~ The Dwarven Blockade: [Archive] [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~

Hannibal draws another breath, coming to what he can tell is the sensitive part. "'Goril,' yes, indeed that name does sound a little familiar." Hannibal pauses, as if he had to think. But in reality, there was no thinking necessary. How could he forget? "Goril...he...a man by that name recruited me and Melinda, one rainy night in Bigamore. He promised us wealth; he promised me many women. He promised Melinda jewels prettier than she could ever imagine. Once we signed on, he went somewhere else...most Clanners fairly high on the pecking order move from cell to cell...it keeps them honest, they can't stash too much of their own for they'll have nowhere to put it. So I never saw him again."

The thief watches Skandor as he answers. "Does this sound like the Goril you know?"

Skandor nods slowly, showing no emotion. But the clenching of his jawline muscle betrays his tenseness. "Yes, it does indeed sound like the one," he says in a calm voice. His eyes drop from Hannibal to stare again into the fire. "I have been charged with finding him for various crimes he has committed, if he still lives, and bringing him to justice."

Hannibal nods to the warrior, "Any enemy of my enemy is an ally for sure. Should the time come to exact that justice, I will be at your side."

That done, Hannibal settles back into his mead, taking a long pull from his cup. As an afterthought, he addresses Skandor again. "And don't call me Sir Hannibal, I'm not a Knight...and never will be."

Skandor nods towards Hannibal. "One does not need the blessing of a King or the title of 'Knight' to be addressed with respect." He nods towards Hannibal again. "But, as you wish. You and I have much more in common than you think, Hannibal."

Suddenly Hannibal is ashamed of himself. He had to teach himself to not be on guard all of the time, that sometimes people wish only to pay you a compliment. "Thank you for the respect but I don't think I deserve it yet...I have too much left to accomplish before I will allow myself forgiveness. Thank you nonetheless."

Hesitating a moment to give thought to Skandor's last comments, he decides not to pry until the time was right. Maybe these new additions would be good ones to Rinder. He had been glad to see Naeron leave and worried of similar replacements, especially with Alara's actions, but now his view of all three was changing.

A moment later, Skandor reaches into his pack and brings forth a small wooden box. Opening it, he removes a delicate looking knife. Splashing some water on his face from a canteen, he begins to shave, as he does almost every day.

Storm awakens the next day shortly after Emma and Skandor awaken, another night spent tossing and turning over the pain his wounds cause him when he rolls over. His sleep, though, was certainly more restful than the last night, and he feels better. He lies in his sack a short while before getting up, and before he does he notices Emma and Skandor sparring off in the distance. He rolls over on his stomach and rests his dirty-blonde-bearded chin on his hands as he watches them practice. He particularly watches Skandor, curious about the newcomer's ability with the blade. If he was anything like Edryd was, Storm figured, he could certainly hold his own. A pinge of sadness creeps into Storm's mind at the thought of his old Sword Bearer friend, but nonetheless he finds himself smiling as he watches Edryd's holy replacement. 'If ye God does be watchin' ye, Edryd, this dwarf be knowin' ye restin' well,' he mutters under his breath.

As he watches them battle more, Storm pays particular attention to Skandor's huge two handed claymore. He'd seen them used before, though most of those he'd seen use them were doing so either for intimidation or brute force and damage-causing capacity. Skandor, though, seemed to really know how to wield a mighty sword like that, not overdoing it and not being unfamiliar with it. As the sparring match went on Storm's appreciation for Skandor and his skill in battle deepens, quite impressed with the warrior's mastery of such a difficult weapon to wield.

He spends the rest of the morning stretching his sore muscles and inspecting his equipment. He briefly sharpens his two long swords as well as a few of his daggers--he's too impatient to inspect them all--and he takes out his bastard sword and holds it with both his hands. It had been a while indeed since this blade had seen some enemy blood. Storm holds it out in front of him, and he gives it a twirl or two, even mimicking a movement or two he saw Skandor perform earlier that morning. With a short "Hmm..." he returns the blade and prepares to depart.

After returning to the others at the campsite, Emma goes about the task of healing. She does so expressionlessly, her body revealing her lack care. Still, she goes about the movements mechanically, and Anhur's healing power brings with its warmth, the mending of wounds.

Skandor watches as Emma goes about her mending. He feels suddenly silly, again, pretending to give advice to a superior, and someone who has much more experience than him. His face turns red, and he hopes that no one can see, as he feels momentarily overwhelmed with embarrassment. He watches her go about her 'duty' without emotion or care. When she comes to him and blesses him with healing, he will nod, smile, and thank her. But he knows that his appreciation is lost on her, for she would expect such a reaction from someone of her church.

After that, Skandor glances about the group, and sees that, at this time, Elloharin is the worst off it appears. Rising slowly, he approaches Elloharin and kneels next to the quiet elf.

El watches Skandor approach, his look carefully guarded. The paladin reaches out to touch him and El's hackles rise. He starts like a deer poised to flee. Skandor withdraws his hands, and speaks.

Gently laying a hand on the elf's shoulder, Skandor recites the Ritual of Healing, and a moment later, the elf can feel the warmth of healing enter his body. As the feeling begins to subside, Skandor's eyes meet with El's, and he whispers. "Friend Elloharin, my healing can only mend the body, but not the soul. Speak to me anytime, if you wish." The paladin gives El's shoulder a quick, gentle reassuring squeeze and then he rises and approaches the wagon he is to drive.

As he turns to go El whispers to him, "Please..." He holds Skandor's gaze for a moment longer, his eyes riveting and feverish. As Skandor sighs and turns to leave, El whispers once again, his voice nothing more than a harsh rasp. "I didn't mean..." El trails off momentarily, his eyes clouding and his gaze shifting, "Please do not think that-" Again El has to stop. He swallows hard and closes his eyes, visions of burning men and women filling his eyes. "The clansmen...I didn't...want..." El breaks off and turns away. A slight tear seems to streak the dirt smudged on his fair elven complexion.

"I have such terrible dreams," he mutters softly, too low for the human to hear him, he thinks. El turns away.

Skandor pauses a moment, and turns back to look at the elf. After a moment, he kneels back down beside him, and speaks to him, even though Elloharin does not return the stare, nor does he appear to be listening.

But the paladin does not expect an answer. He speaks softly, in a whisper. "A long time ago, I had nightmares and had trouble sleeping for many years. It was not until I was finally able to share my nightmares with a friend, someone I trusted, that I was able to stop having them and rest easily again. I rarely have them anymore. Sure, sometimes they come back to haunt me, but not nearly as much as they used to. I recommend the same to you, friend Elloharin. Seek out someone you trust, for I know there must be someone you do. Speak to them of these dreams...and rest well again."

With that, he gets up without a response from the elf, and heads to the wagons.

After the party has traveled for a little over an hour, Alara guides her horse to the side of the wagon Canter is driving. She makes small talk with the man for most of the rest of the journey to Parton, talking about leatherworking primarily.

Upon seeing the Duke, or who is apparently the Duke, Skandor bows respectfully. He looks over the Assessor of Taxation and the Duke, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly and peering at them in an attempt to judge their character. After a brief moment of concentration, he breathes easy. Relaxing his tense muscles, he feels that there is little evil within these men.

Alara looks around the room, obviously uncomfortable in the presence of the Duke, she backs away from the majority of the party, trying to stand as closer to the walls of the room, her eyes periodically turn towards the door.

El stands impassively, near the door. He keeps one eye on the exit and one eye on the Tax Assessor. His right hand rests lightly on the hilt of his blade. The left holds him propped against the door. He looks completely at ease, though any of the Six know he is poised, ready for trouble. 'I do not trust this man who smiles at strangers,' El thinks. 'Why does this man, the Duke, surround himself with such unsavory characters? This Paros. That disgusting, beyond irritating, Master Chamberlain. And now one more. Is the man who will become king truly such a poor judge of character?' El listens to the others speak, sharing nothing. He keeps one eye and one ear to the door, watching the flank.

Hannibal too finds himself bored with such trivial matters...to him anyway. He was a man of adventure and action, never suited for diplomacy or politics. It was this fact that always had angered his lord in his training. That and Hannibal's emphasis on bow and blade rather than lance and blade. Archery had always seemed a lesser form of combat to Hannibal's lord. Too bad it had been a well placed Orcish arrow that had dehorsed the man, leading to his ultimate demise.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Hannibal moves closer to the young elf, El. In a low whisper, so that only El could hear him, Hannibal speaks to his younger companion...in fluent Elven no less! "I overheard your comments in camp and wanted to let you know that it is okay. Those men would have reserved no quarter for you had the tables been turned and have probably killed far more for far less in their time. It is never honorable to kill under such circumstances but then again, honor will only get a man so far...beyond that he has only his life to worry about."

Ready to leave it at that, Hannibal turns back to the elf as another thought crosses his mind. "As to your decision to leave your charge and come to our aid in the last battle, I would hope that in the future you would make better decisions. Emma is not weak by any standards but rather a valuable asset to the group that must be protected at all costs. My point, unless released, stay with your charge to the death. Questions?" Hannibal speaks in a calm and professional manner. He respects El's tenacity and courage above all else and only wants to make clear that by changing the plan he actually endangers the others.

As the group goes in, Storm finds a spot on the wall near the door and leans against it, resting a foot on the bottom of the wall and crossing his arms in front of him. As Bryant's eyes meet his briefly in the greetings, Storm smiles widely and nods, though doesn't bother saying anything, as he really has nothing to say anyway. He lets his head slip back against the wall as the diplomatic figures in the room talk, and he simply lets his thoughts drift, looking forward to some sleep (though still painful) on a nice inn or castle bed and the subsequent healing that he expects he'll get in the morning.

"You must forgive my Assessor of Taxation," Bryant interjects calmly after the Assessor notices the prisoners, "he means only to see to my safety." Then after a beat, "do tell me, and quickly for I must be to my Lady in my private chambers, what have you to report on this issue of the dwarves? Do you bring from them an agreement to end the blockade? What news?"

Emma smiles diplomatically and ignores the Duke's question for the moment. She reaches out her hand to the Assessor of Taxation, saying, "It's so nice to make your acquaintance, good sir. Perhaps following our discussion with His Grace, we could speak further with one another." The priestess carefully keeps her expression neutral, but it is obvious that she doesn't intend to let the Assessor be present for the meeting with Bryant. She expects him to take his leave by giving the impression that the matters they are about to discuss are too important to share with anyone but the Duke.

As the priestess speaks to the Assessor of Taxation, Crayne addresses the Duke's question, his voice booming through the room. "I thank you for granting us time to speak with you!" Crayne nods at the Duke in a respectful manner and continues, "I will not beat about the bush for as you said your time is limited! There is plenty to tell though!" Crayne warns the King, "When we last met we made a very serious accusation indeed and that was directed at your close associate Paros. This accusation put forth that Paros who headed up the negotiations between the dwarves over the adamantine ore was acting shall we say in a suspect manner! Now I hope that you will listen to proof that we have gathered and see that our accusation is one that is indeed built on very solid ground! Furthermore, what we have gathered should put us back on the path to renegotiating a treaty between Rinders people and the Raimead dwarves.

"To begin then with the accusation against Paros!"

Emma bites her tongue as the Highbrow proceeds to launch into another attack upon the Duke's trusted wizard. 'This is not good,' she thinks to herself, but can't quite bring herself to interrupt Crayne's speech, 'We have little proof to convince him of the truth. Nothing solid, except for Jordice's confession...and how trustworthy can a Blood Clansman be? We know his words to be true, but there's little we can do make Bryant see that...

'And as for Paros,' she continues her line of mental reasoning, 'We don't have the Ring of Fire...so even if we do convince Bryant of the truth how can we expect him to do anything about it? The wizard can come and go as he pleases...the Duke's men can't stop him. And neither can we. This isn't the time to try to bring down Paros. And I thought we'd already settled that issue when we set out after Bernigan in the first place! That's why I was planning to leave it out of my report!'

The priestess folds her arms and gives a worried glance toward Canter and Skandor, before hanging her head. She would just have to see how Bryant reacted to this second round of attacks leveled against his life-long advisor.

Crayne, meanwhile, continues to lecture the Duke. "We have learnt that an underground thieving guild called the Blood Clan has been the competing party for the adamantine ore. The person responsible for representing the Blood Clan was the late Bernigan. What we have gathered is that the Blood Clan were purchasing the adamantine ore from the Raimead dwarves at a better price than what we were paying under the agreed price in the treaty. Then the Blood Clan were organising transport through the Teamsters Guild. Where then was this adamantine ore going you might ask? Well! You remember I am sure that a group of drow were found here in the city not long ago."

Crayne sees the Kings eyes light up for a moment, "Yes! King Bryant! The drow! A specific House in fact called D'Urdenterrad! You see the drow attacked us just outside the Temple of Anhur! It was a close call but thanks to the assistance of Emma here we managed to defeat them. But what they said to me and Hannibal when we first confronted them on the steps of the Temple was what intrigued me. You see they warned us to stop with trying to renegotiate the treaty. Why else would they come out of hiding but for reasons that are so plain to see! Well! Now they are anyhow!" Crayne states, "Obviously! They were the beneficiaries! These drow were the ones who were buying the ore from the Blood Clan!

"It was then that we decided that the next wise course of action would be to trail one of these convoys and prove to Delk here that this was where the ore was being delivered! After interrogating one of the Blood Clan Jordice--who I shall again bring up later--we learnt of the Blood Clan's plans in terms of transporting the ore. They took about twenty Blood Clan to escort the wagons of which one was Bernigan. Some of these men stand here today gagged and tied! Sure enough we guessed their course correctly! They would head south east towards Nickton on there way to pick up the ore from the dwarves and then head directly west for the Spiked Peak! We decided to cut them off at Nickton when they had the ore and were obviously heading directly west for the Spiked Peak where they would deliver the ore to the drow.

"After a very bloody affair we managed to defeat the Blood Clan convoy and recapture the adamantine ore which we have brought back with us! We have also brought you back with us these men who were employed as heavies to escort the wagons and there is a map that we discovered on one of the bodies that provides evidence of their intended journey!"

Crayne pauses and then sighs, "Anyhow! Once we had caught the men--Incidentally we unfortunately killed Bernigan who was with them! A very unfortunate affair I must say! As I was explaining once we had captured the men we interrogated them in front of Delk here who now is fully convinced that the drow were the purchasers of this ore! Delk has also assured us that he will strike his part of the deal. He assures us that he can stop the dwarves from selling the ore to the drow! However, what he still requires from you is a renogotiation of the price for the ore which in my eyes seems a logical request. Afterall the ore is worth more so why shouldn't the dwarves receive more money for it? Also, if Paros hadn't so blatantly refused the dwarves a renogotiation of the price then none of this would have happened from the start. The dwarves are from my point of view an innocent party in all of this!"

"Innocent to a degree!" Emma interrupts, "The dwarves of the Raimead Mountains were certainly duped by Bernigan, the Blood Clan, and the Drow. But the consequences of their choice...and the actions that followed...could have been dire, indeed. Had the transport gone through, the Drow would have attempted an assassination upon our future-King. This is a most serious crime, and one that the Dwarves would have unwittingly become a partner to. Nonetheless, they would have played a part in the whole thing."

The priestess regards Captain Delk to make sure he understands the men of Raimead are not the only potentially guilty party in this entire affair, and says, "A terrible diplomatic position would have resulted. One that I'm sure would not have reflected favorably upon your Clans or your General, Captain.

"But neither has the Duchy of Raimead negotiated in good confidence with your people," she confirms, understanding the feelings of the dwarf on this matter, and wanting to make it clear that both sides were on equal footing in the upcoming negotiation and deserved equal blame for the failures so far, "The treaty as it is written calls for a price to be paid for the not-so-unusual ores of the mountains, Your Grace. The discovery of adamantine is much more valuable, and the Dwarves are within their rights to withhold it until a new treaty can be signed. To date, your advisor Paros has rebuffed the attempts of the Dwarven ambassadors to meet with you on this matter...continuing to operate under the old treaty. This is why the dwarves felt it was necessary to block the mountain passes. No more men of Raimead will be allowed into the mines until this issue is resolved."

The priestess gestures with her hands as if to indicate the matter rests fully with the Duke. "Apparently, Paros is either unwilling or incapable of settling this dispute in a manner that honors your Duchy's commitment to the dwarven people. This is why I strongly urge you to deal with this yourself. Again, lean upon your own wisdom. And your own good heart, Your Grace." The priestess grows silent and then Crayne continues his explanation...

"As I said before though I was going to bring up the name of Jordice. Another member of the Blood Clan who we managed to capture and who is now being held under lock and key in the Temple of Anhur. Another valuable witness who I would like to bring to your attention. What we learnt from Jordice after interrogating him was that Bernigan was employing him to hand over money to Paros in the form of a bribe. The person who actually collected the bribe was Paros's apprentice Emerson. We did indeed learn that the bribe consisted of two large bags of coinage. You must see, King Bryant, that it all slots into the place! Paros's treachery must be dealt with appropriately!"

Crayne states in an over confident manner, "There I have relayed the information in front of you and there is little more than I can do! It is now up to you the new King of Rinder! Where do we proceed from here?"

Emma grits her teeth and clenches her jaw as she hears the overconfidence oozing from Crayne. 'We are going to be in so much trouble,' she thinks to herself, 'Either Bryant is going to be upset with us for once again accusing Paros with little proof of the advisor's guilt. Or, he's going to believe us and try to arrest the wizard, in which case we know we're not ready to deal with him. Or, if the Duke delays investigating this matter and any word of it reaches Paros' ears while we quest for the Ring of Fire, the wizard could take desperate measures against us and our future-King while we're away from the city.

'Why is the Highbrow so intent upon this course?' she wonders to herself for what seems like the hundreth time in the past few hours, 'We all agreed Paros would not be our target until we had the Ring of Fire in our hands. Is he that eager to face such a powerful figure? Did his experience with the Ring of Water Command leave him with a newfound confidence? And to think he was so worried about facing the drow, but now he wants to throw us into a confrontation with Paros, a high wizard...and a man he admitted to us all we weren't ready for. This just doesn't make sense.'

Crayne sees Emma's reaction. He sees her flinch as he accuses Paros of treachery in front of the King. Nevertheless, Crayne is adamant that such a course of action is necessary. He had indeed thought like Emma at first but then he had thought deeper. He knew that at the moment they had little evidence that would directly point to Paros. Nevertheless, what Crayne hoped to achieve here was to put the King on his guard. Perhaps the King wouldn't be happy at the information that he received.

But he would surely concede that Rinder's Six wouldn't just accuse a high official of the monarchy without just cause. With the history of the Six in all that they had done for the Kingdom of Rinder Crayne hopes that it will put some doubt in the King's mind and that he will be more careful when taking Paros's advice. Paros was undoubtedly a huge threat to the Kingdom of Rinder and it wasn't known at the moment what other things Paros was dabbling in. And as to Paros's power the King would be on his guard and he would surely have ways and means to protect him against such a threat. He knew that the King wouldn't do anything against Paros at the moment for there was no evidence. What Crayne wanted though was to instill a level of caution in the King's mind whilst Rinder's Six could then go and seek the Ring of Fire and return. Then it would surely be a waiting game. For Paros would surely make his move soon and Crayne would be there waiting with the Ring of Fire and Water Command! Perhaps there was a part of Crayne that felt vengeance against the evil Paros. But what concerned him most was the state of Rinder. He didn't want Paros to persuade the King into anything which would cost lives or give Caerloon further advantage!

Once the look is exchanged between Emma and Crayne, Emma brings herself to stand next to Captain Delk. "Your Grace," she begins, "We have learned much about what has transpired in the shadows of your Duchy since we last met. The Dwarven ambassador was kind enough to accompany us in our investigation...and we have discovered a nefarious plot by the Blood Clan, an organization devoted to thievery, extortion, and assassination.

"Apparently," she smoothly continues hoping to make sure that all the information is clearly spelled out for the Dule, "One of the diplomats from the duchy of Marlond, Bernigan by name, was planted by the Blood Clan into the upper echelons of government to assist them. He has been bribing your officials here in Parton to turn a blind eye to his activities. Meanwhile, he negotiated with the Dwarves to buy their adamantine ore with intentions to sell it to House D'Urdenterrad of the Spiked Peak drow. Until recently, the dwarves were unaware of Bernigan's agreement with the drow. They are a lesser house among their people, apparently eager to use the adamantine to build stature within their twisted society. In exchange for this ore, the Blood Clan asked for a service from their drow allies...your assassination on Coronation Day in Merriam.

"The arrival of Rinder's Six here in Parton with the dwarven representative was viewed as a threat to that arrangement," she explains, "That is why the drow soldiers slipped into the city and attacked us on the steps of the Temple of Anhur. And, as you can see, if they are adept at freely entering your capitol here in Raimead, they must also have the skill to do so in Merriam. Frankly, Your Grace, your life is in danger...but then in these times, how could we expect anything less? If the noble daughter of Seden was willing to hatch a plot to slay the entire Council of Knights, then this crime too must be possible.

"But all is not lost," she affirms, "We have reached you in time to warn you of the danger. Bernigan is also dead, slain by one of our own. The caravan of adamantine ore has been seized and delivered here to your men. The drow will not receive their payment...and hopefully, in exchange, they will not carry out the Blood Clan's request to assassinate you.

"Two things remain unfinished," she tells him, fixing him with an almost commanding gaze, "You must take extra precautions to see to your safety. And, you must renegotiate the Great Dwarven Treaty with Captain Delk so that an equitable arrangement can be reached and our troops can once again have the adamantine ore at their disposal. The dwarves are most willing to speak with you about this matter."

She gestures to Captain Delk and smiles encouragingly. "Captain Delk has seen, with his own eyes, all of the things which I have reported to you. Hopefully, his need to reconcile the mistakes of his people in nearly supplying the Drow with adamantine and sealing an arrangement for your death, will be equal to our need to deal honorably with the dwarves as treasured allies who possess a resource that is vital to the defense of our kingdom.

"Your Grace," she continues, almost pleading with the man, "I fully urge you to negotiate with Captain Delk yourself. In fact, I have practically guaranteed him that you will. This is a delicate matter that should not and cannot be trusted to anyone else. Lean to your own wisdom and your own good heart. Doing so, will dispel a host of political worries and past mistakes. And if the leader of Raimead...and future King of all of Rinder...takes a direct hand in matters, it can only strengthen the relations between the people here in your homeland and the noble dwarves of the Raimead Mountains."

The priestess ends her advice by bowing her head and taking a step back so that Captain Delk is left for Sir Duke Bryant to focus upon. She motions toward the small ambassador and says, "The hour is late, I know. But this is important. We wouldn't have bothered you tonight if it were otherwise. If you'd like I will send someone to Lady Rebecca to explain your late arrival to her private chambers...?"

Alara listens as Emma and Crayne explain what has been discovered. She offers no input of her own. She does think to herself, however, 'I'm weary from the road, but I'll be fine once I've had a good night's sleep.'

Duke Bryant takes a deep breath and a long pause and Emma finishes her speech. His eyes scan the room, coming to rest upon the new faces, Elloharin the Dimmed, Skandor the Sword Bearer, and Alara. Then he looks to the prisoners, who seem tired but well cared for. He leans his head back, closing his eyes and yawning toward the chandelier's overhead candles.

Finally, he turns to Crayne. His tone is stern, almost scolding. "Mage Crayne, I am sure that your comrades appreciate your expertise in what seems like all matters. However, consider yourself warned. When in the presence of royalty, indeed, your future King, there are certain tones which must be obeyed, certain rules which must be followed.

"Do not lecture me with divisive and vitriolic criticism of one of my closest advisors. If Paros has arrived at a decision in his official capacity as Keeper of the Ducal Treaties, then by virtue of his delegated responsibilities I will respect that decision, even if the decision is inaction. Inaction is not a crime. Have you proof the man has committed crimes worthy of his discharge and imprisonment?!" Bryant's voice is loud and strained as he yells at Crayne. His face is red with passion, the veins in his neck stand out.

Then, his voice becomes quieter. "I will see to the renegotiation of the Great Dwarven Pact personally," he nods toward the Captain Delk, "once I have seen this man Jordice and questioned these prisoners. And," he looks back to Crayne, "I will try to forget your unfounded accusations this night, Mage Crayne. I suggest you try to remember your etiquette next time you address the crown."

Then Duke Bryant lowers his face into his hands, rubbing his cheeks and his eyes. Running his fingers through his hair, he looks back to Emma, then to Delk. "I order the retrieval of the Great Dwarven Pact from the archives in the morning, and will meet with you the following day at noon, Captain Delk. Rest assured, the Dwarven Clans will be issued a fair price for the valuable ore they possess."

Then he rises from where he was leaning on the table, addressing the entire group. "The crown thanks you for your work on this matter. And for the return of the stolen ore. I must now retire to my private chambers." Having completed his meeting, Bryant heads toward the door. Just outside, he instructs the guard to lead the prisoners to the cells in the dungeon.

After conferring with the Master Chamberlain, the party is led to rooms in the castle where they are allowed to spend the night. Soon, heads rest on soft pillows and for the first time in a while, a good night's sleep lies ahead.

Morning arrives with the rising of the sun, its strong rays of light streaming through the windows of the castle, filling it with the yellow hue and warming the chilly winter air within the stone walls. Emma rises early, waking Skandor and leading him in the morning prayers and rituals. When they return, the others are slowly rising, and the two representatives of Anhur begin to see to the morning's healing.

Following the healing and some breakfast, the party (except Delk, who slept separately and woke to tend to his own diplomatic business) reconvenes at the Duke's court just as the day's events are getting underway. The court is being held, as usual, in the great hall of the castle, where a grand tapestry is hung with the seal of the Great House of Raimead. Before the tapestry sits two thrones, one for Bryant and one for his wife, Lady Rebecca.

The Master Chamberlain begins the morning processional, pounding an ancient staff onto the tiled marble floor and announcing, "Ye subjects of Parton, ye subjects of Raimead, ye subjects of Rinder, in the names of the gods and in the name of the Throne of Rinder, Sir Bryant of the Great House of Raimead will hold his court in this place!"

Alara, standing with the rest of the party, looks around the room, which is quickly filling with court advisors, patrons, subjects, aides and squires, and other official-looking figures. Myriad of fancy dress and dresses overwhelms the half-elf, and her eyes widen at the pageantry and display. The Duke enters with his wife at his side, the beautiful Lady Rebecca, Duchess of Raimead, and they assume their seats on their thrones.

At one point, Canter catches a glimpse of Naeron Thess as the half-elf diplomat, recently promoted within the hierarchy of the Duchy, shuffles between official functions, meetings, and conferences with the Duke. Canter raises an arm as if to wave to his friend, but Naeron is too busy to talk, and simply smiles warmly, nodding in reply.

"This is boring me," Hannibal whispers to Storm as they stand near the back of the group. He rolls his eyes for effect.

"Aye, but I still got me gemstone!" the dwarf replies.

That gives the thief an idea. "What do you say we go and find out what that thing is worth, huh?"

"I'll go with," Elloharin says quietly. "I can't stand it here a moment longer."

Soon the three of them are off, heading into the streets of Parton, a vibrant, bustling city. Not to be left behind, Alara joins them. Crayne, curious about the gemstone and its magical properties, follows as well.

About midday, as court adjourns for the midday meal, Emma decides it is time she get to work on translating and interpreting the tome given to her by Towers, the one detailing some of the history of the Ring of Fire Command. "Come on," she whispers to Skandor, hoping to instruct the paladin a bit on the interpretation of ancient texts. "Coming, Canter?" she asks the leatherman's son, knowing the Towers charged him with seeing to the tome's safety. She leads the three of them across town to the Temple of Anhur and soon they find themselves in the temple's library.

Emma is soon at ease in the familiar environment harking back to her days in Seden. Skandor sits at her side, watching her work and listening to her comments along the way. Canter removes a tome from the shelf, a treatise on theories of gaming. 'A strange topic to find in the temple's library,' he thinks to himself, 'but I've always been a good player of games...maybe some theory will help!'

"Ahhh..." the appraiser says, eyes widening, as Storm removes the red gemstone from his bag. Crayne moves to intercept, trying to keep it balanced so as not to let it fall on the ground. But the appraiser takes it carefully, placing it on his desk. He narrows his eyes as he inspects it. "A fine one indeed..." he says, "where did ye find such a fine specimen?"

Storm finds the appraiser's look upon him. "Err, we, eh..."

"It was a gift," Crayne replies, covering for Storm.

"One heck of a gift, I says." Then after a few more moments of inspection. "I be willing to take this baby off yer hands for the fair price of five hundred golders."

Alara's jaw drops as she hears the offer. Five hundred gold pieces!

But Crayne doesn't seem interested. "Can you tell if it has any magical properties?"

"Magical properties? Hmm..." the appraiser looks closely again. "My friend, I be in the gem trade, not the magic trade. Ye have to ask a magician fer that answer... What do ye say, five hundred?"

Meanwhile, hours pass as Emma and Skandor struggle with the text. "I'm sorry, Skandor," the priestess apologizes, "but my training is in common language and ancient history. Yet I haven't the capacity to translate this text. I can tell it is an ancient dialect of a Hathean tribe--that is, early followers of the Hathe, the god of the arts and the artistic--but I don't know it well enough to translate it."

"Do not fret, lady," Skandor replies, "for my training lacks the ability to even recognize the dialect!"

"Perhaps I can help, what is the problem?" The voice startles Emma, and as she looks up, her eyes see Fallon, her fellow priest of Anhur and friend.

Smiling, Emma's eyes light up as she answers. "This text Towers provided us with. Can you translate it? I think it is an ancient Hathean dialect."

Fallow handles the book, inspecting the characters on the page. "Indeed, I think you are right. The only place I think one might find speakers of this language is at El-Balans."

"El-Balans?" Skandor asks, unfamiliar with the name. Emma, too, is confused.

"El-Balans," Fallon explains, "one of the most secluded temples in all of Rinder. It is a Temple of Hathe in the wilderness just on the edge of the Endless Desert in southern Rinder. The closest official outpost would be Fort Ironlast, the farthest fort west along the Rinder-Caerloon border. No one has heard from El-Balans in years. Some are not even sure if it's still in use, but if it is, I would venture to guess that they might be able to help you. But..."

"But?" Canter asks.

"But I am not sure how Towers would feel about you taking this tome to the Caste of Hathe. Recall, he mentioned when he gave you the tome that few within our caste know if its existence, and none outside the Caste know about it. How might the Caste of Hathe feel if suddenly a Shield Maiden and Sword Bearer show up at their most secluded monastery with an ancient text in the arcane language of their god?"

Emma nods, "Certainly something to consider. Thank you, Fallon. Once again, you have helped us immeasurably."

That evening, Rinder's Six gathers once again. Word arrives as Naeron enters the room, saying, "I thought you would like to know, the Duke spent two hours reviewing the Great Dwarven Pact this afternoon, and another hour meeting with his financial advisor and the head of the Ducal Forgeries. It appears they will go ahead with the renegotiation in the morning. Let us hope all goes well."

"Thank you Naeron," Crayne says, smiling to the diplomat. 'It will be good to have him as an ally here in Parton, especially after Bryant moves to Merriam,' the mage thinks to himself.

Then as Naeron leaves, the party is reunited once again, with the amber rays of dusk's light filtering through the windows and into the chamber.

"What did you learn of the gemstone?" Canter asks.

"Have you made progress on the tome?" Crayne asks Emma, Canter, and Skandor.

1. HP Status, after all healing in this Turn: Alara: 26/26, Canter: 31/36, Crayne: 15/15 +6, El: 20/20, Emma: 42/42, Hannibal: 26/26, Skandor: 26/26, Storm: 39/44, Karelth: 11/11.

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