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

[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.”