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Tales of the Legacy - Concluded
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<blockquote data-quote="Delemental" data-source="post: 2815520" data-attributes="member: 5203"><p><strong>Uneasy Lies the Head</strong></p><p></p><p>Okay, now that I'm all caught up from the crash, here's a brand-new update for you.</p><p></p><p>----------------------------</p><p></p><p> Xu Dhii Ngao sat outside the simple wattle and daub home, and sought a place of inner calm. A calm she knew did not exist inside.</p><p></p><p> Smoke curled from the chimney of the small building, wafting off into the sky on the wind. Occasionally, the cold winter wind would gust, sending the smoke flying off. Xu noted the cold, though it hardly seemed to bother her. At her feet, chickens scrabbled for tiny specks of grain and seed, and the smell of manure mingled with the smoke.</p><p></p><p> The sound and smells around her reminded Xu of her time at the monastery, back in Xhintai. <em>Revered spirits,</em> she thought, <em>the monastery…I am so far from there now, in many ways.</em></p><p></p><p> The hardships of life at the monastery had been a far cry from the relative comfort she enjoyed before that, as the daughter of a prominent merchant. Not quite as opulent as what Ariadne and Autumn knew as children, but decadent as opposed to the humble farm where she was now.</p><p></p><p> Comfortable, yes, but a life that held its own troubles. She could attest to that personally – in a land where the power of the merchant class was rising, and where social advancement by marriage was still in practice, Xu was as much a commodity as the silks and spices her father traded in. But silks and spices never sneak out of the house the night before their wedding, never to be seen again.</p><p></p><p> Xu allowed her thoughts to wander as they wished – clearly obtaining a state of tranquil nothingness was eluding her. Her mind went briefly to Lord Hungai, the warlord who apparently was willing to pursue her to the ends of the earth. She wondered how his absence from their homeland would affect his reputation with the Emperor. Poorly enough, she hoped, that he might be persuaded to give up his search for her and return home. The thought brought her a measure of peace, but it was tempered by the knowledge that if Hungai had been persistent enough to follow her here, then it would never be safe for her to return to Xhintai. And her family’s fate…</p><p></p><p> A small tear trickled down Xu’s cheek. It would have been an unforgivable lapse in discipline had her companions been present, but she was currently alone; the only other member of their group was inside, trying to explain to people he had never met how their husband and father had died, and why they must now abandon what little they had in this world in order to protect their own lives.</p><p></p><p> The monk’s concentration was broken by the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. Focusing on the sound, she began to pick up details. A single rider, coming toward the farm. Riding fast, but not at a gallop. It was a large horse, bearing a heavy load.</p><p></p><p> Xu remained still. If it was an enemy, let them think she was oblivious to their approach. But it seemed unlikely – if they were to be attacked here, surely their enemies would have sent greater numbers, or made an effort to conceal their approach. Unless the one approaching was puissant enough to need neither numbers or stealth to defeat them.</p><p></p><p> The winter sun glinted off of heavy armor, reflecting cold light toward Xu. Studying the approaching figure, she noted that the rider’s shape was odd, yet familiar. When the rider reached the low fence surrounding the farmland, he spurred his steed to jump over it. As they came down, the metal plates in the armor flared and bounced, and Xu realized why she’d had the impression she did – the armor was styled like that of her homeland. Once the rider came close enough that she could tell that the metal plates of the armor were forged from adamantium, she identified the rider.</p><p></p><p> The armored man slowed his horse to a walk as he came close to the house. Seeing Xu, he directed the mount toward her, stopping a few feet away. He pulled the helmet off his head, and they looked at each other for a few moments silently.</p><p></p><p> “Greetings, Xu Dhii Ngao,” the man said in Xhintai.</p><p></p><p> Xu nodded. “Greetings, Togusa.”</p><p style="text-align: center"></p> <p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p>Kyle sat in the far corner of the single-room home, trying to give the others in the room space to talk quietly. His sister-in-law, a red-haired woman named Felia, sat stone-faced, the dried tracks of tears running like scars down her dirt-stained cheeks. Across from her was Pella Goodson, (<em>Stovich</em>, Kyle reminded himself, <em>it’s Pella Stovich now. She’s been married five years.</em>) who spoke quietly with Felia, her burned and scarred hands resting gently on top of Felia’s calloused ones. At their feet, two children played; Felia’s three year old son, Connor, and Pella’s two year old daughter, Anjele. Felia and Bryant’s other two children were outside, tending to their chores, while Pella and Vigo’s three older progeny waited with their father in the wagon outside. Pella talked to Felia, comforting her while at the same time urging her to come with them to safety. His sister had a gift with words he lacked, which almost seemed to defy the usual Goodson tendencies toward social awkwardness.</p><p></p><p>As he waited, Kyle reflected on the past few days. On meeting nephews and nieces that he hadn’t known he existed until then, except in the occasional story told by their parents about their own childhood. But those children didn’t look on him as ‘Uncle Kyle’. They didn’t see the familiar dark hair, the piercing blue-gray eyes that marked him as one of their kin. Instead they saw blue robes, expensive rings, a staff with a glowing crystal. They saw a wizard; someone to respect, and to fear. Even Pella’s eyes showed the same reverent caution when she looked at him. They hadn’t spoken much, since she had been rescued from the Scion-Watchers – Kyle hadn’t pressed the issue. What did you say to a sister you hadn’t seen since you were eleven, especially when you come back as something completely outside of her realm of understanding?</p><p></p><p>He was so deep in thought that at first he didn’t notice that Pella and Felia had stopped talking, and were looking at him. When he did see them, the first thing he noticed was that they were both waiting for him, not daring to disturb him. If it had been anyone else in the family, he reflected, they would’ve knocked them on the head with a wooden spoon for woolgathering.</p><p></p><p>“I’ve spoken with Felia, Kyle,” Pella said. “She sees the danger that this cult would bring on her children. She’s agreed to come with us to Tlaxan.”</p><p></p><p>Kyle smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” He’d been worried that either Pella or Bryant’s families would refuse to leave. Farmers, especially farmers with their own land, could be defiantly stubborn when it came to abandoning that land. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready. Once we’re in Vargas, I’ll see to getting you somewhere to stay until something more permanent can be arranged. I’ll see that Bryant’s taken care of, too.”</p><p></p><p>Felia looked at Kyle, tears rimming her eyes again. “I still can’t believe… you really think you can bring him back?”</p><p></p><p>“Not me,” Kyle said. He’d tried to explain it before, but people like Felia were only exposed to the most minor of magics, and didn’t understand enough to differentiate between arcane and divine powers. “But I can arrange for someone else to try it. I can’t guarantee it’ll work, Felia, but the least I can do is make it possible. I’m sure that my fiancée will be able to have everything ready by the time we get there.”</p><p></p><p>“You mean Lady Autumn?” Pella asked. “You’re really marrying a duchess, Kyle?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, well, as soon as I can, yes,” he stammered, “and she wasn’t a duchess when we met, you know.”</p><p></p><p>Pella just stared at him for a moment, as if she still couldn’t believe the idea of a Goodson marrying into nobility. “I’ll stay here and help Felia get her things together,” she said eventually. “why don’t you go tell Vigo and the kids what’s going on, and see if the kids will come in later to help us fix something for dinner?”</p><p></p><p>Kyle nodded, and stood up. He ducked his head as he walked out to avoid hitting the doorframe. He stood just inside the entry, adjusting to the cold outside, and took a long look around the farm.</p><p></p><p>This was no longer his world. It hadn’t been for some time, now.</p><p></p><p>Walking around toward the wagon, Kyle spotted two figures kneeling in the dirt, facing each other. He recognized both, but one surprised him.</p><p></p><p>“Togusa?”</p><p></p><p>The Xhintai warrior, nodded, and stood. “Greetings, Kyle Goodson,” he said. “Allow me to express my sorrow at the loss of your brother. Xu has been telling me of your unfortunate encounter with this cult. Know that should I encounter any of their cells elsewhere, I will be certain to investigate them thoroughly and administer justice if needed.”</p><p></p><p>“Thanks, Togusa,” Kyle said. “But what brings you way out here? If we were in a city, I’d chalk it up to coincidence, but Bryant’s farm isn’t even near the main road.”</p><p></p><p>“Indeed, my arrival here is with purpose,” Togusa announced. “I was given a missive to deliver a message to this place at this time. Though I was not told who the recipient of the message would be, when I saw Xu sitting in meditation here, I knew the message must be intended for The Legacy.”</p><p></p><p>“What message? Who sent you?”</p><p></p><p>Xu stood up and handed Kyle a scroll. “It’s from the Dreamlord,” she said.</p><p></p><p>“Aran,” Kyle said, naming the ever more mysterious psion that had taken an interest in them. He unrolled the scroll, and saw unfamiliar symbols on the page.</p><p></p><p>“It is written in Xhintai,” Xu said. “I believe that Aran uses our native language in his communications to us as a protection, knowing that I can read it, but that few who might intercept the message could do the same.”</p><p></p><p>“What’s it say?” Kyle asked.</p><p></p><p>Xu took the scroll from Kyle and scanned it. “Honorable Warriors and Sages of The Legacy, upon whom the Thousand Blessings of the Myriad Spirits Descend, from the Dreamlord, Master of All that is Unseen, I send…”</p><p></p><p>“Can you just sum it up for me?” Kyle said testily.</p><p></p><p>“Of course,” Xu said, “Understand that in Xhintai it is difficult to be ‘brief’.” She rolled up the scroll and tucked it in her belt. “It is a request from Aran, asking for our help. Apparently, there is a councilman in the nearby city of Delgan, a man by the name of Gil Mendes. Within the next week, without further intervention, it will be revealed by another party that Councilman Mendes is a…” she hesitated as she glanced at Togusa, who was not privy to their knowledge of psionics, and was also loyal to the church of Tor. “Very damaging information will be revealed that will unjustly place the councilman’s life in danger. Aran wishes to protect this man, but has no loyal operatives nearby in a position to intervene. He states that we are not under any obligation to help this man, but promises an exchange of favors at a later date should we accept.”</p><p></p><p>“I was informed,” Togusa said, “that I should remain here and see if you might require my assistance. If this councilman is a just man, and these accusations false, then it would be in Tor’s interest for me to aid you.”</p><p></p><p>Kyle looked back and forth at Xu and Togusa. “You know, this is really bad timing.”</p><p></p><p>“Trouble seldom waits until a convenient moment,” Xu said. “But perhaps there is an unseen benefit. This councilman may need to be relocated or hidden, and will certainly owe us an obligation. Perhaps your family could be hidden with him, or he could be persuaded to help protect your family from harm.”</p><p></p><p>Kyle sighed. “I need a minute to think.” He turned and walked a short distance away, leaning on the railing of the corral. He ended up taking several minutes before returning.</p><p></p><p>“All right,” Kyle said. “Let’s do it. I need to protect my family, but I also need a chance to talk to Aran again, and this might be the only way I can arrange it. We’ll have to find some place to keep Bryant’s body in the city until we can get to Vargas.”</p><p></p><p>“We may be able to contact a priest in the city who can attempt to raise your brother from the dead,” Xu offered.</p><p></p><p>“Maybe. At any rate, we’ll need to go get Lanara and Razael.” Kyle turned to Togusa. “You said you’re willing to help?”</p><p></p><p>“How may I be of service?” the samurai asked.</p><p></p><p>“Will you remain here and protect my family while Xu and I go get out other companions and bring them back?” he asked. “After that, we’d like you to come with us to Delgan.”</p><p></p><p>“I understand,” Togusa said. “I have never been to Delgan, but I understand it is a lawless city.”</p><p></p><p>“It’s the armpit of Targeth,” Kyle said.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p> Xu and Kyle made it back to the old outpost that the Scion-Watchers had occupied within half a day. There had been no activity at the site, other than scavengers, and the records pulled out of the outpost had proven remarkably information-free. Xu explained the message from Aran, and that they’d decided to help. Though it took some effort to convince Razael why doing a favor for Aran was in their interest, soon all four were speeding back to Bryant’s farm.</p><p></p><p> Everyone was ready to go the next day. They were forced to travel at a normal speed, thanks to the wagon and the fact that Kyle didn’t think his younger nieces and nephews would appreciate a trip through the Shadow Plane. Fortunately, Bryant’s farm was close to the city. Kyle rented out an entire inn on the outskirts of town, the Stag and Boar, for his family to stay in, making sure everyone would stay warm and well fed. Lanara went straight to the town hall, and made an appointment to see Councilman Mendes later that afternoon (thanks to her considerable charms, she wasn’t even required to pay the standard ten silver bribe to the clerk). Togusa again offered to guard Kyle’s family, while the rest of the party went off in search of the local clergy.</p><p></p><p> A few inquiries told them that the only church in town large enough to have priests capable of meeting their needs was the Halls of Fortune, the temple of Ladta. The temple was near the center of town, and was unusually well kept and free of refuse compared to surrounding buildings.</p><p></p><p> An acolyte greeted the party at the entrance. “How may Ladta change your fortunes this day?” the young man said brightly.</p><p></p><p> Kyle sighed at the heavy dose of naïve religious enthusiasm, while Lanara stepped forward. “We’d like a chance to speak with your high priest,” she said. “It’s a most urgent matter requiring divine intercession at the highest levels.”</p><p></p><p> “Oh, I see,” said the acolyte. “Well, if you wish to speak with the Fatemaster, he’s over there, practicing his juggling.”</p><p></p><p> The acolyte pointed across the vestibule at a middle-aged cansin with a slight paunch and bright green skin, who was smiling as he juggled nine razor-sharp chakram for a small crowd. He did not break his rhythm as the party approached him, but smiled warmly.</p><p></p><p> “Welcome to the Halls of Fortune,” he said. “I am Fatemaster Zhul. How may Ladta change your fortunes?”</p><p></p><p> “Good morning, Fatemaster,” Lanara said. “My name is Lanara Rahila, and this is…”</p><p></p><p> “You’re The Legacy, I know,” Zhul said. “Rumors that you were looking for a priest to perform a raising reached us about half an hour ago.”</p><p></p><p> “Oh, I see,” Lanara said. “So, can you do it?”</p><p></p><p> “Well, tell me about the person you need raised,” the Fatemaster asked. He caught the chakram he was juggling and put them away, them clasped his hands in front of him reverently. “One of your group?”</p><p></p><p> “No,” Kyle said, “my brother.”</p><p></p><p> “Is he an adventurer, too?”</p><p></p><p> “He’s a farmer, actually,” Kyle admitted.</p><p></p><p> “Oh, I see. That does complicate things a bit. You see, normally I don’t question too much when adventurers come to us requesting one of their companions be brought back – as long as they can make a suitable donation, of course. You see, I do have to keep the interests of my goddess in mind. But I figure that anyone who makes a living as an adventurer has to rely on luck quite a bit, so I don’t think Ladta would object to intervening on their behalf. But a farmer? Well, not much luck in their lives, wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p></p><p> Kyle’s jaw clenched. “Are you saying you won’t do it?”</p><p></p><p> “No, no,” Zhul said, holding up his hands. “It’s not that I’m unwilling. But it’s Ladta that has to agree to intervene with Erito on your brother’s behalf. And she has her own interests to look out for. One could say that by bringing your brother back from the dead, he would be denying fate. It would go against everything she represents. I wouldn’t want to take your hard-won gold to perform the ceremony, only to have Ladta deny you.</p><p></p><p> “Now, if your brother died due to some occurrence of gross misfortune, then it could be said that he died due to an imbalance of fortune, which would need to be corrected. How did your brother die? Was he struck by lightning? Hit by a meteor?”</p><p></p><p> “He was stabbed in the heart with a rapier,” Kyle said grimly. He was beginning to get tired of dealing with priests.</p><p></p><p> “Hmm. Certainly not an ordinary thing for a farmer, but sadly, getting killed with a sword isn’t all that unusual in this world.”</p><p></p><p> Lanara chimed in. “Would it help to know that he was unjustly killed by fanatical cultists who mistook him for something he wasn’t?”</p><p></p><p> Zhul thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Slightly more unusual, I admit, but cults do spring up from time to time. And whether his death was just or not isn’t my domain – you want to seek out Tor to settle that question.”</p><p></p><p> Lanara thought for a moment. “Isn’t there any other way to appease Ladta? Perhaps with a more generous donation…”</p><p></p><p> Zhul scratched at his chin, contemplating the request. “I have an idea,” he said. “Perhaps there is a way. If you’re willing, we can let Ladta decide how much will appease her. Do you play dice?”</p><p></p><p> “Occasionally,” Lanara said. “Would I get to use my own dice?”</p><p></p><p> The Fatemaster smiled. “No.”</p><p></p><p> “What about his?” Lanara asked, pointing at Razael. Again the Fatemaster shook his head.</p><p></p><p> “Hmm, then we’re at an impasse,” Lanara said. “Because I’m not sure I trust you to use your own dice, either.”</p><p></p><p> Zhul frowned. “Maybe you’re not familiar with our faith,” he said, “but it’s considered a serious sin for us to cheat. Cheating is denying fate.”</p><p></p><p> Lanara thought about it, then nodded. It did make sense. “Okay, then,” she said, “your dice, then. What’s the game?”</p><p></p><p> “Follow me.” Zhul led them into the temple, and had them wait in a small room with a long table. While he was gone, Kyle turned to Lanara.</p><p></p><p> “I’m not comfortable with the idea of gambling for my brother’s life,” Kyle said.</p><p></p><p> “Relax, Kyle. We’ll bring him back, one way or another. Let’s at least hear this guy out.”</p><p></p><p> Fatemaster Zhul returned a few minutes later with another priest, a coffer, and a small bag. He opened the bag and spilled out several dice carved from ivory, and then opened the chest, revealing a large number of platinum coins.</p><p></p><p> “You’ll need two players,” Zhul said, “who will dice for you?”</p><p></p><p> Lanara and Xu volunteered, and sat down opposite the two priests, who were dividing up the coins and the dice. “I usually request a donation of at least six thousand gold for raising the dead,” the Fatemaster explained. “Most of that to cover the cost of the diamonds you need, plus extra for the church itself. But we’re going to game to see how much Ladta wishes you to pay for this privilege. If she favors you, then your brother returns for a much lower donation. If she doesn’t, then you will pay more. Before we begin, I must ask you to swear an oath to Ladta that no matter the results of this contest, you will pay what is asked for the ritual. You aren’t truly submitting to fate if you simply choose to walk away from the table if things go badly for you.”</p><p></p><p> Kyle leaned over to Lanara. “Are you sure about this?”</p><p></p><p> “No,” she admitted, “but Zhul’s the only priest in town that can bring Bryant back. Otherwise you have to wait gods-knows how long to get to another city.” She smiled and patted Kyle on the cheek. “Don’t worry. If it goes bad for us, I’ll help pay for it.”</p><p></p><p> Kyle sighed. “All right.”</p><p></p><p> Each player was given three hundred platinum pieces to gamble with. The game ended up being somewhat similar to a card game, but with dice. Each player bid on who would roll the highest total, with each hand using increasing numbers of dice. There was also a side pool that players could add to, that would be won at the end of the game by the person with the highest overall total. Kyle paid rapt attention to the game even though he wasn’t playing, nervously watching. Razael leaned his chair in a corner and napped. The dicing and betting went back and forth, but late in the game Xu seemed to pull ahead. By the time the last hand was played and the totals calculated, the party ended up ahead over two thousand gold.</p><p></p><p> “Well,” Fatemaster Zhul said, as his priest scooped all the platinum coins back into the coffer, “it seems that you have enough luck on your side to spill over to your brother’s benefit. Very well. Return tomorrow with his body, and I will perform the ceremony. Thank you for allowing us this time of worship.” Bowing, the Fatemaster left the room with the coffer, instructing the lesser priest to escort the party out when they were ready.</p><p></p><p> A very happy group of adventurers left the Halls of Fortune and returned to the Stag and Boar. A couple of hours later, Lanara went for her appointment with Councilman Gil Mendes.</p><p></p><p> The councilman turned out to be a rather unassuming, plain-looking human, with a thin nose and a balding pate. He met with Lanara in an equally unremarkable office with a tiny window too far up on one wall to be useful, a complement to the tiny wood stove in the corner that was too old and decrepit to give off much heat.</p><p></p><p> “What is it I can do for you, Miss… Rahila? I see you’re new in town.”</p><p></p><p> “Well, my companions and I have business to attend to here in Delgan,” she began. “Your name was given to us as someone to talk to, someone who could understand when a person has a dream.”</p><p></p><p> “I see,” Gil said. “Well, if you’re looking to open a business here, I could assist you in finding suitable properties, and guide you through the various licenses and permits you’ll need.”</p><p></p><p> Lanara chewed her lower lip. He hadn’t picked up the subtle hints she dropped. She’d have to try again. “Well, that does sound like a good start. But I hope I’m not asking too much of you, I wouldn’t want you to be… exposed to any danger of losing your position. Surely a man of your… talents would want to remain here at his job.”</p><p></p><p> “I assure you that I’m not overstepping my bounds here,” the councilman said. “Attracting new business to Delgan is part of my responsibility.”</p><p></p><p> Lanara almost sighed aloud. <em>Aren’t politicians supposed to be better at innuendo than this? Or maybe that’s only with their mistresses.</em> “I would like to know one thing. If my friends and I needed to discuss something privately with someone in town, perhaps that we don’t want to get out into public, would you recommend arranging a meeting here at the town hall?”</p><p></p><p> The light of comprehension finally seemed to dawn in Gil’s eyes. “Well, I don’t think I could recommend a government building for any private discussions. I’m afraid you’ll have to find another place to hold your meetings.” While he talked, Gil pulled a scrap of parchment from a pile on his desk and quickly scrawled a message: <em>Crocodile’s Eyeball – Nine bells</em>.</p><p></p><p> Lanara nodded slightly, acknowledging his note. “Well, every town has it’s own rules. I’ll arrange another meeting with you when we have our plans ready.”</p><p></p><p> “I look forward to it, Miss Rahila,” Gil said, extending his hand to her. They shook hands, and as Lanara left she saw Gil toss the scrap of parchment into the stove.</p><p></p><p> Lanara returned to the Boar and Stag to report her progress. The party agreed to go together to the Crocodile’s Eyeball, in case there was trouble. Upon arrival, they were glad they had. The tavern in question was deep inside the worst part of Delgan. Most of the people surrounding them in the streets were orcs or orc-touched, the descendants of refugees from the last war between Targeth and the tribes of the Haran Desert. The party made their way to a dark table (one of several in the tavern) and glowered until its occupants left. While Xu kept an eye on the clientele, the others waited for the councilman to arrive.</p><p></p><p> Shortly after nine bells, a man with shaggy blonde hair and moustache approached their table, and asked if he could share the space.</p><p></p><p> Razael looked up at the man. “Nice disguise,” he muttered. He was elbowed by Lanara.</p><p></p><p> Gil sat down nervously. “Thank you for meeting with me here,” he said. “The council hall’s not safe. Now, what were you trying to talk to me about earlier?”</p><p></p><p> “It’s been brought to our attention that you’re in a… special group of people that would prefer that your presence not be known about,” Lanara said, “and it’s also been brought to our attention that you are about to be revealed.”</p><p></p><p> “How did you get this information?” Gil asked.</p><p></p><p> “Through a mutual friend,” she replied, “or at least someone with an interest in keeping you safe.”</p><p></p><p> Gil regarded the party, as if he were sizing them up. Though it was obvious he was worried, Razael and Lanara could tell that he’d been under a great deal of stress for some time. The droop of his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of many sleepless nights.</p><p></p><p> “Do you know,” Gil said at last, “the name Barrai?” Everyone shook their head. Xu thought the name was vaguely familiar, as if someone had mentioned it in conversation during their schooling at The Tower, but she couldn’t place it.</p><p></p><p> “He is a… person of influence in the region,” Gil said, his tone indicating that his ‘influence’ was of the illicit variety. “In regard to the… personal information of which you speak, Barrai has somehow learned about it, and has been blackmailing me for some time. I’ve had to cast votes in his favor, restructure guard patrols around his schedule, things like that. And, of course, plenty of bribes. At this point, I’m out of money, and I have no more political favors I can do for him. His next payment is due in a week.”</p><p></p><p> Everyone looked at each other, nodding silent approval. “We have several routes we could take,” Lanara explained. “We could eliminate him. We could pay him for you and hold you in our debt. Or, we could remove you from the situation.”</p><p></p><p> “Or we could just kill this one and be done with the whole thing,” muttered Razael.</p><p></p><p> Gil’s eyes started to widen upon hearing the comment, but Lanara put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Pay no attention to him,” Lanara said.</p><p></p><p> Kyle leaned over to Razael. “You’re going to have to accept it, Raz,” he whispered in an unfriendly tone, “we’re always going to do the opposite of what you want.”</p><p></p><p> Councilman Mendes looked around the table. “Is this all of you, or are there others?”</p><p></p><p> “We have one more waiting for us back at our inn,” Kyle said.</p><p></p><p> Gil shook his head. “Then I doubt you have the numbers you’d need to eliminate Barrai. He’s well established in Delgan, and in a city ruled by criminals, one has to be careful to be successful. You’d have to go through his entire organization to get to him, and the collateral damage would destroy several legitimate businesses and likely decimate the economy. Besides, Barrai’s death would leave a power vacuum in the region, and I shudder at the thought of those who would be most likely to fill that vacuum. Barrai is a vile man, but not the most vile.”</p><p></p><p> “Okay, so elimination seems the least attractive option,” Lanara said. “Though if necessary, I think we can do it without all the devastation you fear.”</p><p></p><p> “What are your preferences in this matter?” Xu asked.</p><p></p><p> “If I had my choice,” the councilman said, “I’d prefer to have my own status in the community unchanged. I recognize that may not be possible. If you’re here to help me, then the choice of how to do that is yours, as it’ll be your lives on the line. While I enjoy the power I have in this city, power is meaningless to the dead.”</p><p></p><p> Lanara nodded. “Well, paying the bribe for you is only a temporary fix, and doesn’t solve the problem. And even though we’re probably more forgiving than Barrai, all that would do is shift the burden of your debt from him to us.”</p><p></p><p> “Let me ask you this,” Kyle said suddenly. “You’re in this position because Barrai has information about you. What if we could render this information useless?”</p><p></p><p> “How do you mean?” Gil asked.</p><p></p><p> “Either by providing you with equally damaging information on him, or by making the truth of his words seem questionable,” the wizard replied.</p><p></p><p> Gil sighed. “Barrai’s followers wouldn’t doubt his word,” he said, “and from there they could easily incite the populace. A mob doesn’t have to be right to be effective.”</p><p></p><p> “You underestimate our bard here,” Razael said, patting Lanara on the shoulder. “I reckon she could convince Barrai’s men that he was their own mother.”</p><p></p><p> Lanara smiled wickedly. “I’d be willing to bet your next payment to Barrai that I can out-rumor him.”</p><p></p><p> “Gold is one thing,” Gil said, “being burned at the stake is quite another.”</p><p></p><p> “How credible do you think the populace would find Barrai if they thought he’d gone mad?” Lanara asked. “If they believed him to be unhinged?”</p><p></p><p> Gil considered the idea for a moment. “If that’s the sort of thing you can manufacture,” he said slowly, “that could work quite nicely. It’s one thing to try and convince people that Barrai is lying. But if they thought him insane… his lieutenants would probably start carving up his empire for themselves. As far as I know, Barrai is the only one who knows about me. He might have told his lieutenants, though.”</p><p></p><p> “Do you know where his base of operations is?” Lanara asked.</p><p></p><p> “I can tell you it’s in the southwest section of town, but that’s it,” Gil said. “No one outside of Barrai’s inner circle knows where he is. I do know what his guild’s tattoo looks like, though.”</p><p></p><p> “Useful information,” Lanara said. “Can you copy the symbol for us?” She pulled a page out of her journal and laid it on the table. She was about to retrieve a pen when Gil pointed a finger and concentrated, and a drop of his own blood extruded from the fingertip. He calmly inscribed a V with a dot at the base. “It’s usually tattooed on the back of the left hand, in gray ink. They usually keep their hands dirty, so that the mark blends in.”</p><p></p><p> “Thank you,” Lanara said, tucking the paper away. “We should probably go and make plans for how to approach your problem. We’ll be in touch.”</p><p></p><p> “Thank you,” Gil said, standing up. “If you succeed, I’ll be in your debt.” With that, he left the table and walked out of the tavern.</p><p></p><p> The party followed suit several minutes later, and briefed Togusa on the meeting, careful to filter out any information about psionics. Togusa agreed to help, though he admitted his skills lent themselves more toward open confrontation than to spreading rumors questioning a person’s sanity. But when Razael suggested that they enhance their ruse by trying to increase Barrai’s paranoia, Togusa offered to start spreading information that the church of Tor was ‘interested’ in him.</p><p></p><p> “We also shouldn’t discount the possibility of driving Barrai into the open with all this,” Lanara said, “in which case you might get to deal with him in your more traditional way, Togusa. I can go see if he has any official warrants that you could enforce.”</p><p></p><p> “Well, we have the tools at our disposal to pull this off,” Kyle said. “All we have to do it put it together.”</p><p></p><p> “Excellent,” Lanara said. “This is my kind of operation. No monsters, no blood.”</p><p></p><p> “The week is young,” Razael quipped.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p> Autumn stood in the courtyard for quite a while after Kyle and the others had left, even though there was nothing to see; no shrinking figures on horseback riding toward the horizon, no vaporous after-image. There had been only a moment of darkness, then nothing. She wished she had gone with them, too.</p><p></p><p> “Be safe,” she whispered.</p><p></p><p> A young page walked up to Autumn as she stood in the courtyard, and bowed. “Your Grace?”</p><p></p><p> Slowly, Autumn turned, knowing what the page would say but dreading it nonetheless. “Yes?”</p><p></p><p> “The Emperor requests your presence in the main audience chamber.”</p><p></p><p> The sentinel sighed. “Very well. I will be there shortly.”</p><p></p><p> The page bowed again and departed. A minute later, Autumn followed the same path out of the courtyard and began the long walk to the main palace.</p><p></p><p> <em>Why, Bail?</em> she asked, the same question she’d been asking for months now without an answer. <em>Why did he choose me for this? </em> When she’d been made a duchess, Autumn knew the title would come with lands and responsibilities. But she’d assumed she would be granted some small, unimportant domain where her presence or absence would not make much of a difference. Haxtha’s dislike of her sister Arrie was no great secret, and Autumn had assumed that fact, combined with her own obvious complete disinterest in worldly power, would result in a ‘dead-end’ vassalage that would keep everyone happy.</p><p></p><p> Instead, she’d been given dominion over Vargex, one of the empire’s largest duchies.</p><p></p><p> Autumn dreaded to think what rulership of Vargex would entail. Would she be forced to give up her adventuring career, and take over the city full-time? No, it couldn’t be that way. Her role with the Legacy was too important, especially now that they knew the psions could be plotting to destroy more of the gods. Beyond even that, sitting in permanent dominion of a city was a violation of her vows as a Sentinel; her pledge was to seek out the workings of devils wherever they surfaced, not to sit in one place and hope the workings of devils might happen to show up in her own town, preferably within her estate, and could you make an appointment so the Duchess could smite you between meetings, please?</p><p></p><p> But voicing her concerns to the Emperor now was pointless. He knew full well what her obligations were. Whether he had chosen to honor them or ignore them, she could not change his mind now. She would simply have to act as she saw fit, and deal with the consequences of her choice. She’d known she couldn’t delay the moment of truth any longer – it was the reason she’d asked Arrie and Osborn to stay with her.</p><p></p><p> Halfway to the audience chamber, Autumn was joined by the very two people she’d been thinking of. “Have you been summoned, too?” she asked them.</p><p></p><p> “Of course,” Arrie said, “Haxtha wouldn’t pass up a chance to flaunt his superiority in front of me.”</p><p></p><p> “I’m just glad Razael’s not around,” Osborn said. “You may not like the Emperor either, Arrie, but at least you have the sense to keep your mouth shut about it when you’re in the same room with him.”</p><p></p><p> “Maddie is still at the temple, I take it?” Autumn said, on the mention of her divinely-mandated bodyguard.</p><p></p><p> “Yes, they’ve got her locked up tight,” Arrie said. “Seems they’re unwilling to risk her outside their grounds without Razael present. Besides, they’re not done ‘communing with the goddess’ yet.” The warrior smiled. “As you can imagine, I haven’t exactly been eager to walk into the middle of Erito’s temple to see how she’s doing.”</p><p></p><p> At last they arrived at the main audience chamber. The large, gilded mahogany doors were pulled open by two Imperial Guardsmen, and they walked up a plush crimson carpet toward the throne. It was placed on a raised marble dais, with a skylight above bringing a column of sunlight straight down on it (Osborn, from earlier explorations, knew that there were a series of mirrors and focusing lenses on the roof to make sure the sunlight was properly reflected). The throne itself looked as though it were carved from one solid piece of clear crystal. It was a widely held belief that the throne was carved from the same stone that the palace’s Crystal Chime was made from, the bell that sounded only upon the birth or death of a member of the Imperial Family. Legend stated that the original crystal had been a sliver chipped from Erito’s own weapon, the Staff of Measuring, and given to the elves as a sign of her favor when the race first appeared on Aelfenn. Sunlight from above refracted through the throne’s crystal facets, causing it to flash and sparkle like a brilliant diamond. Seated on a cushion of deep purple velvet, regarding their approach, Haxtha sat in his full imperial regalia. Courtiers and advisors were gathered around the edges of the room, observing.</p><p></p><p> The three adventurers stopped at the proscribed place before the throne, and bowed deeply, Autumn kneeling in front of Arrie and Osborn.</p><p></p><p> “You may rise, Autumn Verahannen, Duchess of Vargex, Lady Mayor of Vargas, and associates,” Haxtha said, making a slight gesture. The Emperor’s gaze flicked over to Arrie as he said the word <em>associates</em>.</p><p></p><p> They stood and looked up at the Emperor. “What is your bidding, Your Imperial Majesty?” Autumn asked.</p><p></p><p> “On the morrow,” Haxtha said, “you will go to Vargas and assume your rightful place in your appointed domain. We have been hearing troubling reports from the city, and we wish for you to restore order, now that you are available to do your duty to your Emperor.”</p><p></p><p> <em>If you hadn’t been off gallivanting gods-knows-where for the past five months in a ship my brother helped you acquire</em>, Autumn heard the unspoken rebuke in Haxtha’s tone. She bowed again. “I will serve as best I may, Majesty.”</p><p></p><p> “We will provide you an escort of Imperial Guardsman, as well as an advisor,” Haxtha said, “My Guardsmen’s orders will be simple; protect the Duchess of Vargex, restore order to the Emperor’s city, and protect the Imperial Princess of Tlaxan.” Haxtha nodded toward Arrie. “We would not wish to insult Princess Ariadne by suggesting she could not adequately defend herself in a base physical altercation.”</p><p></p><p> Both sisters did well to hide any trace of scorn or insult as they nodded; Arrie for the obvious slight at her martial temperament, Autumn at the implication that she was somehow less capable of defending herself.</p><p></p><p> “If I may, Your Majesty,” Autumn said, “what reports have you received from Vargas?”</p><p></p><p> “For some time now, there seems to have been a marked increase in the crime rate. There are even reports of an assassin’s guild in the city. We have not had word from the former Lord Mayor, Count Robar, in several months. The city requires strong leadership; that is what we require of you. You are dismissed.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn, Arrie, and Osborn bowed again, then turned and walked out of the audience chamber. As the doors closed, Osborn hurried to keep up; both Arrie and Autumn were walking unusually fast. He looked up at them, ready to complain, but then he saw the hard look in their eyes.</p><p></p><p> “Um, I think I need to be somewhere else right now,” he said, and quietly slipped off.</p><p></p><p> The next morning, Autumn emerged from her chambers, dressed in a simple but elegant riding dress in the Verahannen colors. She wore the tiara that Herion had presented to her when she was first informed that she would granted the title of duchess. Waiting outside her door were four elves; three males in the uniforms of the Imperial Guard, and one female elf in less assuming garb.</p><p></p><p> “Good morning, Your Grace,” the woman said. “I am Shoshone, and I have been appointed to act as your advisor and liaison to the Emperor. This is Captain Doriam, Captain Imrahil, and Captain Shirazal.”</p><p></p><p> Each of the Guardsmen nodded as they were introduced.</p><p></p><p> “A pleasure to meet you,” Autumn said.</p><p></p><p> “We are ready to depart, if it pleases you, Your Grace,” Shirazal said. “Your companions, Princess Ariadne and Master Greenbottle are already in the courtyard, with the rest of your entourage.”</p><p></p><p> “Entourage?” Autumn asked. “The Emperor told me only of an escort and an advisor.”</p><p></p><p> “Indeed, the four of us are the only notable additions to the typical retinue of a lady of your standing,” Doriam said.</p><p></p><p> Flummoxed, Autumn went to a nearby window that overlooked the courtyard. Below, she saw dozens of people waiting in the courtyard. There were two dozen regular soldiers in formation, and perhaps forty liveried servants milling about. Several wagons were lined up near the rear; Autumn saw that most were for supplies, but noted a passenger carriage where about a half-dozen ladies-in-waiting stood, giggling and laughing with a small figure that she first assumed was a young page or squire, but on closer inspection realized was Osborn. She spotted Arrie up toward the front of the line, mounted on her horse Ghost, looking very bored. Scattered throughout the crowd were elves carrying Verahannen and Imperial banners. Autumn just gaped.</p><p></p><p> Shoshone leaned out the window, looked down at the sea of people below, then grinned at Autumn, slapping her on the back.</p><p></p><p> “Welcome to the Empire,” she said.</p><p style="text-align: center"></p> <p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p> Had they been traveling alone, the Legacy could have made the trip from Noxolt to Vargas in a little over a week. As it was, the trip took about two weeks. Doriam, Imrahil, and Shirazal did their best to remain inconspicuous, but their sheer devotion to duty made that impossible. Shoshone was much better at it, and only appeared when Autumn wanted to know something about Vargas or other events in Tlaxan. Osborn spent much of the first few days with Autumn’s ladies-in-waiting, while Arrie stayed with Autumn to help keep her from going insane from all the pomp and circumstance.</p><p></p><p> After their first night away from the capital, Autumn and Osborn awoke to find that Arrie was already up and dressed, quietly poking at one of the cooking fires. As servants moved to secure their belongings and collapse the tents, and the Guardsmen were ordering the regular soldiers to their patrol assignments, Arrie motioned the other two over.</p><p></p><p> “I’ve been contacted by Aran,” she said quietly. “Last night. He would like to speak with us… all of us.”</p><p></p><p> “When and where?” Osborne asked.</p><p></p><p> “When it’s convenient.”</p><p></p><p> “Convenient for us, or for him?” Autumn asked.</p><p></p><p> Arrie shrugged. “I don’t control these things. He only seems to come to me when I’m having nightmares, so I’m kind of hoping he doesn’t come back to clarify.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn frowned. “What kind of nightmares?”</p><p></p><p> Arrie grew a little more subdued. “I… dreamt I was trying to kill myself. Aran came and stopped me.”</p><p></p><p> A few days passed on the road. The entourage passed through several small towns and villages. Each time, loud trumpets and soldiers marching in formation around the Duchess heralded their arrival. After the fifth such event, Autumn gathered her Guardsmen and advisor into a meeting.</p><p></p><p> “When we arrive at Vargas,” she said, “I do not wish to enter the city with an entourage, at first. I wish to get my impression of the city before they know who I am.”</p><p></p><p> “Of course, Your Grace,” Doriam said, “we can surely accommodate your wishes.”</p><p></p><p> “Indeed,” Imrahil agreed, “we will maintain a distance of ten paces.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn scowled. “That is not what I meant. I want you fifty paces behind at minimum, and not make it obvious that you are Imperial Guardsmen.”</p><p></p><p> The three Guardmen looked at each other. “With all due respect, Your Grace,” Doriam said, “our orders from the Emperor are very clear, and we serve the Emperor. Vargas is mired in lawlessness. Ten paces, and we will be armed as befits our function.”</p><p></p><p> “Why can’t you defend me from a distance?” Autumn asked, her temper rising a bit.</p><p></p><p> “Because we are Imperial Guardsmen,” Imrahil said, “not the Imperial Order of the Bow. Had His Imperial Majesty wished to assign you a guard with those skills, he would have done so.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn was about to argue with the elf further, when Arrie put a hand on her forearm. “Let me play devil’s advocate for a moment… if you’ll pardon the expression, Autumn. These three men won’t leave your side until Haxtha calls them back. For all their skills, none of them are what I’d call ‘stealthy’. And they’re trained as close combatants, not as archers. Trying to force them to be something they’re not isn’t going to work, no matter how much you’d prefer it the other way.”</p><p></p><p> “And let’s face it, Your Grace,” Shoshone said, “you don’t exactly blend in to a crowd yourself. You’ve got what they call in my line of work ‘the curse of a famous face’.” She gestured over to Osborn, who was sitting on a cushion eating bacon. “If you desire information about the city, I’d suggest talking to your hin companion.”</p><p></p><p> “While you’re making your grand entrance into the city,” Arrie suggested, “why don’t Osborn, Shoshone and I enter Vargas ahead of you and scope things out? We can really get a sense of what the people think of you. People are most likely to show their true sentiments in a crowd.”</p><p></p><p> “That might work,” Shoshone said. “Easier than trying to keep these four inconspicuous.” She gestured at Autumn and the Guard again.</p><p></p><p> Autumn sighed, and looked at Arrie. “Sometimes I think Haxtha is punishing me to punish you,” she said.</p><p></p><p> “No,” Arrie replied, “He could be punishing you to punish you.”</p><p></p><p> “I don’t see how having an honor guard is a punishment, Your Highness.” Imrahil said. “And you did ask for the job.”</p><p></p><p> “No, I didn’t!” Autumn shouted, causing Osborn to slide off his cushion.</p><p></p><p> “Wow,” the hin said, picking himself up. “I think I’ll go see how the ladies are doing.”</p><p></p><p> After Osborn left, the three Guardsmen stood as well. “We will depart as well,” said Shirazal, “I’m sure that the Duchess wishes some time to prepare her speech before her arrival.”</p><p></p><p> As the Guard left, they stoically ignored Autumn’s scream.</p><p></p><p> “Speech?!?”</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"> * * *</p><p></p><p> The entourage drew closer to Vargas. Three days before they arrived, Arrie, Osborn and Shoshone rode ahead, approaching the city incognito. The three of them decided to don the guise of a merchant and her bodyguards.</p><p></p><p> Shoshone put the last touches on her disguise, and walked out of the inn they’d taken a room in. Her work with Imperial Intelligence had brought her into the city several times, though she hadn’t been in Vargas since the old Lord Mayor stopped sending messages. She hoped none of her contacts had been lost to the criminals that now seemed to run unchecked through the streets. On their way in, they’d seen bodies lying tucked away in alleys, pickpockets operating almost openly in the markets, and even watched a middle-aged gnome picking the lock on the back door of a shop without so much as a blink from the rogue. The few city watchmen they saw seemed oblivious to the crime all around them.</p><p></p><p> They walked into the market district, Arrie and Osborn walking behind Shoshone, who told them to address her as ‘Eslavez’. She went into a fishmonger’s shop, instructing her two ‘guards’ to wait outside.</p><p></p><p> A rotund water-touched man rose up from behind a display case lined with ice and large sturgeon. “Eslavez!” he exclaimed, smiling broadly. “It’s been a long time, old friend!”</p><p></p><p> “Indeed,” Shoshone said, “it’s good to see you again, Karn.” Shoshone knew that Karn was a smuggler as well as a fish merchant, and a useful source of information.</p><p></p><p> “Are you in the market for fish today? Or a deeper catch?” Karn asked.</p><p></p><p> “Well, I guess you could say I’m fishing,” Shoshone said. “But then again, isn’t that generally what we discuss?”</p><p></p><p> “Indeed, indeed. Come with me to my office. It smells of fish guts in here.”</p><p></p><p> Shoshone followed Karn back to a small office, littered with papers. Karn sat down in a large chair, that creaked under his weight. “Fishing in these parts has been odd recently,” he said to her, gesturing for her to take a seat at another chair. “A lot of muck has risen from the bottom.”</p><p></p><p> “Anything I should be cautious of when I’m casting my lines?” she asked.</p><p></p><p> “There’s a large barracuda swimming about that you might want to be careful of,” Karn said. “A slippery fellow, I’m told. The fishermen call him ‘The One That Got Away’ or ‘The Big Head’.”</p><p></p><p> “I see,” Shoshone nodded. Karn’s meaning was clear to her; the ‘barracuda’ was the former Lord Mayor. Apparently trying out a new line of work.</p><p></p><p> “I hear that there’s been some new species coming into the waters here,” she continued. “The kind you don’t normally see. I hear sometimes introducing new fish into the pond can be dangerous for the natives, and sometimes you have to clear out the new fish.”</p><p></p><p> “That’s true,” Karn agreed, “three or four new schools, from what I hear. But it’s a task easier said than done. You’ll need a big net.”</p><p></p><p> “Know of any fishermen looking for work?” she asked.</p><p></p><p> “No, they’re pretty much all in it for themselves,” Karn said. “Lots of boats on the river these days, Eslavez. Makes for a lot of accidents.”</p><p></p><p> “Any safe harbors out there?”</p><p></p><p> Karn shook his head.</p><p></p><p> “Well, I appreciate the advice,” Shoshone said, standing up and offering her hand. “Good luck.”</p><p></p><p> Karn grasped her hand, and there was a nearly inaudible clinking of coins. Shoshone left the office and emerged into the street.</p><p></p><p> “So?” Osborn asked, looking at Shoshone.</p><p></p><p> “Not good,” she said. “I’ll fill you in back at the inn. I suggest that we split up after this, though. Some of my other contacts in Vargas won’t appreciate onlookers, and I think that you, Master Greenbottle, may have some other connections you could pursue. Princess, I’d suggest you mingle with the populace, get to know their mind. I’ve discovered that word of the Duchess arriving has not yet reached the city – it may be in our interest to start preparing the populace.”</p><p></p><p> They spent the rest of the day and all of the next learning what they could. Osborn found that there were no less that three thieves’ guilds and two assassin’s guilds vying for control of Vargas’ underworld. His old guild, the Shadow Hand, had sent operatives to see if establishing control there would be viable, but the hin learned from them that the Hand saw Vargas as too unruly to be profitable. He was able to get the names of the guilds; the two assassin guilds were the Night Blade and the Poisoned Edge. The Silent Foot was an interloping thieves’ guild, comprised mostly of dwarves, gnomes, and hin, and the Night Whispers were the other new guild. The city’s previous resident guild, the Black Hand, was fighting to maintain control of their old territory.</p><p></p><p> Shoshone gathered a good deal of information about the former Lord Mayor, Count Robar. Robar had been appointed by the former Duke to administer the city a few years ago; the Duke’s own health was poor and he’d been unable to oversee it himself. She learned that last spring, Robar had started acting strangely; former servants reported that he was more irritable, and prone to angry outbursts. Around the same time, the watch started to become more lax in enforcing the laws, often outright ignoring crimes happening right under their noses. The Lord Mayor had vanished about five months ago, which coincided with the Night Blade guild suddenly coming into prominence (and, Shoshone noted, also coincided with the Emperor appointing Duchess Autumn to rule Vargas). The other new guilds came into Vargas about a month after that. After four months of guild wars, the police were too scared to be effective, and even if they wanted to intervene, no longer had the manpower or resources to make a dent in the crime waves.</p><p></p><p> The next morning, Duchess Autumn arrived in the city. Soldiers arranged in a phalanx marched through the streets, with banners waving and trumpets blaring. It was slow going, as the citizens of Vargas had only recently heard rumors of her arrival, and thus had not prepared for her entourage to enter the city. But after a while, a few city watchmen started clearing the streets, allowing the new Duchess to proceed unhampered toward her estate. Autumn noted that several people were pointing and smiling as she rode by. She looked over at Shoshone, who has slipped back into the entourage quietly just outside the city gates. Shoshone only smiled. There was no sign of Osborn or Arrie, though Shoshone assured her quietly that both were well, and would appear later.</p><p></p><p> The procession arrived at the gates of the mayoral mansion. The iron bars are overgrown with ivy, and graffiti marred the six-foot stone walls. The first thing Autumn noticed was that the servants, who she had sent ahead to prepare the house for her arrival, were still standing outside the gates.</p><p></p><p> “What’s going on?” Autumn asked the chamberlain, who had come running up. She had to think for a moment before recalling his name – Theodren.</p><p></p><p> “A thousand apologies, Your Grace,” Theodren said, bowing stiffly, “but the gates are locked. We’ve been trying to locate someone on the grounds, but no one is answering our calls.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn glared at the iron barrier. “Open the gate,” she said.</p><p></p><p> “Of course, Your Grace, as soon as a key can be…”</p><p></p><p> “Open the gate now,” she said, cutting the chamberlain off.</p><p></p><p> The three Guardsman looked at each other, nodded, and started moving toward the gate, drawing their enormous courtblades as they approached.</p><p></p><p> “There’s no need for that,” said a voice, and suddenly Osborn appeared standing in front of the bars. “I have a key right here.” With a wink to Autumn, Osborn turned and proceeded to unlock the gate. Servants pushed the doors open with a loud, grating screech, and the entourage moved forward.</p><p></p><p> Guardsman Imrahil turned to the crowd gathered behind Autumn’s entourage. “Her Grace, Duchess Autumn, Lady Mayor of Vargas, will address her subjects at sunset,” he said loudly. “Until then, the Duchess will not entertain any guests or city business.” </p><p></p><p> The outside of the mansion looked as run-down as the outer wall. Refuse was scattered everywhere, the grounds were wild and unkempt, and a few windows were cracked. The front doors were ajar, swing open in the breeze. Servants moved quickly to pick up what they could, as if they were somehow at fault. With rising ire, Autumn stormed into the mansion. Inside, dust and cobwebs covered every surface, though there was little for it to cling to. It seemed as though everything that wasn’t nailed down had been removed. The plants and flowers were dead and wilted, and a smell of sewage permeated the house.</p><p></p><p> “Search the house,” Autumn growled, “see if anything remains. Find whatever is left of the former Lord Mayor’s staff and bring them before me.”</p><p></p><p> The soldiers began searching the house, while the servants set to work cleaning up as best they could, under Theodren’s frantic orders. Autumn moved to a parlor to await the arrival of Lord Mayor Robar’s staff. Guardsman Imrahil stood sentry at the front door along with a pair of soldiers, while Doriam and Shirazal remained with Autumn. Shirazal posted another pair of guards at the servant’s entrance.</p><p></p><p> Within an hour, Autumn was looking over a motley group of about fifteen men and women, all quite terrified. Many of them were drunk, and several looked as though they had dressed very quickly. None of them wore their servant’s livery. Autumn noted fresh lipstick marks on the neck of one of the male servants that matched the shade being worn by a female maid. She also noted that he was casting a leering eye at her, apparently oblivious to the presence of two heavily armed Imperial Guardsmen on either side of her. She wished she’d chosen to ride into town in her armor instead of in a dress.</p><p></p><p> “Theodren,” Autumn said, “who is in charge of this rabble?”</p><p></p><p> Theodren glared at the assembled staff. “Who is in charge here? Where is your chamberlain?”</p><p></p><p> The servants exchanged awkward, uncertain glances. Finally, one of them, the young man with the lipstick on his neck, stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, but we’ve not seen the chamberlain for three months.”</p><p></p><p> “And yet you remained here?” Theodren asked.</p><p></p><p> “We were still receiving our wages,” the young man said. “Delivered to our homes every month, as usual. Even though we’d stopped caring for the house for some time.” He smiled and licked his lips. “Not many people get paid to do nothing.”</p><p></p><p> “What is your name?” Autumn asked, leaning forward.</p><p></p><p> “Rudy, ma’am. I was the doorman.”</p><p></p><p> “You will address the Duchess as ‘Your Grace’!” snapped Theodren.</p><p></p><p> “D…Duchess?” Rudy stammered.</p><p></p><p> “I see that despite receiving your wages for doing nothing, several of you felt in necessary to enhance your income by taking items from the Lord Mayor’s estate… my estate.”</p><p></p><p> “I… I don’t know anything about that,” Rudy said unconvincingly.</p><p></p><p> Autumn slowly stood, and walked to within a few paces of Rudy. He was white as a sheet now, trembling, and definitely no longer harboring illicit thoughts about her. “Did you know, Rudy, that in addition to being your new sovereign lord, I also belong to the Order of Sentinels? Do you know what the Sentinels do, Rudy? We root evil and corruption out of this world.” She began to circle him slowly. “They say that a sentinel can look into the heart of a man, see his very soul.” She stopped in front of him, and glared into his beady eyes. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Rudy.”</p><p></p><p> Rudy nodded, unable to speak.</p><p></p><p> “Why did you lie to me, Rudy?”</p><p></p><p> “Because you terrify me, ma… Your Grace,” he said, “and I was afraid to say anything that would upset you.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn smiled. “Then I think our relationship is exactly where it needs to be.” She returned to her seat and let the silence settle in for a few moments. “Who sent your wages?” she asked.</p><p></p><p> “I don’t know,” Rudy said, “I assume that the chamberlain did, or perhaps Count Robar’s steward. All I know is that our pay arrives at our home on the first of the month, delivered by a bonded courier.”</p><p></p><p> “Your Grace, if I may,” Shoshone said. She looked at the crowd of servants. “Since it seems that you have received three months salary without having performed your assigned duties, the Duchess would not be remiss in requiring three months unpaid service from each of you.”</p><p></p><p> The servants shifted their feet uncomfortably.</p><p></p><p> “Or you could be fired now, and owe the estate three month’s salary, plus a suitable fine,” Shoshone continued.</p><p></p><p> “Or,” Osborn said, “we could just treat them as common criminals. What is the penalty for theft in Vargas?”</p><p></p><p> “I’m not certain, Master Greenbottle,” Shoshone said. “Of course, the new Lady Mayor may need to review the current laws, as they hardly seem to be a deterrent.” Shoshone looked over the servants again. “You may return here on the last day of the year and give us your decision – work for free, be indebted to the Duchess, or be arrested.”</p><p></p><p> “You are dismissed,” Theodren barked.</p><p></p><p> “Find out who is still paying these people,” Autumn said to Theodren as the room cleared, “make sure it stops, and that whoever is responsible doesn’t have any further access to my accounts.”</p><p></p><p> “At once, Your Grace,” Theodren said, bowing and quickly leaving the room.</p><p></p><p> Autumn looked at Shoshone. “I don’t want to have any of those people back in my house,” she said.</p><p></p><p> “Don’t worry,” Shoshone said, “not a one of them will still be in the city by tomorrow morning. I’m afraid you’re out some gold, Your Grace, but you never would have recovered it anyway, and right now I’m not sure I’d trust the city watch to enforce any sentences.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn sighed. “The money isn’t a problem, though I hadn’t expected to spend it cleaning my own estate. But I need reliable people working for me, Shoshone.”</p><p></p><p> “I understand, Your Grace. One problem at a time. First you have to curb the lawlessness.” Shoshone and Osborn gave Autumn a full report of everything they had learned about the city, including the suspiciously-timed disappearance of Count Robar.</p><p></p><p> “There are several theories,” Shoshone concluded. “Robar could have been blackmailed by one of the crime guilds, which might explain his sudden change in personality. Or he could have been in league with one of the guilds, and was under pressure because of the encroachment of rival guilds. We can’t rule out mind control, or poisoning, either. Robar could have fled, he could have been killed, or he could have gone underground. So far, I haven’t been able to find out what happened to him.”</p><p></p><p> “I have a feeling we’ll learn the truth quickly once we start trying to root out these guilds,” Autumn said. “Have someone bring the Captain of the Watch.”</p><p></p><p> “I will go, Your Grace,” Shirazal said, bowing as he took his leave.</p><p></p><p> “So, Shoshone, what do you advise?” Autumn said after he left.</p><p></p><p> “I’d suggest that you make it known quickly that now that you’re here, things like random disappearances of notable townspeople will no longer be tolerated. I’d advise contacting the local garrison of the Imperial Army and requisitioning troops to augment the city watch. I’d advise implementing a curfew as soon as those reinforcements arrive. I’d advise trusting no one.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn looked forlornly around the mansion. “I wish Arrie were here,” she said.</p><p></p><p> “She’ll be here soon, I’m sure,” Osborn said. “She said she wanted to wait until you were settled in.”</p><p></p><p> Meanwhile, Guardsman Shirazal found the barracks of the city watch, and strode in past the two sentries at the door. He stopped in front of a desk where another watchman sat. The watchman looked up, annoyed at first, but blanched when he saw the Imperial seal emblazoned on the visitor’s scabbard.</p><p></p><p> “Who’s in charge here?” Shirazal demanded.</p><p></p><p> The watchman at the desk pointed down the hall to a doorway. Shirazal turned and headed down the hall without another word. Behind him, he could hear the sound of several people bolting for the door.</p><p></p><p> Shirazal threw open the door and stepped in unannounced. An elf, perhaps middle-aged, was sitting behind a large desk, leaning back, with his eyes closed. At the sound of the door opening, the man opened his eyes.</p><p></p><p> “What the… oh, cr*p!” The man quickly say up straight, but remained in his chair pulling up close to the desk.</p><p></p><p> “You are the Captain of the Watch?” Shirazal asked.</p><p></p><p> “Yes… yes, I am.”</p><p></p><p> “You will attend the new Lady Mayor, Duchess Autumn, immediately,” he said.</p><p></p><p> “The new… oh, yes, of course.” The captain looked at Shirazal, then looked around the room. “I’ll need a few minutes to get ready.”</p><p></p><p> “Of course,” Shirazal said, not moving.</p><p></p><p> “Er, could I have a few moments of privacy?”</p><p></p><p> Shirazal caught a slight movement near the floor, and looked. A set of toes poked out from under the edge of the desk, twitching slightly. They were obviously not the captain’s toes.</p><p></p><p> Shirazal looked levelly at the captain. “No.”</p><p></p><p> The captain sighed, and pushed away from his desk, standing to fasten his trousers. As he did so, a young elven boy, no more than a hundred and twenty, peeked out from behind the desk. At the sight of the Imperial Guard, he ducked back down.</p><p></p><p> “Where are we going?” the captain asked as he strapped on his sword.</p><p></p><p> “The mayor’s estate,” Shirazal said, and escorted him back to where Autumn waited. By this time the servants had cleaned out an office enough to be usable, and so Autumn met with the Captain of the Watch there, sitting at a oak desk that had seen better days.</p><p></p><p> “Captain, please give me a report of the past several months,” Autumn said, once introductions were done.</p><p></p><p> The captain’s report was less than stellar. He confirmed that crime had increased sharply after the disappearance of the former Lord Mayor, and though he had tried to curb it, the watchmen that he sent out came back dead or worse. Eventually, he decided that rather than risk their lives in a futile effort, he would have his men wait out the chaos and hope for help from Noxolt.</p><p></p><p> “Do you have any idea what happened to the former Lord Mayor?” Autumn asked.</p><p></p><p> “His disappearance was investigated,” the captain said, “there are reports on file at the barracks. I’m not familiar with their conclusions.”</p><p></p><p> “Tell me, captain,” Autumn said, “you say your losses were too great trying to combat these new guilds. Why then do I hear reports that the watch is not acting to prevent any crime at all? Surely pickpocketing and vandalism can be dealt with without fear.”</p><p></p><p> “I don’t know,” the captain said. “they should be doing that, at least. If the watch isn’t doing their duty, I’ll have to have words with them.”</p><p></p><p> Guardsman Shirazal leaned down and whispered into Autumn’s ear. She nodded, then stared at the captain of the watch for a while.</p><p></p><p> “Captain,” she said slowly, “if you wish to keep your job, things are going to change. The whore under your desk will no longer be tolerated. That applies to all your men. I expect to see the crimes that the Watch is supposed to be dealing with be dealt with. If I don’t see this happening, you will be replaced. Do you understand?”</p><p></p><p> “I understand,” he said, “and it’s not something I’m willing to risk my life over.” He unbuckled his sword and scabbard and laid it on the desk in front of Autumn. “It’s on your head, not mine.” Bowing, he turned and left.</p><p></p><p> “Follow him,” Shoshone whispered to Osborn. “See where he goes, and who he talks to.”</p><p></p><p> Osborn nodded, turned invisible, and left the room.</p><p></p><p> “If it pleases Your Grace,” Guardsman Shirazal said, stepping forward and bowing, “I would be willing to take on the duties of the Captain of the Watch until a suitable replacement can be found.”</p><p></p><p> “That would be most appreciated, Guardsman,” Autumn said. “I hereby name you Captain of the Watch of Vargas. Your first order is to find those files your predecessor mentioned on Count Robar and bring them to me. After that, I’m sure you know what needs to be done.”</p><p></p><p> Shirazal bowed and left the mansion to report back to the barracks. Later that afternoon, Osborn returned to report that the former captain had gone home, packed his things, and left the city without talking to anyone.</p><p></p><p> “Left behind a nice house,” Osborn said. “Nice furniture.”</p><p></p><p> “Well, at least we can start refurnishing the Duchess’ estate,” Guardsman Doriam said.</p><p></p><p> “Heck, no!” Osborn said, grinning. “It’s my house, now! Everything’s a bit big, but the bed’s perfect!”</p><p></p><p> Autumn waved at Doriam to indicate that everything was fine. “I suppose I should work on my speech,” she said. “Any advice?”</p><p></p><p> There was silence, and then Guardsman Doriam spoke. “There are still decent people in this city, Your Grace. They need to hear that their city can be safe again. They need to know they don’t have to live in fear. They need to be inspired by you, Your Grace.”</p><p></p><p> “Thank you, Guardsman,” Autumn said, “I appreciate the advice.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn secluded herself in her office for the next two hours, trying to come up with a speech. She wished that Lanara was there to help her, or Arrie, or even Kyle; he could at least help her decide what to say, even if he couldn’t say it himself. As she contemplated the task before her, the room seemed to get smaller.</p><p></p><p> About thirty minutes before sunset, a young elf-touched woman named Aleria knocked at the door. Aleria had been appointed as Autumn’s valet.</p><p></p><p> “It’s nearly time, Your Grace,” Aleria said, “is there anything you need?”</p><p></p><p> “No… yes. Have my armor brought to me, please, and someone to assist me with it.”</p><p></p><p> “I can help with the armor, Your Grace,” Aleria said, “I have received the proper instruction.”</p><p></p><p> “Very well, Aleria. Thank you.”</p><p></p><p> Once the armor was brought, and her valet began helping her strap in on, Autumn felt somewhat more comfortable. She was at least in more a more familiar outfit. It still didn’t change the fact that she had nothing prepared, but at least she wouldn’t have to try and speak wearing a corset.</p><p></p><p> At the appointed time, Autumn stepped out onto the terrace overlooking the courtyard. The gates had been opened, and the city folk allowed to gather around the mansion, though a wall of guards stood between the crowd and the door. Torch stands had been brought out and lit, illuminating the large crowd below. One of the other servants, a bard of moderate talent who’d been assign as the court entertainer, stepped up behind Autumn and discreetly cast a spell that would amplify her voice. At the same time, a few of the other staff whose Talents allowed them to create light focused their power on the terrace, illuminating Autumn in her shining suit of mithral. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.</p><p></p><p> <em> Bail, help me.</em></p><p></p><p> “Good people, I stand here, newly arrived in your city, and I look upon troubled faces enduring troubled times. I see mothers afraid to let their children play in the streets, I see fathers whose businesses have endured unending difficulties, I see sons and daughters forced to make terrible choices to survive. I see a city torn apart by corruption, infected with rot both from within and from without. I see a city whose leaders have abandoned their people when they are most in need.</p><p></p><p> “I come before you now to tell you that your prayers have been heard, your whispered pleas for succor have been answered. For the Emperor knows that Vargas can still be a shining jewel in the Empire, that she can rise above the rabble which now infest her like a plague. I come before you now not as a noblewoman, here to suck the marrow from the bones of the city while vultures circle overhead. I come to you as a warrior, and I give to you a warrior’s vow; I will cut out the disease that has overtaken your city… our city.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn drew her greataxe from the scabbard on her back, and held it aloft for a moment. “For those who would oppose the dominion of peace and order, this will be the only law they will know. No mercy will be shown those who have given none, or who have allowed the corrupt to reign unchallenged. Those of you who believe in decency and truth – and I believe that there are a great many more of you in our city than you know – will have no reason to fear me. Indeed, it is through your will alone that I rule, not by the words of any document, or soldier, or even of the Emperor himself. You have lived here all your lives; you deserve to have your city ruled as you would wish your own homes to be ruled; with a firm but fair hand.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn pulled the gauntlet off her right hand, then held it aloft. “This is the hand with which I would rule Vargas.” She then dropped her right and held up her mailed left fist. “Not this. Order without justice is meaningless; stability without mercy an empty promise. Today you, the people of Vargas have none of these things. Tomorrow will bring change.”</p><p></p><p> Autumn slowly took a half step back, and waited. She heard a ripple of sound run through the crowd below, and then she heard a few people start to applaud. The applause spread quickly, and soon everyone in the crowd below was cheering and clapping madly. There were shouts of “Long live Duchess Autumn!” and “the Angel of Mercy has come to save us!”</p><p></p><p> Autumn smiled broadly at the crowd, and it took everything she had not to burst into tears. <em>Kyle, I wish you could have been here to see this.</em></p><p></p><p> There was a sudden disturbance in the crowd, starting from the back. Autumn watched as the crowd began to part, allowing a single rider to approach. The rider was astride a magnificent gray-white horse, and the Imperial seal gleamed off the saddle. The rider wore an elegant gown, and was arrayed in fine jewelry. Her chestnut brown hair was arranged in the latest court fashion. Upon reaching the inner courtyard, the woman dismounted, and walked to within a few paces of the main doors. She looked up at Autumn, and bowed her head.</p><p></p><p> “Duchess Autumn, Lady Mayor of Vargas,” she called up, “I am Crown Princess Ariadne of Noxolt. I humbly request your permission to enter the city.”</p><p></p><p> A ripple went through the crowd as Arrie identified herself. Now tears really did start trickling down Autumn’s cheeks.</p><p></p><p> “Permission granted, Princess Ariadne,” she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering, “and welcome to my city.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Delemental, post: 2815520, member: 5203"] [b]Uneasy Lies the Head[/b] Okay, now that I'm all caught up from the crash, here's a brand-new update for you. ---------------------------- Xu Dhii Ngao sat outside the simple wattle and daub home, and sought a place of inner calm. A calm she knew did not exist inside. Smoke curled from the chimney of the small building, wafting off into the sky on the wind. Occasionally, the cold winter wind would gust, sending the smoke flying off. Xu noted the cold, though it hardly seemed to bother her. At her feet, chickens scrabbled for tiny specks of grain and seed, and the smell of manure mingled with the smoke. The sound and smells around her reminded Xu of her time at the monastery, back in Xhintai. [I]Revered spirits,[/I] she thought, [I]the monastery…I am so far from there now, in many ways.[/I] The hardships of life at the monastery had been a far cry from the relative comfort she enjoyed before that, as the daughter of a prominent merchant. Not quite as opulent as what Ariadne and Autumn knew as children, but decadent as opposed to the humble farm where she was now. Comfortable, yes, but a life that held its own troubles. She could attest to that personally – in a land where the power of the merchant class was rising, and where social advancement by marriage was still in practice, Xu was as much a commodity as the silks and spices her father traded in. But silks and spices never sneak out of the house the night before their wedding, never to be seen again. Xu allowed her thoughts to wander as they wished – clearly obtaining a state of tranquil nothingness was eluding her. Her mind went briefly to Lord Hungai, the warlord who apparently was willing to pursue her to the ends of the earth. She wondered how his absence from their homeland would affect his reputation with the Emperor. Poorly enough, she hoped, that he might be persuaded to give up his search for her and return home. The thought brought her a measure of peace, but it was tempered by the knowledge that if Hungai had been persistent enough to follow her here, then it would never be safe for her to return to Xhintai. And her family’s fate… A small tear trickled down Xu’s cheek. It would have been an unforgivable lapse in discipline had her companions been present, but she was currently alone; the only other member of their group was inside, trying to explain to people he had never met how their husband and father had died, and why they must now abandon what little they had in this world in order to protect their own lives. The monk’s concentration was broken by the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. Focusing on the sound, she began to pick up details. A single rider, coming toward the farm. Riding fast, but not at a gallop. It was a large horse, bearing a heavy load. Xu remained still. If it was an enemy, let them think she was oblivious to their approach. But it seemed unlikely – if they were to be attacked here, surely their enemies would have sent greater numbers, or made an effort to conceal their approach. Unless the one approaching was puissant enough to need neither numbers or stealth to defeat them. The winter sun glinted off of heavy armor, reflecting cold light toward Xu. Studying the approaching figure, she noted that the rider’s shape was odd, yet familiar. When the rider reached the low fence surrounding the farmland, he spurred his steed to jump over it. As they came down, the metal plates in the armor flared and bounced, and Xu realized why she’d had the impression she did – the armor was styled like that of her homeland. Once the rider came close enough that she could tell that the metal plates of the armor were forged from adamantium, she identified the rider. The armored man slowed his horse to a walk as he came close to the house. Seeing Xu, he directed the mount toward her, stopping a few feet away. He pulled the helmet off his head, and they looked at each other for a few moments silently. “Greetings, Xu Dhii Ngao,” the man said in Xhintai. Xu nodded. “Greetings, Togusa.” [CENTER] * * *[/CENTER] Kyle sat in the far corner of the single-room home, trying to give the others in the room space to talk quietly. His sister-in-law, a red-haired woman named Felia, sat stone-faced, the dried tracks of tears running like scars down her dirt-stained cheeks. Across from her was Pella Goodson, ([I]Stovich[/I], Kyle reminded himself, [I]it’s Pella Stovich now. She’s been married five years.[/I]) who spoke quietly with Felia, her burned and scarred hands resting gently on top of Felia’s calloused ones. At their feet, two children played; Felia’s three year old son, Connor, and Pella’s two year old daughter, Anjele. Felia and Bryant’s other two children were outside, tending to their chores, while Pella and Vigo’s three older progeny waited with their father in the wagon outside. Pella talked to Felia, comforting her while at the same time urging her to come with them to safety. His sister had a gift with words he lacked, which almost seemed to defy the usual Goodson tendencies toward social awkwardness. As he waited, Kyle reflected on the past few days. On meeting nephews and nieces that he hadn’t known he existed until then, except in the occasional story told by their parents about their own childhood. But those children didn’t look on him as ‘Uncle Kyle’. They didn’t see the familiar dark hair, the piercing blue-gray eyes that marked him as one of their kin. Instead they saw blue robes, expensive rings, a staff with a glowing crystal. They saw a wizard; someone to respect, and to fear. Even Pella’s eyes showed the same reverent caution when she looked at him. They hadn’t spoken much, since she had been rescued from the Scion-Watchers – Kyle hadn’t pressed the issue. What did you say to a sister you hadn’t seen since you were eleven, especially when you come back as something completely outside of her realm of understanding? He was so deep in thought that at first he didn’t notice that Pella and Felia had stopped talking, and were looking at him. When he did see them, the first thing he noticed was that they were both waiting for him, not daring to disturb him. If it had been anyone else in the family, he reflected, they would’ve knocked them on the head with a wooden spoon for woolgathering. “I’ve spoken with Felia, Kyle,” Pella said. “She sees the danger that this cult would bring on her children. She’s agreed to come with us to Tlaxan.” Kyle smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” He’d been worried that either Pella or Bryant’s families would refuse to leave. Farmers, especially farmers with their own land, could be defiantly stubborn when it came to abandoning that land. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready. Once we’re in Vargas, I’ll see to getting you somewhere to stay until something more permanent can be arranged. I’ll see that Bryant’s taken care of, too.” Felia looked at Kyle, tears rimming her eyes again. “I still can’t believe… you really think you can bring him back?” “Not me,” Kyle said. He’d tried to explain it before, but people like Felia were only exposed to the most minor of magics, and didn’t understand enough to differentiate between arcane and divine powers. “But I can arrange for someone else to try it. I can’t guarantee it’ll work, Felia, but the least I can do is make it possible. I’m sure that my fiancée will be able to have everything ready by the time we get there.” “You mean Lady Autumn?” Pella asked. “You’re really marrying a duchess, Kyle?” “Yes, well, as soon as I can, yes,” he stammered, “and she wasn’t a duchess when we met, you know.” Pella just stared at him for a moment, as if she still couldn’t believe the idea of a Goodson marrying into nobility. “I’ll stay here and help Felia get her things together,” she said eventually. “why don’t you go tell Vigo and the kids what’s going on, and see if the kids will come in later to help us fix something for dinner?” Kyle nodded, and stood up. He ducked his head as he walked out to avoid hitting the doorframe. He stood just inside the entry, adjusting to the cold outside, and took a long look around the farm. This was no longer his world. It hadn’t been for some time, now. Walking around toward the wagon, Kyle spotted two figures kneeling in the dirt, facing each other. He recognized both, but one surprised him. “Togusa?” The Xhintai warrior, nodded, and stood. “Greetings, Kyle Goodson,” he said. “Allow me to express my sorrow at the loss of your brother. Xu has been telling me of your unfortunate encounter with this cult. Know that should I encounter any of their cells elsewhere, I will be certain to investigate them thoroughly and administer justice if needed.” “Thanks, Togusa,” Kyle said. “But what brings you way out here? If we were in a city, I’d chalk it up to coincidence, but Bryant’s farm isn’t even near the main road.” “Indeed, my arrival here is with purpose,” Togusa announced. “I was given a missive to deliver a message to this place at this time. Though I was not told who the recipient of the message would be, when I saw Xu sitting in meditation here, I knew the message must be intended for The Legacy.” “What message? Who sent you?” Xu stood up and handed Kyle a scroll. “It’s from the Dreamlord,” she said. “Aran,” Kyle said, naming the ever more mysterious psion that had taken an interest in them. He unrolled the scroll, and saw unfamiliar symbols on the page. “It is written in Xhintai,” Xu said. “I believe that Aran uses our native language in his communications to us as a protection, knowing that I can read it, but that few who might intercept the message could do the same.” “What’s it say?” Kyle asked. Xu took the scroll from Kyle and scanned it. “Honorable Warriors and Sages of The Legacy, upon whom the Thousand Blessings of the Myriad Spirits Descend, from the Dreamlord, Master of All that is Unseen, I send…” “Can you just sum it up for me?” Kyle said testily. “Of course,” Xu said, “Understand that in Xhintai it is difficult to be ‘brief’.” She rolled up the scroll and tucked it in her belt. “It is a request from Aran, asking for our help. Apparently, there is a councilman in the nearby city of Delgan, a man by the name of Gil Mendes. Within the next week, without further intervention, it will be revealed by another party that Councilman Mendes is a…” she hesitated as she glanced at Togusa, who was not privy to their knowledge of psionics, and was also loyal to the church of Tor. “Very damaging information will be revealed that will unjustly place the councilman’s life in danger. Aran wishes to protect this man, but has no loyal operatives nearby in a position to intervene. He states that we are not under any obligation to help this man, but promises an exchange of favors at a later date should we accept.” “I was informed,” Togusa said, “that I should remain here and see if you might require my assistance. If this councilman is a just man, and these accusations false, then it would be in Tor’s interest for me to aid you.” Kyle looked back and forth at Xu and Togusa. “You know, this is really bad timing.” “Trouble seldom waits until a convenient moment,” Xu said. “But perhaps there is an unseen benefit. This councilman may need to be relocated or hidden, and will certainly owe us an obligation. Perhaps your family could be hidden with him, or he could be persuaded to help protect your family from harm.” Kyle sighed. “I need a minute to think.” He turned and walked a short distance away, leaning on the railing of the corral. He ended up taking several minutes before returning. “All right,” Kyle said. “Let’s do it. I need to protect my family, but I also need a chance to talk to Aran again, and this might be the only way I can arrange it. We’ll have to find some place to keep Bryant’s body in the city until we can get to Vargas.” “We may be able to contact a priest in the city who can attempt to raise your brother from the dead,” Xu offered. “Maybe. At any rate, we’ll need to go get Lanara and Razael.” Kyle turned to Togusa. “You said you’re willing to help?” “How may I be of service?” the samurai asked. “Will you remain here and protect my family while Xu and I go get out other companions and bring them back?” he asked. “After that, we’d like you to come with us to Delgan.” “I understand,” Togusa said. “I have never been to Delgan, but I understand it is a lawless city.” “It’s the armpit of Targeth,” Kyle said. [CENTER]* * *[/CENTER] Xu and Kyle made it back to the old outpost that the Scion-Watchers had occupied within half a day. There had been no activity at the site, other than scavengers, and the records pulled out of the outpost had proven remarkably information-free. Xu explained the message from Aran, and that they’d decided to help. Though it took some effort to convince Razael why doing a favor for Aran was in their interest, soon all four were speeding back to Bryant’s farm. Everyone was ready to go the next day. They were forced to travel at a normal speed, thanks to the wagon and the fact that Kyle didn’t think his younger nieces and nephews would appreciate a trip through the Shadow Plane. Fortunately, Bryant’s farm was close to the city. Kyle rented out an entire inn on the outskirts of town, the Stag and Boar, for his family to stay in, making sure everyone would stay warm and well fed. Lanara went straight to the town hall, and made an appointment to see Councilman Mendes later that afternoon (thanks to her considerable charms, she wasn’t even required to pay the standard ten silver bribe to the clerk). Togusa again offered to guard Kyle’s family, while the rest of the party went off in search of the local clergy. A few inquiries told them that the only church in town large enough to have priests capable of meeting their needs was the Halls of Fortune, the temple of Ladta. The temple was near the center of town, and was unusually well kept and free of refuse compared to surrounding buildings. An acolyte greeted the party at the entrance. “How may Ladta change your fortunes this day?” the young man said brightly. Kyle sighed at the heavy dose of naïve religious enthusiasm, while Lanara stepped forward. “We’d like a chance to speak with your high priest,” she said. “It’s a most urgent matter requiring divine intercession at the highest levels.” “Oh, I see,” said the acolyte. “Well, if you wish to speak with the Fatemaster, he’s over there, practicing his juggling.” The acolyte pointed across the vestibule at a middle-aged cansin with a slight paunch and bright green skin, who was smiling as he juggled nine razor-sharp chakram for a small crowd. He did not break his rhythm as the party approached him, but smiled warmly. “Welcome to the Halls of Fortune,” he said. “I am Fatemaster Zhul. How may Ladta change your fortunes?” “Good morning, Fatemaster,” Lanara said. “My name is Lanara Rahila, and this is…” “You’re The Legacy, I know,” Zhul said. “Rumors that you were looking for a priest to perform a raising reached us about half an hour ago.” “Oh, I see,” Lanara said. “So, can you do it?” “Well, tell me about the person you need raised,” the Fatemaster asked. He caught the chakram he was juggling and put them away, them clasped his hands in front of him reverently. “One of your group?” “No,” Kyle said, “my brother.” “Is he an adventurer, too?” “He’s a farmer, actually,” Kyle admitted. “Oh, I see. That does complicate things a bit. You see, normally I don’t question too much when adventurers come to us requesting one of their companions be brought back – as long as they can make a suitable donation, of course. You see, I do have to keep the interests of my goddess in mind. But I figure that anyone who makes a living as an adventurer has to rely on luck quite a bit, so I don’t think Ladta would object to intervening on their behalf. But a farmer? Well, not much luck in their lives, wouldn’t you agree?” Kyle’s jaw clenched. “Are you saying you won’t do it?” “No, no,” Zhul said, holding up his hands. “It’s not that I’m unwilling. But it’s Ladta that has to agree to intervene with Erito on your brother’s behalf. And she has her own interests to look out for. One could say that by bringing your brother back from the dead, he would be denying fate. It would go against everything she represents. I wouldn’t want to take your hard-won gold to perform the ceremony, only to have Ladta deny you. “Now, if your brother died due to some occurrence of gross misfortune, then it could be said that he died due to an imbalance of fortune, which would need to be corrected. How did your brother die? Was he struck by lightning? Hit by a meteor?” “He was stabbed in the heart with a rapier,” Kyle said grimly. He was beginning to get tired of dealing with priests. “Hmm. Certainly not an ordinary thing for a farmer, but sadly, getting killed with a sword isn’t all that unusual in this world.” Lanara chimed in. “Would it help to know that he was unjustly killed by fanatical cultists who mistook him for something he wasn’t?” Zhul thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Slightly more unusual, I admit, but cults do spring up from time to time. And whether his death was just or not isn’t my domain – you want to seek out Tor to settle that question.” Lanara thought for a moment. “Isn’t there any other way to appease Ladta? Perhaps with a more generous donation…” Zhul scratched at his chin, contemplating the request. “I have an idea,” he said. “Perhaps there is a way. If you’re willing, we can let Ladta decide how much will appease her. Do you play dice?” “Occasionally,” Lanara said. “Would I get to use my own dice?” The Fatemaster smiled. “No.” “What about his?” Lanara asked, pointing at Razael. Again the Fatemaster shook his head. “Hmm, then we’re at an impasse,” Lanara said. “Because I’m not sure I trust you to use your own dice, either.” Zhul frowned. “Maybe you’re not familiar with our faith,” he said, “but it’s considered a serious sin for us to cheat. Cheating is denying fate.” Lanara thought about it, then nodded. It did make sense. “Okay, then,” she said, “your dice, then. What’s the game?” “Follow me.” Zhul led them into the temple, and had them wait in a small room with a long table. While he was gone, Kyle turned to Lanara. “I’m not comfortable with the idea of gambling for my brother’s life,” Kyle said. “Relax, Kyle. We’ll bring him back, one way or another. Let’s at least hear this guy out.” Fatemaster Zhul returned a few minutes later with another priest, a coffer, and a small bag. He opened the bag and spilled out several dice carved from ivory, and then opened the chest, revealing a large number of platinum coins. “You’ll need two players,” Zhul said, “who will dice for you?” Lanara and Xu volunteered, and sat down opposite the two priests, who were dividing up the coins and the dice. “I usually request a donation of at least six thousand gold for raising the dead,” the Fatemaster explained. “Most of that to cover the cost of the diamonds you need, plus extra for the church itself. But we’re going to game to see how much Ladta wishes you to pay for this privilege. If she favors you, then your brother returns for a much lower donation. If she doesn’t, then you will pay more. Before we begin, I must ask you to swear an oath to Ladta that no matter the results of this contest, you will pay what is asked for the ritual. You aren’t truly submitting to fate if you simply choose to walk away from the table if things go badly for you.” Kyle leaned over to Lanara. “Are you sure about this?” “No,” she admitted, “but Zhul’s the only priest in town that can bring Bryant back. Otherwise you have to wait gods-knows how long to get to another city.” She smiled and patted Kyle on the cheek. “Don’t worry. If it goes bad for us, I’ll help pay for it.” Kyle sighed. “All right.” Each player was given three hundred platinum pieces to gamble with. The game ended up being somewhat similar to a card game, but with dice. Each player bid on who would roll the highest total, with each hand using increasing numbers of dice. There was also a side pool that players could add to, that would be won at the end of the game by the person with the highest overall total. Kyle paid rapt attention to the game even though he wasn’t playing, nervously watching. Razael leaned his chair in a corner and napped. The dicing and betting went back and forth, but late in the game Xu seemed to pull ahead. By the time the last hand was played and the totals calculated, the party ended up ahead over two thousand gold. “Well,” Fatemaster Zhul said, as his priest scooped all the platinum coins back into the coffer, “it seems that you have enough luck on your side to spill over to your brother’s benefit. Very well. Return tomorrow with his body, and I will perform the ceremony. Thank you for allowing us this time of worship.” Bowing, the Fatemaster left the room with the coffer, instructing the lesser priest to escort the party out when they were ready. A very happy group of adventurers left the Halls of Fortune and returned to the Stag and Boar. A couple of hours later, Lanara went for her appointment with Councilman Gil Mendes. The councilman turned out to be a rather unassuming, plain-looking human, with a thin nose and a balding pate. He met with Lanara in an equally unremarkable office with a tiny window too far up on one wall to be useful, a complement to the tiny wood stove in the corner that was too old and decrepit to give off much heat. “What is it I can do for you, Miss… Rahila? I see you’re new in town.” “Well, my companions and I have business to attend to here in Delgan,” she began. “Your name was given to us as someone to talk to, someone who could understand when a person has a dream.” “I see,” Gil said. “Well, if you’re looking to open a business here, I could assist you in finding suitable properties, and guide you through the various licenses and permits you’ll need.” Lanara chewed her lower lip. He hadn’t picked up the subtle hints she dropped. She’d have to try again. “Well, that does sound like a good start. But I hope I’m not asking too much of you, I wouldn’t want you to be… exposed to any danger of losing your position. Surely a man of your… talents would want to remain here at his job.” “I assure you that I’m not overstepping my bounds here,” the councilman said. “Attracting new business to Delgan is part of my responsibility.” Lanara almost sighed aloud. [I]Aren’t politicians supposed to be better at innuendo than this? Or maybe that’s only with their mistresses.[/I] “I would like to know one thing. If my friends and I needed to discuss something privately with someone in town, perhaps that we don’t want to get out into public, would you recommend arranging a meeting here at the town hall?” The light of comprehension finally seemed to dawn in Gil’s eyes. “Well, I don’t think I could recommend a government building for any private discussions. I’m afraid you’ll have to find another place to hold your meetings.” While he talked, Gil pulled a scrap of parchment from a pile on his desk and quickly scrawled a message: [I]Crocodile’s Eyeball – Nine bells[/I]. Lanara nodded slightly, acknowledging his note. “Well, every town has it’s own rules. I’ll arrange another meeting with you when we have our plans ready.” “I look forward to it, Miss Rahila,” Gil said, extending his hand to her. They shook hands, and as Lanara left she saw Gil toss the scrap of parchment into the stove. Lanara returned to the Boar and Stag to report her progress. The party agreed to go together to the Crocodile’s Eyeball, in case there was trouble. Upon arrival, they were glad they had. The tavern in question was deep inside the worst part of Delgan. Most of the people surrounding them in the streets were orcs or orc-touched, the descendants of refugees from the last war between Targeth and the tribes of the Haran Desert. The party made their way to a dark table (one of several in the tavern) and glowered until its occupants left. While Xu kept an eye on the clientele, the others waited for the councilman to arrive. Shortly after nine bells, a man with shaggy blonde hair and moustache approached their table, and asked if he could share the space. Razael looked up at the man. “Nice disguise,” he muttered. He was elbowed by Lanara. Gil sat down nervously. “Thank you for meeting with me here,” he said. “The council hall’s not safe. Now, what were you trying to talk to me about earlier?” “It’s been brought to our attention that you’re in a… special group of people that would prefer that your presence not be known about,” Lanara said, “and it’s also been brought to our attention that you are about to be revealed.” “How did you get this information?” Gil asked. “Through a mutual friend,” she replied, “or at least someone with an interest in keeping you safe.” Gil regarded the party, as if he were sizing them up. Though it was obvious he was worried, Razael and Lanara could tell that he’d been under a great deal of stress for some time. The droop of his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of many sleepless nights. “Do you know,” Gil said at last, “the name Barrai?” Everyone shook their head. Xu thought the name was vaguely familiar, as if someone had mentioned it in conversation during their schooling at The Tower, but she couldn’t place it. “He is a… person of influence in the region,” Gil said, his tone indicating that his ‘influence’ was of the illicit variety. “In regard to the… personal information of which you speak, Barrai has somehow learned about it, and has been blackmailing me for some time. I’ve had to cast votes in his favor, restructure guard patrols around his schedule, things like that. And, of course, plenty of bribes. At this point, I’m out of money, and I have no more political favors I can do for him. His next payment is due in a week.” Everyone looked at each other, nodding silent approval. “We have several routes we could take,” Lanara explained. “We could eliminate him. We could pay him for you and hold you in our debt. Or, we could remove you from the situation.” “Or we could just kill this one and be done with the whole thing,” muttered Razael. Gil’s eyes started to widen upon hearing the comment, but Lanara put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Pay no attention to him,” Lanara said. Kyle leaned over to Razael. “You’re going to have to accept it, Raz,” he whispered in an unfriendly tone, “we’re always going to do the opposite of what you want.” Councilman Mendes looked around the table. “Is this all of you, or are there others?” “We have one more waiting for us back at our inn,” Kyle said. Gil shook his head. “Then I doubt you have the numbers you’d need to eliminate Barrai. He’s well established in Delgan, and in a city ruled by criminals, one has to be careful to be successful. You’d have to go through his entire organization to get to him, and the collateral damage would destroy several legitimate businesses and likely decimate the economy. Besides, Barrai’s death would leave a power vacuum in the region, and I shudder at the thought of those who would be most likely to fill that vacuum. Barrai is a vile man, but not the most vile.” “Okay, so elimination seems the least attractive option,” Lanara said. “Though if necessary, I think we can do it without all the devastation you fear.” “What are your preferences in this matter?” Xu asked. “If I had my choice,” the councilman said, “I’d prefer to have my own status in the community unchanged. I recognize that may not be possible. If you’re here to help me, then the choice of how to do that is yours, as it’ll be your lives on the line. While I enjoy the power I have in this city, power is meaningless to the dead.” Lanara nodded. “Well, paying the bribe for you is only a temporary fix, and doesn’t solve the problem. And even though we’re probably more forgiving than Barrai, all that would do is shift the burden of your debt from him to us.” “Let me ask you this,” Kyle said suddenly. “You’re in this position because Barrai has information about you. What if we could render this information useless?” “How do you mean?” Gil asked. “Either by providing you with equally damaging information on him, or by making the truth of his words seem questionable,” the wizard replied. Gil sighed. “Barrai’s followers wouldn’t doubt his word,” he said, “and from there they could easily incite the populace. A mob doesn’t have to be right to be effective.” “You underestimate our bard here,” Razael said, patting Lanara on the shoulder. “I reckon she could convince Barrai’s men that he was their own mother.” Lanara smiled wickedly. “I’d be willing to bet your next payment to Barrai that I can out-rumor him.” “Gold is one thing,” Gil said, “being burned at the stake is quite another.” “How credible do you think the populace would find Barrai if they thought he’d gone mad?” Lanara asked. “If they believed him to be unhinged?” Gil considered the idea for a moment. “If that’s the sort of thing you can manufacture,” he said slowly, “that could work quite nicely. It’s one thing to try and convince people that Barrai is lying. But if they thought him insane… his lieutenants would probably start carving up his empire for themselves. As far as I know, Barrai is the only one who knows about me. He might have told his lieutenants, though.” “Do you know where his base of operations is?” Lanara asked. “I can tell you it’s in the southwest section of town, but that’s it,” Gil said. “No one outside of Barrai’s inner circle knows where he is. I do know what his guild’s tattoo looks like, though.” “Useful information,” Lanara said. “Can you copy the symbol for us?” She pulled a page out of her journal and laid it on the table. She was about to retrieve a pen when Gil pointed a finger and concentrated, and a drop of his own blood extruded from the fingertip. He calmly inscribed a V with a dot at the base. “It’s usually tattooed on the back of the left hand, in gray ink. They usually keep their hands dirty, so that the mark blends in.” “Thank you,” Lanara said, tucking the paper away. “We should probably go and make plans for how to approach your problem. We’ll be in touch.” “Thank you,” Gil said, standing up. “If you succeed, I’ll be in your debt.” With that, he left the table and walked out of the tavern. The party followed suit several minutes later, and briefed Togusa on the meeting, careful to filter out any information about psionics. Togusa agreed to help, though he admitted his skills lent themselves more toward open confrontation than to spreading rumors questioning a person’s sanity. But when Razael suggested that they enhance their ruse by trying to increase Barrai’s paranoia, Togusa offered to start spreading information that the church of Tor was ‘interested’ in him. “We also shouldn’t discount the possibility of driving Barrai into the open with all this,” Lanara said, “in which case you might get to deal with him in your more traditional way, Togusa. I can go see if he has any official warrants that you could enforce.” “Well, we have the tools at our disposal to pull this off,” Kyle said. “All we have to do it put it together.” “Excellent,” Lanara said. “This is my kind of operation. No monsters, no blood.” “The week is young,” Razael quipped. [CENTER]* * *[/CENTER] Autumn stood in the courtyard for quite a while after Kyle and the others had left, even though there was nothing to see; no shrinking figures on horseback riding toward the horizon, no vaporous after-image. There had been only a moment of darkness, then nothing. She wished she had gone with them, too. “Be safe,” she whispered. A young page walked up to Autumn as she stood in the courtyard, and bowed. “Your Grace?” Slowly, Autumn turned, knowing what the page would say but dreading it nonetheless. “Yes?” “The Emperor requests your presence in the main audience chamber.” The sentinel sighed. “Very well. I will be there shortly.” The page bowed again and departed. A minute later, Autumn followed the same path out of the courtyard and began the long walk to the main palace. [I]Why, Bail?[/I] she asked, the same question she’d been asking for months now without an answer. [I]Why did he choose me for this? [/I] When she’d been made a duchess, Autumn knew the title would come with lands and responsibilities. But she’d assumed she would be granted some small, unimportant domain where her presence or absence would not make much of a difference. Haxtha’s dislike of her sister Arrie was no great secret, and Autumn had assumed that fact, combined with her own obvious complete disinterest in worldly power, would result in a ‘dead-end’ vassalage that would keep everyone happy. Instead, she’d been given dominion over Vargex, one of the empire’s largest duchies. Autumn dreaded to think what rulership of Vargex would entail. Would she be forced to give up her adventuring career, and take over the city full-time? No, it couldn’t be that way. Her role with the Legacy was too important, especially now that they knew the psions could be plotting to destroy more of the gods. Beyond even that, sitting in permanent dominion of a city was a violation of her vows as a Sentinel; her pledge was to seek out the workings of devils wherever they surfaced, not to sit in one place and hope the workings of devils might happen to show up in her own town, preferably within her estate, and could you make an appointment so the Duchess could smite you between meetings, please? But voicing her concerns to the Emperor now was pointless. He knew full well what her obligations were. Whether he had chosen to honor them or ignore them, she could not change his mind now. She would simply have to act as she saw fit, and deal with the consequences of her choice. She’d known she couldn’t delay the moment of truth any longer – it was the reason she’d asked Arrie and Osborn to stay with her. Halfway to the audience chamber, Autumn was joined by the very two people she’d been thinking of. “Have you been summoned, too?” she asked them. “Of course,” Arrie said, “Haxtha wouldn’t pass up a chance to flaunt his superiority in front of me.” “I’m just glad Razael’s not around,” Osborn said. “You may not like the Emperor either, Arrie, but at least you have the sense to keep your mouth shut about it when you’re in the same room with him.” “Maddie is still at the temple, I take it?” Autumn said, on the mention of her divinely-mandated bodyguard. “Yes, they’ve got her locked up tight,” Arrie said. “Seems they’re unwilling to risk her outside their grounds without Razael present. Besides, they’re not done ‘communing with the goddess’ yet.” The warrior smiled. “As you can imagine, I haven’t exactly been eager to walk into the middle of Erito’s temple to see how she’s doing.” At last they arrived at the main audience chamber. The large, gilded mahogany doors were pulled open by two Imperial Guardsmen, and they walked up a plush crimson carpet toward the throne. It was placed on a raised marble dais, with a skylight above bringing a column of sunlight straight down on it (Osborn, from earlier explorations, knew that there were a series of mirrors and focusing lenses on the roof to make sure the sunlight was properly reflected). The throne itself looked as though it were carved from one solid piece of clear crystal. It was a widely held belief that the throne was carved from the same stone that the palace’s Crystal Chime was made from, the bell that sounded only upon the birth or death of a member of the Imperial Family. Legend stated that the original crystal had been a sliver chipped from Erito’s own weapon, the Staff of Measuring, and given to the elves as a sign of her favor when the race first appeared on Aelfenn. Sunlight from above refracted through the throne’s crystal facets, causing it to flash and sparkle like a brilliant diamond. Seated on a cushion of deep purple velvet, regarding their approach, Haxtha sat in his full imperial regalia. Courtiers and advisors were gathered around the edges of the room, observing. The three adventurers stopped at the proscribed place before the throne, and bowed deeply, Autumn kneeling in front of Arrie and Osborn. “You may rise, Autumn Verahannen, Duchess of Vargex, Lady Mayor of Vargas, and associates,” Haxtha said, making a slight gesture. The Emperor’s gaze flicked over to Arrie as he said the word [I]associates[/I]. They stood and looked up at the Emperor. “What is your bidding, Your Imperial Majesty?” Autumn asked. “On the morrow,” Haxtha said, “you will go to Vargas and assume your rightful place in your appointed domain. We have been hearing troubling reports from the city, and we wish for you to restore order, now that you are available to do your duty to your Emperor.” [I]If you hadn’t been off gallivanting gods-knows-where for the past five months in a ship my brother helped you acquire[/I], Autumn heard the unspoken rebuke in Haxtha’s tone. She bowed again. “I will serve as best I may, Majesty.” “We will provide you an escort of Imperial Guardsman, as well as an advisor,” Haxtha said, “My Guardsmen’s orders will be simple; protect the Duchess of Vargex, restore order to the Emperor’s city, and protect the Imperial Princess of Tlaxan.” Haxtha nodded toward Arrie. “We would not wish to insult Princess Ariadne by suggesting she could not adequately defend herself in a base physical altercation.” Both sisters did well to hide any trace of scorn or insult as they nodded; Arrie for the obvious slight at her martial temperament, Autumn at the implication that she was somehow less capable of defending herself. “If I may, Your Majesty,” Autumn said, “what reports have you received from Vargas?” “For some time now, there seems to have been a marked increase in the crime rate. There are even reports of an assassin’s guild in the city. We have not had word from the former Lord Mayor, Count Robar, in several months. The city requires strong leadership; that is what we require of you. You are dismissed.” Autumn, Arrie, and Osborn bowed again, then turned and walked out of the audience chamber. As the doors closed, Osborn hurried to keep up; both Arrie and Autumn were walking unusually fast. He looked up at them, ready to complain, but then he saw the hard look in their eyes. “Um, I think I need to be somewhere else right now,” he said, and quietly slipped off. The next morning, Autumn emerged from her chambers, dressed in a simple but elegant riding dress in the Verahannen colors. She wore the tiara that Herion had presented to her when she was first informed that she would granted the title of duchess. Waiting outside her door were four elves; three males in the uniforms of the Imperial Guard, and one female elf in less assuming garb. “Good morning, Your Grace,” the woman said. “I am Shoshone, and I have been appointed to act as your advisor and liaison to the Emperor. This is Captain Doriam, Captain Imrahil, and Captain Shirazal.” Each of the Guardsmen nodded as they were introduced. “A pleasure to meet you,” Autumn said. “We are ready to depart, if it pleases you, Your Grace,” Shirazal said. “Your companions, Princess Ariadne and Master Greenbottle are already in the courtyard, with the rest of your entourage.” “Entourage?” Autumn asked. “The Emperor told me only of an escort and an advisor.” “Indeed, the four of us are the only notable additions to the typical retinue of a lady of your standing,” Doriam said. Flummoxed, Autumn went to a nearby window that overlooked the courtyard. Below, she saw dozens of people waiting in the courtyard. There were two dozen regular soldiers in formation, and perhaps forty liveried servants milling about. Several wagons were lined up near the rear; Autumn saw that most were for supplies, but noted a passenger carriage where about a half-dozen ladies-in-waiting stood, giggling and laughing with a small figure that she first assumed was a young page or squire, but on closer inspection realized was Osborn. She spotted Arrie up toward the front of the line, mounted on her horse Ghost, looking very bored. Scattered throughout the crowd were elves carrying Verahannen and Imperial banners. Autumn just gaped. Shoshone leaned out the window, looked down at the sea of people below, then grinned at Autumn, slapping her on the back. “Welcome to the Empire,” she said. [CENTER] * * *[/CENTER] Had they been traveling alone, the Legacy could have made the trip from Noxolt to Vargas in a little over a week. As it was, the trip took about two weeks. Doriam, Imrahil, and Shirazal did their best to remain inconspicuous, but their sheer devotion to duty made that impossible. Shoshone was much better at it, and only appeared when Autumn wanted to know something about Vargas or other events in Tlaxan. Osborn spent much of the first few days with Autumn’s ladies-in-waiting, while Arrie stayed with Autumn to help keep her from going insane from all the pomp and circumstance. After their first night away from the capital, Autumn and Osborn awoke to find that Arrie was already up and dressed, quietly poking at one of the cooking fires. As servants moved to secure their belongings and collapse the tents, and the Guardsmen were ordering the regular soldiers to their patrol assignments, Arrie motioned the other two over. “I’ve been contacted by Aran,” she said quietly. “Last night. He would like to speak with us… all of us.” “When and where?” Osborne asked. “When it’s convenient.” “Convenient for us, or for him?” Autumn asked. Arrie shrugged. “I don’t control these things. He only seems to come to me when I’m having nightmares, so I’m kind of hoping he doesn’t come back to clarify.” Autumn frowned. “What kind of nightmares?” Arrie grew a little more subdued. “I… dreamt I was trying to kill myself. Aran came and stopped me.” A few days passed on the road. The entourage passed through several small towns and villages. Each time, loud trumpets and soldiers marching in formation around the Duchess heralded their arrival. After the fifth such event, Autumn gathered her Guardsmen and advisor into a meeting. “When we arrive at Vargas,” she said, “I do not wish to enter the city with an entourage, at first. I wish to get my impression of the city before they know who I am.” “Of course, Your Grace,” Doriam said, “we can surely accommodate your wishes.” “Indeed,” Imrahil agreed, “we will maintain a distance of ten paces.” Autumn scowled. “That is not what I meant. I want you fifty paces behind at minimum, and not make it obvious that you are Imperial Guardsmen.” The three Guardmen looked at each other. “With all due respect, Your Grace,” Doriam said, “our orders from the Emperor are very clear, and we serve the Emperor. Vargas is mired in lawlessness. Ten paces, and we will be armed as befits our function.” “Why can’t you defend me from a distance?” Autumn asked, her temper rising a bit. “Because we are Imperial Guardsmen,” Imrahil said, “not the Imperial Order of the Bow. Had His Imperial Majesty wished to assign you a guard with those skills, he would have done so.” Autumn was about to argue with the elf further, when Arrie put a hand on her forearm. “Let me play devil’s advocate for a moment… if you’ll pardon the expression, Autumn. These three men won’t leave your side until Haxtha calls them back. For all their skills, none of them are what I’d call ‘stealthy’. And they’re trained as close combatants, not as archers. Trying to force them to be something they’re not isn’t going to work, no matter how much you’d prefer it the other way.” “And let’s face it, Your Grace,” Shoshone said, “you don’t exactly blend in to a crowd yourself. You’ve got what they call in my line of work ‘the curse of a famous face’.” She gestured over to Osborn, who was sitting on a cushion eating bacon. “If you desire information about the city, I’d suggest talking to your hin companion.” “While you’re making your grand entrance into the city,” Arrie suggested, “why don’t Osborn, Shoshone and I enter Vargas ahead of you and scope things out? We can really get a sense of what the people think of you. People are most likely to show their true sentiments in a crowd.” “That might work,” Shoshone said. “Easier than trying to keep these four inconspicuous.” She gestured at Autumn and the Guard again. Autumn sighed, and looked at Arrie. “Sometimes I think Haxtha is punishing me to punish you,” she said. “No,” Arrie replied, “He could be punishing you to punish you.” “I don’t see how having an honor guard is a punishment, Your Highness.” Imrahil said. “And you did ask for the job.” “No, I didn’t!” Autumn shouted, causing Osborn to slide off his cushion. “Wow,” the hin said, picking himself up. “I think I’ll go see how the ladies are doing.” After Osborn left, the three Guardsmen stood as well. “We will depart as well,” said Shirazal, “I’m sure that the Duchess wishes some time to prepare her speech before her arrival.” As the Guard left, they stoically ignored Autumn’s scream. “Speech?!?” [CENTER] * * *[/CENTER] The entourage drew closer to Vargas. Three days before they arrived, Arrie, Osborn and Shoshone rode ahead, approaching the city incognito. The three of them decided to don the guise of a merchant and her bodyguards. Shoshone put the last touches on her disguise, and walked out of the inn they’d taken a room in. Her work with Imperial Intelligence had brought her into the city several times, though she hadn’t been in Vargas since the old Lord Mayor stopped sending messages. She hoped none of her contacts had been lost to the criminals that now seemed to run unchecked through the streets. On their way in, they’d seen bodies lying tucked away in alleys, pickpockets operating almost openly in the markets, and even watched a middle-aged gnome picking the lock on the back door of a shop without so much as a blink from the rogue. The few city watchmen they saw seemed oblivious to the crime all around them. They walked into the market district, Arrie and Osborn walking behind Shoshone, who told them to address her as ‘Eslavez’. She went into a fishmonger’s shop, instructing her two ‘guards’ to wait outside. A rotund water-touched man rose up from behind a display case lined with ice and large sturgeon. “Eslavez!” he exclaimed, smiling broadly. “It’s been a long time, old friend!” “Indeed,” Shoshone said, “it’s good to see you again, Karn.” Shoshone knew that Karn was a smuggler as well as a fish merchant, and a useful source of information. “Are you in the market for fish today? Or a deeper catch?” Karn asked. “Well, I guess you could say I’m fishing,” Shoshone said. “But then again, isn’t that generally what we discuss?” “Indeed, indeed. Come with me to my office. It smells of fish guts in here.” Shoshone followed Karn back to a small office, littered with papers. Karn sat down in a large chair, that creaked under his weight. “Fishing in these parts has been odd recently,” he said to her, gesturing for her to take a seat at another chair. “A lot of muck has risen from the bottom.” “Anything I should be cautious of when I’m casting my lines?” she asked. “There’s a large barracuda swimming about that you might want to be careful of,” Karn said. “A slippery fellow, I’m told. The fishermen call him ‘The One That Got Away’ or ‘The Big Head’.” “I see,” Shoshone nodded. Karn’s meaning was clear to her; the ‘barracuda’ was the former Lord Mayor. Apparently trying out a new line of work. “I hear that there’s been some new species coming into the waters here,” she continued. “The kind you don’t normally see. I hear sometimes introducing new fish into the pond can be dangerous for the natives, and sometimes you have to clear out the new fish.” “That’s true,” Karn agreed, “three or four new schools, from what I hear. But it’s a task easier said than done. You’ll need a big net.” “Know of any fishermen looking for work?” she asked. “No, they’re pretty much all in it for themselves,” Karn said. “Lots of boats on the river these days, Eslavez. Makes for a lot of accidents.” “Any safe harbors out there?” Karn shook his head. “Well, I appreciate the advice,” Shoshone said, standing up and offering her hand. “Good luck.” Karn grasped her hand, and there was a nearly inaudible clinking of coins. Shoshone left the office and emerged into the street. “So?” Osborn asked, looking at Shoshone. “Not good,” she said. “I’ll fill you in back at the inn. I suggest that we split up after this, though. Some of my other contacts in Vargas won’t appreciate onlookers, and I think that you, Master Greenbottle, may have some other connections you could pursue. Princess, I’d suggest you mingle with the populace, get to know their mind. I’ve discovered that word of the Duchess arriving has not yet reached the city – it may be in our interest to start preparing the populace.” They spent the rest of the day and all of the next learning what they could. Osborn found that there were no less that three thieves’ guilds and two assassin’s guilds vying for control of Vargas’ underworld. His old guild, the Shadow Hand, had sent operatives to see if establishing control there would be viable, but the hin learned from them that the Hand saw Vargas as too unruly to be profitable. He was able to get the names of the guilds; the two assassin guilds were the Night Blade and the Poisoned Edge. The Silent Foot was an interloping thieves’ guild, comprised mostly of dwarves, gnomes, and hin, and the Night Whispers were the other new guild. The city’s previous resident guild, the Black Hand, was fighting to maintain control of their old territory. Shoshone gathered a good deal of information about the former Lord Mayor, Count Robar. Robar had been appointed by the former Duke to administer the city a few years ago; the Duke’s own health was poor and he’d been unable to oversee it himself. She learned that last spring, Robar had started acting strangely; former servants reported that he was more irritable, and prone to angry outbursts. Around the same time, the watch started to become more lax in enforcing the laws, often outright ignoring crimes happening right under their noses. The Lord Mayor had vanished about five months ago, which coincided with the Night Blade guild suddenly coming into prominence (and, Shoshone noted, also coincided with the Emperor appointing Duchess Autumn to rule Vargas). The other new guilds came into Vargas about a month after that. After four months of guild wars, the police were too scared to be effective, and even if they wanted to intervene, no longer had the manpower or resources to make a dent in the crime waves. The next morning, Duchess Autumn arrived in the city. Soldiers arranged in a phalanx marched through the streets, with banners waving and trumpets blaring. It was slow going, as the citizens of Vargas had only recently heard rumors of her arrival, and thus had not prepared for her entourage to enter the city. But after a while, a few city watchmen started clearing the streets, allowing the new Duchess to proceed unhampered toward her estate. Autumn noted that several people were pointing and smiling as she rode by. She looked over at Shoshone, who has slipped back into the entourage quietly just outside the city gates. Shoshone only smiled. There was no sign of Osborn or Arrie, though Shoshone assured her quietly that both were well, and would appear later. The procession arrived at the gates of the mayoral mansion. The iron bars are overgrown with ivy, and graffiti marred the six-foot stone walls. The first thing Autumn noticed was that the servants, who she had sent ahead to prepare the house for her arrival, were still standing outside the gates. “What’s going on?” Autumn asked the chamberlain, who had come running up. She had to think for a moment before recalling his name – Theodren. “A thousand apologies, Your Grace,” Theodren said, bowing stiffly, “but the gates are locked. We’ve been trying to locate someone on the grounds, but no one is answering our calls.” Autumn glared at the iron barrier. “Open the gate,” she said. “Of course, Your Grace, as soon as a key can be…” “Open the gate now,” she said, cutting the chamberlain off. The three Guardsman looked at each other, nodded, and started moving toward the gate, drawing their enormous courtblades as they approached. “There’s no need for that,” said a voice, and suddenly Osborn appeared standing in front of the bars. “I have a key right here.” With a wink to Autumn, Osborn turned and proceeded to unlock the gate. Servants pushed the doors open with a loud, grating screech, and the entourage moved forward. Guardsman Imrahil turned to the crowd gathered behind Autumn’s entourage. “Her Grace, Duchess Autumn, Lady Mayor of Vargas, will address her subjects at sunset,” he said loudly. “Until then, the Duchess will not entertain any guests or city business.” The outside of the mansion looked as run-down as the outer wall. Refuse was scattered everywhere, the grounds were wild and unkempt, and a few windows were cracked. The front doors were ajar, swing open in the breeze. Servants moved quickly to pick up what they could, as if they were somehow at fault. With rising ire, Autumn stormed into the mansion. Inside, dust and cobwebs covered every surface, though there was little for it to cling to. It seemed as though everything that wasn’t nailed down had been removed. The plants and flowers were dead and wilted, and a smell of sewage permeated the house. “Search the house,” Autumn growled, “see if anything remains. Find whatever is left of the former Lord Mayor’s staff and bring them before me.” The soldiers began searching the house, while the servants set to work cleaning up as best they could, under Theodren’s frantic orders. Autumn moved to a parlor to await the arrival of Lord Mayor Robar’s staff. Guardsman Imrahil stood sentry at the front door along with a pair of soldiers, while Doriam and Shirazal remained with Autumn. Shirazal posted another pair of guards at the servant’s entrance. Within an hour, Autumn was looking over a motley group of about fifteen men and women, all quite terrified. Many of them were drunk, and several looked as though they had dressed very quickly. None of them wore their servant’s livery. Autumn noted fresh lipstick marks on the neck of one of the male servants that matched the shade being worn by a female maid. She also noted that he was casting a leering eye at her, apparently oblivious to the presence of two heavily armed Imperial Guardsmen on either side of her. She wished she’d chosen to ride into town in her armor instead of in a dress. “Theodren,” Autumn said, “who is in charge of this rabble?” Theodren glared at the assembled staff. “Who is in charge here? Where is your chamberlain?” The servants exchanged awkward, uncertain glances. Finally, one of them, the young man with the lipstick on his neck, stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, but we’ve not seen the chamberlain for three months.” “And yet you remained here?” Theodren asked. “We were still receiving our wages,” the young man said. “Delivered to our homes every month, as usual. Even though we’d stopped caring for the house for some time.” He smiled and licked his lips. “Not many people get paid to do nothing.” “What is your name?” Autumn asked, leaning forward. “Rudy, ma’am. I was the doorman.” “You will address the Duchess as ‘Your Grace’!” snapped Theodren. “D…Duchess?” Rudy stammered. “I see that despite receiving your wages for doing nothing, several of you felt in necessary to enhance your income by taking items from the Lord Mayor’s estate… my estate.” “I… I don’t know anything about that,” Rudy said unconvincingly. Autumn slowly stood, and walked to within a few paces of Rudy. He was white as a sheet now, trembling, and definitely no longer harboring illicit thoughts about her. “Did you know, Rudy, that in addition to being your new sovereign lord, I also belong to the Order of Sentinels? Do you know what the Sentinels do, Rudy? We root evil and corruption out of this world.” She began to circle him slowly. “They say that a sentinel can look into the heart of a man, see his very soul.” She stopped in front of him, and glared into his beady eyes. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Rudy.” Rudy nodded, unable to speak. “Why did you lie to me, Rudy?” “Because you terrify me, ma… Your Grace,” he said, “and I was afraid to say anything that would upset you.” Autumn smiled. “Then I think our relationship is exactly where it needs to be.” She returned to her seat and let the silence settle in for a few moments. “Who sent your wages?” she asked. “I don’t know,” Rudy said, “I assume that the chamberlain did, or perhaps Count Robar’s steward. All I know is that our pay arrives at our home on the first of the month, delivered by a bonded courier.” “Your Grace, if I may,” Shoshone said. She looked at the crowd of servants. “Since it seems that you have received three months salary without having performed your assigned duties, the Duchess would not be remiss in requiring three months unpaid service from each of you.” The servants shifted their feet uncomfortably. “Or you could be fired now, and owe the estate three month’s salary, plus a suitable fine,” Shoshone continued. “Or,” Osborn said, “we could just treat them as common criminals. What is the penalty for theft in Vargas?” “I’m not certain, Master Greenbottle,” Shoshone said. “Of course, the new Lady Mayor may need to review the current laws, as they hardly seem to be a deterrent.” Shoshone looked over the servants again. “You may return here on the last day of the year and give us your decision – work for free, be indebted to the Duchess, or be arrested.” “You are dismissed,” Theodren barked. “Find out who is still paying these people,” Autumn said to Theodren as the room cleared, “make sure it stops, and that whoever is responsible doesn’t have any further access to my accounts.” “At once, Your Grace,” Theodren said, bowing and quickly leaving the room. Autumn looked at Shoshone. “I don’t want to have any of those people back in my house,” she said. “Don’t worry,” Shoshone said, “not a one of them will still be in the city by tomorrow morning. I’m afraid you’re out some gold, Your Grace, but you never would have recovered it anyway, and right now I’m not sure I’d trust the city watch to enforce any sentences.” Autumn sighed. “The money isn’t a problem, though I hadn’t expected to spend it cleaning my own estate. But I need reliable people working for me, Shoshone.” “I understand, Your Grace. One problem at a time. First you have to curb the lawlessness.” Shoshone and Osborn gave Autumn a full report of everything they had learned about the city, including the suspiciously-timed disappearance of Count Robar. “There are several theories,” Shoshone concluded. “Robar could have been blackmailed by one of the crime guilds, which might explain his sudden change in personality. Or he could have been in league with one of the guilds, and was under pressure because of the encroachment of rival guilds. We can’t rule out mind control, or poisoning, either. Robar could have fled, he could have been killed, or he could have gone underground. So far, I haven’t been able to find out what happened to him.” “I have a feeling we’ll learn the truth quickly once we start trying to root out these guilds,” Autumn said. “Have someone bring the Captain of the Watch.” “I will go, Your Grace,” Shirazal said, bowing as he took his leave. “So, Shoshone, what do you advise?” Autumn said after he left. “I’d suggest that you make it known quickly that now that you’re here, things like random disappearances of notable townspeople will no longer be tolerated. I’d advise contacting the local garrison of the Imperial Army and requisitioning troops to augment the city watch. I’d advise implementing a curfew as soon as those reinforcements arrive. I’d advise trusting no one.” Autumn looked forlornly around the mansion. “I wish Arrie were here,” she said. “She’ll be here soon, I’m sure,” Osborn said. “She said she wanted to wait until you were settled in.” Meanwhile, Guardsman Shirazal found the barracks of the city watch, and strode in past the two sentries at the door. He stopped in front of a desk where another watchman sat. The watchman looked up, annoyed at first, but blanched when he saw the Imperial seal emblazoned on the visitor’s scabbard. “Who’s in charge here?” Shirazal demanded. The watchman at the desk pointed down the hall to a doorway. Shirazal turned and headed down the hall without another word. Behind him, he could hear the sound of several people bolting for the door. Shirazal threw open the door and stepped in unannounced. An elf, perhaps middle-aged, was sitting behind a large desk, leaning back, with his eyes closed. At the sound of the door opening, the man opened his eyes. “What the… oh, cr*p!” The man quickly say up straight, but remained in his chair pulling up close to the desk. “You are the Captain of the Watch?” Shirazal asked. “Yes… yes, I am.” “You will attend the new Lady Mayor, Duchess Autumn, immediately,” he said. “The new… oh, yes, of course.” The captain looked at Shirazal, then looked around the room. “I’ll need a few minutes to get ready.” “Of course,” Shirazal said, not moving. “Er, could I have a few moments of privacy?” Shirazal caught a slight movement near the floor, and looked. A set of toes poked out from under the edge of the desk, twitching slightly. They were obviously not the captain’s toes. Shirazal looked levelly at the captain. “No.” The captain sighed, and pushed away from his desk, standing to fasten his trousers. As he did so, a young elven boy, no more than a hundred and twenty, peeked out from behind the desk. At the sight of the Imperial Guard, he ducked back down. “Where are we going?” the captain asked as he strapped on his sword. “The mayor’s estate,” Shirazal said, and escorted him back to where Autumn waited. By this time the servants had cleaned out an office enough to be usable, and so Autumn met with the Captain of the Watch there, sitting at a oak desk that had seen better days. “Captain, please give me a report of the past several months,” Autumn said, once introductions were done. The captain’s report was less than stellar. He confirmed that crime had increased sharply after the disappearance of the former Lord Mayor, and though he had tried to curb it, the watchmen that he sent out came back dead or worse. Eventually, he decided that rather than risk their lives in a futile effort, he would have his men wait out the chaos and hope for help from Noxolt. “Do you have any idea what happened to the former Lord Mayor?” Autumn asked. “His disappearance was investigated,” the captain said, “there are reports on file at the barracks. I’m not familiar with their conclusions.” “Tell me, captain,” Autumn said, “you say your losses were too great trying to combat these new guilds. Why then do I hear reports that the watch is not acting to prevent any crime at all? Surely pickpocketing and vandalism can be dealt with without fear.” “I don’t know,” the captain said. “they should be doing that, at least. If the watch isn’t doing their duty, I’ll have to have words with them.” Guardsman Shirazal leaned down and whispered into Autumn’s ear. She nodded, then stared at the captain of the watch for a while. “Captain,” she said slowly, “if you wish to keep your job, things are going to change. The whore under your desk will no longer be tolerated. That applies to all your men. I expect to see the crimes that the Watch is supposed to be dealing with be dealt with. If I don’t see this happening, you will be replaced. Do you understand?” “I understand,” he said, “and it’s not something I’m willing to risk my life over.” He unbuckled his sword and scabbard and laid it on the desk in front of Autumn. “It’s on your head, not mine.” Bowing, he turned and left. “Follow him,” Shoshone whispered to Osborn. “See where he goes, and who he talks to.” Osborn nodded, turned invisible, and left the room. “If it pleases Your Grace,” Guardsman Shirazal said, stepping forward and bowing, “I would be willing to take on the duties of the Captain of the Watch until a suitable replacement can be found.” “That would be most appreciated, Guardsman,” Autumn said. “I hereby name you Captain of the Watch of Vargas. Your first order is to find those files your predecessor mentioned on Count Robar and bring them to me. After that, I’m sure you know what needs to be done.” Shirazal bowed and left the mansion to report back to the barracks. Later that afternoon, Osborn returned to report that the former captain had gone home, packed his things, and left the city without talking to anyone. “Left behind a nice house,” Osborn said. “Nice furniture.” “Well, at least we can start refurnishing the Duchess’ estate,” Guardsman Doriam said. “Heck, no!” Osborn said, grinning. “It’s my house, now! Everything’s a bit big, but the bed’s perfect!” Autumn waved at Doriam to indicate that everything was fine. “I suppose I should work on my speech,” she said. “Any advice?” There was silence, and then Guardsman Doriam spoke. “There are still decent people in this city, Your Grace. They need to hear that their city can be safe again. They need to know they don’t have to live in fear. They need to be inspired by you, Your Grace.” “Thank you, Guardsman,” Autumn said, “I appreciate the advice.” Autumn secluded herself in her office for the next two hours, trying to come up with a speech. She wished that Lanara was there to help her, or Arrie, or even Kyle; he could at least help her decide what to say, even if he couldn’t say it himself. As she contemplated the task before her, the room seemed to get smaller. About thirty minutes before sunset, a young elf-touched woman named Aleria knocked at the door. Aleria had been appointed as Autumn’s valet. “It’s nearly time, Your Grace,” Aleria said, “is there anything you need?” “No… yes. Have my armor brought to me, please, and someone to assist me with it.” “I can help with the armor, Your Grace,” Aleria said, “I have received the proper instruction.” “Very well, Aleria. Thank you.” Once the armor was brought, and her valet began helping her strap in on, Autumn felt somewhat more comfortable. She was at least in more a more familiar outfit. It still didn’t change the fact that she had nothing prepared, but at least she wouldn’t have to try and speak wearing a corset. At the appointed time, Autumn stepped out onto the terrace overlooking the courtyard. The gates had been opened, and the city folk allowed to gather around the mansion, though a wall of guards stood between the crowd and the door. Torch stands had been brought out and lit, illuminating the large crowd below. One of the other servants, a bard of moderate talent who’d been assign as the court entertainer, stepped up behind Autumn and discreetly cast a spell that would amplify her voice. At the same time, a few of the other staff whose Talents allowed them to create light focused their power on the terrace, illuminating Autumn in her shining suit of mithral. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. [I] Bail, help me.[/I] “Good people, I stand here, newly arrived in your city, and I look upon troubled faces enduring troubled times. I see mothers afraid to let their children play in the streets, I see fathers whose businesses have endured unending difficulties, I see sons and daughters forced to make terrible choices to survive. I see a city torn apart by corruption, infected with rot both from within and from without. I see a city whose leaders have abandoned their people when they are most in need. “I come before you now to tell you that your prayers have been heard, your whispered pleas for succor have been answered. For the Emperor knows that Vargas can still be a shining jewel in the Empire, that she can rise above the rabble which now infest her like a plague. I come before you now not as a noblewoman, here to suck the marrow from the bones of the city while vultures circle overhead. I come to you as a warrior, and I give to you a warrior’s vow; I will cut out the disease that has overtaken your city… our city.” Autumn drew her greataxe from the scabbard on her back, and held it aloft for a moment. “For those who would oppose the dominion of peace and order, this will be the only law they will know. No mercy will be shown those who have given none, or who have allowed the corrupt to reign unchallenged. Those of you who believe in decency and truth – and I believe that there are a great many more of you in our city than you know – will have no reason to fear me. Indeed, it is through your will alone that I rule, not by the words of any document, or soldier, or even of the Emperor himself. You have lived here all your lives; you deserve to have your city ruled as you would wish your own homes to be ruled; with a firm but fair hand.” Autumn pulled the gauntlet off her right hand, then held it aloft. “This is the hand with which I would rule Vargas.” She then dropped her right and held up her mailed left fist. “Not this. Order without justice is meaningless; stability without mercy an empty promise. Today you, the people of Vargas have none of these things. Tomorrow will bring change.” Autumn slowly took a half step back, and waited. She heard a ripple of sound run through the crowd below, and then she heard a few people start to applaud. The applause spread quickly, and soon everyone in the crowd below was cheering and clapping madly. There were shouts of “Long live Duchess Autumn!” and “the Angel of Mercy has come to save us!” Autumn smiled broadly at the crowd, and it took everything she had not to burst into tears. [I]Kyle, I wish you could have been here to see this.[/I] There was a sudden disturbance in the crowd, starting from the back. Autumn watched as the crowd began to part, allowing a single rider to approach. The rider was astride a magnificent gray-white horse, and the Imperial seal gleamed off the saddle. The rider wore an elegant gown, and was arrayed in fine jewelry. Her chestnut brown hair was arranged in the latest court fashion. Upon reaching the inner courtyard, the woman dismounted, and walked to within a few paces of the main doors. She looked up at Autumn, and bowed her head. “Duchess Autumn, Lady Mayor of Vargas,” she called up, “I am Crown Princess Ariadne of Noxolt. I humbly request your permission to enter the city.” A ripple went through the crowd as Arrie identified herself. Now tears really did start trickling down Autumn’s cheeks. “Permission granted, Princess Ariadne,” she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering, “and welcome to my city.” [/QUOTE]
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