Once in a quiet corner of the main hall, everyone turned to Justin.
“What are you thinking?” Bohemond asked, his voice low. “It’s Glamshara now, isn’t it?”
“I believe that’s where the evidence is pointing,” Justin said. “Assuming this love potion theory holds up.”
“But why use a love potion in the first place?” Kargan asked, frowning. “What’s the point of her involving Grashuk at all?”
“He’s her way of accessing the royal table,” Justin explained. “Zildur already suspects something’s going on between them, and Zogmar confirmed it. Grashuk is the perfect tool for Glamshara to manipulate. Unlike her, he can move freely inside the palace without raising suspicion, handling tasks Glamshara couldn’t.”
“So, how do we prove the love potion theory?” Bohemond asked, crossing his arms.
“I have an idea,” Kargan said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “We could stage something. Make it look like Glamshara is in mortal danger—enough to trigger Grashuk’s instincts and force him to act. If he’s under the influence of a potion, he should react without thinking. If not, he’ll be more cautious.”
Justin nodded, considering the plan. “What if we tell him that Glamshara is under attack by an army of constructs in the Underdeep? That should get him moving.”
“It would,” Bohemond agreed. “But if he checks and finds nothing, it could backfire.”
“We’ll have to take that risk,” Kargan said. “It would also give us a chance to check his quarters and find more solid evidence.”
Their conversation was abruptly cut short as Justin spotted Grashuk approaching from across the hall.
“Speak of the devil,” Justin said. “Let me do the talking.”.
They began walking toward the warlord, who hailed them from a distance. “How’s the investigation going?”
Justin shook his head, feigning frustration. “Unfortunately, we’re running in circles. It doesn’t seem to be Glamshara after all.”
Grashuk’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but Justin caught a subtle glint of satisfaction in his gaze—a crinkling of the eyes that signaled hidden pleasure at the news.
“Not her? That’s strange. Then who?”
Justin remained silent, allowing Grashuk to fill in the blanks. Sure enough, the goblin’s expression shifted into exaggerated dismay.
“No,” Grashuk said, shaking his head with overly dramatic concern. “It can’t be…not Zildur?”
Justin suppressed a smile. Grashuk wasn’t much of an actor. His feigned concern was almost laughable.
“We’re still following leads,” Justin said, keeping his tone neutral. “I’m sorry about your daughter, by the way. Ryn, wasn’t it?”
“Ryn? Oh…yes, right. Damn shame what happened,” Grashuk muttered, his voice flat and emotionless. Whether it was his natural indifference or the potion dulling his feelings, Justin wasn’t sure, but the lack of genuine sorrow was clear.
Before Justin could continue, Bohemond interjected. “You didn’t hear about the constructs, did you? Glamshara’s down in the Underdeep, barely holding them off. Her testimony is vital!”
Justin winced internally at Bohemond’s awkward delivery, but to his surprise, Grashuk took the bait.
“Constructs?” Grashuk’s face twisted in genuine fear. “And we’re just standing here talking?” Without waiting for a response, Grashuk drew his scimitar and rushed toward the gate, glancing back over his shoulder. “Well? Are you coming or not?”
“We need to gather a larger force,” Justin said calmly. “You think the five of us can take on an army?”
“There’s no time for that! Glamshara’s in danger! If we don’t act now, I could lose—” He paused, catching himself. “We could lose a valuable witness! Bah! Rot for all I care!”
With that, Grashuk stormed through the gate and disappeared into the darkness of the Underdeep.
Borgruk turned to the group, his expression grim. “We’ve got about two hours. We should move.”
The goblin captain led them through the palace to Grashuk’s quarters. Justin supposed Grashuk and Zildur didn’t share a living space.
As they entered, Justin did a quick scan. The warlord’s quarters were utilitarian and sparse. The main room was dominated by a large stone table with a worn map of the Underdeep spread across it. Several daggers were haphazardly strewn over the map, which appeared to detail strategic points throughout the underground tunnels. Justin studied it briefly, noting a faint drawing near the palace that could show an elevator, but the runic script, what he assumed to be dwarven, made it difficult to confirm. It was a possible escape route once they were done with this Vault.
For an hour, they combed through the space, searching for anything that could be considered evidence. But Grashuk’s quarters were well-organized, almost sterile, with nothing incriminating to be found.
Bohemond growled in frustration, clenching his fists. “He’s not foolish enough to leave evidence out in the open. There must be something we’re missing.”
“We’re running out of time,” Kargan said, glancing toward the door. “He’ll be back soon.”
That was when Justin had a realization. “If there’s anything incriminating, it wouldn’t be in Grashuk’s home—it would be in Zildur’s. That’s where Glamshara wants the blame to fall, right?”
Borgruk nodded, already leading them out. “Let’s move. Zildur’s likely with the princess, but she takes a nap shortly after lunch.”
They slipped quietly into Zildur’s chambers, just a few doors down from Grashuk’s own. The space was unoccupied, allowing them to search freely.
It wasn’t long before Justin spotted something gleaming beneath the bed—an ornately carved silver fork, partially hidden in the shadows. He bent down and picked it up carefully by the handle, a nagging suspicion already forming in his mind.
Borgruk’s eyes widened as he recognized it. “That’s from the Feast of Fates!”
Justin quickly wrapped the fork in a nearby cloth, taking care not to touch it directly.
Kargan frowned in confusion. “It’s just a fork, Justin. You’re treating it like it’s an adder.”
“It may be more dangerous than you think,” Justin said. “We need to get this to Zogmar.”
Without further explanation, Justin headed out of the room, the others following behind. It didn’t take long to reach Zogmar’s workshop. The potions master looked up in alarm as they burst through the door.
“What is it this time?” Zogmar asked, blinking in surprise.
Justin held up the wrapped fork. “Test this. Could it be poisoned?”
Zogmar’s brow furrowed suspiciously. “Where did you get that?”
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“Zildur’s quarters,” Bohemond said. “Under her bed.”
Zogmar looked thoughtful, then nodded. “I see. That’s…troubling. You’re thinking it’s poisoned?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Justin said. “Can you do anything?”
“I suppose I have a bit of Revelation Solution left,” he said, his tone stingy. “It will use up the last of it.” He retrieved a flask of clear liquid from the shelf. “I mean…are you sure?”
“Yes,” Justin said firmly. “There’s no time to waste.”
“All right, then.”
Zogmar dipped the fork into the flask, and almost immediately, the liquid turned a murky gray. His eyes widened in alarm.
“Shadow’s Kiss,” Zogmar said, his voice low. “This fork was at the feast, you say?”
“Yes,” Borgruk said. “You should know that yourself, being at the Feast yourself.”
“As if I pay attention to such minor details!” Zogmar said in a huff. “Well, it’s poisoned. That much is clear. Probably Glamshara trying to plan evidence and frame Zildur. Sounds like something the conniving wench would do!”
“Yes,” Justin replied, his tone serious. “But more specifically, it was the princess’s fork. After all, the Queen and Princess didn’t trade utensils”
Zogmar frowned. “Huh. So, the true target was Nyrissa all along?”
“It’s obvious now,” Justin said, feeling the pieces finally click into place. “The Queen was a decoy. The poisoned pie was just a misdirection.”
“Glamshara gains the most from the heir being killed,” Bohemond said. “She’s next in line.”
“We need to move quickly,” Borgruk said. “Grashuk may have already reached Glamshara.”
Justin nodded. “We have the evidence we need. Let’s present our findings to the Queen before it’s too late.”
----------------------------------------
Within minutes, Borgruk escorted the party into an intimate audience chamber within the palace. Unlike the imposing throne room, this space was more personal, furnished with low, comfortable chairs and a grand hearth where a fire crackled softly.
Queen Grizshara awaited them, her expression somber as she took in the serious looks on their faces.
“Well?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap. “I take it you’ve uncovered the truth?”
Justin stepped forward, not wasting time. “We believe so. After a thorough investigation, we’ve determined that all evidence points to your sister, Glamshara.”
Grizshara’s expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of emotion behind her eyes—perhaps disappointment, perhaps resignation. “I had suspected as much, but I didn’t want to believe it. What proof do you bring before me?”
“This was a well-constructed plot,” Justin explained, his voice steady, “but there were small details that betrayed her. The poisoned pie was just a distraction. The true target was Nyrissa all along. Glamshara’s plan was to eliminate your daughter while making it appear as though you were the intended victim.”
He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in before continuing. Justin recounted everything they had uncovered, piece by piece. He detailed Glamshara’s manipulations, Grashuk’s erratic behavior, the false trail hinted at by Ralthog, catching Grashuk “praying” in the shrine, the love potion theory, and how Zildur was framed by planting the poisoned fork from the Feast of Fates under her bed. Justin knew he might have missed a few smaller details, but he was sure the Queen would have more questions.
Queen Grizshara sat in silence for a moment, processing the information. Her fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of her chair as she considered what Justin had said.
“So,” she said at last, her voice steady, “Grashuk was bewitched by Glamshara through the use of a love potion? Is there any evidence of this?”
“Nothing direct,” Justin admitted. “Zogmar himself came up with the idea. Both Zildur and Zogmar noticed that he’s been acting strangely around her lately. Zogmar even testified that he caught them in the act a day after the expedition set out. We couldn’t test him directly, but his reaction to hearing that Glamshara was in danger was telling. He became completely frantic, acting without regard for his own safety.”
“And the fork?” Grizshara asked, her voice sharpening slightly. “You’ve proven it’s poisoned?”
Justin stepped forward, recalling a key detail. “Yes, we had it tested by Zogmar, who confirmed traces of the poison, Shadow’s Kiss. But that’s not all, Your Majesty.”
Grizshara raised an eyebrow. “What else?”
Justin took a breath before continuing. “When we questioned Glamshara earlier, something stood out to me—her fingers. They were stained with a shining, silvery residue.”
Kargan’s eyes widened as he caught on. “The Heart of the Moonflower. That’s why you asked Zogmar about that.”
Justin nodded. “Exactly. Zogmar said it was silver, like the surface of the moon. Glamshara claimed the Heart had been stolen, but it’s clear she was lying. She was grinding it herself.”
Grizshara’s face hardened. “So, she not only had the Heart but was in the process of preparing it? If not for my daughter, then for what other reason?”
“That’s not clear,” Justin said. “But I intend to ask her when we go down there again. Whatever the case, it means she already had what we need to make the antidote for Nyrissa. But instead of using it to save your daughter, she was keeping it for herself.”
Grizshara clenched her fists, her voice now edged with anger. “What a fool I’ve been to trust her even a little.” Grizshara’s brows furrowed as she absorbed this. “So, the fork was meant to poison Nyrissa all along. And Grashuk supposedly planted it, on her orders. I wondered if it could be Zildur herself, given what happened to Ryn…”
Justin took a moment before responding. He chose his words carefully. “Glamshara was definitely trying to implicate Zildur, and she knew Ryn could have provided a powerful motive.”
“Glamshara would not have ordered Grashuk to plant the fork,” Grizshara said. “She’s too smart for that.”
“I’m not saying Grashuk isn’t clever,” Justin said, “but he lacks subtlety. That much is clear from his clumsy ‘prayer’ in the shrine, which was all too convenient. I suspect Glamshara didn’t instruct him to do that, either. It seems like something he took upon himself, hoping it would frame Zildur further. But Zildur’s love for Nyrissa is genuine. She would never have done something like that.”
Grizshara nodded slowly, her gaze shifting back to the fire. “Indeed, her love for her seems to be genuine. Bordering on obsession. But she is the best Shaman in the tribe. What I don’t understand is why Grashuk would offer a reward for apprehending Glamshara if he’s under her control. Would my sister risk herself in that way?”
“I believe Glamshara told him to do it to deflect suspicion, in a strange sort of way,” Justin replied. “She likely thought she could talk her way out of any trouble, or at least buy time.”
“I see.” Grizshara’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “So, you’re convinced he’s entirely under Glamshara’s control? You mentioned earlier that he had done some things on his own, which means he’s not completely acting under her influence. Are you certain Grashuk isn’t using my sister for his own ends?”
Justin hadn’t fully considered that angle. He hesitated for a second, then spoke. “Do you believe Grashuk’s feelings for her might be genuine?”
“That’s… hard to say,” Grizshara admitted. “He’s always been ambitious, and there’s been little love between him and Zildur for years, especially since Ryn’s death. My sister had an obvious crush on him when we were younger, but I thought she outgrew it. Of course, Grashuk was never interested in her. I never knew her to create love potions, but her alchemical skills are formidable. The discovery of that new lab with rare ingredients might have given her the chance to try something different. On the other hand, Grashuk may have recognized her feelings for him and is using them to his advantage.”
Justin nodded thoughtfully. “Both are possibilities. We’ll need to get to the bottom of it.”
Grizshara sighed, a flicker of weariness crossing her face. “You must. I need to know if my Chief Warlord can be trusted.”
“What happened with the succession, anyway? It might help us understand Glamshara’s motivations better.”
The Queen leaned back in her chair, her gaze flickering toward the hearth as the flames danced. “Glamshara has harbored resentment for a long time. Our father, the previous King, promised her a position of power, but when he died, he chose me to rule. I was younger, but he saw I was more suited to leadership. She was given the role of advisor, but she never forgave me for being chosen to wear the crown.”
Grizshara’s voice softened slightly as she continued. “When Nyrissa was born, I named her heir. That, I believe, was the final blow for Glamshara. She thought she should have been next in line, not my daughter.”
Justin listened intently. Everything fell into place now. Glamshara, denied the throne and seeing Nyrissa groomed to succeed, would have seen this as the ultimate betrayal. It explained the depth of her hatred and the lengths she was willing to go to reclaim what she believed was rightfully hers. Grashuk, with his ambitions, might be a willing accomplice—or perhaps, the one pulling the strings behind the scenes. Or, as Zogmar had suggested, directed through the use of a love potion.
Justin shifted on his feet, his tone becoming more urgent. “We still need to apprehend Glamshara and retrieve the Heart of the Moonflower. Only then can we ensure Nyrissa’s recovery.”
Grizshara’s gaze hardened with resolve. “You have my full authority to bring Glamshara to justice. But above all, find the Heart of the Moonflower. That antidote is the only hope we have for saving Nyrissa.”
Justin stood, giving a respectful bow. “We won’t fail, Your Majesty.”
Bohemond cleared his throat, speaking up next. “Should we bring more warriors with us? Glamshara is dangerous, and with Grashuk at her side, things could get difficult.”
Borgruk shook his head. “The warriors won’t raise a hand against Grashuk. He’s too respected. If it comes to a fight, they might even side with him.”
“Borgruk is right,” Queen Grizshara said firmly. “It’s better that you handle this quietly. Glamshara may be cunning, but her overconfidence, fueled by Grashuk’s support, will be her downfall.”
“We’ll need supplies,” Kargan added. “Antidotes, potions—anything that can help us against whatever poisons Glamshara might use.”
“Zogmar will provide what he can,” Grizshara said. “But be warned—he has nothing that can counter Shadow’s Kiss. That poison is beyond even his expertise.”
“We’ll take whatever we can get,” Justin said, his voice steady. “Time is of the essence.”
Grizshara rose from her seat, her posture regal but carrying a sense of finality. “Go, then. Bring my sister to justice, yes, but most of all, get the Heart of the Moonflower. May Nyriss watch over you.”
With that, the party bowed once more and left the chamber.