Valaron, covered in a mundane cloak, strode through the streets of Kulloden, his mind in mixed emotions. He resisted the urge to run a hand along his face, to confirm that it was the same... that there were no warts or the like. He managed to catch himself in time to change his gentle touch to his face into a rough scratch... something that would fit in with the crowds moving through the streets this day.
I know I have magic in my veins, and I’ve seen magic before, but I didn’t know those at the Academy only a few years could do this! his shocked mind still thought in wonder.
Behind him, Raven, also clad in a similar dirty brown cloak, had to resist a different urge; the urge to chuckle. Alter self was one of the easiest spells she’d learned, and Valaron’s confused and shocked response to her work on his disguise was well worth the small pinch of components required. While it would be easy for someone searching for a disguise to see that Valaron was not the old crone he appeared to be, none would suspect the disguised creature underneath was actually the Crown Prince!
“I think I might have done too good a job there, Valaron,” she said with a quiet laugh. “How are you going to meet your friends now?”
It was a legitimate question. While Raven was not sure of rank and the like, she did know that both Harrapias and Hidalas were major members of the churches of Hieroneous and Tarantor respectively. And while high priests might have eagerly jumped to meet the Crown Prince, she was not so sure if they would be as eager or able to meet an unknown, old crone...
“I have the ring,” Valaron replied in equally quiet tones.
Raven gave a nod in understanding. No matter how dilapidated a crone, if that old witch bore a signet ring from the Imperial family, they were someone of immediate importance.
The two continued up the streets and alleys of Kulloden, gradually going into wealthier and more well to do neighborhoods. Finally, some twenty minutes after they had left the inn behind earlier that morn, they arrived in a massive plaza, its white brick streets dominated by a massive central obelisk, and the hulking forms of the city temples to the three largest religions in the Empire; Tarantor, Hieroneous, and Pelor.
“Aunt Tess said that Harrapias will be there,” Val motioned towards the northernmost of the three temples, its columns like marble blades, “...and that Hidalas will be there,” he nodded towards the Tarantor temple.
“Well, if I tell the acolytes in the Hieroneous temple who I am, they will most certainly let me see Brother Hidalas,” Raven offered, only to be met with a disapproving scowl from the face underneath Val’s hood.
“I’ll head inside the Temple to Hieroneous first,” Val said directly, “You keep watch outside, and run in if you see anything suspicious.” When he saw Raven’s eyebrow raise in annoyance at her menial role in his plan, he gave a growl. “It’s better than you letting some acolyte know we’re here, so our cover will be blown!”
Valaron Caladron, Prince of the Empire, walked into the great halls of the Kulloden Temple to Hieroneous of Valor. Instead of the immediate bows of reverance, he recieved bows of respect from young acolytes towards what to them appeared to be an elder, come to pay her respects to Valor Incarnate before age and time claimed her elderly form.
Once again, Val was thankful for Raven’s work on his disguise as he looked about the ‘Path of Victory’ beyond the Temple gate, that led towards the main Temple entrance proper. To either side of the wide boulevard hung the trophies of a struggle long gone by. Massive dragon scales were erected on pillars alongside the route, as well as the broken banners of orc and gnoll hordes.
As he drew closer to the temple entrance, he could see the massive wall beyond the marble columns decorating its front. Its marble face was covered with frescoes depicting the finest hour of the paladins of this temple; They climbed over the red walls of a city, blades upraised, leading rank upon rank of troops Valaron recognized as troops of the regular Imperial army. Not too far away, a dark, foreboding palace loomed, blue and red lightning arcing to its rooftop.
Sictri et Tyrpan, Balan Sul read the massive inscription above the fresco, and while Val was not one too keen on lanugages, he did recognize this piece of Celestial writing.
”With Faith and Heart, Truimph is Certain”
“May I help you, madam?” a pleasant voice interrupted Valaron’s gawking. The prince turned slowly, and found himself facing a smiling man, clad in the robes of not an acolyte, but a lesser priest... one who was approaching entering the brotherhood of paladins himself.
“Yes,” Valaron said, still surprised by the way his voice came out as a croak. “I have special tidings for one of your number,” he said quickly. This part hadn’t been planned out, and Val was operating on instinct. “Is Brother Harrapias here?”
The priest smiled with a slight chuckle Valaron didn’t understand at first. For a few seconds, the prince feared he might have been discovered, until the priest spoke again.
“Yes... Commander Harrapias is here,” the priest chuckled. “Madam, it must have been quite a while since you have visited our temple... Harrapias has been our High Priest and Commander for some twenty years now!”
“Oh,” Valaron said, recovering as fast as he could, “Why yes. It has been quite a while.” Perhaps I can see him without flashing my signet ring?
“Were you once one of the brotherhood yourself, madam?” the priest pressed, not acceding to Val’s request, “You must have been one to have known Commander Harrapias!”
Is he testing me? Val wondered as his mind stumbled for a response. Finally, he blurted out, “Yes, indeed. I rode with the paladins in the rebellions some sixteen years ago!” Val, what did you just do? You lied to a priest of your patron god! Idiot!
Ah... too late now. If I’m going to lie to a priest, I might was well lie about something I know a little about, I guess!
“Ah,” the priest folded his arms, and raised an eyebrow in question, “so you must’ve rode with the Emperor in the procession through Iskeldrun after the end of the rebellion. That was quite a sight... especially considering at the time there were only five women admitted to the Brotherhood. Which one were you? Estrella?”
“Um... yes... I was Estrella,” Val said uncertainly, his voice raising in pitch, the tone hopeful as he finished his most recent lie. Instead his hope was crushed, as the priest glowered.
“Estrella Myrmachis was killed before the walls of Holstean, before the parade,” the priest growled. “You have some explaining to do, considering that you have some kind of magic based disguise on!” Gently, but with a distant backing of command, he took Val’s arm. “Follow me, please.”
Fine, I tried being nice, Val sighed, before showing his left hand, the silver dragon ring of House Caladron catching parts of the still morning sunlight.
“That will not be necessary,” he croaked to the priest, whose face had by that point fallen.
Now I can see why Vintressa gets so annoyed with him sometimes, Raven moped outside the temple a few minutes after Valaron went inside. She looked up and down the Temple plaza, to some of the places she’d heard stories of since her childhood.
Great fighters live within those walls, her father had told her once, and she knew that many of the heroes of Demon Rebellion came from these very buildings. In her youth, it had made her swell with hometown pride that such renowned people came from where she lived.
Now we might just have to call on them again, she reflected, glancing up into the crowd. None looked at her... the few that looked in her direction were those headed into the Hieroneous temple for the morning services, or those seeking absolution. However, one set of eyes suddenly caught hers, causing her breath to stop.
Rose Dice stopped walking, and stared at the person leaning on the wall in front of the Hieroneous Temple. For a second, underneath the hood, she caught a set of deep green eyes, and a tendril of black hair handing in front of the woman’s forehead.
Nah, couldn’t be, Rose shook her head, before moving on. Raven’s in Iskeldrun still! The girl gave a short laugh at her own silliness. Probably a paladin returning from a secret mission... or more than likely, something far more mundane.
Another set of eyes also watched the girl in front of the Hieroneous temple. If it hadn’t been for the Dice girl in the crowd staring at the brown cloaked woman by the temple wall, Hemmel might not have caught her. Now, his curiosity was piqued.
Who is that there? Someone that might be of importance if Rose... Rose is her name, yes... stared at her so. Perhaps a long lost friend? A lover?
A source of information?
Hemmel changed direction from his previous course towards the Plaza of Guilds towards the Temple of Tarantor. While he would not be headed directly towards the woman that interested him, the course would bring him close by her...
...close enough to confirm a suspicion.
As he drew nearer, he noticed his quarry kept looking nervously back towards the temple... as if she was waiting for someone.
Someone talking to a Temple elder, perhaps? Hemmel’s mind reasoned.
It was not long before the woman’s glance flecked the crowd, her face passing, just for a moment, within his view.
It was enough for him.
Tesseron Keldare gave a slight sigh as familiar rocks crunched underneath her feet. To her left, the mighty Inerman River, which flowed two thousand miles away to the sea, trickled by as little more than a rambunctious stream. On either side, massive whitewashed cliffs rose, beautiful as if taken from an artists painting.
So many memories begin here, Tess thought back. If it hadn’t been for a little side job I had taken sixteen years ago...
If she hadn’t needed that money, she would not have met Pellaron. There would be no organization. In all likelihood, she would still be plying the Valley circuit, shuffling between Irulas, Kulloden, Holstean, Obash and Santriplas, as a well-known, but not famous, singer. She would have never met Siabrey, or Lucius, or Shaun and Elenya.
As she walked further, she came upon the same open cave in the cliff face that she, Siabrey, an old cleric named Dingalas and a future traitor named Rogar had nervously stepped into, searching for the lost Lord Lucius.
She clambered up the rough stone steps, looking to the side. The tree where they had tied up the goblin informant was still there, though dying. Just after the entrance, she brushed aside a few cobwebs... to her relief.
Well, if they came in here... they didn’t walk in, Tess smiled to herself. Then she remembered how she’d gotten so far in a day. If one was good at teleportation, one could in theory, teleport through rock. Tess did not trust herself that much yet.
Carefully she checked the chambers that, so many years before, they had ransacked looking for the lost prince. The brittle, well worn skeletons of the goblins slain within the chambers, as well as the dusty forms of the mummies put to rest, were still there, undisturbed.
Satisfied, she closed her eyes and sighed.
Now begins the vigil... she thought quietly. The next three days would be lonely for her, but that is how long it would take to get a half-regiment of troops to the Caladron family tombs from Holstean. Someone in the meantime needed to make sure that Elsidor couldn’t get to these bodies, if his intent was to raise a Caladron to fetch the Fire Stone.
And not much can happen to Valaron and Raven... Kulloden is her hometown. And if I know her father, he probably showed her all the secret culverts and hiding places in that city...
“Look yonder, Simeon,” the young noble heard the same deep, frighteningly friendly voice speak. “Therein lies your doom, young man.”
It had been seemingly days since the young man had first felt the jostling, nauseating flash of natural, unrestricted teleportation, thanks to Elsidor and his companions. The six had been infuriated that their spell had gone awry, placing them several days off course, and two had taken it out on Simeon, kicking him down when he whined or groaned.
For the previous two days... or so Simeon guessed... he had been forced to march in what resembled a portable set of stocks, locking his arms in place. It was extremely painful, and Elsidor’s companions always threatened to tighten its grip, causing even more pain, unless the boy cooperated fully, and without question.
Elsidor has not been threatening to me, Simeon’s battered mind rambled as he felt the drow’s hand gently lift his head up. Ahead, through the trees, Simeon’s tired eyes could make out whitewashed heights.
“It will be over soon,” Elsidor’s voice said reassuringly in the boy’s ear. “Soon there will be no bindings on your arms, and you will be free...”
“And by that time, you will be begging for release from your mortals coils,” the drow added beneath his breath.
