“Oh, there can be no doubt about that.  The Council struggle is about the nine candidates to replace the dead lord.  My Mistress backs her uncle, of course.”

“You’ve saved me a lot of trouble.  I’m Abigail.”

“You need not worry.  We need to stick together-- it’s the only way you can get enough information to avoid harsh punishment.  I am Aleid of the Cadet House of ____.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After Abigail passed on that information, the Council sent a polite reply to Princess Curini’rim.  They also extended an official invitation to her cousin to visit Canberry for a while.  Kit and Dame Brionna were much more supportive of that idea once they knew that the Princess’s cousin would not be an attractive Noldar woman.  They also asked Abigail to invite Lord Silverleaves to join them later that morning for a discussion of some of their new information.

The Council received their daily report on the devastation caused by the orcish hordes.  The report confirmed that Storr had been utterly sacked and was now burning.  Fortunately, the people had already evacuated.

“I wonder if we could use the Debonai army to draw off the hordes,” said Alistair.  “It will pass near their dependents-- if we could make the orcs think that the army planned on attacking their dependents, we could draw them off, without our having to actually do anything.”

“And if they know about the army, the rest won’t be hard,” said Kit.  “The orcs will think that a human army wanting to rampage among their dependents makes sense, because it’s exactly the sort of thing they would do.  Plus, if they fight the Debonai army, it helps us deal with two threats at once.  But how do we get the message to them?”

“A captured courier pouch with our ‘analysis’ that the Debonai army is moving against the orc villages, I would think,” said Alistair.

“But we can’t let them actually capture a courier-- that would be murdering whoever we sent.  If we just leave the pouch, there’s no guarantee they’ll notice, or that it will make it to someone who can read.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “So we take the body of someone who has already died, dress it in an obvious courier uniform, and leave it in the field where they’ll find it.  If we send one of the scout vollers to put it a short distance away from the army, they should find it within a day, maybe two.”

“Done.  Send the orders.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Eldar entered the Council chambers.  “You wished to see me?”

“Yes, thank you for coming,” said Kit.  “We have some historical questions that we hoped you could answer.  Do you remember anything about the Order of the Ram?”

“Yes, that.”

“What are they?”

“Were they,” corrected Lord Silverleaves.

“No, are they.”

“Oh, they’re back?” The Eldar seemed interested and perhaps even dismayed, but in the detached way of the elves.  “Some being from the lower planes formed that order many years ago.  I’m not sure what exactly, a demon lord or a powerful daemon or something-- more likely a demon than a daemon, I think.  It offered a great deal of power to its followers, who were humans of course.  He gave them tainted abilities, but his claw marks weren’t visible-- he was careful to make sure they never knew what he was.  The members of the Order had great fertility, resistance to disease and damage, and power in combat, but they burned up-- he gave them twenty years and then consumed their life force.  It was part of some grand plot, about eight-hundred years ago.”

“Do you know of any tie to the Abomination of Shur?” asked Alistair.

“Hmm.  I am not certain.  There was some sort of alliance between a number of cthons of animals, especially of vermin, and the Abomination of Shur.  If the Order was tied to a cthon of rams or something similar, it could have been part of that alliance.  In time, the alliance fell apart.  Demonic plots tend to be more frightening than actually dangerous-- their last major accomplishment was the formation of the Shadowlands.  Their disorder is their undoing.  Since then, they have not succeeded at any major goals.  You could count the seizure of Caldefor, I suppose, but that looks more like one of the periodic border fluctuations.”

“Do you know if any descendants of the original Order exist?”

“It is not something I have watched closely; demon lords are pathetic beings and not worthy of much attention.  Nonetheless, some families of that blood certainly exist.  It runs strong and the members of the Order were most fecund.”

“We know that the Order has reformed in Debonai, and that Duke Edelford is among its leaders,” said Kit.  “It may exist elsewhere as well, but we can only confirm its presence in Debonai.”

“Perhaps I should look into it.  My people and Debonai have been allies for a long time; the first time around, we planned on intervening in the next seventy or eighty years, but then they all died.  Edelford’s whole lineage was engendered by a frail and elderly man who was about to die without issue.  In all likelihood, everyone in his line is descended from the Order’s power.”

“How much longer will he last?”

“If he entered before his first child, he could not have more than a few more months.”

“Could we speed up the process?  He is leading an army that we think is aligned with our enemies.”

“There is no way to speed it up.  The process is inexorable;  it could be slowed somewhat by destroying the demon lord that granted the power, but there is no way to accelerate the pact.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We also wanted to speak with you about several artifacts that were stolen from the Church in Debonai,” said Dame Brionna.  “The Archbishop’s Crook, which was made of laen.”

“Oh, yes, and quite intelligent.  The temple was both very pleased with the gift and at the same time something like appalled.  We knew that the Temple served the Lord of Light, and that there were devas and angels who served Him, so we bound an archangel in the crook as a gift.”

Dame Brionna stammered, “But… but… what does the archangel think of this?”

“He was rather surprised at first.  But he can come and go as he wishes, and quite likes it there now.”  Lord Silverleaves nodded at Dame Brionna’s reaction.  “You see, that was the same way the temple reacted.  We learned a great deal about human psychology through those discussions.  What were the other artifacts?”

“A high glass chalice.”

“That would be the Chalice of Simonea-- the material that became that Chalice was at one time soaked in the blood of St. Simonea, one of our people.  We thought that since holy blood had touched it, it might help assuage the temple after the crook.  The Chalice is an ocular device.  If you put pure water in it, visions will appear.  You can compel the type of vision, but the chalice can be tricky to interpret.  I believe that the temple uses it for eucharist, and the people believe it can cure dread maladies, but that is probably just common rumors.”

“And the last artifact, a lamp of laen?”

“That has been taken as well?  The Lamp of Havens.  It has no fire in it; instead, the Lamp is filled with water from the Overqueen’s fountain, the only substantial amount in human hands.  The water can give life to anything, but Galadriel alone can touch it without causing great change around her, because she bears the Ring of Water.”

“That may be what they were after-- that would surely be useful to the Abomination’s plans,” said Alistair.

“And they may have simply known that they needed a laen artifact and grabbed all of the ones they could get to,” added Dame Brionna.

Kit looked at the Grandmaster Farsensor.  “Can you sense where they are?”

“I can probably find the crook, but not the others.  Perhaps they are being kept together, however.  It will take hours of meditation.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We think that the people who stole them may have been under mind control,” said Kit.  “The theft was part of a revolt and rioting of a large number of people in Debonai’s capital, but afterwards they had no memory of their actions, let alone why.  Some of the people who specifically were involved in the theft are otherwise loyal to the Church and were very upset afterwards.  I suspected psionics.  What kind of effect could do that?”

“A coercer, certainly, but… it would take a full circle of coercers--likely a guild of mind flayers or a circle of aboleths.  If they used their slime, aboleths could do it with the fewest members.  It would take at least four, even then, and only that few if one were a noble.”

“What about a paragon-level coercer, Lord Silverleaves?” asked Alistair.  

The Eldar thought before answering.  “A paragon-level coercer could stop a thousand men in their tracks.  But it is harder to make people do what they do not wish to do than to cause inaction.  A paragon perhaps could affect a few dozen at a time to do something against their essential nature.  The whole act could possibly have been done by a Noldar lord titled Lord Goldurum, but he would no more step in a human city than slit his own throat-- I mean that quite literally.  Demons are weak in psionics, so the master of the Order of the Ram could not.  However, the Unseelie are particularly good at drawing webs across people’s minds.  An unseelie lord, using psionics and other means, and having spread fairy gold throughout the city, might be able to do it.  Of course, fairy gold can be turned back to its natural form if struck by lead.”

“So your best estimate is either a group of aboleth or the unseelie,” summarized Kit.  “Any idea which is more likely?”

“I would have to examine victims to see.  Do you have reason to believe that the unseelie have been allied with the Abomination?”

“Some,” said Alistair.  “Nothing has been confirmed, but that is what our investigation suggests.”

Lord Silverleaves nodded thoughtfully.  “To be fair, the Archduke, in his rise to the throne, gave signals that the empire might expand in the next few decades.  The unseelie would fear that possibility greatly.  But working against him directly would be suicide for their kind, as the land would protect him, and that has more effect on anyone of fae blood.”

“We will pass on a warning to Debonai, then, and increase our guard against the unseelie.  Our thanks, your lordship.”

Lord Silverleaves bowed his head politely and withdrew.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council discussed its outstanding matters over lunch and then dispersed to take care of several matters individually.  Kit focused on finding out why the reports from Debonai did not reach her as quickly as they should have.  She began by speaking to her secretary.

“I was told that a message was sent to us from Debonai, ‘through the usual channels.’  What are the usual channels?”

“We have a standard set of protocols in place to maintain security.  The standard system involves a set of drop points that the actual agents or their principal couriers use, linked to secondary drop points.  For normal messages, the secondary couriers deliver the messages to the secondary drop points, and thence through tertiary couriers.  The tertiary couriers ultimately bring the messages in through the northwest border.”

“That has to take a fair amount of time… just the riding alone could take weeks.  Is there any way for more urgent messages to get through more quickly?”

“Indeed, m’lady.  The secondary couriers make a judgment on urgency-- for most messages, they use the courier service, and as you say it delays the messages’ arrivals by some weeks.  But when they deem a message urgent, the secondary couriers signal via semaphores for a scout voller.”  Kit’s secretary was too well trained to ask what the nature of the message was, but he did raise a curious eyebrow.

“The message that was delayed was a report of a revolt in the capital of Debonai.  The rebels seem to have been under mind control and attacked various people and places associated with the Church, including stealing three major relics.”

“I see.  That definitely should have gone through a scout voller.  We must send instructions upline to deep agents to find out what’s happening to the couriers.”

“We have people who check on this sort of thing?”  Kit waited for her secretary’s nod, and then continued, “Good.  Send the orders.  I want to know what’s going on.  And then expand this out to checking the rest of our communication networks.  This isn’t the first message that hasn’t arrived on schedule, and we need to make certain that there are not any that failed to arrive altogether.”

Alistair, meanwhile, spent the afternoon attempting to prevent his assignation with Princess Mirabelle of Gates from turning into a major incident.  They had not seen each other since their torrid first meeting a few days earlier, but Alistair knew that he needed to speak with her soon to prevent her from feeling angry and bitter.  He considered sneaking into Princess Mirabelle’s chambers-- he could probably succeed, but the consequences of discovery could be disastrous.  Instead, he invited her to see the Archducal jewelry collection.  In light of her interests, she would likely be eager to see the many fabulous pieces, and she would also see this accurately as an opportunity to come to the palace without a formal chaperone.  After she arrived, Alistair slipped through the secret passageways and joined her in one of the galleries while her guards waited at the entrance.

“Oh, Alistair!” exclaimed the princess as she rushed over to him.  “I so hoped we would get a chance to meet today.”

Alistair kissed her gently but then stepped back from her embrace.  “Indeed, my darling.  I merely wish that it were for a better reason.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You know how much I care for you.  Were it up to me, I would send a formal proposal to your brother and mother this very day.”  Alistair looked away and swallowed hard, as if what he were saying pained him greatly.  “But, as you know, marriages of royalty are matters of state more than of love.  I have little choice but to obey the recommendations of my government, and they firmly oppose our marriage.”

Princess Mirabelle broke into tears.  “Then there is nothing for it.  I know of our duty to our realms, and I could no more expect you to neglect your duty than I could neglect my own.”  

Alistair knew that, in fact, Princess Mirabelle was much more under the control of her court than he was of his.  Sure now that he knew what her answer would be, he pushed on, “No.  But perhaps… we could run off, leaving the chains of duty behind.  I only returned to Canberry to save it from a struggle over the succession, but I did not know then that it would cost me you.”

“No, dearest Alistair.  We mustn’t.”  She tried to present a brave face.  “I could not ask you to abandon your duties for me.  I will miss you terribly, but we must attend to our duty, not our desire.”

Alistair nodded, his eyes glistening slightly.  “I should have known better than even to mention the idea to one so noble as yourself.”

They spoke a little longer, before parting tearfully.  Alistair slipped back into the hidden passageways, cleaned his face and reordered his doublet, and nodded with satisfaction.  He was sure that no harm would come from it now, and that he would always have a strong ally in the court of Gates, despite her sorrow.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

While Alistair and Kit dealt with those tasks, Dame Brionna returned to her office to attend to some paperwork.  As she worked, she noticed a scrap of parchment on the floor.  Incoherent, barely legible words had been scrawled across the parchment.  Even trying to assemble a clear text out of it was difficult, let alone trying to figure out what it meant.  What was clear was that it spoke of rats and skittering repeatedly.  There were also references to a woman, with some statements that implied that she was not all that she seemed to be.

Dame Brionna reported the message, along with her guess that it was from the Scree through the “dog” in the kitchen to the rest of the Council.  They immediately focused on the continuing effort to rescue Princess Anastasia.  If there was a danger of recovering an imposter, disaster could ensue.

Kit formed a mental link to the Duke of Snatterkaz.  <<We received distressing message; what’s your status? Beware of princess’s concealed identity.  Is she really there? Do you need help?>> 

Snatterkaz responded promptly.  He seemed both clear and tired.  <<Female knights- Seachen-joined us.  Thank gods-- have Anastasia-- seems to have amnesia-- Contessa says she will recover--returning now.>>

The Council was relieved by this message, but not fully calmed.  There was still the danger that the Duke might have been deceived as well, or that there might be some lurking harm that had been done to Princess Anastasia.  Still, the news that she had been rescued and would shortly be brought out of the Southlands was welcome indeed.  

* * *

Sorry for the short update.  I will be travelling this weekend.  I may not be able to post an update tomorrow-- we'll have to see.  Regular updates will resume on Sunday.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council proceeded to the Lady Mayor’s townhouse to meet with the Chief Engineer of the Seachen.  After some careful consideration, they decided that Dame Brionna would be the best person to actually conduct the meeting, with Alistair and Kit safely hidden behind a wall and observing through a mindlink.  Dame Brionna greeted the Chief Engineer and looked with curiosity at the careful drafting sketches that she was preparing.  “Those look like Canberry City, but not quite…”

The Seachen noble nodded.  “While this city has walls, they are haphazardly designed and of considerable age.  I was passing my time drawing up some potential designs to fortify them further.”

“Canberry City has not been attacked directly in twelve-hundred years.  That is why some of the City has grown outside of the old walls.”

“Ah.  We must always fear attack.”

“From whom?”

“The First, of course.   But also… you never know, you never know.”

“The First, your ladyship?”

“The legends say that the First were in the land before us, but they are still sometimes seen.  They are horrid mixes of human and serpent, from the reports.  It is said that at least two villages have become infected, filled with mixed blood.  Those villages were burned, with all within them.  But we must always be ready to repulse further attacks.”

“I see,” said Dame Brionna, deciding not to comment further.  “We wanted to ask you a few questions about your faith and the Dead Gods of the Seachen.  Are there three of them?”

“There are many more than three.”

“Has any been described as the Goddess of the Pale Bone?”

“Ah, that is what you were wondering about.  That worship has been forbidden by the Matriarch.  There are still hidden cults, throughout the land.  It permeates the nobility, but it is forbidden.”

“Is the same true of the One Other and the One Beside?”

“They are… male.  The nobility would not, could not, follow a male.”

“I was uncertain-- we know little of them.”

“We know too much.  There was a great shrine to her in our territory.  The First may have worshipped her, for it shares features with others of their structures.  There is also a city of the One Other, but it is taboo to enter there.  We had heard rumors that the cult rises again.  The Matriarch has also heard these rumors.  Chaos is growing rapidly upon this world; it must be stopped.  Knights were sent south, southeast, and southwest, to support those of good will and their male chattel, to investigate two places where the rising is rumored and to bring back news of conditions among the refugees.  The Matriarch thought we had been insular too long; I agreed and spoke out, and others did as well.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“That is wise of the Matriarch.  We also have heard of things that suggested that there were people in your lands who support the Abomination of Shur’s efforts, even though the Abomination is male.”

“The City of the Abomination of Shur is in our lands.  It was originally he who broke the power of the First, which allowed us to claim the lands.  But he rose up too fast-- he built an empire-- it built an empire-- and ruled as a cat.  There are some who think it is one of the dead gods, for it is a cat, but others do not.  All cats are revered, small and great, even the males.  We hunt with them, fight beside them in war, and breed them to attain new types.  We even ride them.  Their lord alone has granted us some solace in our long, long wait for the return of our dead gods.  The Catlord has spoken often to us.  He has from time to time granted a cease of plague or the like.”

“I know little of the Catlord.”

“He is essentially a saint of Mider-- not a real god.  Some of the rakasta worship him.  I do not believe the Abomination of Shur is like the Catlord.  I have studied the architecture of the City he built.  I cannot imagine a creature of law building a city without straight roads, with a footprint that would preclude agriculture to support the people living in the City.”

“We are confident that the Abomination is in no sense a creature of law.”

The Chief Engineer nodded.  “He was defeated in the recent past.  The defeat should have destroyed him, but a prepared host or series of hosts could have kept him corporeal.  If that is true, he will be seeking a more powerful host or body soon.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“He has a host now.”

“Of sufficient power to allow him to perform his ritual?”

“We believe so.”

“Then there will be a war,” said the Chief Engineer fatalistically.

“Not if we could strike at the host.”

“Indeed.  Is he guarded?”

“Yes-- but less so against the Seachen.  He believes he has your support.  We think that a group of Seachen could make their way into the heart of his army without having to battle their way in.  We fear that the field army that is moving north seeks to aid him.”

“There are limits to what can be done if the marshal has formed an alliance with him.  Only the Matriarch can command more than one army at once, and she must take the field herself.  One of the Field Armies could follow him, if the marshal is of great rank and he has attracted her support.  The only other way a marshal could be removed would be by assassination-- the same as the host.”

“If it is a war, they are viable targets.”

“True.  If the Abomination’s horde seeks to punch through the army that holds the pass, they will find it hard to break through.  If the Seachen field army intends to ally with the horde, however, the other defenders are doomed to a being.  The marshal would not ally with a man, but with a great cat, she might.  And if it finds male chattel useful, well, most young women hope to someday have male chattel of their own.”

Dame Brionna cleared her throat.  “Perhaps the Seachen with more sense need to act then.  If your empire were to assassinate the host and the field marshal, it could be an important step towards reestablishing law in the region.”

The Chief Engineer nodded.  “There are people who I could contact who would be willing to make the attempt.  Even though the host is chattel of the cat, it is inappropriate for Seachen to be beholden to a male.”

“And allied to predominantly male orcs and demons.  Orcs cannot be trusted.”

“That is true.  Orcs are great rapists.  I will talk to my contacts.  It is not like we are proposing to assassinate the Matriarch.  This is possible.”

“I am glad that the Matriarch is reasonable and that she does not serve the deranged gods.”

“She is most respectable.  The Matriarch is a devotee of the Mistress of the Heights, a goddess who died 1500 years ago.”

“I should take my leave, but before I depart, may I compliment you on the detail and sophistication of your drawings?  Few if any of our people could rival this level of design.”

The Chief Engineer inclined her head, acknowledging the compliment with a smile.  “It is a great focus of my people, and I am chief in the studies of fortifications.”

“Would you be willing to examine our maps of Furrows, another city in the Archduchy, and make recommendations for its defense?  It is more exposed, and we are more likely to wish to expand its defenses.”

“I would be most happy to do so.  I would be proud to have some of my designs built in this far-off land.  I will also teach my hostess’s younger son something about engineering, even though as a male he will never get to use it.  He has been most interested in my drawings and seems unusually smart for a boy.  Someday, he will make fine breed stock for the Lady Mayor’s allies.”

Dame Brionna bit back an offended response and simply thanked the Chief Engineer for her kindness to the Lady Mayor.

After the audience concluded, the Council briefly met with the Lady Mayor to discuss the state of things in the City.  They described the threat of the imposter and asked to be apprised if rumors of his activity began circulating among the Canberry nobility.  She stated that she had heard rumors, but that most of the nobles had not-- as the Lady Mayor of the capital, she had more contact with foreign nobility than most.  They also discussed the status of crime in the capital-- the rate of crime had dropped precipitously, back to its usual levels.  Likewise, the krif situation appeared to have resolved itself within the last two weeks.  The constabulary identified about one hundred users, but not significantly more than that, in withdrawal.  The constabulary turned them over to the Sisterhoods for treatment.

[End Session 26]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

[Session 27]

The following morning Kit received a new briefing:

"Unto The Mouth 
From The Heart

Honoured Mouth – There is news being reported by our agents that we think you should have, the results seem to me to be ... mixed:

1.  In rough areas of cities throughout the empire over the last two nights men have been being found dead.  There are not many of these "victims" but a few in each major city – most were slain by very precise slicing and stabbing attack with blades estimated by various royal examiners as being incredibly sharp and very fine.  No ripping was observed, the cuts were clean and the stabs were as well.  A very few had been slain instead by poison, which appears to have been delivered on small darts – the darts were subsequently taken.  One was slain by being ripped into pieces, but only one – and that may have been for some other purpose or by another agency. 

Several of the men found dead  were wanted by the authorities for serious crimes.  Others were not wanted but had past histories and had served in the work houses or been imprisoned at various times.  Small bricks of Kryff were found with or near almost all the corpses.  Several of these bricks showed evidence of having been crushed with the flat of  boot heels, apparently after the men were dead.  The marks found in the Kryff indicate that even the boots worn by those doing the crushing were also of the finest workmanship, for there was no unevenness as one might expect, and the edges were very clean cut. 

In the eight cities where the largest number of men were found dead, lists, written in very fine ink with gold dust suspended in it,  on pure white parchment, were found near the dead men (we take this to indicate that whatever group committed these murders, it was very wealthy). In each case the lists contained over a hundred names – all people known from the city registries and church records – but in no cases criminals.  Local authorities do NOT have a unified response to these lists.  In Furrows the bishop of Furrows has ordered an investigation by clergy – with a clergy-person to speak to each person on the list – we do not yet know what the results of that intervention will be.  In most other jurisdictions neither Ecclesiastical or secular authorities have ordered systemic investigation. 

2.  With the exception of these murders, crime overall is down significantly.

3.  We have, almost accidentally uncovered a barebones network within the empire.  It does not seem likely, given the composition, that it is an intelligence network representing any particular nation.  Instead, we believe that it may be an intelligence gathering apparatus specifically for factors from the Eastern Trade Federation.  The focus is entirely on domestic production, importation of  and pricing of, in no particular order: 

 < Beef
< Dairy products
< Grain
< Vegetables
< Salt – of both types
< Herbs, particularly preservative herbs
< Spices, particularly preservative spices
< Sugar, honey, and molasses 

 We have been thorough in the investigation and have found no evidence that the network is linked back to the government of the ETF, and no evidence that it has any interest, even passing, in anything except business intelligence.  

 We have not undertaken any additional intervention in this case, pending your direction.

 Respectfully submitted."

Kit looked over the message, sounding out some of the more difficult words, and then decided that she needed to take it to her scribe.  It would be faster than reading it herself, and he would be able to answer some of her questions.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Good morning, ma’am,” said Kit’s scribe as she entered her office.  She handed over the dispatch, which he quickly read aloud.

“Clearly, someone is busting up a krif ring,” commented Kit.

“Finishing it off, it looks to me.”

“Yes.  But just for my own peace of mind, I’d like to know who it is.  I think we’ve got enough information here to figure it out. Gold dust in ink, fine blades, fine cuts – something in the elf family?”

The scribe coughed delicately.  “Could it be people belonging to that ally of ours that is unusual and makes some people nervous?”

“There are a lot of folks who fit that description.”

He sighed a little:  his mistress was going to make him be direct.  “The Noldar.  Though I didn’t think they did things like kill humans.”

“Yes, most of them wouldn’t lower themselves to even kill us. Can we get a copy of those lists?”

“That’s going to be a bit difficult.  We don’t really have the resources in place to investigate hundreds of people in eight different cities.”

“Right now I just want to know who; we can figure out how to deal with them later.”

Kit’s scribe nodded and made a note to himself.

“As for the trade network…  It seems important, but…”

“His Grace should probably know about that, m’lady.  It could be of strategic value.”

“I suppose so…  The only problem I can see is if these merchants are getting information so they can supply an army who isn’t ours.  Maybe we can use this to our advantage, but otherwise I don’t see how it’s useful.”  Kit continued thinking about it.  “By the way, do you have a list of body parts anywhere?  I’d like to know what all of our assets are.”

“Oh, there’s one locked away somewhere.  I can dig it out for you. We need to add the Naughty Bits anyhow, although I don’t suppose we need to make the drawings for that very distinct.”

“There’s an actual picture of a body?”

“Well, that methodology has been used for our service for hundreds of years. It grew in recent generations, of course.”

“Of course. Well, I’d like to know all the parts of my body.”

Kit’s scribe resolutely maintained a straight face.  “I should mention something else.  The lady must remember that the young prince is still here; his advisor does not seem to approve of the krif trade.”

“So that’s another reason to link this to the Noldar.”

“Oh, and there is one other piece you should probably know my lady.”

“Oh?”

“North in Enclaves, I received a pigeon that a dreadnought had landed in Zorplona Argoni and was apparently carrying staff for the young lord, preparing the way, as it was. They don’t have many of those; they’re clearly concerned about him.”

“Well, wasn’t the election expected to go on for some time?”

“Oh, decades, but there will be some murders along the way. It’s rare that they would go after children, but succession crises are rare to begin with in Noldar circles. Since this boy is young, he will be much less powerful. They may be trying to transfer him away from their capital and make him safer. If I may make a recommendation?”

“Of course.”

“We’d be well advised to keep him safe ourselves and build up friendly ties.”

“Fortunately, we’ve gotten pretty good at preventing assassinations.”

“Glor’diadel be praised.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna reviewed a briefing of her own:

"Unto the Honored Dame Brionna of Stanway, OKV, Captain of the Archducal Guard, Chief Military Attache to the Throne, presumed
From Sir Clarence Richards, Director, Military Intelligence
Re: Present movements of armies surrounding the incident with the Abomination of Shur. Daily update and brief

Movement continues of the following major forces:

1. The First Field Army of Brightspan together with forces formerly owing allegiance to the houses of Caligshire and Caldra – continues methodically forward at a steady pace. Drowan forces, still flying no banner but with two battle barges continue to accompany this army. Tendencies continue as before – all goods taken from (now scattered) farms are paid for in silver; no rapes or other breaches of discipline are permitted; courtesy is shown, even to refugee encampments, or which there are few that far north.

2. The Horde of the Ripping Tusk – continues forced march. ETA to join with Brightspan is this evening at the latest, they could have joined already if the Uruks and Orcs were not foraging extensively, and driving a large number of Kine with them. As per your direction, a dead “messenger” in livery has been left in such a position that Orcish scouts should catch sight later today.

3. The Armies of renegade chivalry from Debonai continue to move South, and will be passing west of Canberry. These number 20,000 crack troops and support personnel. 

4. Lesser Orcan hordes in the West are continuing to harass us, and abandoned farms in the western dales are now being looted and burned by them.

5. Spicelands forces are not moving. Supplies and equipment are being moved into Taluni at great speed. Already fortified, the city is becoming a giant bunker. Rammed earth is being used to strengthen stone walls, a layer of strained tar and tar-oil has been added to the moats, all trees and other cover within a powerbow shot of the walls have been removed, chopped and taken inside the walls to underground storage and the number of trebuchets, catapults and powerbows has been increased, and ammunition for those engines is being turned out at great speed within the walls. Supplies for a siege of years have been laid in. At the same time, at the suggestion of the Doge, a steady stream of civilian refugees are fleeing the city to take refuge in Tummalstac, Jondril and Cammarra primarily. Those that remain are ready for the siege, and willing to sell their lives along with the troops for their homeland.

6. The Seachen army is also unmoving, and has greatly increased its fortifications.

Analysis: Even without the Debonai forces (which we do not see how can join them in time), the force under arms (not counting supply and medical personnel) is in the range of 34,000 – a huge army unprecedented under circumstances such as these. If Debonai can magically join them, the army becomes 54,000.

However, the Doge of Tulani, together with the Archbishop of the Spicelands has, beyond all hope, made his city a tougher nut than could be expected to crack. Chivalry are worthless in siege, and Orc-kind not much better. We have cautious hope that if the elves and Rakasha that have joined the defense can balance out the power of the drow and Trolls with the attacking force; Tulani may be able to hold until it is relieved.

The lesser orcan hordes are harassing our territories to pin down our armies – unfortunately, we believe that this will work. If we send our most powerful available units to the southwest while our own lands are being burned – the fallout will weaken the loyalty of the commons in the western holdings for generations – and will do more to weaken the empire than almost anything else could. From a military perspective, the orcs raiding the western duchy must be stopped. From an intelligence perspective, other possibilities may unfold – but I must leave these decisions to you, most gracious eminence.

Respectfully submitted to the throne."

She considered it carefully-- it was not quite pressing enough to require waking the Archduke, although she would surely wish to discuss it with him later that morning.  Still, she judged, it could wait until she had dealt with a different matter of security.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Brionna asked the Sixth Daughter to meet with her.  “I would like your assistance in testing and improving the defenses for the Palace.  Under the previous Captain, parts of the Archducal Guard focused on appearances rather than on security.  I intend to change that.  I would like you to test the Guard’s readiness and advise them on how to tighten security.”

“I understand.  I will do so.”

“It might be most useful if we began the exercises without warning them to be ready or telling them that it is a drill.  Of course, I do not want to expose you to danger.”

“The guards will not hurt me seriously,” replied the Sixth Daughter dismissively.  “I agree that it is best that they be unaware.  It will make the exercise more useful.”

“Also, I want to be clear that I do not want you to kill any of the guards.”

The assassin nodded.  “I understand.  I will not harm them, except perhaps for their dignity.”

“Excellent.  Shaming guards who are remiss in their duties would be excellent, although not to the point where they would leave our service or seek revenge.”

“I understand.  If they attend to their duties diligently but fail, I will correct them but not humiliate them.  If they are careless or inattentive, I will shame them privately, to motivate them but not to destroy their standing before their fellows or outsiders.”

“Perfect.  I think you understand exactly what I want here.”

“Are there specific enemies that you expect might attack the Archduke?”

“A few.  The most dangerous that are likely to act against him in the near future are Lord Quinliart Mori’Quendarim and the Unseelie Fey.”

“You will not come under military assault from the Unseelie, but their curses are singularly effective, especially against newborns. Therefore, it is important that the magical defenses are strong and that the religious rites of Glordiadel are performed over the heir-apparent as soon as possible.”

Dame Brionna made a note.  “When His Grace has a child, I will see to it.  You should also know that there is a baby in the Archducal nursery-- a relation of sorts to the Archduke.  You should view strengthening the nursery’s security as a priority for at least two reasons:  first, because His Grace’s children will be placed there when they are born, and second, because the infant could be used in a plot to create a succession crisis if it were kidnapped.”

The Drow’s eyes widened.  “Yes… I understand how that would be important.  My apologies for my surprise.  I was shocked that a potential pretender has not been killed quietly, when he is in your power.”

“The Archduke would not permit such a thing.  That is why you must assist us in keeping the baby under our watch.”

“I understand.  The Archduke is most merciful.”

“You should also understand the limitations of the Archducal nurse, Mommy Cupcakes.  She is intensely loyal to His Grace, but she is also very trusting at times and can be led astray or deceived.  She will be useful to your preparations, but you should not rely on her overly much.”

“I understand.  If that is all, I will begin my preparations for the first round of tests.”  She smiled in anticipation.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Shortly after Dame Brionna’s discussion with the Sixth Daughter ended, the Council gathered.  They began with Kit’s summary of the report she received.

Alistair tapped his fingers thoughtfully.  “I’m worried with regard to the person who was torn apart.  That seems dramatically different from the other deaths and might be unrelated.  Do we know which City that was in?”

Kit looked over the report.  “Southworth.  Let me see if I have an agent there on the fan.”  She drew out a scrap of parchment listing each of the contacts on the fan.  “Nope.  I’ll have to go through regular, slower channels.”

“You could also send for the official police reports,” added Dame Brionna.  “Even though they don’t know who the Mouth is, they will know of the office.  If you send a request under the Mouth’s seal, they will respond.”

“I’ll do that.  Any thoughts on the Eastern Trade Federation’s spying?”

“I suppose we could feed them false information about salt, to prevent gouging if they learn about our shortages,” said Dame Brionna.

“I suppose so,” responded Alistair.  “It looks like a list of many of their major consumable trade goods.  No alcohol, and the Trade Federation does deal in fine wines, although not as fine as elven wines, but their prices are not terribly volatile.  The interesting thing is the heavy emphasis on basic goods.”

“Maybe military provisions?” suggested Kit.

“A definite possibility,” said Alistair.  “If that’s what it is, however, the absence of pork is surprising.  My understanding is that a substantial portion of the army’s meat is salt-pork, bacon and ham.  Farmers can usually produce more pork than any other meat with a given supply of land.”

“All true, Your Grace, but to the best of my knowledge the Eastern Trade Federation does not deal in either pork or poultry.”

“Huh,” said Kit.  “Maybe there is not enough demand in a highly urbanized area?  Or maybe there is not enough profit in shipping them beyond the local area.”

The Council discussed the Trade Federation’s spying a while longer but reached no definite conclusions.  They then turned to their standard topic for discussion those days:  the military situation facing the Archduchy.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Your Grace, we need to delay the Horde of Ripping Tusk so they cannot meet up with Brightspan’s army.  That horde would dramatically alter the likelihood of holding Tulani. I recommend sending Stithis and some of his air elemental allies to disrupt their travel.”

“Without truly engaging, they won’t be able to slow the orcs by much, and it would be suicide for them to actually attack.”

“Even a small delay could be very valuable, Your Grace,” replied Dame Brionna.  “If they can cause some weather effects, disrupt fords ahead of the horde, and so forth, it could make a difference of several days or more.”

“All right.  I’m willing to ask Stithis to take on that mission.”  Alistair paused.  “We desperately need to get more troops to deal with the attacks within the Archduchy.  How long will it take for Lord Davion to get the new field armies ready?” 

“Regardless of the general’s skill, that takes time, Your Grace.  The farmboys who make up most of the recruits will take six weeks to become green troops under Lord Davion.  Anything less and they would be, at best, irregulars.  It takes a certain amount of drilling to show them which is the sharp end of a spear.”

“But they have hoes!” said Kit, both as a joke and in frustration at that time table.

“Even if they have some basic understanding of combat, they need to learn to fight as a formation.  Less than six weeks, and they are just a mob.”

Alistair nodded.  “We understand.  Can we think about other sources of troops?”

“What about seeking more church knights, Your Grace?  The Church of Glor’diadel has historically been very cooperative with itself.  Most of the church knights from this province have already been committed, but the Archbishop might talk to other Archbishops.  We could also enlist organized orders of church knights.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“How many orderly church knights are there in other kingdoms in the region?”

“There is an order of eight-hundred knights in Gates, east of us.  There are also one or two orders in Debonai-- historically, the Debonai orders have been more likely to focus on internal struggles in their kingdom. There are some other orders, but I believe the rest have already deployed all or substantially all of their troops in the Southlands.”

“Certainly a worthy use of their capabilities.  I would not want to pull them back from that.  But we might reach out to Gates, and to the Debonai orders, if we can figure out how.”

“The leaders in Debonai might not be fully aware of the demonlord’s plans,” suggested Kit.  “We might be able to recruit their support by explaining it.” 

“That leads to another question I had about the rogue Debonai troops,” said Alistair.  “We have been assuming that they plan on meeting up with the Brightspan army, but their current path makes that unlikely.  They may just plan on conquering land, especially given the prevalence of landless younger sons of the nobility in that army.  If they planned on attacking us, perhaps having been manipulated by the Abomination, they would totally sweep over the western duchy.  In our current state, we would not be able to do anything substantial to stop them.”

Dame Brionna and Kit stared at the map in horror.  After a moment, Dame Brionna said measuredly, “They could seize the entire duchy.  It would take years to win it back.  However, we have not seen any indication that they intend to attack us.”

“But if that army is a part of the attack on Tulani, then they’re out of position,” said Kit.  “We need to find out their intentions.  I know our best diviner is still unable to forecast the future, but could we do something else to check the future?”

“We could ask the Archbishop to do a _Commune_ about this,” said Dame Brionna.  “That is not to be done lightly, but this seems like a good time.”

“Agreed.  Send a message asking if his eminence is willing to assist us.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

As the conversation was dying down, the page of the day entered and listed the people in a queue waiting for an audience.  The Council quickly decided to begin with the Equitable Varance Tuttle, the Minister for Magic.

“Your Eminent Grace,” said the mage, bowing respectfully. “I saw a vision of the Archduke in the divinatory pool this morning.  The late Archduchess had standing orders that I was to report any appearances of the royal family in the divinatory pool.  While we have not discussed whether that policy is to remain in place, I thought it best to bring the vision to your attention.  In the vision, I saw the Archduke with two children, a boy upon each hip. Perhaps a few years had passed but not more.” 

Kit looked over at Alistair.  “Apparently, you have twin sons.  Congratulations in a couple of years.”

“Identical twins, to be specific.”

“Is that common in your family?” asked Kit.

“No,” responded Alistair.  “Off-hand, I can’t think of any cases of twins in my family.”

“Gates,” said Dame Brionna.  “It is common in the royal family of Gates. Think about those sisters.”  Both Dame Brionna and Kit looked accusingly at Alistair.

“Yes,” said Alistair, “but the fertility block is still active.  The vision cannot refer to Princess Mirabelle, unless it is suggesting that we will reverse our decision on whether to pursue a marriage with her.”

Varance Tuttle discreetly looked anywhere but at the three people in the room.

“What about the royal family of Stormwatch?” asked Alistair.  “Does Princess Kaitlyn’s family have a history of twins?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Dame Brionna. “Twins, triplets.  They are a very fertile family.”

Kit turned back to the Minister of Magic.  “Did you see anything else in the vision?”

“You and Dame Brionna stood behind His Grace, looking down on the children benevolently.  There were other figures-- perhaps including the mother of the children?  But I could not focus on them.  I have always found it difficult to force hazy portions of the visions into clarity.  Only the members of this Council, and the children, were in focus.  You have been in every vision I have had of His Grace in recent years.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“What other visions have you had of me?” asked Alistair.

“Oh, there were many before the coronation--even before Your Grace’s return to Canberry.  I didn’t wish to bother you with them.  I saw Your Grace astride the mountains like a giant, looking down on a plain below-- you then shrank down to human size and strode along a path to a huge forest.  In another, you were in a royal carriage, never seeming to reach your destination.  I think that vision was perhaps a product of your own anxieties.  In the last, Your Grace stood athwart the deck of an airship, pointing back at the sky behind you, and said, ‘The sky should be full of wood,’ and then the vision faded.  I must admit that I have no idea what that vision meant.”

“‘The sky should be full of wood,’” repeated Alistair. “That sounds familiar, but I can’t quite figure out why.” 

“The description of the mountain, plains, and forest sounds like a reference to our journey back to Canberry,” said Dame Brionna. 

“A likely possibility,” commented the Minister.  “That was my first vision of the Archduke as an adult.  There had been earlier visions of him as a boy and many shenanigans.”

Brionna muttered quietly, “Attractively shaped shenanigans?”  The others pretended not to have heard.

“What can you tell us of the scrying pool itself?” asked Kit.  “Is it reliable?”

“It was a gift from the Seelie. The visions are never false, per se, so every person in my position has a duty to gaze into it. Sometimes they are difficult to interpret, however.  And of course the future is mutable-- one can never say that a vision of the future shows what will happen, just what is likely to or may happen.”

“Have you had any other interesting visions lately?”

“Only one, but it has been a repeated one.  I have seen smoke, fire, and blood.”

“War is coming,” said Alistair grimly.  “The meaning of that vision seems obvious enough."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

"While you are here, we should discuss another matter.  You are familiar with the Mages of Northern Aurelian?”

“Of course.”

“Now that my grandmother has passed, Lady Meredith has asked that we nominate a representative of sorts to the order.  We are considering the possibility of nominating you as our representative.”

Tuttle stammered a response.  “I am honored to even be considered.  I never thought I would receive such an honor.  I would accept if you put me forward, but you should understand that I would be at the very bottom level of power.  I don’t know that they would accept me, even with your support.”

“We could perhaps nominate you as an associate, rather than as a full member.  Lady Meredith raised that possibility in our discussions”

The Minister of Magic relaxed at that suggestion.  “I would serve, and I would be satisfactory as an ambassador.”

“I realize this is a delicate question, but are there others we should consider?  Lady Constance is the other archmage we know of, but she seemed an impolitic choice.”

“Two I know of.  The Mages of Northern Aurelian would not accept Lady Constance, I think.  There may also be hidden archmagi within Canberry, but I would not recommend nominating any who have hidden themselves through the Art.  The other two you should consider are Sir Gimpytoes Fiddlesticks, a clockwork archmage, and Sir Darrin Gallingway.”

“What can you tell us of them?” asked Kit.  “I assume Sir Gimpytoes is a gnome, but that’s all I know of either.  Are they reliable?”

“Indeed, Dame Katherine.  Both are loyal to the throne, though they serve vassals rather than the Archduke directly.  Gallingway is an esquire in the Earldom of Broadfields and is rather old, although that means less for archmagi and he is not so old as to render him unable to serve.  He has spent most of his time recently overseeing his fief.  Sir Gimpytoes is an advisor to the Doge of Mountaintops and maintains the companies of clockwork automata.  They would respect Sir Gimpytoes’s abilities, but Sir Darrin might have easier interactions with the other members-- he is more of the same style of archmage as the current members.”

“I’m disinclined to distract Sir Gimpytoes from his current duties,” commented Alistair.  “I’m also more inclined to appoint a politician or diplomat than someone who is an archmage but lacks the other skills.”

“That sounds like Gallingway,” said Kit.  “He’s been running a town-- he’ll have learned at least something about politics and diplomacy.”

“If Your Grace intends simply a liason, I would be happy to serve.  But if it will involve more, I would be uncomfortable leaving the city for much time at this point.”

“I think it may involve more.  At a minimum, it would include a responsibility to monitor situations throughout all of southern Drucien, and it would likely be necessary to participate in some of the efforts of the Mages.  Do we know that Gallingway would be willing to serve?”

“I would suggest writing to the Earl of Broadfields, as a courtesy to Gallingway’s liege-lord; then, the Earl will prepare the way.  He will know whether Gallingway is interested, or quietly find out.  The Broadfields, and the nobles of Rolling Hills in general, feel that they have a duty to shield their people.  So you will learn if he is unwilling to serve before you ask, at which point there would be no polite way for him to decline.”

Alistair nodded and asked his page to have the scribe prepare a draft letter.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“I have one more question for you as Minister of Magic.  How strong are our magical capabilities in dealing with a war?”

The Minister paused thoughtfully.  “Well…  you have the royal circle, which is competent.  I am actually good.  And of course you have Lady Constance, who is powerful beyond most magi, but so specialized that it is difficult for her to do much blast magic.  Getting maximum effect from her power during a war would require careful strategy and tactics.  It is probable that the Mages of Northern Aurelian could add support if needed, and they have much punch.  There are also scattered magi-- they are disorganized at present, but could add some meaningful power.  Beyond our borders, there are some church magi in Gates as well who might respond to a request for aid.”

The Council thanked the Minister and then sent for the next in the queue after he departed.

The Master of Pages, Sir Darrin Waters, OKV, entered immediately.  Sir Darrin was old and gray, but upright and without any sag in his neck.  He genuflected with great dignity.  “Your Grace, honored councilors.  I have received a fostering request that you should consider personally.  The Empire of Tarsh requests that we take their heir-apparent for fostering.”  Sir Darrin drew forth a gold-embossed piece of parchment, decorated with seals, ribbons, and tassles.  “In light of the long alliance between our realms and mindful of the glory of the Court of Canberry, pre-eminent among the lands of southern Drucien…”

Alistair interrupted.  “In other words, they want to have the prince grow up as a page in an actual imperial court, but as far from Tarsh assassins as possible.”

 “Yes, Your Grace.  The Tarsh Blood War is too recent for the imperial family to trust its own nobles.  The message arrived this morning.  The prince is seven; the normal age to begin as a page is eight. We could delay for that reason.”

“I would be inclined to send back a message in appropriately florid language that we would like him as a personal page to the archducal person, requiring extra training, and thus we would welcome him as soon as he is ready.”

The Master of Pages looked relieved.  “I will draw up papers immediately.”

Alistair looked over at Kit.  “How concerned with propriety is Tarsh?”

“Well, they do host the Blood Fete,” responded Sir Darrin.

“The Blood Fete?  What’s that?” asked Kit.

“They take their condemned, primarily nobles who have committed capital offenses, and make a celebration of torturing them to death.”

“That wasn’t the sort of impropriety I was worrying about,” said Alistair.

“If we can get at least one child out of the country that does that…” added Kit.

Sir Darrin bowed slightly.  “I believe there is a modicum of decency in the current king-emperor, and he may indeed wish his child to not have to participate in the torture.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Will they want to send a priest for him?” asked Alistair.

“He will be expected to attend regular services at the embassy, but they are sensitive to issues of religious difference.”

“We will need to be careful with young Lord Brightspan. We are attempting to ensure that he grows up an adherent to the proper Church, and we need to counter some familial influence there.  We would not want the heir-apparent of Tarsh to interfere with that, or for their respective religious educations to raise any other complex issues.”

“I understand.  The young lord, by the way, is exceptionally bright.  I will undertake special care in the situation.” 
Dame Brionna leaned in.  “We will want to expand the number of pages substantially. What resources do you need?”

“At present, our resources are ample.  We have room for seventy pages; we have twenty-five at the moment.  You should know that I expect one more difficult request.”

“Who?” asked Kit.

“The Queen of the Haunted Mountain’s granddaughter.  She is seven currently, and will not be sent until she is eight.  The White Witch will be scrupulous about honoring the norms.”

“Why her?” asked Kit.  “Why would the White Witch want to foster a member of her family with us?  We don’t even have an ambassador to her court.”

“It is not because of Canberry.  The heir-apparent to the Emperor of Tarsh will be here.”

Dame Brionna added, “Because we will be hosting the most eligible Paranswarmian seven-year-old boy on Aphonion.  Every seven, eight, six, or nine-year-old Paranswarmian noble girl will be applying for a position here.”

“Marriage politics start young.  At least we don’t need to deal with the White Witch’s granddaughter for another year, although we will surely accept her when she applies,” said Alistair.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We should also discuss our policy in general," continued Alistair.  "We want to raise as many of the ducal children and the more talented children of their vassals here at the court as possible.”

“I will bear that in mind and will copy you regularly on the offers I receive.”

“The pages also will need an unparalleled education,” commented Dame Brionna.  “It will help ensure that the future leaders of Canberry are well prepared, and it will also make the positions more attractive to other nobles.”

Alistair nodded.  “We should try to fill all seventy spots, as a general rule.  On a related note, in the time frame of the next year or so, we will also need an appropriate number of ladies-of-waiting.  I believe that my grandmother did not fill many of those positions towards the end of her reign, but we will need to when there is a new Archduchess.”

“Understood, Your Grace.  That is more the responsibility of the Matron of the Household and the Mistress of Protocol than of my office, but I can pass along the requests.”

“Have we appointed a new Matron?” asked Kit.  “I believe the prior one passed.”

“I think the former Sergeant of Arms, Dame Gretchen Overfifer, is now the new Matron,” Alistair answered.  “You should bring the issue of ladies-in-waiting up with her.  Obviously, when this becomes important, there will be a lady of the palace who will have ultimate responsibility for this, and she will have ladies of her own court as well.  Nonetheless, we should think about our own plans.”

“Indeed, Your Grace.  Sometimes, young women of quality who are fostered among us are subsequently placed in a position where they do not depart us.  It can be a useful way to retain talent in the court.  I will make a list of young ladies that I would recommend.”

“On a similar note, we also have some need for a few talented squires, at least for Dame Brionna and maybe for Dame Kit as well.”

“It would also be useful to have a page assigned to me,” added Dame Brionna.

“Your page is simple enough-- I would recommend Tad Sedge.  He is the second son of the Earl of Sedge, who is a direct vassal to the Duke of Rolling Hills.  Tad is a martially inclined boy, and especially devout-- I hope that he may some day join our order.”

“Oh, excellent,” replied Dame Brionna to the prospect of a page who might grow up to join the Knights of Valor.  “That would be most satisfactory.”

“As for your squire, I would recommend Patrick Waygate, the son of the Baron of Waygate.  Waygate is a vassal to the Earl of Northgard in the Duchy of Westmarch.”

“Do you want a squire?” Alistair asked Kit.  “You really ought to have either a squire or a lady-in-waiting, or possibly both.”

Kit thought about it for a moment.  “I think a lady-in-waiting would be most helpful for now.  She would provide another way to get gossip among the women of rank.”

“I would suggest Lady Serena Claypit, a young lady of seventeen.  Lady Serena is the twelfth child of the Baron of Claypit-- she is very able, but has few prospects beyond her role at court.”

The Council thanked the Master of Pages.  Before he left, Dame Brionna asked whether he was a relation of Father Waters, and he confirmed that they were cousins.  He then genuflected properly and departed.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The last major appointment for the day was with Sir Gary Southworth, Master of the Royal Arms.  The Master of the Royal Arms ordinarily filled the role of Archduke’s Champion, although that role is limited more to ceremonial duties than the role of champion to most nobles, because the Archduke is not subject to challenges according to standard protocol in Canberry.  With Lord Davion filling the formal position of Archduke’s Champion, the Master of Royal Arms had no particular duties-- indeed, the position would usually be allowed to fall into abeyance, although Sir Gary had not formally been relieved. 

“Your Grace.  In another week’s time or so, Sir Damian Tappenworth, the Minister of Defense, will follow Her Grace into the eternal light.  We want to make sure that the throne has settled on an appropriate replacement by that time.”

“We had settled on a replacement, but we had to give him field duty,” replied Alistair.  “Does Sir Damian have a recommendation?”

“The one he would recommend is unavailable and has undoubtably saved Your Grace’s life.  This presents something of a problem.  None of the Field Marshals will return in time, and there is the appearance issue.  Elevating any one of them could be taken as a slight to the others.”

“Is there anyone with the appropriate experience but without the ability to go into the field?” asked Kit.

“There were at least two, but neither continues.  Dame Vivian Durance would have made an excellent Minister, but she succumbed to her fast more quickly than I had supposed.”

“Did she have any students?”

“Yes… you could approach her students.  Another unorthodox choice who is not following Her Grace would be Dame Viola, the Master of Squires.  She is, however, OA—Order of the Arcane, an eldritch knight.  It would not be problematic to appoint an eldritch knight, but it would be highly unusual.  She is most puissant, however, and a competent field general.”

“It could be a good idea,” said Alistair.  “We have largely untapped arcane resources that would be very useful in some of our military operations.  Someone with the appropriate expertise to make the best strategic use of our magi would be a welcome aid.”

“That would of course create a vacancy in the position of Master of Squires.  I would suggest then advancing the Master of Pages to Master of Squires-- Sir Darrin is getting older, but he remains fully proficient and would be an able instructor for the squires.  As for the office of Master of Pages… while I would not wish to presume, I might be the most suitable appointment, particularly now that my present office has essentially no duties left.”

The Council agreed that that rotation of positions seemed sensible and gave orders to the Archduke’s scribe to prepare appropriate orders.

[End Session 27]

I may not be able to post an update tomorrow-- I've caught up to the furthest point I've written, so it depends on whether I can find some time to write between now and then.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Sorry about the delays.  I'll try to stay on top of getting daily updates posted, but we'll have to see how it goes.

[Session 28]

Dame Brionna entered the council chamber the following morning with a crisp scroll.  “Good news, m’lord.”

“That’s something we don’t hear very often,” replied Kit.

“Yes, some good news would be welcome. What is the report?”

“We have both solved the problem of the Earl of Caligshire and at least delayed the problems of the other orcish hordes.”

“That is good news indeed!”

“Two hordes were approaching the village of Bountiful in the Barony of Bountiful in Caligshire-- the larger was the horde of the Lidless Eye, the smaller was the Gut Rippers.  The village seemed doomed.  The hordes are not huge, but that was some 3000 orcs.  However, a small group of adventurers saved the village.  Devin Rollingheath, an acknowledged bastard of the late lord of Caligshire, had returned recently from Enclaves, where he was adventuring, along with a group of companions, including Bernardo Fitrecelli, the apprentice of a prominent mage from Glittertowers; 50 mercenary warriors; and a company of minotaurs of the Bright Hoof Clan.
He and his 90 troops, plus the 100 irregulars of the Baron, ambushed and routed the smaller horde, and then intimidated into retreat, harried, and drove the Lidless Eye off.  We will need to follow up on the victory against the Lidless Eye-- our estimates suggest they are unlikely to retreat for more than a week or two, unless the defeat is repeated.”

Alistair and Kit both excitedly chattered about the victory.  The orcish situation had been so troubling, and without any good options.  The possibility that a free agent would deal with the situation for them was truly welcome.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“Bright Hoof Clan minotaurs, you said?” asked Alistair.  “He must be an ally of Lady Meredith the Dazzling, then.”

“Yes, Your Grace.  I thought that perhaps he could fill his father’s position.”

“A good possibility.  Technically, of course, the Earldom escheated to the Duke of Furrows, and it is his title to confer, not ours, but I think the Duke would be amenable to a suggestion.  We should contact Lady Meredith to get her opinion of him first.  I suppose the chamberlain will have means of contacting her that are acceptably fast?”

“We could just have Father Waters use a _sending_, Your Grace.”

“I know that, but I would rather not interrupt an archmage for a conversation that is not urgent.  I would much rather have one of our people contact one of her people so that we can arrange to talk at a time that is convenient to both.”

“Ah.  I will speak with the chamberlain about the matter.”

“And if Lord Devin is suitable for the position of Earl, we will need to make it clear that it is a new creation, in recognition of his lineage but not simply an inheritance.  We don’t want to be setting any precedents here.”

Dame Brionna looked at Alistair in surprise.  “Really?  I had thought that we could rely on Your Grace as the precedent.  He is an acknowledged son, even though he is natural-born.”

“That’s precisely what I don’t want.  We want stable inheritances.  Anything else risks war.  If you start telling every bastard that if they arrange for enough accidents among the legitimate children they can inherit, we create no end of trouble.  Much better to confer the title based on his heroism and accomplishment, making it clear that there is no claim of right.”


----------



## Quartz

Withdrawal symptoms are setting in. I need my fix.


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## Cerebral Paladin

My apologies about the delays.  I've been busy with some other things recently and haven't gotten a new routine writing time going since I eliminated my commute.  (I used to write on the train, which got me nearly an hour each day of writing.  Now I walk to work, which is much nicer for me, but not so good for the storyhour.)  I hope to get back on track soon, but we'll have to see how it goes.


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## Quartz

Seriously, don't worry about it. I enjoy the Story Hour, but I realise it's entirely from your benificence.


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## Quartz

Le bump!


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## Cerebral Paladin

A quick status update:  I've been busy lately with work and with writing adventures for AnonyCon (if you're anywhere near CT on the weekend of Dec. 14-16, I encourage you to join us-- more details at www.anonycon.com).  I'm unlikely to be able to do any storyhour writing until after AnonyCon (although I might on the plane flights to and fro.)  Shortly after AnonyCon, I expect to be able to start getting meaningful writing again, at which point I will resume posting on a daily basis.  Sorry about the delay, but I'll see you soon.  (Journal of a Licensed Diabolist is still posting on a weekly basis if you want an Aphonion fix.)


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## Quartz

Allow me to wield the bumphammer!


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## Cerebral Paladin

Partly in response to Quartz's bumphammer, I return with <gasp> an actual storyhour post!  Just when you thought it was safe to return to the Storyhour forum or something.

I can't promise daily updates, but there should be fairly frequent updates for the foreseeable future.  I'll do my best to keep them daily, but life has an annoying habit of intervening.  And now, less schedule discussion, more storyhour!

-----

Once Dame Brionna finished up her report, the Council moved on to Kit’s briefing.  Her people had continued watching Debonai, and their assessment is that its army was headed directly through the refugee lands.  That path would not take it, as the Council had expected, to the Spice Lands, but rather to the region northeast of the Spice Lands.

Kit followed up on her reports with another mindlink to Lady Breena in Debonai itself to find out more details about the army.

<<Ah, yes.  I have been able to determine a fair amount, your ladyship.  Out of the 20,000 soldiers, especially among the chivalry and officers, there are very many younger siblings and, ahem, superfluous children.  I should say that the women I spoke to were very reluctant to give up that information.  The more I learn, the more it looks like a land grab.  The Duke and other high-up nobles in the army have talked about having a destiny, being meant for something greater.>>

<<Being meant for something greater?>> asked Kit incredulously.  <<Isn’t being a duke great enough?>>

<<He thinks he is meant to be a king, your ladyship.>>

<<How significant is the Duke?  Does he have lands for his younger children?  Our dukes are among the most powerful nobles on the continent, and frequently grant fiefs to at least the most promising of their younger children.>>

<<Yes, of course, but things are not quite the same here.  All the ducal houses are landed in Debonai-- some of the lower nobility have titles but no land to go with it, but none of the dukes.  Traditionally, younger siblings who are not put in the church or otherwise placed become retainers in their older siblings’ courts.  Except for the royal house, there is rarely enough land for a house to divide its territory, even if the younger children were to remain vassals of the older.  You should also remember that for its population, the land of Debonai is not as rich as in many other countries.  So while a duke is a great lord, he is closer in power to the earls, counts, or other second-tier nobles in Canberry than to the lords of your duchies.>>

<<That would explain why he would view the difference between a king and a duke as huge.>>

<<Yes, your ladyship.  The other big thing you should know about is the Bishop.  Along with the giant army, there is a bishop without portfolio.  He was sent directly from the Temple of Light on Khamista, and then left immediately with the army after arriving from the Patriarch.>>

<<Oh, really?>> thought Kit.  <<That is very interesting.  Do you have any information on why the Patriarch sent him?>>

<<I believe that he was requested to come by Bishop Cano Flavore, one of the diocesan bishops in Debonai.  And the Holy Church is in transition here-- the Archbishop, Ulrich Garand, has only been here for a couple of months.  He was reassigned when the prior archbishop was required to retire.  None too soon, if you ask me-- the old Archbishop had been senile for years, but you know how the Church can be about such things.>>

<<Of course,>> replied Kit.  Lady Breena did not need to know about her limited knowledge of high church politics.  <<We’ll look into the church angle from our side.  Any success on getting more information about the rioters?>>

<<Not yet.>>  The frustration in Lady Breena’s mind buzzed against Kit’s.  <<I am still trying to get a psionic friend in to see the rebels being questioned, your ladyship.>>

<<Keep working at it.  One more question about the army.  If this is meant as a land grab, would you anticipate them attacking an existing realm or simply carving out a new kingdom from the wilderness?>>

<<I do not assume that they seek a war of conquest, but it is likely that their arrival will cause a war.  They have insufficient women with them, so they would need to take women from elsewhere.>>

<<Take?  As in just carrying off?>>

<<Well, not necessarily by force, but…  If they are seeking to establish a new kingdom with mostly an army of men, they will need to get women from their neighbors somehow.  If that does not involve them attacking, it may well still provoke their neighbors into battle.>>

<<Right.  Thanks for the report.  We will continue monitoring the army.  Keep me posted if you learn anything new.>>  Kit broke the mindlink and reported the conversation to the Council.

With the Archbishop scheduled to come to the palace for a _commune_ that afternoon, the Council spent some time developing a long list of questions, including some follow-up questions depending on the initial answers.  Even with the large number of questions the Archbishop could ask of Glor’diadel, the Council had many more questions left to ask, especially with the new information about the Debonai army.  In particular, Alistair focused on the risk that this might turn into yet another invading army to threaten Canberry.  Still, developing the list of questions also led them to identify other lines of inquiry that were worth pursuing before the _commune_.


----------



## Quartz

Cue the Happy Dance!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Lord Silverleaves simply walked into the Council chamber without pausing to wait for an appointment.  A quick signal from Dame Brionna reassured the startled guards who followed him in, and they resumed their regular posts.

“I have completed my efforts to sense the artifacts that were stolen in Debonai.”

“We are glad to hear that, your lordship,” answered Alistair.  “Were you able to locate them?”

“I can confirm that the Chalice is in the South.  I thought I would be able to sense two of the artifacts, but I can only sense the Chalice.”  Annoyance covered the Eldar’s face, as if any task at which he could not succeed was a personal affront.  “The others are hidden.”

“How would you hide something like that?” asked Kit.

“There must be a sufficiently strong aura near it, created by a powerful entity-- I can rule out a Noldar, I would have recognized their stench immediately, but I cannott rule out a major unseelie, or the avatar of a powerful extraplanar being.”

“Could the Abomination of Shur conceal the artifacts?” asked Alistair.

“No, not the Abomination of Shur-- it is too weak a power.  It could be a cthon or a daemon lord.  In any event, the Chalice of Simonea is much further south than the army of Debonai.  There are many muted minds about it-- likely about all of the artifacts, though as I said I could not be sure.”

“Muted minds?” asked Kit.  “What does that mean?”

“There is some sort of revolving shield over the minds-- it must take a lot of power, or someone very expert.  Whatever it is, it is near Shur.  Any of those artifacts can be teleported or apported, so I suspect that after the thief struck, they were transported via magic or psionics.”

“Thank you for this information.  It will greatly aid our efforts to understand our enemies and also to recover the lost artifacts.”

Lord Silverleaves nodded gravely to Alistair and departed as suddenly as he had arrived.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Good to see this story back!


----------



## Artoomis

Bump:  To encourage an update!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Shortly after Lord Silverleaves’s departure, the page of the day announced that a scholar-priest from the Archdiocese was waiting in an antechamber.  The Council had him shown in immediately, eager to gather some more information about the Order of the Ram before choosing whether to use precious _commune_ questions on it.

As the priest genuflected formally, Alistair cut to the heart of the matter.  “What can you tell us about the Order of the Ram, and the extraplanar being which the Order serves?”

“Ah, that heresy.  The Order of the Ram has a deal with a cthon, Azazael the Hairy Beast.  Azazael is the abyssal cthon of rams and lord of the 433rd layer of the Abyss.  Let me see… he has some allies-- some connections with Krezel, demon of laziness and impurity; with Malphus, who commands 40 legions; and with Meripheme, prince of pestilence.  There are also connections to the other cthons, of course.”

“Is there a cthon of cats?” asked Kit, looking for a connection to Shur.

“No, there is no cthon of cats.  The Catlord is the closest being to such a role, but he is not a cthon. You must be the lord either of a type of vermin or of the verminous members of the species in order to be a cthon.  As is revealed in the Book of the Six Dooms, Azazael is connected to the worst aspects of rams, but he also has virility, fecundity, and strength in his portfolio.  As abyssal lords go, he is not of great political power-- he has no legions, and his plane is mostly filled with dumb beasts.”

“What is the nature of the Order’s bargain with him?” asked Dame Brionna.  

“It is a very straightforward bargain-- the members of the Order are promised twenty years of great fecundity, virility, and strength, after which they die and he consumes their life force-- that is how he remains on this plane.  He has maintained almost unbroken residence here for millennia, despite the great cost in energy.”

“When you say their life force, do you include their souls?” asked Alistair.

“No, the soul is a quite distinct metaphysical entity from the lifeforce.  Azazael does not traffic in souls at all.  That probably makes his deals all the more attractive.  Of course, even without trading in their souls, his pact leads many members of the Order into damnation.”

“Where does he live?” asked Dame Brionna.

“I cannot be certain at present.  He has made bargains and agreements with many places.  He appears much as a particularly stinky satyr might; at one point, he dealt with the pirates of the Kingdom of the Inner Isles, but his bargains have also been struck in Tarsh, in Debonai, and the Utolian City States.  Those are just the traditional areas of his influence that we know of-- he may have other, and of late his conduct has been unusual.  We believe that he has recently entered an agreement with the Forbidden Priesthood, along with a failing creature in the Southlands, the Abomination of Shur.”

“The Forbidden Priesthood?” asked Kit.  “Are they connected to the Old Ones?”

“Indeed.  The Forbidden are the followers of the Old Ones.  That alliance is more interesting-- after all, he is largely concerned with the material plane, even though he has a plane in the Abyss.  The Old Ones seek only destruction, which would not seem to serve his interests.  As I said, he has no interest in souls, but he enjoys the excesses of the flesh.  He has been known to engage in enormous orgies, drinking vast amounts of alcohol, and consuming many women.”

“Not literally, I hope?” asked Kit.

“No, thank the Lord of Light but, ahem, it is easier for me to say that than to be more direct about such things, especially with ladies present,” responded the priest.  “As I was saying, he must think he has some way to fool the Old Ones.  Otherwise, he is becoming nihilistic, which we had not previously observed in him.”

“How does he convince people to deal with him?  Do they know that they deal with a cthon and a power of the Abyss?”

“Some may, your grace, but in all likelihood, most do not.  Azazael is the only abyssal cthon.  So he tells them that he is just a cthon, not an abyssal figure.  Dealing with a cthon is certainly contrary to the teachings of the Church, but it does not have the clear depravity that a deal with the Abyss would.”

“Most cthons are not abyssal?” asked Alistair in surprise.  “I had assumed they all were, as the Abomination of Shur is abyssal and could have become a cthon.”

“That would have been only the second abyssal cthon, a master of mangy and verminous cats.  But it chose not to assume that role, for its own deranged reasons, and thus Azazael remains the only abyssal cthon.  All cthons are somewhat unsavory, but he is the only one that is also an abyssal lord.”

The Council thanked and dismissed the priest.


----------



## Artoomis

Bump - just hoping for an update soon.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

In preparation for the Archbishop’s _commune_, the Council asked the Sixth Daughter to examine the private chapel thoroughly for listening devices.  It wouldn’t do to tip Canberry’s hand right as it gained new information about its strategic situation.  After a half-hour of searching, the Sixth Daughter returned to the Council, bowed, and reported that there were no listening devices, but that she had discovered a hidden chamber directly below the high altar.  With Kit watching, she carefully opened it, revealing a small alcove containing a heavy book.  Kit puzzled through the words on the first page and brought it back to the rest of the Council.  The tome was the private log of Bishop Williams, recording his tenure as royal chaplain.  After a short discussion in which Dame Brionna stressed the importance of preserving confessional confidences while Alistair and Kit focused on the need to recover any strategically useful information yet preserve the Archduchy’s secrets, they settled on a plan.  They passed the book on to Father Waters, with instructions to prepare a confidential report of the most important information.  They all agreed that they could rely on his discretion.

After the formalities of greeting the Archbishop, the Council accompanied him into the private chapel.  He prayed long over the altar, chanted an elaborate invocation, and then nodded to the Council.  Alistair began asking the questions that they had carefully drafted in advance.

“Will the army from Debonai attack Canberry?”

“No,” said the Archbishop, his normally carefully modulated voice replaced with a monotone trance as Glor’diadel spoke through him.

“Is the army from Debonai planning on establishing a new kingdom?”

“Yes.”

“Is Cano Flavore a loyal servant of Glor’diadel?”

“Yes.”

“Is Ulrich Garand a loyal servant of Glor’diadel?”

“Yes.”

“Is the bishop without portfolio traveling with the army of Debonai a loyal servant of Glor’diadel?” 

“Stupid but loyal.”

The Council chuckled at that response.  Apparently Glor’diadel had a sense of humor.  Alistair continued, “Will the orcish hordes attack the army of Debonai?”

“No.”

“Is the woman the Duke of Snatterkaz has rescued Princess Anastasia?”

“No, only her body.”

“Can her mind be recovered?”  

“Yes.”

“Does Duke Edelford know that he has made a deal with an abyssal creature?”

“No.”

“Could he be persuaded to attack Azazael by informing him of what Azazael is?”

“Briefly.”

“If Duke Edelford and the other members of the Order of the Ram were eliminated, could Canberry take control of that army?”

“Unclear.”

“Is the Seachen army in league with the Abomination of Shur?”

“No.”

“Would Alistair marrying Kaitlyn be a good thing?”

“Yes; quick heirs.”

“Are any of Kaitlyn’s close advisors or associates a significant threat to Canberry?”

“No.”

“Are there multiple active Alistair imposters?”

“Two.”

“Are either of them a here’ku?”

“One.”

“Is the Abomination of Shur connected to the recent rise of the Old Ones?”

“Yes.”

“Were the Unseelie behind the theft of the relics of Debonai?”

“Yes.”

“In order to restore Anastasia’s mind, should Duke Snatterkaz remain in the South?”

“No; extraction requires stealth.”  The Archbishop blinked rapidly.  “That concludes the _commune_.  Blessed be Glor’diadel, whose Light guides us on our way.”

Alistair and Dame Brionna automatically responded to the formula, answering “Blessed be Glor’diadel,” while Kit joined in a half beat after the others.


----------



## Quartz

Joy!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Another short update:

----

“I hope that those answers will aid the Archduchy.”

“Indeed.  There is much for us to discuss in what Glor’diadel has revealed.”

“I just wish we knew more about how to restore Princess Anastasia’s mind,” added Kit.  “We know it takes stealth, but that still leaves a lot for us to figure out.”

“Perhaps we could ask Glor’diadel for a little more guidance?” suggested Dame Brionna.  “Now that we have something more of a focus, a _divination_ might work.”

“If the Archbishop thinks it is wise,” responded Alistair.  “We would not wish to anger Lord Glor’diadel by relying too much on his counsel.”

“The gods can be frustrated by too frequent inquiries, your grace, but I do not think the Lord of Light would begrudge a single additional question.  What would you have me ask?”

After some more discussion of the precise formulation, Alistair said, “What should we do to recover Anastasia’s mind?”

The Archbishop swung the incense censor again, and cast another spell as the cloud of scented smoke engulfed him.  He repeated the question and then his voice changed again.  “Send those well versed in stealth and action to the Black Isle,” he intoned.  As the incense dissipated, he bowed.  “With that, your grace, I believe I should depart.”

The Council thanked him profusely and discussed what they had learned, and what they needed to do about it.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

One of their conclusions was that they needed to inform the ambassador from the Seelie Fey of the involvement of the Unseelie with their enemies.  They found him in the garden, continuing to speak with and encourage the growth of the plants.

The ambassador looked up with a smile.  “Greetings, the beauty of the day is brightened by your presence.”

“Greetings to you as well, Flower Lord.  We regret that we have grave matters to discuss.”

“Is this more news of the orcish hordes?  We have been harrying your enemies, but they are more difficult to intimidate than their kind usually are.”

“We thank you for your assistance in that matter.  We would appreciate any further aid you can give greatly.  Our allies have broken the morale of one of the hordes-- the Lidless Eye-- but further efforts by your troops may have great effect in preventing them from rallying.”

“If they are broken, the knights of the local Tor may make short work of them.  They are a vile clan-- we have long known of their depredations.  You may rely on us.”

“For that, you have our thanks.  But the matter that brings us here is rather more troubling:  Unseelie Fey have formed an alliance with a creature known as the Abomination of Shur and various demon lords.  We do not know the full extent of their plans, but they have stolen mighty relics of Glor’diadel and provided much support to the Abomination.”

“We knew of the plots of the Abomination-- a foul creature, although not worthy of great concern to us.  But the Court of Winter aids it?  Word will go out to all the fey of the South.  This is an alliance that must attract our attention and our actions.”  The Ambassador’s placid demeanor gave way to boldness and anger.  “It could strengthen the Unseelie greatly; this cannot be allowed.  We are pleased that you have told us of this.  The Council of the Great Court will be particularly pleased to have been told of this, as will the Queen.”

“We are honored to have been of service.”

“I assure you, we will not soon forget this service.  If I may, I must contact the Council.”

The Council left the Sidhe lord to his psionic efforts.  The ambassador seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that Canberry might have had its own goals in informing the Seelie of the enemy alliance, and the Council felt no need to enlighten him.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Later that afternoon, a minor chamberlain informed the Council that Lady Meredith the Dazzling wished to speak with them via a projection at a specified time.  They duly cleared their schedule, and she appeared in an illusion that could not be distinguished from actual presence except that it did not trip their wards.

“You wished to speak with me, your grace?”

“Indeed.  I wondered of your opinion of young lord Devin Rollingheath.  He has done some great services for us in the Duchy of Furrows, and by his minotaur companions we could infer that he had some connection to you.”

“He handled some sensitive issues for me in the far north, near the holdings of Lady Jane Peryton.  She did not lose her lands in the recent invasion, and he both provided support to her and dealt with some other matters.  That situation has now stabilized to some extent, whereas some matters in your region have not, so I provided him some additional support while suggesting that he might turn his eyes back to the South.”

“We are considering putting him forward as a possibility to fill a vacancy in our vassal’s vassals, particularly if he continues to score victories against the orcs.  Would you consider him a worthy choice?”

“He is loyal and bright.  If he survives the next couple of years, he will do well.”  Lady Meredith paused for a moment as she thought of her own concerns.  “I do hope the mage with him survives-- his master is a member of the Council.  But yes, I should say he would be a reasonable choice for such a position.”

“We thank you for your counsel, wise as always.  We will encourage them further and provide such support as we can.  Glor’diadel willing, none of the principal members of his group will perish, but it is a hazardous situation.  Beyond that, I can but assure you that we would seek to recover and raise any bodies if they do not survive and are not mutilated beyond resurrection.”

“I understand.  We did not encourage them to address the situation without an awareness of the dangers they would face.  I simply shared the additional reason I have for some concerns.  If I have addressed your questions?”  When Alistair nodded, Lady Meredith made the smallest gesture and disappeared as suddenly as she had appeared.


----------



## Quartz

Easter bunny bump!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

My apologies for the long delay.  Fortunately for the readers of this storyhour (although less fortunately for me), I spent all day yesterday stuck in an airport waiting for a plane.  So I now have several updates worth.  I'm going to post about twice a week until I run out of material-- I'm thinking in general Monday and Thursday mornings or so.  With luck, I'll be able to keep writing at a pace that will sustain that posting schedule for a long time.  And now...
----

Session 29:

The next morning began smoothly.  The Council reviewed a missive from the Zorplona-Aragoni announcing the installation of a new leader in Region 9, Prince Hinuu’sinta, while the current coordinator attended to the succession matters.  The message read:

“Unto His Most Eminent Grace the Archduke Alastair, Protector of the Faith of the Light on Drucien, Guardian of the Skies, Ruler of the Heights and Depths of the Barrier, Ally unto the 9th Region of the House of Moriquendi'rim

From Prince Hinuu’sinta ap Curini'rim Moriquendi'rim

All Hail and Greetings:

I am honored to address an ally of my beloved cousin Princess Del'reada  Cilthronosi'thalindril ap Curini'rim Moriquendi'rim and bring to him and his empire the guarantee of the continued friendship of the 9th Region, of Zaploni-Aragoni and of this family within the great house of Moriquendi'rim.

Be it known therefore to His Eminent Grace and his court that I will arrive together with my seneschal to take charge of the court in Zaploni-Aragoni during the 2nd week of Skard, probably upon the 18th day of the month.  

I look forward to meeting with you after my arrival upon the continent.  I have heard wonderful things of you – and look forward to entertaining you at my court.”​
“What do all of those odd titles for you mean?” asked Kit.  “Guardian of the Skies and Ruler of the Heights and Depths?  I’ve never heard those before.”

Alistair thought for a moment.  “I think one of my ancestors claimed those titles at some point.  They never really became part of the standard style, and they fell into total disuse some time ago.  A generation or two before my grandmother, I think?”

Dame Brionna added, “But that isn’t very long ago at all for the Noldar.  They probably wrote down the style your grace’s ancestor used and still treat it as part of proper etiquette.”

Alistair nodded.  “In any event, we will certainly need to accept his invitation for political reasons.”

“I guess so,” said Kit, “but I don’t like it.  The Noldar are far too dangerous for me to be comfortable about the idea of you going into one of their strongholds.”

“I agree with Dame Katherine.  If we could avoid it completely, that would be best.”

“The Noldar are evil, but they are also mostly honorable, with the notable exception of Quinliart.  I find it hard to imagine that they would strike against a guest.  That would constitute at least as grave a violation of elven hospitality as it would among humans.”

“Perhaps, Your Grace, but it still concerns me.  It is my responsibility to keep you safe, which will be nigh impossible in their sphere of control.  Also, I worry about what the Noldar might mean by ‘entertaining’ you.”

“As for that, I am an adult and can be trusted,” said Alistair.

“You are an adult, your grace.”

“Dame Brionna!” remonstrated Alistair in mock outrage, while the whole Council, including Alistair, gave way to laughing.   After a long laugh, he continued, “Still, I think we need not worry overly much.  If he behaves according to Noldar forms, he will set up his court upon arriving in Drucien.  That will take a few weeks as he ferrets out some conspiracies.  We will then probably be the first court he will visit-- he will visit the major human kingdoms that are not openly hostile in descending order of power.  I would guess that after Canberry, Ulfay will be next.  It would be Debonai, but the rebellion there will damage them badly in the Noldar perspective.  After the major powers, he will work his way down.  It should be fairly easy for us to reciprocate shortly after his arrival, by Noldar standards, while still postponing the visit for a decade or longer.  In this case, their different sense of time works in our favor.  You also don’t really need to worry about their entertainment.  It will be much like what you would expect in a human state visit, although more grandiose.  We should, of course, bring our own means to detect poison, although they will also supply food tasters and the like.”

“As long as we can postpone the visit for a long time, your grace, I won’t worry too much now.  We can simply send the appropriate diplomatic response and move on.”


----------



## Quartz

An update! Joy!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After the chamberlain received his instructions, Dame Brionna headed over to her sister’s townhouse to check what intelligence she had been able to gather.

Lady Elaine welcomed Dame Brionna warmly and brought her in for tea.  Her arrangements managed to convey both formality and intimacy at once.

They made small talk for a while, chatting about the pages and Abigail’s progress and so forth.  After a few minutes, however, Lady Elaine asked a more serious question.  “Are things going as direly in the west lands as I have heard?”

“What have you heard?”

“That there are orc hordes and trolls raiding; that some villages have fallen; and that there are insufficient troops to put down the hordes.”

“There have been raids, and Grokken did fall.  But with some adventurers and their troops now in the area, things will be dealt with soon.  I can’t say that I’m surprised that there are some rumors, especially after the ship crashed.”

“Yes, but rumors had already begun.  Some of the talk, really, started before the coronation, after the incident involving the House of Caldra.”

“Sympathy for the House of Caldra?”

“Not per se-- there is a lot of faith in His Eminent Grace, but also a lot of worry among the ladies.  They are, for the most part, being kept here, rather than returning to their homes.  And they talk of fear of the orcs, fear for their estates-- a lot of fear, except for the Great-Aunt of one of the nobles, the Baron of Bitterspring.  Dame Alicia Bitterspring assures any who will listen that the situation will be dealt with soon and brooks no argument.  But when she isn’t present…”  Lady Elaine trailed off.

Dame Brionna nodded.  “What have you heard from the nobles of the South Kingdoms?”

“There is great hope.  Most hope that they will be taken under the guardianship of Canberry, through the obvious means.  I should add that there is also great hope based on your position, because if he is so open that you have risen so far, there is hope that they could advance as well if they swore loyalty to Canberry.”

Dame Brionna spluttered a little, modestly trying to minimize her own importance.

Lady Elaine simply waived aside Dame Brionna’s humility, and then moved on.  “Did you know that there is a rumor that a number of distant branches of some of the families survived?”

“Of the noble families?”

“Of the royal families,” corrected Lady Elaine.  “Not close branches, but of the blood.”

“Where are they?”

“I am not sure that it’s not completely rumor, but supposedly at least two branches of the family of the Isle that had lived on the mainland survive.  If you credit the rumors, they live among the refugees but have carved out more substantial holdings.  ‘Thorneydale’ is supposed to be the holding of one of those branches.  I am not sure where that is, but I gather it is somewhere in the west.  Reports are that they brought in some troops, stabilized the populace there, and have directed the building of forts.”

“Interesting, and worth following up on,” commented Dame Brionna.  She thought about how that might complicate any annexation plan but decided to keep that to herself.


----------



## Fimmtiu

Great to see you posting again!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

It's great to be back to posting, Fimmtiu!  I'm just happy that there are still people reading.

I've updated the post two posts ago-- I located a copy of the letter and fiddled with some of the dialogue.   Here's a new post as well:

“What is your assessment of the Princess herself and her close retainers?”

“Her Royal Highness has a certain amount of hope, but she is under no illusions.  She hopes, at best, to be the junior partner in a political marriage, to give the Archduke children and heirs, and to bring her people under his protection.  She is remarkably straightforward for someone of her rank.”

“She was never meant to be the heir, of course.”

“Perhaps that is it.  In any event, she has hope, finds the Archduke comely enough, but does not expect to ever capture his heart.  But then, you know how rarely marriages are for love among people of our rank.”

“You loved your husband,” Dame Brionna observed.

“Deeply, but we were the exception rather than the rule.  I never had the impression that you felt similarly towards Sir Denro, for example.”

“We would have made an honorable marriage,” protested Dame Brionna.  “Perhaps we didn’t get caught up in overly romantic things, but…”

“I meant no criticism.  I was simply observing that your marriage would have been more about honor and responsibility than about love.  That is not a bad thing, but simply how things are for most nobles.”

Dame Brionna shifted the topic quickly.  “What about her mage?”

“He was the reason she survived.  He is a potent wizard.  I do not know for certain how powerful he is, but he can cast at least the lowest cycle of the rune spells.  That is unusual for a human mage.  Based on that level of power, he may still owe allegiance to the Court of Chaos.  I think he would prefer to go back to teaching; he was at the academy, when our homeland still stood.”

“Really?  We plan on founding an academy.  Perhaps we could honor her by appointing him to the faculty, while also protecting her from chaotic influences.”

“Note that I have no evidence for his association with the Court of Chaos, simply his power.  I also believe he is older than he appears.  According to rumors, he is beyond his ninetieth winter.”

“My thanks for that information.  We will conduct some investigation of our own.  On a different topic, have you heard any recent rumors of inappropriate behavior by His Grace in the North or cruelty?”

“Yes, but they have been disregarded out of hand.  The general sense is that he is a womanizer but not harmful.  His reputation seems to have started when he was quite young.”

“That certainly seems to be his reputation,” replied Dame Brionna.

“Not that I would suggest that His Grace is in fact a womanizer,” added Lady Elaine, with perhaps a slightly too pious tone to be fully believed.

“Of course not.  I would never suggest such a thing.”  Dame Brionna winked at her sister.  “Just between us, I choose his grace’s chambermaids carefully.  For security reasons.”

“Oh?  Has that been a source of threats?”

“There was an assassin placed within the palace.  Quite comely--I have no doubt that she was intended to seduce His Grace into a circumstance where she could attack him.  Fortunately, we kept her, and all other particularly attractive servants, well clear of His Grace to eliminate any risks as a precaution even before we knew that there was an assassin among the servants.  When we did find out and went to arrest her, she exploded.”  Dame Brionna shook her head sadly.  “A good guard died in that incident.”

“The whole thing is shocking.  Still, your precautions were clearly wise.  Even if His Grace’s reputation is overstated, he is a young man…”

Dame Brionna deliberately made small talk for a while before bringing up the next topic.  “What are the rumors with regard to Dame Katherine of Lyneham?’

“That is an interesting question.  She is known to be a member of the court--it is not fully public, but enough people have seen her that word has spread.  There is some talk about the possibility that she is a rogue.”  On the last word, Lady Elaine’s voice dropped into a whisper.  Dame Brionna relied on years of practice to keep a straight face.  “There has always been a popular sport among the nobles of Canberry of trying to figure out who is a member of the Archduke’s secret circle.  The odds are running against her, 3:2, because she is too obvious, but some people think that she is the Royal Rogue.  Others think that it is just an artful disguise, and that she is the royal psionic advisor.  She has never shown any psionics, of course, but that is precisely why some people wonder.  And then there are one or two that maintain that she is the Archduke’s mistress, but most observers agree that she would be hidden better if she were.”

Dame Brionna resolutely gave no confirmation for any of those guesses even though she knew that they were all true.  “Nothing about her background?”

“Not much is known.  She is clearly titled but no one is quite sure where Lyneham is.  Most people guess her title is foreign?”

“Lyneham is a prosperous barony in the North.  Good hunting there.”

Lady Elaine nodded.  “Ah, that would explain why few can place it.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> Based on that level of power, he may still owe allegiance to the Court of Chaos.




That made me chuckle. It's cool to know they have survived in one form or another.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I'm glad that that amused you, Baron.  We don't really know much of anything about the Courts of Chaos-- the only references I've heard to them have been from you, and the vague references that this party has encountered.  I assume you had much more contact or involvement with them in your games in Aphonion?

----

After Dame Brionna’s conversation with her sister, she returned to the palace.  She found a palace security report of unusual activity.  One patrol of palace guards had been found tied up and dipped in flour.  She nodded in approval; the Sixth Daughter had clearly gone to work.  A note with them suggested that something be done about increasing the fields of vision from the towers.  The patrol had been ambushed while in a blindspot along the wall.  The note also stated that a detailed report would follow after some additional testing.

Dame Brionna returned to the Council and ran through the most important of the information from her sister.  “Rumors of the orc raids have hit the City, and your nobles are worried, Your Grace.”

“Not surprising-- I’m worried,” responded Alistair with a touch of exasperation.

“With regards to Princess Kaitlyn, the Southern nobles are hopeful.  My sister reports that the Princess hopes to be the junior partner in a political marriage, with no illusions about either the nature of the marriage nor your relative standing.”

Alistair nodded.  “Good.  That will make things easier, if we go that route.  Did you learn anything about Manyhands?”

Dame Brionna shared Lady Elaine’s comments about him.

Alistair whistled softly.  “Rune magic is usually only used by elves, but others can learn it.  Almost all rune spells are persistent, generally attached to objects.  For example, rune magic is the basis of the wards on the palace.”

“Why are elves the only people who regularly practice rune magic?” asked Kit.

“Very few humans have the knowledge to be capable of it.  Rune magic starts with spells of the tenth circle and works up from there.  It is not unheard of for humans to learn rune magic, but only the most powerful human mages can even try.”

“I am more concerned about his possible association with the Courts of Chaos, your grace,” commented Dame Brionna.  “If he has the blood of some entity of chaos-- or even if he is simply aligned with the forces of chaos-- he could pose a serious threat to the Archduchy.”

“I don’t disagree, but I think your plan of shunting him off into teaching at the school of magic could handle it well.  He would greatly increase the attractiveness of the school to parents of potential students, but that would also remove him from playing a political role.”  Alistair thought for a moment.  “We might want to look into developing some resources of our own in that regard.  Are there families that have magical powers derived from bloodlines with celestial or divine blood associated with Glor’diadel?”

Dame Brionna nodded slowly.  “There are, your grace, but not on this continent.  Most of those bloodlines are on Khamista, with perhaps a few on Zest’qua.”

“We should look into persuading some scions from those lines to resettle to Canberry, and we should take some active steps to breed their powers to new levels of strength, like what we have discussed with regard to the sight.”

“As you wish, your grace.  I will contact the Church to arrange contact between the Archduchy and the more prominent families with divine or celestial descent.”

“Good.  That should also help move the Archduchy into the first tier of realms in terms of magical prowess.”

Dame Brionna continued, “The last thing we should discuss is the betting with regards to Dame Katherine.”

“Have people figured out our relationship?” asked Alistair.

“No, for the most part.  There is heavy betting on what role she plays, but relatively few people suspect the truth.  There are some who hypothesize that she might be the Rogue.”

“The Rogue?” repeated Kit.  “What does that mean?  Is it the same as the Mouth?”

“Not quite,” answered Alistair.  “It’s a position that fell into disuse.  My great-grandfather had a Rogue, my grandmother did not-- she believed that it was not necessary and trusted her Mouth.  It is not as ancient a position as the Mouth-- I suspect that it was an added role, but that my grandmother dropped it without anyone realizing.  The Rogue traditionally did the hands-on work of the Archduchy.  The Rogue personally snuck into others’ halls, to listen to them or for more direct purposes.  If the Archduchy needed to secure an item and could not find a better way, the Rogue might be sent to bring it back.  That sort of thing.”

Kit nodded in understanding.  “I can see how that would be useful.  And it’s probably better to have them think that I’m the Rogue then to know about my actual role.”

Alistair proceeded carefully.  “True enough.  We might think about whether it would be better for people to know about us, though.”

“I’m not sure that I want people thinking of me as just your mistress, Alistair.  I’ve earned my status here, and I don’t want people thinking it’s just because of us.  And that will make things a lot more difficult with Princess Kaitlyn, or whoever.”

“It would make things a little more difficult, but less than you might think.  Such things are at least somewhat accepted.  As for your titles and status, of course you’ve earned them.  Everybody who matters knows that, and you shouldn’t worry about what other people think.”  Alistair backed off based on Kit’s expression.  “I’m not saying we need to do anything like this.  It’s entirely up to you.  I was just suggesting that it might help conceal your actual services to the Archduchy better.”

“Maybe.  Let me think about it.”

“Besides, we could make a killing in the betting markets by placing some bets through proxies and then revealing our relationship.”

“We hardly need the money, your grace,” said Dame Brionna reproachfully.  She could barely tolerate the existence of organized gambling among the nobles-- the idea of the Archduke participating was quite shameful.

“Still, it’s always useful to have a little more, and debts from nobles are also helpful in other ways than just money-- they can be used to get favors with regards to things I don’t want to, or can’t, give orders about.  But mostly, it would be fun.”

“Wait!”  Kit interrupted, her voice suddenly completely serious.  “Something is happening.  The dog is in trouble, in the market.”


----------



## Baron Opal

Cerebral Paladin said:
			
		

> I'm glad that that amused you, Baron.  We don't really know much of anything about the Courts of Chaos-- the only references I've heard to them have been from you, and the vague references that this party has encountered.  I assume you had much more contact or involvement with them in your games in Aphonion?




I was a friend of the founders. Mok, Vex, Greystar.. we all adventured together. We were pals so they invited me along as the token lawful. I ended up getting involved with some intrigue with Sabrey and she pulled me along to the Enclaves. Which I've regretted ever since, by the by.

Not that this gives you any inside info, really. Greystar relocated to Ma'Sagavin, Vex to the Land (different primes). Mok died in an orgy of sex and violence, near as I can tell. I gamed in Aphonion 20 years ago. Heh. It's cool that there is a continuation of thought that has run this long through several editions of the game.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna leapt up.  “I can get there quickly on my mount.”  Alistair nodded and she began rushing out of the room, while Kit hastily established a mindlink.

Kit said, “I’m going to send Alvin there as well.  He should be able to get there almost as fast as Brionna.” She broadcasted a message to both Alvin and Dame Brionna.  <<There is some sort of attacker in the main marketplace.  My agent reported “brown hair, tall, tall, horse, stink, with pus, rot and ruin.”  Check it out.>>

<<I will be there presently,>> sent back Alvin.

Dame Brionna arced in over the marketplace, flying high on her winged unicorn.  The attacker was obvious:  an incredibly evil mounted warrior with a hooked sword riding after a panic-stricken dog.  The warrior’s aura was so evil that Dame Brionna could feel it while still flying, without even calling upon Glor’diadel to sense it.  <<I have spotted the enemy chasing your dog,>> she sent back to Kit over the mindlink.  <<I am charging him and evacuating the market.>>

With that, Dame Brionna leaned forward in the saddle, turning her mount into a combination dive and charge.  She couched her lance as she picked up speed, calling on Glor’diadel to bless her strike against the forces of evil.  The lance slammed into the rider, spearing clean through him and into the horse beneath.  As the lance struck, an illusion faded, revealing the true forms of both horse and rider.  The horse was skin and bones, but actually a living horse.  The figure incredibly emaciated rider in contrast was clearly not among the living:  the skin on his face and other parts of his body hung in ragged tatters from his discolored skeleton.  He looked up at Dame Brionna and sneered, “holy b----!” as she rode past.

Before he had a chance to strike her, however, Dame Brionna was able to wheel her mount and charge him again, inflicting another great blow with a second holy smite.  She heard the beginning of the words “my liege” carried on a wind as her foe called out to someone far away, but he had no time to do anything else before coming apart into a pile of bones, tendons, and scraps of skin.  With its master destroyed, the horse collapsed to the ground, dead.  Dame Brionna felt an odd sensation as her lance pulsed with energy, but it did not break.

The dog looped around a booth and then charged back, before turning and sending to Kit, <<She got him, mistress, she got him.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Dame Brionna proceeded to one of the many stalls nearby in the marketplace and purchased a heavy hemp sack, grossly overpaying in the process.  Taking care to avoid touching any of the possibly tainted items and remnants directly, she put everything in the sack.  She then gestured at one of the urchins who was still watching this process, agog, and asked him to run for a priest to purify these areas of the street.  As the commoners in the square recovered from their shock, they began cheering and thanking Dame Brionna, in some cases approaching to feel the fringe of her tunic.  She held up a hand for silence and then led the assembly through the standard Glor’diadelian post-battle prayer of thanksgiving.  As she was finishing, the priest she had sent for hurried up to the location and began swinging a censor filled with an enormous amount of incense while chanting a prayer to purify the area from any abyssal taint.  Later that night, the dog returned and performed a purification of his own:  carefully urinating on the spot where the undead champion fell.

With the threat attended to and the people reassured, Dame Brionna flew back to the palace.  She placed the remains in a sanctified, secured room and posted a guard to ensure that it would not be disturbed.  She then asked Father Waters to examine it.  He listened to her description and then sent for one of the Archbishop’s experts on the undead without even waiting to look at the bones and weaponry himself.

Dame Brionna gave an in person report to the rest of the council.  About twenty minutes later, a page stuck his head in.  “The Reverend Canon Yang to see you, your grace.”

The clergyman entered, bowed perfunctorily, and launched into his report.  “It was an abyssal incholate.”  He lay down a small sapphire.  “This is its gem.  Drained-- I’ve never seen that before.”

“Who was it working for?” asked Kit.

“Normally, an abyssal incholate can only be working for an abyssal knight.  Rumor has it that there is an abyssal knight on this plane.”  Canon Yang named the molydeus beneath Brightspan.

Alistair nodded.  “That makes some sense.  But what can you tell us about incholates in general?  I fear we are not well informed about them.”

“Incholates are powerful warriors, in general.  They take a powerful warrior and pour its life out, so they have a shell that is still alive but without what is actually living.”

Kit interrupted.  “Where does it go, dare I ask?”

“To whatever plane it belongs on, Dame Knight.  Then they pour an abyssal spirit in.  It is not a possession and cannot be expelled, because no native spirit remains present.  The abyssal spirit in this case was a powerful warrior, what used to be called a fourth order demon.  It was destroyed by the holiness of the lance, but the lance also drained the incholate power.  That could now be released in a blast of energy, stripped of the unholiness, but still powerful.  Absorbing the force could have shattered the weapon, but it is now stored in a one time only blast.  

“The principal question is, what did it want?  Normally, incholates are used for three purposes:  to spread plague; to seek information; or to seek out and destroy a particular person.  When one is bound to one of these missions, the lifespan is bound to the mission.  We can safely discard plague:  if that were the incholate’s mission, it would never have been in the marketplace.  I suspect it was sent to kill someone.  The knight knows that his grace is secure, as long as he remains on ground held by Canberry, unless of course he is slain by someone he loves.  It could have been hunting a member of the household, but again, that would not explain its location.  I suggest that it would be wise for a careful search of the market for someone who at one time performed a great service for the Archduchy or betrayed the knight.”

“Was the sword unholy?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Indeed.  The blade is a souldrinker.  It is not of terribly good workmanship but still dangerous.”

“So it lets some of the soul dribble while drinking it?” asked Kit.

The canon raised an eyebrow at the metaphor, but then nodded.  “A reasonable statement.”

“Any clues as to who made it?” asked Alistair.

“The abyssal knight, your grace.  He had to have.  It was being worn by his incholate.  We do have an advantage now.  The advantage is:  one knight; one incholate; at one time.  Because the incholate has been destroyed, the abyssal knight will be without this tool for some time.  But we should still be alert.  If the attack was a matter of revenge, it may have been a throw away effort.  If it was somebody who has done a service to the Archduchy in the past, then why would it bother?  But if it is one who will do a great service in the future, than the abyssal knight will try again.”

“I don’t know that it intended to begin fighting when it did,” said Kit.  “That may have been triggered by one of the Archduke’s agents who noticed it and then provoked it.”

“Ah.  It was uncovered prematurely.  That increases the likelihood that it was sent to wait for someone.”

The Council thanked Canon Yang and dismissed him.  Kit snapped open her fan and reached out to contact the dog.

<<Oh, mistress!  Shiny woman come just like you said she would.  Shiny woman kill him.>>

<<She’s my friend, and a good knight.>>

<<Mistress has good friends.>>

<<Can you go where you found him and sit?>>

<<Yes, mistress.>>

Kit then sent Alvin to find the dog and send a picture of where he is.  Alvin sent back a picture of a third-rate hedge witch’s shop.  The signage indicated that it was the shop of “Deitricha.”  A very old lady sat in the shop, doing a brisk business in salves, potions, and poultices.  From what they could see, she appeared to be licensed and above-board.  Kit ordered Alvin and the dog to remain outside Deitricha’s shop, remaining discreet and looking for anything that appeared out of the ordinary.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Session 30:

18 O-Kas

The following morning’s Council meeting began with a report from Dame Brionna about a group of barbarians coming from the Northeast, escorted by a small number of Canberran troops.

“What’s that about?” asked Kit.

“I have a guess,” said Alistair.  “That probably means that we should speak with Sir Derek Brightspan.  We’ll need a psion to contact him.  Perhaps we should contact Lord Silverleaves?”

Dame Brionna looked pained at that suggestion.  “We could, your grace, but perhaps it would be more straightforward to ask the staff farsensor assigned to you by the Ministry of the Mind to handle it.”

“We have a staff farsensor?” asked Alistair in surprise.

“Yes, your grace.”  Dame Brionna managed to suppress a reproach at Alistair’s failure to have reviewed the list of personnel assigned to his personal service by the various ministries.

“By all means, then, send for the farsensor.”

The farsensor arrived and established a mental connection between Alistair and Sir Derek.

<<Sir Derek, this is Archduke Alistair.  Please report on the war with the barbarians.>>

<<We have made peace with the enemy, my lord.  I have sent a train with the Great Khan’s eldest son, a selection of women who are required by their custom to accompany him at all times, and a set of guards to keep him safe.  The Great Khan sued for peace, and asks you to accept one of his daughters as a wife for a suitable person.>>

<<We accept, but we will need some time to figure out who an appropriate match would be.>>

<<I understand, my lord.  I will inform the Great Khan.  I believe that he expects as much.>>

<<Is the military situation stabilized, in your opinion?  I may need to reassign your army, but not if that will result in further conflict with the barbarians.>>

<<There won’t be further problems from the barbarians.  They were beaten soundly, and they respect that, as well as thinking that it shows that the spirits have turned against them.  Some of them follow the Dog, some the Bear, some follow other spirits, I think, and some  are Glor’diadelian.  Frankly, their religion is a mess.>> 

<<What were our casualties like?>>

<<We lost about a third of the force, despite inflicting barbarian losses of almost 3:1.>>  Sir Derek paused as he gathered his thoughts, clearly troubled.  <<It was the only way the job could be done.  I will do considerable penance for the loss of lives when I return to more civilized. . . when I return to a temple I am more comfortable with.>>

<<We understand.  The cost is heavy, but it was necessary.  I hate to call on your army so soon after this campaign, but several orkish hordes are menacing the Duchy of Furrows.  If the remainder of your forces would be able to engage those hordes, we need them badly.>>

<<It will be difficult, your grace, but we will endure.  I will begin planning immediately.>>

<<How long will it take you to reach Furrows?>>

<<We can make it there in three weeks’ time, if I force a march.  I will need to set up supply trains, which will delay us, and with your grace’s permission, I would like to recruit or press more troops as we travel to fill out our numbers somewhat.>>

<<That is entirely acceptable and advisable given the forces you will face.  If the barbarians would be willing and you are comfortable that they would be loyal, you can also hire some of the barbarians as mercenary.>>

<<They would be eager to accept that, my lord.  They view their defeat as indicating our strength, and they would be happy to ally themselves with us.  I will only recruit cavalry from them, but we should be able to strengthen our army.  It will have the added value of giving their more adventurous youths something to do besides raiding us or our neighbors.>>

Kit spoke quietly to Alistair.  “The Farsensor is feeling the strain of the connection-- you should finish soon, or he may pass out.”

<<Thank you for your report and for your excellent service, Sir Derek.  Please convey the gratitude of Canberry to your troops.  We will send further tactical details while you travel.>>

<<Thank you, your grace.>>

Alistair nodded to the Farsensor, who dropped the connection, mopped his brow, and quickly retreated to rest.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

“We should be a little careful about conscription, your grace,” commented Dame Brionna.  “It is necessary under the circumstances, but if it is done poorly, it could turn the commoners against us.”

“Agreed.  Can you look into the mid-level officers in Sir Derek’s army?  They’ll probably be taking the most active role in guiding any press operation.  Let’s make sure we can trust them to do it right.”

Dame Brionna nodded.  “I’ll take care of it, your grace.”

“The other thing we should think about is what the right reward for Sir Derek is.  He’s won a great victory-- we should probably give him lands and a title for it.  It will provide a good motivation for other people with ambition.”

“What about one of the Furrows earldoms, your grace?” asked Dame Brionna.  “Those are in need of a strong and popular leader, and they would certainly honor him.”

“That makes a fair amount of sense, especially if he distinguishes himself militarily against the orks as well.  We would need to work through Lady Susan and the Duke of Furrows, but I suspect they would be amenable to it.”

“I don’t like it, m’lord,” said Kit.  “We can’t trust the House of Brightspan as it is, and giving them an earldom as well as their duchy would greatly expand their power.  If they decide to start a civil war at some point, the last thing we want is for them to control another great noble and to have connections with one of the other duchies.”

“I think Sir Derek made a fairly clean break with his father when he sided with me,” responded Alistair.  “I doubt that he would participate in any plots against the Archduchy.  If anything, it would serve to further separate him from his father’s House.  And I think that problem will also gradually resolve itself-- we seem to be doing a good job bringing young Lord Brightspan into loyalty to the Archduchy, not to his grandfather.”

“Maybe.  But we don’t have to just think about him.  What happens if Sir Derek has an heir and then dies?  With the way he leads armies, we have to worry about that.  A young heir could easily fall under the sway of the Duke of Brightspan.  Why couldn’t we just give him a barony or something?  Some sort of honor that would reward him and help cement his loyalty, but not pose as much of a political risk.  And even if Lord Brightspan is becoming more loyal, he still has that imp with him.  I’m sure that Sir Derek’s mother will try to place a similar influence near him if he becomes an Earl.  We can’t trust the House of Brightspan.”

“We could give him a barony in the new lands in the south that we plan to incorporate.  Having him as an anchor to start drawing in other allies would be useful.  I’d like ambitious young knights and lords to view that as a good way to build their fortunes.  And there would be plenty of opportunity for further advancement, which also would have its benefits.”

Dame Brionna interjected, “But what about Caldra and Caligshire, your grace?  We need someone to stabilize those earldoms.  It is not as simple as handing them out as rewards for good service.  Sir Derek could build support for himself easily.  Other nobles might not be as successful.”

“We don’t need to reach a decision right away.  I’m still leaning towards offering him as a candidate for one of the Furrows earldoms, but we will discuss it as things develop.  On a different note, do we need to do anything to clean up public opinion with regard to the incholate?  Some people may be upset about a demonic creature attacking in the marketplace.”

“There are things we can do to affect that, m’lord,” said Kit.  “But first we need to know what people are thinking about it.  Dame Brionna’s role in stopping it may have left a stronger impression than the presence of the incholate did.”

“Is that the sort of thing that you can find out?”

“Yes, m’lord.  I’ll speak to some of my people and find out what the word on the street is.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit asked her agents to set up some meetings with people who would know what the people of Canberry City were saying.  Her scribe ushered her into a hidden room, divided by a bright red screen.  At one side of the room stood a statue of a human with a dog’s head, holding four swords-- the scribe informed her that it was a minor golem, in case she needed protection.  He crawled into a hidden closet to listen and take notes, according to her orders.

Kit heard a scratching at the screen.  “I wanted to know what people are saying about the fight in the marketplace yesterday.”

The voice that responded was clearly an old man-- Kit guessed he might be a vendor.  “Ah, that was a mighty battle, but Glor’diadel protects us.  A mighty paladin from the sky, with flaming eyes, struck down the monster.  All praise be to the Lord of Light.”

“So nobody’s worried that it will happen again?”

He paused for a moment, as if surprised by the idea.  “Well, if it did, she would surely return to strike them down again.”

“Yes, she would,” agreed Kit.  

Kit waited for a minute or two and then heard a different scratch.  She asked the same question and heard the voice of a middle-aged woman, probably frumpy:  “Me customers were most impressed, they were.  His Lordship keeps his word, for Glor’diadel keeps him.  The knight came on a holy steed.”  The voice paused a moment, and then continued more warily, “Although there was some disappointment that they didn’t get to search the body before it got taken away-- it had very nice shoes, it did.”

“You would not have wanted those shoes.  They might have spread his evil further.”

“Oh, we hadn’t thought about that…  For the best, then.  We should have known that His Lordship would have good reason to take the body away.”

“So it sounds like everyone seems pretty calm about the whole matter.”

“Aye.  There is even thought that there will be enough salt.  The people know that the Archduke is a good ruler, and they are learning to trust in him.  That, and lots of people are trying to get the blessing.”

“The blessing?” asked Kit.

“Oh, yes.  When there’s a new Archduke, it’s a good time to be pregnant.  The baby will get a blessing.”

“Good to know, ma’am,” said Kit.

“Oh, I’m no ma’am, I’m just a hobbit,” responded the woman.

A little while later, a third agent, with a rather different constituency, rapped at the other side of the screen. “My lady.  I report as you asked.”  

“What do the people think of the battle in the marketplace?”

“The common people say that it was a great victory for the light.  Those that creep in shadows-- they say that it was luck.”

“Are they influencing the common people?”

“No, nobody listens to them outside of the shadows.”

“Who do they listen to that could change their opinions?”

“The Guild.  There aren’t that many of us, but we listen to each other.  Also, the damn fool young’ns think that it’s a good time to be pregnant.  I say that there’s never a good time to be pregnant.  It just leads to trouble, like with my poor sister.  I told her he was no good, but she wouldn’t listen and ran around with him anyway, and then when she had the baby, was he there to help out?  Do you even need to ask?  And you’d think she’d have learned a thing or two from it, but soon enough he’d be back, or some other bloke who was just as bad, and there she’d be, all alone with another child.  If you ask me, anyone who wants to be pregnant is crazy, even if there is a new Archduke.”

“I’m sorry about your sister.  Can we focus on the attack, though?”

“As you like.  The shadows worry that there will be another and that luck won’t be with the shining woman on the flying horse.  The Guild could shape that some, but there you have it.”

After he left, Kit passed word on to the leaders of the Guild to spread the message that the Archduchy has the problem under control and has plans for if a second creature shows up.  She then reported back to the Council that public opinion was favorable.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council moved on to the question of how to deal with the molydeus.  Canberry would not be safe as long as it remained embedded within Brightspan City, but at the same time, its power was so great that a direct assault could have enormous costs.  One possibility that the Council considered was summoning extraplanar help of their own to fight it.  The Bishop could summon a major angel, perhaps a solar or something similar, to aid the Archduchy, but Alistair’s estimate based on what they had learned about the molydeus was that a solar would be unable to defeat it, at least without substantial assistance.  Kit suggested that Dame Constance might be able to help by sending a powerful devil, and the fact that it would turn two evil creatures against each other tempered Dame Brionna’s usual antipathy towards the Archduchy’s use of diabolists.  Dame Brionna also suggested recruiting a good dragon to attack the molydeus, but that presented a logistical difficulty:  a powerful enough dragon would probably be too big to fit in the catacombs and entering the catacombs in a different form would sacrifice much of a dragon’s power.

The Council finally decided to just gather more information for the time being.  While there were several experts in demonology in the diocese, none of them were attached to the Archducal staff.  However, the diocese maintained a bonded church exorcist, as well as a major exorcist in the service of the archdiocese.  The Council sent word to the archbishop, requesting an appointment with the archdiocesan exorcist.  Shortly later, they received a message confirming that the exorcist would be able to meet with them in two days time.

With that dealt with, Alistair raised the issue of his marriage options.  “What do people think of Princess Kaitlyn?”

Kit sounded somewhat unhappy as she responded, “I think that she’s the best option out of what we’ve got.”

Dame Brionna nodded cautiously.  “I agree, your grace, although I am still concerned about Manyhands.  If he is demonic…”

“That would clearly be unacceptable.  It sounds like we should then finish the vetting process for Princiess Kaitlyn, focusing on an in depth examination of her court mage?  If that comes up clean, we may be ready to move forward on this.  The sooner we act, the safer Canberry will be.”

“I’ll have some of my people investigate him, m’lord,” said Kit.  “We might also ask the Minister of Magic and Dame Constance for reports on him.”

Alistair agreed and sent pages out to deliver those requests.

Almost immediately, Lady Constance stumped into the room.  “Your grace, it’s good to see you in good health.  You wished my opinion of the mage that advises Princess Kaitlyn, the request says.  Well, he is primarily an elementalist-- I could determine his exact connection to the princes with some work, but I can tell you that is his central connection.  He bears a devil ring on the third toe of his left foot.  I think it is his weakness.  I believe an erinyes is bound to it.  I can’t abide them, myself, although I do use them on occasion.”

“What are the particular concerns about erinyes?  I take it that there are different issues than with other devils.”

“Yes, your grace.  There are two ways to bind an erinyes.  One is to offer it a sacrifice-- I do not think he has the stomach for that.  The other is to offer your bodily fluids.  I believe he may be enamored of her.”

“If she’s bound to him, would there be a threat to Princess Kaitlyn or to others?” asked Kit

“No, only to him.  If he has allowed himself to fall under her sway, she will use that to draw him further into her control and plans.”

“Why is he called Manyhands, anyway?”

“Ah.  He has more than the standard two.  He mostly keeps them out of phase.  When they are here, they have no arms.”

“How did he get the extra hands?” asked Alistair.

“Rumor has it he was experimenting when he was a young man.  He had a particular desire for these hands-- they are imbued with a sense of feeling.  The erinyes follows after his pattern…”

Kit made a disgusted face.  “He was using the extra dimensional hands for that?”

“Indeed.  He is something of a lecher.  But do not underestimate his capabilities based on his personal weaknesses.  He is fairly powerful.”

“We were contemplating offering him a position as an instructor in the magical academy we intend to found.”

Dame Constance nodded thoughtfully.  “He could be a good instructor in the proposed school.  You should know, he is much older than he looks.  He probably has some nonhuman blood.  The rumor is that it is from the Courts of Chaos.  Probably not a parent, but maybe a grandparent-- could be one of the Lords of Sorts.  Their blood is known for great magic, and it was considered something of a coup in the Southlands to get one of them to mate with you.  So there was a smattering of families that had blood of the Courts of Chaos.’

“Does that carry with it other taint?” asked Dame Brionna.

“It simply increases the ability to control the flow of magic.”

“Hmm,” Alistair mused thoughtfully.  “Are there any similarly gifted Glor’diadelian bloodlines?  We might use that to strengthen our magical resources.” 

“There are some bloodlines associated with Lord Glor’diadel that are renowned for their magical prowess.  Unfortunately, they are not on this continent-- mostly on Zest’qua, although also some on Khamista.  They cluster near the enemies of the Light.  Some of the families are in the Border Kingdoms by the Shadowline in Zest’qua, some in the lands on Khamista near the lands of Morgroth.”  

The Council discussed recruiting a prominent member of one of the bloodlines to teach at the academy.  It would provide an additional magical resource and might lead to the development of a local line of descendants of the bloodline.

“I have a colleague who has recently taken up residence in Tarkenia, in preparation for a rumored counteroffensive there,” commented Dame Constance.  “I could consult with him.”

“We would appreciate it.  Thank you for your advice, Dame Constance.”

“It is always at your disposal, your grace.  I should add that we have extracted a bit more information on the incholate.  The research is slow, but we are making progress.  The books are not consulted very often on this topic.  It is very hard to advance.”  

Alistair and Kit noted that Dame Constance leaned more heavily on her staff than she had previously.  She looked more drawn than in prior meetings.  They exchanged a glance, and Alistair spoke again.  “You have our thanks.  There is no need for you to push yourself with regard to this research.  Peel free to delegate the work to other members of the coven.  We don’t want you pushing yourself-- take any breaks you need.”

Dame Constance nodded gravely but said nothing.  She surely understood where Alistair’s concern came from, but just as clearly did not want to speak of it herself.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After Dame Constance left, Kit perked her head up.  “I’m getting a message from the dog-- wait, now it’s fading… Argh!  They just put the dog to sleep!  Someone gave him a bone that put him to sleep.  If they’ve hurt him…  I’m contacting Alvin now.  He was supposed to be watching as well.”

Alvin responded immediately to Kit’s mental contact.  <<I am sorry, my lady.  I had just gone across the way to get a bite.  I will return posthaste.>>  A few moments later Alvin continued his mental message.  <<The dog is sleeping but seems well.  There is someone in the shop, however; it’s an elf, a female elf.  Not one of the highest and mightiest, but not a wood elf either.>>  He sent an image to Kit.

She relayed that information to the Council, and Dame Brionna immediately began mobilizing guards and planning to cordon off the area.  Kit considered the image.  “She’s definitely not eldar or gray elf, my lord.  I’ll put the image in your mind.”

Alistair nodded.  “That’s a high elf, no doubt about it.  A sorceress or wizard, I should say, based on what she’s carrying.  Can we find out what they are talking about?”

Kit sent a request to Alvin, who crept closer to try to hear.  Kit ordered him to also listen to their thoughts.

“You’re certain then?” said the high elf.

“There is definitely something, mum,” said the hedge witch.  “I seen him at the coronation, though, and he was a right proper young lad.  I hear troubling stories, though.  I don’t rightly know what’s going on.  I followed a pattern, but then lost it.  I think someone or something plots against him.”  

“The Mages are pleased with your service.  And I believe there was an attempt to kill you?”

“Oh, yes, a great horned thing-- demonic blood in that one.  It was the Captain of his guard that struck him down.”

“The Captain could not have been deceived?”

“It would be hard to deceive that one.”

“Your words will go far to reassure the Council.   I will convey your words to the Great Lady.  But if it was not his creature, then it might be something that could replace him.  This bulwark must not be allowed to fall.  I will pass on your message to the Lady, tell her that you agree with her analysis.”

“She must be able to see things, like Aunt Cecilia,” said Kit.

“The true sight.  It makes sense.  And ‘the Mages’ can only be the Mages of Northern Aurelian.  She must be part of their network here,” added Alistair.

“Do we want to let them know that we know?”

“I’d rather not.  Even with our allies, I’d rather know who their agents are and where they are than have agents we don’t know about.  It could cause awkwardness.  Still, we should give them confirmation of the relevant information.  If we tell them that an incholate working for the molydeus attacked our city…”

“They’ll put two and two together without our having to say that its target was their agent.  I like it.”  Kit paused.  “Y’know, m’lord, we could use more people with true sight in our service…”

“She may not be interested if she is sufficiently loyal to them, but there would be nothing inconsistent with working for both the Mages and us.  Go ahead and try to recruit her.”

Kit had her people do a deeper background search and found out that the hedge witch had a reputation for finding lost objects and also for seeing to the heart of the matter in all sorts of personal issues.  Kit sent the hobbit goodwife she had spoken to earlier to do the recruiting.  In the end, the hedge witch’s request was almost laughably small.  In return for aiding the intelligence service, she asked for a patch of garden space inside the walls to grow her herbs.  Kit agreed to that in a flash without even consulting the rest of the Council.  Kit was also happy to learn through her hobbit agent that three of the hedge witch’s children have the sight, as does one of her young grandchildren.  They would be possible recruits for the future, and Kit made a note of them in case they did pursue Alistair’s plan of trying to match people with true sight to produce more in future generations.

The Council also invited Princess Kaitlyn to another private meeting.  They decided that a certain amount of rumors would be fine, but that they would not encourage rumors actively.  Alistair scheduled the meeting for two days later.

[End of session 30]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

[Session 31]

The 19th of O-Kas passed uneventfully, but the Council received several urgent reports at the beginning of the 20th.

Dame Brionna began the discussion with a report on Caligshire [see attached].  “We have received a report on the state of the Caligshire front from Sir Devin Rollingheath.  The most notable report is that one of the drowan vollers defected to us.  Its commander’s name is Siki’Yana.  Apparently they believe that they were dishonored by the orders that they have received and wish to defect.  Sir Devin wishes to know whether he can trust them.”

“What is his impression?” asked Kit.

“He thinks they seem trustworthy, but they are unsure.”

“All of the Noldar servant houses view themselves as bound by the Compact,” said Alistair.  “If they thought that they were being given orders that violated the Noldar Compact, they would feel bound by the Code and the Compact, not by their orders.”

“So if they’ve heard of the duel with Lord Davion, they would presumably feel bound by the result,” commented Dame Brionna.

“Exactly-- I think that’s the most likely explanation.  Also, the officer’s name translates as ‘knife of honor.’  I could easily see the sort of family that names a child that also raising a child who takes the obligations under the Compact very seriously.”

“Moving on to the rest of the report, your grace, the Lidless Eye horde retreated to just beyond the border to the northwest.  Sir Devin appears somewhat concerned about his actions across the border.”

Alistair snorted.  “It’s not like there’s any meaningful power on the other side of that border.  If our enemies are attacking us from beyond the traditional limits of the Archduchy, there’s no reason for us to worry about those borders unless it might actually offend a neighbor.”

“They have now started building fortifications, your grace.  Also, a clan of ogres with some hill giants, led by an ogre magi, is heading to reinforce them.  That could develop into a serious problem if they succeed in meeting up together.  On the bright side, the Gutrippers continue to flee in panic.  Some of the other raiding bands that were heading in are now picking at the Gutrippers instead.”

“That sounds perfect.  I think Sir Devin’s priority should be preventing the ogres from reinforcing the Lidless Eye.  The last thing we want is for them to cross back into Canberry able to attack more directly.”

“I agree, your grace.  Perhaps a sending to Sir Devin?  I believe in particular that he will appreciate advice with regard to the drow.”

The Council carefully drafted up a _sending_, counting the individual words to make sure they were within the limit.  When they were happy with the text, Father Waters sent it to Sir Devin.  <<Archduke to Devin.  Report received.  Drow trustworthy.  Request intercept and isolate ogre clan.  Target leader.  Disregard border as necessary-- but do not provoke foreign troops.>>


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Kit continued the Council briefings.  “I have several new reports.  First, things are going well with setting up the Naughty Bits.”

Dame Brionna replied somewhat coldly, “I’m sure that will… help our intelligence.”  She did not seem to see the same humor in gathering intelligence through prostitutes as Alistair and Kit.

“But the major report is with regard to Hanal.  The Queen-Empress has been going through public mourning for Princess Anastasia.  If Anastasia is not returned within eight months and declared healthy by the Temple of Paranswarm, her claims will be terminated.”

“Public mourning,” echoed Dame Brionna.  “I suppose that the only mourning she is capable of is a political display.”

“I don’t know.  I think she may actually be upset about this.  She apparently slaughtered thirty of her favorite servants to show how upset she is.  It’s one of her two daughters, after all.”

“Maybe,” said Alistair.  “But it’s also Queen-Empress Thyasistis.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t care at all.  And for her, killing a group of servants would be a small price for a public display-- she probably enjoyed picking out the ones that would die.  We certainly haven’t seen her trying very hard to bring Princess Anastasia home.”

“Still, how could she not care about her daughter?  But regardless, it puts a lot more pressure on to restore Anastasia’s mind.  We can’t have her older sister inheriting.  The announcement may also mean that the Queen-Empress doesn’t know about Anastasia having been recovered.  I doubt she would be moving forward if she knew that Anastasia would be returned soon.  In a related matter, the Queen-Empress’s elder daughter has a suitor, the Kov of Wannez, who has impressed her.”

“A brave man, given the track record of the princess’s prior paramours,” commented Alistair.

“That’s one way of putting it, m’lord.  But he may also think that he knows something more.  Also, I think we can safely say that anyone who might impress Princess Anastasia’s sister is no one we want anywhere near the throne of Hanal.  The other important thing here is that one of the reasons why Princess Anastasia is the preferred possible heir is that her older sister’s children have all been demonstrably insane, died young, or otherwise been deemed unsuitable to inherit by the Temple of Paranswarm, so Princess Anastasia and the Hiercov of Snatterkaz offer the best possibility of a smooth succession for the next generation.  If the older princess were to have healthy children with the Kov of Wannez, she would gain some meaningful support in any claim for the throne.”

“Just what we need.  A missing sane heir while her crazy older sister has the possibility of becoming more qualified as an heir.”

“Which is why we need to make sure that Snatterkaz makes it back with Princess Anastasia.”

“Have they made it back yet?  I assume we would have heard.  We should check on the status of the gate.”

Dame Brionna sent a page to ask a representative of the Coven to report on the situation.

“One last matter about Hanal, m’lord.  One of the stroms-- Chuktar Strom Esztercari,” Kit carefully sounded out the strange words, harder even then normal reading, “has raised a field army of Chulik mercenaries and launched an assault on the city-state of Delphond.  It’s widely viewed as doomed-- Delphond has a powerful navy, Esztercari hasn’t raised a navy of his own, and strange updrafts mean that attack by voller is unlikely to succeed.  The other noble houses of Hanal are betting on the likely outcome of the attack, and the betting is running nine to one against its success.”

“So either he has some secret plan, or he is crazy, or both.”

“Yes, m’lord.  Since this is Hanal, those are all about equally likely.  But he certainly has a great deal of confidence-- in addition to risking his military assets and the money he is spending on the Chuliks, he has also bet heavily on his attack succeeding.  His house will likely be bankrupted if he fails.”

“Which suggests that he may know something no one else does.  Just what we need-- a rogue strom expanding Hanal even beyond the reach of the imperial forces.  Well, I doubt we can do much from this far away, so let’s just keep an eye on it as it develops.”

As Kit finished her report, Dame Agatha of the Archducal Coven knocked and then respectfully entered.  “You wished to speak with a representative of the Coven, your eminent grace?”

“Yes.  What’s the situation with the gate?  I take it Duke Snatterkaz has not been able to cross back yet?”

“We hold both sides of the gate itself, your grace, but there is ratman activity to the south of it.  Mostly Gutterrunners, some rat-ogres, and many, many wolf-rats.  We have not been able to maintain contact with the Duke.  He is maneuvering to the south of the force.  Our last contact was three days ago.  There is a significant force obscuring our efforts to maintain contact-- a ratlord, we think.”

“Can you create an opening for him to return to the gate through?”

“We could, your grace, but we have been hesitant to send in our greatest asset.  We might need it for the Molydeus.”

“What is our greatest asset?”  asked Kit curiously.

“A Duke of Hell, Dame Katherine.”

“We have a Duke of Hell in our service?” Kit’s voice mixed equal parts of incredulity and horror.  It was one thing to know that Lady Constance summoned devils-- she was personally nice, and could be fun, and Kit liked her enough to overlook any objections to dealing with devils.  But summoning a Duke of Hell was another matter entirely.

“Oh, yes, Dame Katherine.”  Dame Agatha’s voice had a slightly smug tone to it.  “He owes us absolute service until disincarnated or for one-hundred years, whichever comes first.  He is not a particularly powerful Duke of Hell, but even so, he is greater than most covens could bind.  So we are reluctant to commit him to action unless we are sure that either he will not be disincarnated or the advantage would be worth the cost.  Or, of course, if his eminent grace orders us to deploy him.”

“I think we will find a different way to deal with the ratlord.  Thank you for the report.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After Dame Agatha left, Kit continued spluttering about the fact that they had a Duke of Hell in their service.

“It just goes to show the dangers of consorting with devils,” said Dame Brionna primly.

“Devils are one thing, but a Duke of Hell is a different matter entirely.  That’s really evil!”

“So are all the rest of the devils, Kit,” said Dame Brionna.  “Lady Constance’s work is useful, but it is also inherently wrong.”

Alistair held up a hand to stop the discussion.  “We can worry about that later.  And in any event, I have promised that the coven will be permitted to continue operating in Canberry.  For now, the important thing is figuring out how to get Duke Snatterkaz back, without using the coven’s strongest creature.”

“We don’t need to destroy the ratlord, your grace, although that would certainly be an advantage.  We just need to get the Duke past it.”

“Perhaps a distraction then?  I think the Scree could probably provide us cover for the Duke to bypass the ratlord.”

“I agree, your grace.”

“And we can reach them through the dog in the kitchen.”

Kit nodded.  “I like it.  There is also a mage in the South who might be helpful—he helped my group out on our expedition to the South.  He’s friends with Lady Meredith.”

“I would think that the Mages of Northern Aurelian would be interested in ensuring Duke Snatterkaz’s return even without our prodding, your grace.  The potential for Hanal to become both more unstable and more aggressive would trigger their core concerns.”

“Right.  So we’ll send a message to the Scree, asking them to provide cover for the Duke’s run past the ratlord to the gate.  If that doesn’t work, we’ll go to the Mages of Northern Aurelian as back-up.”

Dame Brionna quickly took care of preparing and sending the actual message.  With that done, they would have to simply wait for the Scree to move.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The page of the day informed the Council that the Rev. Monsignor Edward Blondsdale was waiting in the chapel.  The Council summoned him.  The archdiocese’s exorcist was an older but still able balding man in plain clerical vestments, ornamented only by the symbol of a monsignor pinned to his collar.  He gave Alistair a very no-nonsense bow, with none of the genuflecting most people did upon first meeting the Archduke.

Alistair launched into the issue without preamble.  “As you may know, there is a powerful demon beneath Brightspan City.”

“Yes, we have sensed it.  It has cheek.”

“We are trying to figure out how to displace it.”

Blondsdale nodded.  “Wise, but difficult.  You know that it has taken full physical manifestation?  That is why I said it has cheek.”

“What does that mean?” asked Kit.

“If it were defeated and killed, it would be fully destroyed.  Full manifestation makes it more powerful but increases its risk.  We assumed it had merely manifested an avatar, until it created an incholate—that would not be possible for an avatar.”  The exorcist spoke with a calm confidence in his mastery of his subject.  “It is not young, either.  It knows what it risks, and that humans are more dangerous than it might have thought if it were younger.”

“Speaking of the incholate—will it be able to create another, Monsignor?”  Dame Brionna inquired.

“It will be several weeks before it can create another incholate, but it will regain the power to do so given sufficient time.”

Alistair looked up at that.  “Is it weakest after creating an incholate?”

“Yes, your grace, but only immediately after.  With the exception of lacking the power to create another for some time, it will regain its full capabilities within a few days.”

“Is there anyway to prevent it from making additional incholates?”

“We could delay it by preventing its sacrifices, but we have not been able to determine where they are coming from.”

“Could they be from the Underdark, Monsignor?”

“There is no historical mention of a connection between the Brightspan catacombs and the Underdark, but they could be.  One can buy sacrifices from several Underdark races.  If we cannot cut off the sacrifices, it will be another two to three weeks before it is ready.”  The exorcist pulled out a document that he carefully unfolded.  “This is a map of its energy web.  As you can see, it goes through the whole of Brightspan City, except for the cathedral, which remains inviolate.  The energy web also has another center about a week northeast of Brightspan City, probably where it would create the incholate.”

At a gesture from Alistair, Dame Brionna brought over a standard map of the Duchy of Brightspan for crossreference.  “The second power center is either at or very near the village of Marrows, in Cornucopia, Your Grace.” 

Blondsdale nodded again.  “A village would be a logical secondary center.  The demon almost certainly has followers there.  They may not even know what they are serving.”

“How many followers are we talking about?”

“I would estimate at least three or four that have made some sort of bargain.  They may not even have made a deal involving darkness, so their souls may be clean.”

Kit looked up.  “Could second sight identify its followers?”

“Yes, or detect thoughts.”

“What about its defenses and fortifications?” asked Alistair.

“We don’t know much, Your Grace, although it has had months to prepare.  He has many powerful undead servitors.  Also, the greatest powers of the Church against his kind-- banishing him-- would not work at all.  As he is physically manifested, he could not be ejected.”

“That may have been part of why the Brightspan diocese’s effort failed.”

“Perhaps.  I can inform you about some of its more personal defenses.  In general, any weapon that is not of great magical power or truesilver will do much less damage against it.  Death magic is worthless against it.  The demon has considerable resistance against spells in general, although less against holy powers granted by Glor’diadel, or I suppose by other powers.”  Blondsdale sounded slightly begrudging in acknowledging that Glor’diadel and his servants were not the only divine powers.  “This molydeus in particular has gathered substantial magical power-- equivalent to roughly a low-ranking archmage.  He cannot transport himself across dimensions, but can across time and space.”

The Council stared at him in horror at the statement that—in addition to its other capabilities—the molydeus had archmage-level magic.  After a moment, Kit carefully said, “Across time?”

“Yes, within about sixty seconds.”

“Forward or backwards?” asked Alistair.

“Forward only.  Backward is impossible.”  After a moment, Blondsdale qualified his statement, “At least for a molydeus.

“In terms of its other capabilities, it wields substantial unholy power.  It can invoke an unholy smite, an unholy word, and perhaps worst of all an unholy wave-- a wave about 60’ wide that dispels good on contact, although not more than once per day.”

“I take it that would banish any angels we might summon to aid in the battle?” asked Alistair.

The Monsignor nodded.

“Could we send a pure lawful servitor of Glor’diadel?  Are there any?”

 He nodded again.  “A pure lawful servitor of Glor’diadel, of which there are a few, would not be banished—the unholy effects are targeted at the molydeus’s foes association with the forces of good.  On the upside, the molydeus cannot automatically summon more demonic servitors and captains that he could if he were simply an avatar.”

“Does its power wax and wane?” asked Dame Brionna. 

“Indeed.  It is weakest at the height of the sun, strongest at the deepest part of the darkness.” 

“Could we weaken it with spells that bring light, then?”

“Daylight spells would reduce its ability to do physical damage, and it would do a little to disrupt its morale, to the extent that is a meaningful concept.”

“I have a slightly odd question,” said Alistair.  “How would a minor Duke of Hell fare against it?”

The exorcist raised an eyebrow, but did not comment on the question directly.  “It would distract the molydeus.”

“That’s it?” asked Dame Brionna.

“Hell is a very regimented place.  By comparison, Abyssal titles can indicate less about the true magnitude of a demon’s power.  A demonic knight that has survived for centuries will accrue much more direct power than an Earl or minor Duke of Hell that has only been in place for some decades.  The Duke of Hell will have much more political power, and might be a powerful warrior, but would not be its rival directly.”

Alistair cursed softly.  “The Archducal Coven has a Duke of Hell that it can command into service.  We had hoped that it might be able to defeat the molydeus.  Can you look into the details of whether there are any other fiendish rivalries that we might be able to use to our advantage?”

The Monsignor nodded.  “I will research that Duke of Hell and compare them in a day or two.  I will also research any major rivals or enemies, although it has steered clear of any major demons.  There may be a rivalry involving it and the Queen of the Succubi—I don’t know the exact details, but I have seen some hints.  I will try to confirm that.”  He waited for a moment, then bowed.  “If that is all, I should return to my studies.  Dame Brionna, would you mind accompanying me for a moment?”

Alistair nodded approval, and Dame Brionna followed the Monsignor out into the hall.


----------



## Quartz

I just love this plot youre weaving.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Thanks, Quartz, although really of course most of the credit goes to our DM.

On with the story!
----

“I wanted to raise an issue with you about Dame Katherine,” began Blondsdale.

“What about Dame Katherine, Monsignor?”

“She is an attractive young woman.  Perhaps it might be for the best, Dame Brionna, if people were to begin speculating that Dame Katherine is-- shall we say involved with? -- the Archduke,” continued the exorcist diffidently.  “It might make certain things easier.”

“What sorts of things?  I don’t understand why there would be a need for such a rumor.”

Monsignor Blondsdale sighed slightly and closed his eyes.  It was such an embarrassing matter for everyone.  Still, he saw no way to avoid the issue, and even with no direct pastoral responsibility, he was not one to shirk his duty to avoid unpleasant responsibilities.  “You see, Dame Brionna, I have, ahem, heard certain rumors.  I do not wish you to think for a moment that I would pass them on to others, but there are some among the clergy and nobles who say that…  Well, you know, I presume, that everyone knows about the Archduke’s proclivities.  In any event, there are those who suggest that you are involved with the Archduke.”  The last sentence came out in a rush.

Dame Brionna blanched.  “But… but…   I am engaged!  And I long for the return of my betrothed.  Doing anything with the Archduke… it would be most improper.”

“Yes, of course.  I stress that I do not believe these rumors, but I have heard them.  From more than one source, in fact.  So you understand why I mention Dame Katherine?  Anything to keep the courtiers’ eyes off of yourself.”

“But it’s all lies!”

“Yes, I understand that, but…”   The monsignor and Dame Brionna continued exchanging awkward reassurances for a little while longer before he concluded that he had attended to his duty, at which point he hurried off.

Dame Brionna returned to the Council chamber, her face ashen.

“Is everything well, Dame Brionna?” asked Alistair.

“Not exactly.  There is a new set of rumors… we really need to give the nobles and the church something better to do with their time.”

Kit looked up sharply at that, fearing a conspiracy. “What’s going on?”

Dame Brionna swallowed hard, and then determinedly said, “There is a rumor that the Archduke and I are involved in an improper dalliance.”

Alistair and Kit burst into wild laughter, far from the shocked concern that Dame Brionna expected.  After a moment, Alistair paused and said to her, still chuckling, “No offense intended, of course…  It’s just… I’ve always viewed you as something of the Council’s moral compass.  The idea that we would be having an affair…”

“I could never betray Sir Denro,” said Dame Brionna firmly, a little aggrieved that the rest of the Council thought this was a laughing matter.

“No one is suggesting… well, some people are, but no one who knows anything is suggesting that you would,” replied Alistair, calming down but still amused.  “But I understand the concern about your reputation.  We’ll have to take some steps to make sure people know that isn’t true.”

Dame Brionna nodded vigorously and then decided to assign herself the night watch for the next couple of weeks and to make certain that her patrols would be seen by many people.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

The Council then turned to the last steps in preparing for Alistair’s engagement to Princess Kaitlyn.  She was due to arrive in the formal council chamber within the hour for an audience with Alistair.  The Council asked his Aunt Cecilia to double-check that there were no listening magics or other threats in the chamber, and she confirmed that she had isolated and disabled the last few bugs. 

“They were broadcasting something out among the noble houses somewhere-- they are old, and don’t have much range.  I’m not really sure they were still being listened to.”

“Do you know where specifically they were broadcasting to?” asked Kit.

“I would have to spend a little while tracking them,” responded Aunt Cecilia.   Kit looked at her a little pointedly, and after a moment Cecilia said, “Oh, would you like me to do that?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, it would be very helpful,” said Alistair.

“Oh, no trouble at all, dear.”

“That should take care of the security preparations, your grace,” commented Dame Brionna.  “Have you picked out a suitable gift to accompany the proposal?”

“I was thinking, in light of her training as a ranger, that a powerful magic bow from the Armory might make a good gift.  Maybe along with a hunting lodge?”

Dame Brionna nodded approval.  “That seems quite appropriate.”

“Not Lyneham?” asked Kit, a little concerned about the idea that Alistair would give it to his bride-to-be.  “I thought you viewed that as your hunting lodge.”

“Oh, no, not Lyneham,” responded Alistair.  “The Archdukes of Canberry are not some petty nobles who only have a single hunting lodge.  I was thinking one of the lodges within the Duchy of Canberry itself—the sort of place that Kaitlyn might use as a retreat within a day or two’s ride out from Canberry City.  We have several possibilities.”  Alistair did not mention that he had already privately decided that he would give the Barony of Lyneham to Kit if she ever became pregnant with one of his children.

“Oh.  That’s fine, then.”

Alistair looked at his aunt.  “Do those preparations seem suitable, Aunt Cecilia?”

“Most appropriate, dear.”

“And will you be attending?  You have a right to as a senior member of the family.”

“It’s best that I not.  I wouldn’t want to say anything that might cause trouble.”

None of the Council mentioned how relieved they were by that, but of course, with her ability to “see” things, Aunt Cecilia read their emotions as well as if they had.

Alistair and Dame Brionna each dressed in finery and entered the formal council chamber, along with young Lord Brightspan and Stythus, to add formality to the meeting and to give them some experience with high court manners, and a group of reliable guards.  Kit watched from one of the hidden passageways.

A chamberlain announced Princess Kaitlyn and a formal audience ensued.  She entered, dressed in what was undoubtedly her finest surviving gown and wearing her best jewels, and curtsied as a high noble entering an audience with a monarch.  Alistair greeted her and they spent several minutes engaged in small talk with the extreme formality of full court etiquette.  While they spoke, Kit established a clear read on the Princess’s surface thoughts.

After suitable preliminaries and the presentation of the bow and manor as a gift from Canberry to the House of Stormreach, Alistair stood from his throne and stepped forward towards Princess Kaitlyn.  He reached out a hand towards her and said, “Your royal highness, on behalf of the House of Ashberry, the Archduchy of Canberry, and the Empire of the Sardonyx Throne, and subject to the adoption of an appropriate treaty between our respective Houses, we ask for your royal highness’s hand in marriage.”

Kaitlyn courtsied deeply, bowing her head to conceal the smile that passed over her face.  Kit could clearly hear her thoughts of relief that Alistair had chosen to propose.  “On behalf of my House and myself, I accept your proposal with gladness.”  The Princess rose from her curtsy and took Alistair’s hand with another bow of her head.  “Has your eminent grace given thought to the terms of the engagement treaty?”

“We have.”  Alistair signaled to Lord Brightspan, who brought a piece of parchment over to Princess Kaitlyn’s chief attendant.  “As your highness will see in the draft treaty that we have prepared, we propose the following terms:  Your highness is to be crowned queen of Stormreach and all the South Kingdoms before the engagement is made public, to cement the claims on those lands.  Upon the marriage, your highness is to be crowned Archduchess-Consort of Canberry, with all the precedence that implies.  At the same time, the Archduke is to be crowned King and co-ruler of all of the South Kingdoms.”  Alistair paused.  If any of the terms would be likely to result in objections, it would be the unevenness of the political status after the marriage.

Princess Kaitlyn remained silent.  Kit could hear her thinking, <<The junior partner in a political marriage, then.  The best that can be hoped for, given our respective positions.>>

Alistair proceeded onwards, “The crowns of Canberry and of all of the South Kingdoms are to merge with the ascension of the heir.”

<<Yes, that’s rather the point, isn’t it?>> thought the Princess, but she remained silent.

“We recognize that your House is not traditionally Glor’diadelian, but the children of the marriage must be raised Glor’diadelian to comply with the requirements of our House.  We do not require the consort of the Archduke to be of the established faith, but it would be best if your highness converted.”

“I agree and will accept baptism into the Light prior to the wedding.”

“Also, the South Kingdoms must become establishmentarian by the time the heir inherits, at the latest.  We have received the tacit approval of representatives of the temple of Paranswarm—they will not raise an objection.”

“That is well.  I would suggest that the South Kingdoms convert to the established faith sooner.  It will help draw people in to the Light, not the Dark.  Perhaps our conversion can be decreed at the time of the wedding, to coincide with your eminent grace’s coronation as King?”

“We agree.  Are these terms agreeable in principle to the House of Stormreach?”

“They are.  On behalf of my House and myself, I accept all of the terms proposed by Canberry.”  Princess Kaitlyn spoke firmly and with confidence, but Kit heard some doubt in her mind.  <<It is settled then, and my people will have their protection as long as I can survive the assassins—as soon as the engagement is announced, they will begin their attacks.>>

Alistair raised Princess Kaitlyn’s hand to his lips for a formal kiss.  With that, the audience came to a close.  The princess curtsied to Alistair again, and he bowed in return—not a deep bow, but deeper than any he had given her before.  He held out his arm to his betrothed and escorted her across the Council chamber to the doorway, where he bowed again and showed her out.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

After Princess Kaitlyn left, Kit came out of the secret passageways, looking shaken.

Alistair approached her and said quietly, “Kit-- I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

Kit turned away from Alistair and said, somewhat coldly, “It’s politics.”

“It’s only politics.”  Alistair could tell that while Kit was sending signals that she did not want to discuss the matter further, simply ignoring it might make matters worse.  He continued speaking to her, quietly and gently, and gradually succeeded in comforting her.  Things were not all well—it was not clear that they ever would be again—but things were better.

Some hours later, the “dog” from the kitchen hurried into the Council chambers, a message from the Scree tied to its neck.  The message was poorly written but legible:  “We drive him away, for now.  Tonight.”

The Council waited until they were sure that the Scree would have completed the task of driving away the rat-lord.  They could not tell from the terse message whether the Scree had already succeeded or were making a prediction about that night.  Once they were sure, Kit reached out to Duke Snatterkaz.  <<Allies have cleared a path to the gate.  You can make it through, but you must move at once.>>

She received back the one word response, <<Understood.>>

Late that night, Abigail intruded on Alistair and Kit to give them a short message from the guard duty officer—the Duke of Snatterkaz, Princess Anastasia, what was left of his forces, and the Archducal Guards and magi who had held the gate had returned and were receiving healing.

Dame Brionna patrolled the upper city that night.  She rode alone but made a point of stopping in at guard posts, churches, and the like, ensuring that she would be seen by many people.  As she rode through the noble area, she spotted a frog-like man dressed in brown and black hiding, badly, in the rubble of the townhouse of Caligshire.  She simply stared for a moment before concluding that he was the most civilized bullywug she had ever heard of.  “You there,” she called.  “What are you doing?”

The bullywug walked or hopped over towards her.  “Looking, great lady.  Finding interesting things.”

“What have you found?”

“Shiny things.  Shiny glass.  And not shiny things.  Saw two big rats.”  He emphasized the word big.

“Where did you see the rats?”

“They were crouched right here, eating this cat, but they moved when they saw big shiny woman on horse.  Came up from that hole over there.” The bullywug gestured.  “Not like other rats.  Big as vixen, they were.”

Dame Brionna grimaced.  Apparently some of the Caligshire threat remained.  “Do you have a home?”

“Oh, yes, I good bullywug.”  He described where his home was in the city.

“Then you had best be returning there.  Those rats are very dangerous, and we would not want you to be attacked.”

He made an odd bow and hopped off in the direction he had indicated.

Dame Brionna rode quickly to the local watch station—not far in the wealthiest section of the town—and returned with several guards.  Under her direction, they carefully sealed up the hole, moving heavy rocks over it.  She nodded with satisfaction when they were done.  No rat, even a giant rat, would be able to make it through that hole again.

[End Session 31]


----------



## Quartz

Hmm... all the pomp and pageantry of a royal wedding, with assassins lurking in thewings. Whee!!


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## Quartz

End of summer bump for one of my favourite story hours.


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## Cerebral Paladin

Sorry about the long hiatus--it's been a busy summer.  I am working on an update, and will hopefully resume posting soon, but I don't want to promise a specific date until I'm sure I can deliver.  Thanks for the continued interest!


----------



## Quartz

Bonfire Night bump!


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## Quartz

Pre-Christmas bump.


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## Quartz

Gone, but not forgotten.


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## Cerebral Paladin

I am still hoping to come back to this storyhour, although obviously I haven't had much luck with that recently.  In part, that's because another project has been sucking up a lot of my free time:
Choice of the Dragon, a multiple-choice text based game.  People who like this storyhour might enjoy it.  The link is to the web version; there are also iPhone and Android apps available.  All are free.


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## TDRandall

Found my way back here after drifting for a few years myself.

I have now caught up, so volunteer to be the mid-year bump in a feeble hope to resuscitate such an interesting and entertaining story.


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## Quartz

We're four years on, but I've spent a very pleasant few hours rereading this.


----------



## CPaladin

So, the bad news is that I've concluded that there is no possible way I'm going to return to writing this storyhour as a real storyhour--I have too many obligations to be able to invest the amount of time that that would take.  But the good news is that I keep notes for each of the sessions as we go, and I have roughly 90(!) sessions between the end of the Storyhour and last Wednesday, the most recent time we played, covering the last decade of real time and about a year of game time.  So what I'm going to do is start posting the more or less unedited notes.  Some people may not find that interesting or fun to read--it won't have the same narrative description and color as a real storyhour.  But you might find it interesting, and it will give you some understanding of what's happened between then and now.  I'm going to post one post right now, and then I'll start a MWF posting schedule.  I'm also going to do the same for two recent other games in the same world--the DM runs two games for children, and I help with organizational stuff, take notes, and play a sort of party NPC in each game.

(Oh, also, this is Cerebral Paladin, but I've lost access to my old account, which was linked to an old email address that no longer works.)


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## CPaladin

Session 32 (January 29, 2008)

Military briefing:
Different orkish horde about to attack Caldra itself.  Caldra is unwalled.  This is the Horde of the Clawed Foot.  They vanished at the beginning of the invasion, after defeating a regiment of militia.  They appear to have hidden in the swamps.  They are attacking salt mines, some swamp thorps, and at least one fortified manor.  If the saltworks at Caldra were destroyed, we would lose our main capability for processing salt for 4-5 years.

Brightspan has at least two legions of barbarian cavalry; could have raised a full field army if he had more time and logistics.

Scout vollers have returned from the new islands.  They lost three airmen.  We set up an appointment with their captains today.

We also received a map of Zorplona-Argoni in Enclaves from an agent within the Council of Opposition.

Kit with domestic report.
More info on attacks in Caldra-- clearly attacking salt mines.  Also, wyvern riders have been spotted.

House of Furrows largely disgraced-- will take generations to regain support.

currently crime low; probably from cleaning up the underworld leading up to the coronation.  Dame Brionna suggests recruiting people for the army to try to keep the numbers down.

we also discuss the small number of recent murders.  Many of the people on the lists have died; the others are in pain, crippled, or mentally ill.  (We arrange for the temple to investigate and treat the survivors.)

People are getting very worried about the shortage of salt.

Alistair suggests using automata or golemim to clear out the salt mines.  (We implement.)

The hostage prince appears to be prospectively the best khan ever.  Responded very forgivingly.

We discuss Furrows.  The current Duke is senile.  Lady Susan is not the heir; the Duke’s grandsons would be.  Benjamin is 11 and promising.  His older brother (Mark) is rogueish and about 18.  We worry about the reactions of the other nobles if we took action.

All of the other great nobles (the dukes) view themselves as roughly equal under the overlordship of the Archduke.  The current Duke was captain of the Royal Guard from 24-34, and fought at the Battle of the Twin Passes, when Lady Amelia directed the battle against an invading force coming through the Twin Passes.  He is remembered for that with great respect.  The House is respected because of a history of service.  Lady Susan, and the niece, Lady Viola, were never trained to be ruling lords, and since they functionally assumed control, most of the bad things have happened.  Certainly a sense of understanding among his peers that he lived longer than he should have, so there is sympathy for the last 10 years.  Lady Viola is earnest, youngish (about 30), can be taught, is a bard.

We discuss marrying him off to Alistair’s half-sister, Margaret, who is competent, a little dodgy, and was recognized, so received an upbringing mostly appropriate to high nobility.  She’s about 20.

We ask Mark and Alistair’s sister to meet with us.  We set up the meeting with Margaret for this afternoon, Mark in six days.

We also leak to Brightspan that we plan to urge Furrows to make Sir Derrick either Caldra or Caligshire.
[Cont'd]


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## CPaladin

I've decided to post the notes in a new thread, available at Aphonion Tales:  The Archducal Council -- Unedited notes (posts MWF, most recent 3/22/21).  That way I can indicate when new updates are posted in the thread title.  If you want to keep following the story, you should go to that thread.


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## Quartz

Welcome back!


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