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First Draft

It was a chilly early spring morning in the Dales. Sturmelina marched around in the yard of the del Cartach manor, carrying a wooden practice sword held overhead with both hands. The wooden sword was a pace long, a typical knightly sword in styling, but on such a small girl, it was like a greatsword. Several young orcs marched with her in a staggered line, a group of children trying to act like a trained military formation.

"I'm going to be a general!" Sturmelina announced to no one. "Just like Uncle Eric!"

Bilbus chuckled to himself as he listened from his bed chamber. The week before, Sturmelina wanted to be a priest, like Rishala. Before that, it was a healer like Breanna. Before that, a story teller, like Rishala. Which was funnier, since Rishala really never did tell many stories.

Returning his attention to the task at hand, Bilbus picked out some appropriately formal garments for his trip. The Spring meeting of the Dales Council was getting underway in less than a week, and Bilbus had to attend. While being on the Council had its advantages - Bilbus was already making good inroads in forming alliances with other Dales hinterlands lords - it did require week-long trips twice a year to Eastdale and the inexorable business meetings and petty machinations that filled most of the days and evenings. Bilbus played along as much as was required, but there was none of the fun and danger of a Thieves' Guild meeting.

Someone rapped on the door. Bilbus replied "Enter" without glancing back.

A servant stepped into the room and bowed. "Baronet del Cartach, Captain Pete of your fleet has returned to port early. He urgently needs an audience with you."

Pegleg Pete, you pirate, Bilbus smiled to himself. "Send him in," he commanded. Anything to give me a break from packing.

"Bilbus!" Pete proclaimed as he rushed into the room. "I mean, 'Baronet del Cartach'."

"Pete, how goes the piracy? I mean, the 'trade route exploration'?"

The two had running jokes about Pete's role in the fleet. Portsdale had a modest trading fleet run by the del Quintin family before Bilbus had come along, but Bilbus had put a higher priority on the fleet, and he had named his old friend Pete to run the fleet. Nominally, Pete kept an eye on the sea lanes and chased down pirates, but occasionally he would bring in a full hold of cargos. Bilbus never pried about how Pete obtained the cargos.

"The routes were clear. I think the pirates are moving off to find easier pickings." Pete's smile faded. "We were patrolling the coast about a day out from port when we came across a ship that was flying no flag. I would have let it go, but it looked just like the Aquasition, and I've never seen another ship like that on the sea. Since you told me a little bit about how you got the Aquasition, I thought the new ship should be checked out. Her crew fought, but not very well. The main hold was empty, but the Captain's hold had a crate and a letter." Pete called out to the hall. "Boys, bring the crate."

Bilbus's smile vanished as well. That Aquasition had been a slaver's ship before Bilbus and his friends had taken it. He had never seen another ship like it on the Vasmar.

Two sailors brought in a crate that was just over a pace long, a foot wide, and a foot deep. They set it heavily onto the rug that covered the bedroom floor. Pete opened the crate, releasing a faint waft of seaweed stench. He fished into the dried seaweed and pulled out a black sword. "This is adamantine, right Bilbus? It's all black, very light, and has some of the finest forge-work I've ever seen."

Bilbus paled at the sight of the sword. He could feel malevolent magicks in the sword even from a couple paces away. "Put it down," Bilbus said quietly.

Pete shrugged and set it down.

Bilbus kneeled next to the crate.

"There are six swords in there," Pete explained.

Bilbus nodded to himself as he studied the weapon. The workmanship on the adamantine sword was exquisite, with a delicate crossguard and an ornately engraved pommel. The magicks were hard to ignore, but Pete clearly did not sense them. They had an unpleasant familiarity to them, reminding Bilbus of the foul darkblades that the Shadow Kindred wielded during the battles against the Dark One, but there was something else to these swords, something that Bilbus could not place.

"There was a letter?" Bilbus remembered.

"Aye. Here it is." Pete fished the letter out of a pocket in his jacket.

Bilbus unfolded the letter and read it.

To the Lord del Quintin of Portsdale,

Dearest Lord del Quintin,

As I have said in previous correspondences, Portsdale should not be such a peripheral town in the Dales. The mightiest port city of your nation should hold a place of prominence, yet you are kept in the Outer Circle, never granted your rightful position on the Inner Circle of the Council.

We are willing to assist you in taking your place as a Baron of the Inner Circle in exchange for minor considerations. Please consider this letter an invitation to my citadel, where we may make proper arrangements. I look forward to meeting you at long last.

Yours with Utmost regards,
Josacal the Younger,
Clomon of Griffon's Beak

Him again. Bilbus scowled. It was a different letter from Josacal the Younger that had set Bilbus off on his adventure four years ago. "Adria!" he called as he stood up. "Adria, come here."

"I'm preparing a lesson for Sturmelina," Adria's voice echoed back from somewhere in the hallway.

"Styx can wait. This is important."

A few quiet curses came from the hallway just before Adria entered. Her long, golden hair was tied back, and she wore a simple woolen dress that held off the chill. Her belly was rounded, showing the signs of her second child. Just a couple more months, Bilbus reminded himself. Then I'm a father of two kids.

"What is so important?" she demanded.

Bilbus pointed at the sword in the crate. "Do you recognize that sword?"

Adria looked at it. "It looks familiar. It's similar to your drow sword."

"Yeah. And it feels like a Shadow Kindred blade, but the dweomer is different." He held out the letter Pete had given him. "Read this."

Adria took the letter and skimmed through it. "Josacal the Younger. Again."

"And he had dealings with your father."

Adria reread the letter. "He's sent letters to my father, but it sounds like my father was not cooperating. They've never met."

"We should have taken care of Josacal sooner. The Church was going to deal with Suderpol."

"But the Church Knights were decimated," Adria reminded Bilbus.

"I know. I guess we'll have to deal with him now."

"It can wait," Adria decided. "There's no urgency to this letter. You have the Dales Council meeting to attend, and missing that is never a good idea. You have enough enemies there thanks to Baron del Bartholo. Go. Josacal the Younger can wait." She gave the letter back to Bilbus. "What are you going to do about the swords?"

"I'll leave four of them here, but I'm taking two, just in case." Bilbus glanced outside. "The wagons are here for the trip to Eastdale. Are you sure you don't want to go?"

Adria shook her head. "Someone has to keep an eye on Portsdale, and I'm not fit to travel right now."

"If there are any emissaries from the Dales towns to the south, treat them well," Bilbus instructed. "I'm working on getting a trade route south that will bypass the Kingdom of the Five Crowns. A route from here, through the southern Dales, and over to the Marketplace next to the Elven Forest will be very profitable. And, once I get some al-Rhayidhian flying ships..."

"I know, Bilbus," Adria interrupted. "You've told me these plans every week. Get going. The Dales Council will not care if you are late."

The trip to Eastdale was a quiet, enjoyable ride through the Dales forest. Sultz the orc walked alongside Bilbus's horse, keeping one eye to the forest in case brigands were foolish enough to attempt to attack a noble's caravan. The two talked at length in the orcish tongue, discussing past adventures and speculating on what intrigues awaited Bilbus at the spring meeting of the council.

Soon enough, they reached Eastdale and settled into their visiting noble's apartment. The town proper had scarcely changed since that first time Bilbus had passed through it with his friends several years ago. The populace tended to be sullen, maintaining the required level of obeisance to the nobles, but certainly not doing anything more than absolutely necessary. Eric's pointers for managing Bilbus's people had paid off, and Bilbus could see the seeds of a rebellion already sprouting in other nobles' towns. Soon enough, Bilbus would be in a position to become a popular ruler.

Returning to the task at hand, Bilbus confirmed that the council meeting had started already. The morning and early afternoon of this first day of the session were little more than a drinking session, so Bilbus had not missed any of the important business. Bilbus changed into appropriate noble garb, grabbed one of his precious bottles of Scowling Knight wine, and set off for the council house.

Once inside the council house, Bilbus searched through the gathered nobles and their lackeys. The nobles were gathered in an informal meeting room, little more than a ball room, clustered in groups of lowered conversations. Servants weaved through the crowd, delivering drinks and removing empty glasses from the men. Bilbus pointedly ignored the whispered comments about his personal guard, the towering orc Sultz, as he sought a particular noble.

Sultz kept a few paces behind Bilbus, wrapped in a dark blue Karasimian robe, with an orcish sword strapped to his hip. Despite his best efforts, the orc's face still had a menacing scowl. The humans in this meeting were too much like the drow, always maneuvering for advantage against their fellow rulers. Unlike drow, the humans were hardly bloodthirsty enough to make the maneuvers interesting. Sultz noticed that Bilbus had stopped next to one of the Dalesian lords.

"Lord del Rorach," Bilbus greeted the noble. "I still have not made it back to Hillsdale, although I would like to see it when orcs aren't raiding it."

"Ah, Baronet del Cartach," del Rorach responded. "Yes, the town is much nicer now that we don't have orcs imprisoning our smiths. The smiths still speak well of you."

"I'm glad to hear that. Not to change the subject, but I would like to discuss some business with you. This seems to be the appropriate venue for it, since it does not concern the rest of the Dales."

"What business is this, Lord of Portsdale?"

"When I was last in Hillsdale, I recall that you had excellent steaks. Beef is hard to raise in Portsdale. What land we have is full of orchards, and I tire of fish."

"We don't have much fish in Hillsdale, and the Portsdale apples are legendary throughout the Dales."

Bilbus smiled. "I see we may have an agreement here. Shall our people work out the details?"

"Of course, Baronet del Cartach." del Rorach called to a servant. "Tell my chamberlain to meet with Baronet del Cartach's representative to work out a trade agreement. Hillsdale beef, in exchange for fish and apples."

"Of course, m'Lord." The servant bowed and took his leave.

"Fellow council members," one of the senior nobles called out. "As Baron of Eastdale, let me once more welcome you to my humble town. It is time we get to the serious business of running the Dales."

"Baron d'Acetorix calls," Bilbus mumbled to himself. "I guess we better jump."

Several days of interminable meetings later, on the last day of official business, Bilbus sat once more at the Outer Circle table. The meeting room was arranged as two long tables facing one another. The lower and longer table held the ten members of the Outer Circle, each noble accorded one personal guard who stood against the wall behind his lord. The shorter table, placed on a one foot high platform, held the five barons of the Inner Circle. Each had a pair of guards who stood behind him, where they could scowl on the lesser lords and their attendants.

Baron d'Acetorix conducted the business. As the senior lord of Eastdale, he fancied himself as the first of equals amongst the Inner Circle members of the council, and he often tried to wrest advantage over his fellow council members. One of the other Inner Circle members backed d'Acetorix, while two others tried to oppose him - those two barons were from peripheral towns, and they preferred that the Dales remain a confederation of nobles, instead of a kingdom. Baron del Bartholo, the noble who arranged to place Bilbus in the Outer Circle, occupied the last of the Inner Circle seats. He walked the narrow line between the other two factions in the council, keeping each in check so he could further his own agenda. Bilbus had not completely figured out del Bartholo's plans, but it seemed to center on putting del Bartholo in charge of the Dales somehow.

"Fellow Council members," Baron d'Acetorix called out grandly, "we have one last agenda item. The King of the Kingdom of the Five Crowns is marrying his son, the Crown Prince, to a Francian duchess. As a good neighbor to the Kingdom, the Dales is obliged to send a representative. However, we Barons have much business to accomplish, and we can not take the time to visit Londoun."

It'd be too easy for someone else to gain advantage, Bilbus smirked to himself.

The Baron kept talking. "We of the Inner Circle have discussed the need to send an emissary in private. We've agreed that we need to send someone from the Outer Circle."

There was a hushed, collective moan from the Outer Circle nobility.

"We believe it best to send someone who is familiar with Londoun and the politics of the Kingdom." Baron d'Acetorix stared at Bilbus. "Baronet del Cartach, you are from Londoun. You would be an excellent emissary."

It gets me away from you for a while, doesn't it? Bilbus groused. Speaking aloud, he said, "I thank you, Baron d'Acetorix. It has been too long since I visited the Crown Jewel of the Kingdom of the Five Crowns."

"The wedding is in a week. You will have to set forth immediately for Londoun."

Keeping his expression gracious, Bilbus remarked, "This is certainly sudden. It would have been beneficial to have known about this a week ago, when I arrived, so that I had time to make preparations. Has the Inner Council prepared a gift, or do I need to make arrangements for that right now as well?"

Bilbus smiled inwardly at the glare the baron was giving him. Little man, I have faced far worse than you will ever be able to do.

"The Inner Council has an appropriate gift selected. We will send it along."

Baron del Soli, d'Acetorix's comrade on the Inner Council, spoke up. "We do have one problem. Sending a mere Baronet will be an insult to the king."

"Of course," Baron d'Acetorix agreed. "It would not behoove us to send a lesser noble to conduct diplomacy such as this. For that reason, I propose that we grant Baronet del Cartach a barony."

"I concur," Baron del Soli agreed quickly.

This was planned, Bilbus noted happily. At least there's something good to come from this meeting. Other than the beef.

"I agree as well," Baron del Bartholo asserted.

The other two Inner Circle members sighed. A majority had agreed to the motion. It was now binding.

One of them, Baron del Zaenten, blurted, "Send a newly minted Baron alone on a diplomatic mission of such import is not advisable. We should send some other emissaries as well, to ensure he makes no gaffes. I suggest we send Baronet Del Giero, as well."

The other baron quickly agreed.

Baron del Bartholo glanced at his fellow barons, then agreed as well.

Baron d'Acetorix scowled. Sending one of the confederation nobles along to have unfettered access to Baron del Cartach would be counterproductive. "Lord del Rozen should travel with them, as well." Sending an ally to counter del Giero would be useful.

Baron del Soli agreed, as did del Bartholo.

"It appears we have quite the entourage for this wedding," Baron d'Acetorix concluded. "You will all need to make ready to travel today. Your caravan leaves in the morning. Take an entourage as appropriate. Baron del Cartach, you will meet with our ambassador in Londoun. He will tell you anything you need to know about developments when you get there." D'Acetorix looked around at the assembled members of the council. "With no more business, the spring session of the Dales Council is adjourned. Good travel to all of you, and we will see you in the fall."

As the other nobles stood, Bilbus turned to Sultz. Quickly, in orcish, he growled, "Get my steward."

Sultz bowed his head and left on his errand. Bilbus went to Baron del Bartholo. When the older baron acknowledged Bilbus, Bilbus asked, "Can we get a private room? I have some questions I need answered before I leave."

"Of course, Baron del Cartach," Rufors del Bartholo said, smiling. "And congratulations. Come with me."

Del Bartholo led Bilbus to a private meeting room. Once the door was shut, he asked, "What concerns you?"

"This 'Baron' thing. Is this some sort of ruse?"

Del Bartholo shook his head. "No. It's a binding resolution of the Inner Circle. You are now a Baron of the Dales. The only baron on the Outer Circle, but a baron no less."

"And they can revoke it as soon as I return?"

"It can only be revoked at a full council meeting with all of the council present, so you have at least six months as a baron. I will not back them stripping you of the barony, but the other two factions could easily unify to make you a baronet again."

"Okay. What about this wedding?"

"It's a royal affair. There's a week of parades, parties, receptions, balls, and anything else you can think of before the actual ceremony. It's an excellent chance to negotiate with other nobles."

Bilbus nodded to himself. "I need to make ready to travel."

"Good journey, Baron."

Bilbus nodded an acknowledgement, and then he rushed out of the room. Sultz had brought Bilbus's steward.

"Baronet del Cartach," the steward said as he bowed.

"Baron del Cartach, now," Bilbus corrected. "I want you to pick out ten guards to accompany me to Londoun. It appears that I have a diplomatic mission to attend to right now. You will come with me. The rest of our entourage will return to Portsdale. I will pen a letter for them to take to Adria."

"Of course, my Baron."

As the steward left, Bilbus switched back to orc. "Well, Sultz, I guess we're traveling to Londoun to attend a party. I'd better pack my armor."

"Will this work, sir?" the drow asked his superior.

"Of course it will," his commander sneered. He turned his pale violet eyes towards his subordinate.

The lesser drow took a step back. His commander's flesh had been graying ever since he had started wielding the new sword from Erelhei Cinlu. He had also become more cruel as well. The magicks of the new blade were taking a toll, and it was obvious to anyone who spent time with the drow scouts.

"We've been watching this surfacer town since the winter solstice," the commander explained. "We know the guard patterns. We have recognized their accursed pit traps. We have watched their quaint flying ships now. Their leader holds audience today, like he has for every seventh day that we know of. We can see the flying ship approaching from the south. We need to delay the surfacers on the ship and take their form. Then, we can walk right into their leader's chambers and slay him. With him dead, the town will be easy pickings."

Lord Eric Ithell sat on his seat in his meeting chamber. The seat was on a low dais at one end of a spacious room in his mansion. Generous windows let in plenty of light, giving the room an airy feel and an excellent view of Ithell's Town on the nearby hills. A couple of guards and a few of the chamberlain's assistants were in the room. Breanna was off teaching an herbalist class.

In the distance, the snowcapped peaks of the Middle Range reminded all who looked that winter was not truly gone. Nearer to the Ithell manor house, a tall wooden pole with a green flag atop it marked the landing field for the sky ships. To the north, Eric could see one was approaching. The chamberlain said I should expect an al-Rhayidhian delegation, he reminded himself.

Eric conducted a weekly open session, where the townsfolk could air grievances with the lord of the town. It was a good chance for the townsfolk to see that their lord was responsive to their needs, and it was a good chance for Eric to see what was going on in town. It was also a good chance for visitors to the city to speak with the Lord of the independent town of Ithell's Town.

His chamberlain had a full sheet of paper of applicants who wished to speak with Eric. The chamberlain read out the first name on the list: "Daenra of Brallian."

Eric sat forward as a brown haired Kelltic woman walked into the chamber. "Daenra. We met in al-Qayir, didn't we?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Your friend, Sir Kasey, ordered some protective magicks from me."

"It's good to see you again. What brings you to Ithell's Town?"

"Times have changed, Lord Ithell," she said. "Our fellow Kellts are no longer so opposed to magicks as they once were. I wanted to come back to the Kelltic lands and ply my wares. Ithell's Town is growing quickly, as you know. At least half of the trade between Londoun and Brallian passes through this town, and I don't see that changing any time soon. I would like to open my hekasmithing shop in Ithell's Town. I would like to place it on the main trade road, since it will be of interest to many traders. I understand that a lot of the smiths are being built away from the main road, just to keep the smokes away from the inns. I would be happy to create some protective gauntlets, at my cost for material, for the town watch in exchange for permission to build on the main route."

With drow in the hills, magickal protections for the watch would be good. "Of course, Daenra." He nodded to his chamberlain. "Tell the planners to let her build on the main route."

"Of course, m'Lord."

"Thank you, Lord Ithell," Daenra said as she bowed.

After she took her leave, the chamberlain called out the next name. "Father Rishala McKinnon of Orcney."

Eric stood. "Rishala?" he blurted as his friend strode into the room. Rishala wore his familiar woolen greatkilt. A tinge of gray had crept into the hair on Rishala's temples.

Rishala smiled. "Aye, Eric."

"Why did you sign in as a petitioner? You could have walked in."

"Aye, but I wanted to surprise you."

"And you did. What have you been doing?"

"I've been in al-Rhayidh, in the Caliph's Library, doing some research on our unfinished business."

"Unfinished... The prison?"

Rishala nodded. "There's been much that I've learned, but now is nae the time. It was time for me to come back here."

"There is a lot for us to catch up on, my friend," Eric said. "But I need to see the rest of the petitioners today."

"Of course. I can wait."

"Get him a seat," Eric ordered. "Rishala, please sit."

Rishala took the seat, off to the side of Eric's platform, and produced a scroll from its case. Once it was unrolled, Rishala grabbed a quill and ink and commenced writing.

The chamberlain continued to read off the list of visitors. "Captain Jeldwyn of the Town Watch."

"Lord Ithell, I bring the weekly update on our town's security. The patrols have found fewer signs of drow in the woods near town lately. The tiger traps are not being sprung as often - I think the drow are finally starting to learn woods crafts."

"We'll need to start using snares," Eric commented.

"Of course, m'Lord. There have been fewer reports of highwaymen, as well. We believe there were signs of drow participation in one of the caravan attacks, but, again, the drow have not been as visible. Perhaps they are pulling back to regroup?"

"It could be. Let's keep the patrols going. They may be lulling us into lowering our guard, and I don't want to do that."

"Yes, Lord Ithell."

"Is there anything else to report?" Eric inquired.

"There have been no significant crimes in town."

"Very well. If anything urgent happens, let me know."

"Of course." The commander bowed and took his leave.

The chamberlain announced, "Mother Ethna Ilcana, emissary from the Church of Kells."

The priestess strolled into the room. She curtsied to Eric, then nodded to Rishala. "Brother."

"Sister," Rishala replied in greeting.

To Eric, the priestess said, "Lord Ithell, I come to you today representing the Church of Kells. You are aware of the plight of the dwarves, yes? Orcs overran the dwarven kingdom of Clemendeev three years ago. The dwarves who escaped the invasion have been living in the frozen wastes around the town of Fool's Mine. They can't live there much longer, for the sea alone provides food. There is no growing season. The orcs will not ignore them forever."

"I am aware of the goings on," Eric assured the priestess.

"The Church has negotiated with the dwarves to evacuate them from Fool's Mine. We have offered them a great deal of Church holdings in Eiresud, and many of the refugees will settle in the Dwarven Quarters of the larger human cities, but there are far too many of them. The Church would like your help with the diaspora. We would like to settle some of the dwarves in Ithell's Town. They will be craftsmen and families, all productive members of society. With your placement in the periphery of the Middle Ranges, I'm sure we will have a number of stonesmiths who will settle here. With your permission, of course."

Eric's chamberlain noted, "Dwarven smiths in this town would be welcome, m'Lord. Master stone smiths and black smiths will make building the city much easier."

"That it would," Eric agreed. "Mother Ilcana, we will host dwarves as the Church sees fit."

The priestess smiled. "Excellent, Lord Ithell. I will notify the Church immediately." She curtsied lightly and took her leave.

"Do you think they would have talked to Bilbus in Portsdale?" Rishala wondered bemusedly.

"If they heard him mention 'dwarf jerky', I doubt it," Eric replied. To his chamberlain, he confirmed, "Still more business awaits me, yes?"

The chamberlain nodded. "Ians' Recovery Agency."

Several people stumbled into the room, wrapped in a length of canvas. The people cursed as they flailed ineffectively at the canvas, trying to unravel it and extract themselves from it as they kept stumbling forward. At last, one of them freed himself and quickly helped his comrades disentangle themselves. The three men and one woman straightened the canvas to reveal a ten pace wide, tall banner; the fourth man backed several paces towards Eric as he examined the banner.

"It's upside down!" he hissed. As he watched his compatriots flip the banner over, he slowly turned towards Eric. "My dearest Lord, I am Ian the Boss, of Ians' Recovery Agency. We are here to beseech thee, m'Lord, to override your town's planning authority. They have refused..." His voice trailed off as he met Eric's eyes. "Oh. You."

"I told you the name sounded familiar," one of Ian the Boss's comrades hissed.

"Hello, Sassy," Eric said. "A long ways from Londoun for the Company of Unusual Headgear, isn't it?"

Another of the members of the group spoke. "Let me handle this." He bowed slightly to Eric from behind the banner. "M'Lord Ithell, we were honored to be guests at your wedding, these nearly two years gone by."

The second man spoke again. "The only reason Lady del Cartach did not kill us is because we were on the guest list."

"Shush, Toady," the third man said. "We have started a new chapter in our lives after that day. We will no longer be couriers and dupes. To show that we have changed, we have renamed ourselves. No longer shall we be the Company of Unusual Headgear. That was The Dunce's idea anyway. We are now Ians' Recovery Agency. Since Sassy was the senior member, he is now Ian the Boss. I am Ian the Talker. Toady is Ian the Planner. That is Ian the muscle, and she is Ian the Money."

"Ian the Money?" Eric prompted.

"I'm the accountant," the woman replied. She was tall, with the blonde hair and fair complexion of a Javik. Her accent bolstered her appearance.

"You're a Javik, unless I'm mistaken," Eric observed. "A Javik accountant?"

"There aren't many of us," she admitted. "But Javik do a lot of trading."

Rishala snickered. "It's quite a diverse population you have in this town, Lord Ithell."

"It's a free city, out of reach of the kingdoms to the north and south. It attracts all manner of people," Eric agreed. "Now, Ian the ... Boss?" Sassy/Ian nodded. "What is your grievance?"

"Your planning commission refuses to let us fly this banner. With all the trade through this town, we thought we should advertise our services."

"It's quite a banner," Eric noted.

"We wanted to suspend it over the main road, from the roof of our offices, so all who passed would know where we were."

"Over the road?"

"Yes."

The chamberlain interjected, "Lord Ithell, if I may. I remember the planners discussing this proposal. The building in question is a single story tall. Suspending it from the roof would place the bottom of the banner ten feet above the road."

"Where all could see it easily," Ian the Talker explained.

"And anyone on horseback, or on a wagon, would ride into it," Eric gathered. "Ians, this is an impressive banner, but I would suggest that you redesign it. Perhaps it would be best to organize it more like a square, instead of a long banner, and place it on your roof. It would still be easy to see, but it would not interfere with traffic if it's over your offices."

"Brilliant!" Ian the Boss blurted. He gathered his fellow Ians, and they set about removing the stitching that held the long canvas banner together.

"I didn't mean to do it here," Eric clarified. "Take it to the atrium, at least. Or, better yet, back to your offices."

The Ians gathered the banner and dragged it into the atrium.

"Lord Ithell," the chamberlain said, "I like the idea of a Heka forger in town. With the drow in the wilds around here, anything we can do to help our watch is welcome."

"Yes," Eric said. "That was why I agreed."

Rishala nodded to himself. "It will be easy to get industry in this town. A Heka forger, plus the dwarven smiths, will give you a strong base for building this city."

A servant rushed into the room. He approached the chamberlain and whispered quickly before departing.

"Ah, Lord Ithell. There is one last item for today's scheduled meetings. The delegation from al-Rhayidh has just arrived, and they will be here momentarily."

As the chamberlain finished speaking, four robed men walked into the room. Their heads were partially covered by the simple cloth headgear popular amongst the al-Rhayidhians.

"Welcome to Ithell's Town," Eric said, rising from his seat. "I was told that a delegation was schedule to arrive today. What business do we have?"

"I bear a message from my Baroness," the lead emissary said. There was a shimmer, and the al-Rhaydhian visage shifted to the delicate, pitch face of a drow. "Die!"

The magickal disguises on all four drow vanished as each produced bows. Two of them whirled to face the guards at the entrance to the chamber, loosing arrows at each with deadly accuracy. The other two loosed arrows at Eric.

"Kuso!" he cursed as he rose to his feet and reached for his own bow, leaning, unstrung, to one side of his chair.

Lady Breanna Ceiturin entered the atrium of her manor house carrying a stack of books. Her pupils, students from Ithell's Town who wished to learn the skills of the herbalist and apothecary, waited for her in a small library in the house, but most of her better books were kept in her bedchambers, where she could spend late hours studying them in peace.

A few people were in the atrium, fussing with a large canvas banner. Breanna realized that she knew three of those faces, unwelcome men who had been a repeating irritant during her adventuring days. She had just opened her mouth to order them out of her house when she felt several chilling surges of Heka from her husband's audience chamber. Startled, Breanna dropped her books and ran towards the open door of the chamber.

A guard stumbled into the atrium, a purple arrow shaft sticking out of his chest. "Drow!" he stammered as he staggered towards the alarm bell.

"Drow?!?" Breanna shouted as the bell began ringing.

She stood in the doorway of the audience chamber, looking in surprise at the fight inside. Eric and Rishala stood at the dais, loosing a flurry of arrows at four drow in the middle of the room. The other guard in the room lay dead next to the doorway.

With a surge of Heka, Breanna hastily wove a magickal burst of energy. The dart of magick flew into the nearest drow, splashing spectacularly on an invisible barrier of magickal energies that the drow had created. Breanna quickly shot another bolt at the drow as Rishala and her husband finished off one of the other drow. The woman in the atrium stepped into the doorway. Seeing the fight, she drew a dagger and threw it at the drow. It missed the three remaining drow, but it nearly hit Eric.

The fight ended quickly, as the three remaining drow were overwhelmed by the combination of arrow fire and Heka in the room. As a lull entered the room, alarm bells ringing in other parts of the town soon filled the silence.

Eric ran towards the doorway, bow still in hand. Rishala followed behind. Breanna stepped aside to let them through. On his way, Eric grabbed the other woman and brought her along.

"I want to talk to you, Miss Money," he shouted. "You nearly hit me with that dagger!"

Breanna followed the others outside. Rishala glanced back at her with a wink.

"Rishala?!?" It finally set in that he was here. Breanna had seen a fight, and she had naturally remembered the numerous battles fought when she was adventuring with her friends.

"Aye, Bree. Nice to see you, too."

"When did you get here? No, wait. Why are you here?"

"I needed to be here."

Eric waved to his friends in an effort to quiet down. The al-Rhayidhian sky ship was putting to air already, turning south. Several al-Rhayidhians ran up the slight hill towards Eric and his manor house.

"Bree, are they really al-Rhayidhians?" Eric asked.

"What?" she sputtered.

"The drow in my audience room used Heka to disguise themselves as al-Rhayidhians."

"Oh." With a burst of Heka, Breanna probed the approaching men for signs of a magickal weave. "They're not magickal. No disguises."

One of the men stopped in front of Eric, gesturing wildly and pointing at his ship. He shouted in his native tongue.

Rishala translated. "He says, 'They stole me ship! Pirates stole my ship!'"

Eric groaned. Not only did drow attempt to kill him, after leaving his town alone for a couple of years, but now pirates had stolen a sky ship. He drew out his spyglass and trained it on the receding sky ship. The al-Rhayidhian flag had been removed, and a black flag with a red silhouette of a ship flew in its stead.

Several watchmen arrived shortly thereafter. "There are dead drow in my audience chamber," Eric explained. "They used a magickal disguise to get in. And we now have to worry about pirates. Make sure we organize the town watch to keep guards at the sky port when a ship is in." To the al-Rhayidhians, he said, "You have my humblest apologies. We are so far from shore that I never imagined we would have pirates here. We shall not make that mistake again."

Behind him, Breanna hugged Rishala. "It's good to see you again, Rishala. I missed our travels." She stepped back from her Caledonian friend. "Why did you need to be here now?"

"We'll discuss it this evening, when Eric's not busy."

A watchman approached Eric. "Lord Ithell, there are no other drow attackers. The al-Rhayidhian sky ship was stolen, however."

"I know," Eric replied. He glanced over at his friends. "Come on." Eric led them back into the audience chamber to look at the drow bodies. "What do you make of this sword?" he asked as he toed an exquisite adamantine blade.

"You don't feel that?" Breanna asked.

"What?"

"The magicks in that sword. It feels like a dark blade."

"It doesn't look like one."

"No, but the magicks feel similar."

"Aye, it does," Rishala agreed. "Did you notice this earlier?" he asked as he kneeled next to the sword's deceased owner.

"What's that?" Eric asked.

"This drow, the one who had the sword, seems more of a gray color than black. I have never seen a drow who was not the black of pitch."

"Maybe it has something to do with the sword," Breanna suggested.

"Aye, it may."

That evening, after dinner, Rishala, Eric, and Breanna relaxed in the small library. Rishala had a crystal snifter full of an amber whiskey, while Eric and Breanna had Karasimian tea mugs.

Rishala sipped from his Caledonian whiskey. "You received a wedding invitation recently, aye?"

Eric nodded. "One from the Kingdom of the Five Crowns. The Crown Prince is being wed, and the king wants me to be present."

"Do you know why he invited you?"

Eric nodded again. "Ithell's Town is a free city. The king would like to get me to swear fealty to him, so he can tax the trade taking place here. I'm sure he'll offer some sort of royal garrison. Getting control of a town in the Middle Ranges gives him an advantage over Eiresud."

"Aye, it does."

"Which is why I was not going to go."

"You should go, Eric," Rishala said. "I've done a lot of reading in the Caliph's Library, and I've had a few dreams." Rishala noticed that Breanna tensed. She must have had some lately, as well. "Do you know why the Dark One attacked the Sun King? Do you know why Camelough fell?"

"The stories say, 'the Dark One was jealous of the Sun King'..."

"Aye, they do. And they're wrong."

"What does this have to do with the wedding?" Eric asked.

"I think you should go to the wedding. See if you can exchange fealty to the king for help."

Eric nodded thoughtfully as he sipped from his tea. "You didn't wear your dress kilt to dinner this evening."

"No."

"But you brought it, right?"

"Aye. I brought it. I thought I would need it."

"The king has an astrologer. Perhaps you can talk to him. An astrologer can surely see the signs you see, and you may be able to convince him to help us convince the king of what is going on."

Rishala nodded. "I will talk to him."

"One of the Ians that were here today was 'Ian the Money'. She said she was an accountant."

"Aye, I remember that."

"If I'm going to have to pay taxes to the king, I need to pay as little as possible. We both know what that coin buys us."

"Next to nothing."

Eric called for a servant. "Track down Ian the Money from Ians' Recovery Agency. Bring her to me."

The servant bowed and left.

"We'll find out if she's any good. I'll have her make arrangements when we get down to business. I guess we're going to a party."

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Original Draft 29 November 2005

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