ANDERS – DEVILLIERS MANOR, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

9TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM

“We have failed.”

Anders looked intently at the masked figure before him. Standing almost six feet tall he was quite tall for a Drasak, but Anders was still nearly half a foot taller again. Anders used his height advantage to look down on the black clad figures before him. Around him most of Chandrex’ youngest nobles were huddling in fear, either consoling the distressed, sobbing uncontrollably, or just avoiding the gaze of the many armed figures in the room.

“Was she even here?” Anders asked.

‘My intelligence sources will pay dearly if not. I do not pay for incorrect information.’

“She was. We believe she escaped through the kitchen with another,” replied the Drasak.

“Any idea who this other was?” asked Anders, strong emotion evident in his voice.

“We have interrogated her chaperones, and she was last seen dancing with a Lord Ackton of Lotan,” explained the Drasak. “As we can find nobody here who will answer to that name, we assume he was the one who helped her escape.”

Anders ran his hand through his long blond hair as he thought about the ramifications. Around him the Capellan clansmen were preparing to leave, gathering up all evidence of their being here, including their quarrels, and instead leaving behind evidence that would place the blame on a small cult of human purists that called themselves the Human Purity League. They were known to despise the close relations Klydor had with the Llewyrr elves, and acts of terrorism were not unheard of.

“It could be worse then. At least this man is not part of the Council of Defence,” Anders replied.

‘The Council of Defence. Klydor’s answer to the Ashar colleges of Magick, and also the inquisitorial arm of the Klydor law enforcement. Their involvement at this stage, particularly if they had the Princess already, could complicate things considerably.’

“Agreed. The use of magick to divine what really happened here would make our mission more problematic,” the head assassin agreed.

“Still, your failure presents me with a great many problems,” pointed out Anders, in a tone making it clear he was not happy. “House Tirilani called in a lot of favours to get me to help smuggle you in here, but now this could come back on me. I would suggest you fix this mess up quickly.”

“We will be gone within the next ten minutes. The Klydorians will have no idea what happened here,” promised the Drasak. “We have also taken a great many valuables from the guests. I was instructed to give you half. Let me know where I can deliver these items too.”

Anders handed over a small card of his own, with an address for a warehouse of his in the dock district. He would never verbalise such a thing.

‘You can never be sure who is listening, magically or otherwise.’

“We request your assistance in locating the princess or Lord Ackton,” asked the Drasak. “Our resources within Klydor are far less effective than most other places we operate.”

‘Klydor has too many ‘good’ people, and they value honour over bribery. Must complicate your line of work no end.’

“I have my own problems right now. The deal was: I help you get your agents into Chandrex. And in return you give me the book. I have honoured my part of the arrangement. Now I expect you to do the same,” warned Anders.

“My employer has instructed us that we are not to hand over the book until our task is complete. The book is the “The Manipulations and Machinations of Man”, by Korrux Blackstone. We have concealed the only copy within the city, but it is nearby and can be provided to you immediately on the successful completion of our mission. Our patron wishes to remind you that you have as much at stake here as he does, and that the penalty for failure should be incentive enough for your ongoing assistance.”

“Fuck you, Deceiver!” Anders yelled in frustration, and certainly at a volume that some of the cowering nobles would have heard it.

The assassins all stirred uncomfortably.

“I would ask that you keep your voice down. Otherwise I am authorised to silence it.” The Assassin’s voice remained calm. Anders did not know whether to laugh or just cast a spell and be rid of this assassin forever.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, as casually as possible.

“I am Carthas, Drakin of House Capella, and my employer has issued his instructions. Who you are outside of this room is of no interest to me. Yell once more and we will see if you can kill eight of the best assassins in Drasak before one of us gets to you.”

‘I do love a challenge. I also love killing arrogant pompous assassins. But I can count. I suspect many of the men you have here are really just thugs, and therefore unlikely to pose any threat to me. I can only see four assassin type figures on the landing around me, which means there are possibly four more I cannot see, each with a weapon pointed at me right at this instant. And if they hadn’t had their weapons pointed at me before, they almost certainly will now.

“Very well Carthas. My deal is now with you,” acquiesced Anders. “I will help you gather information on this Lord Ackton, and on the whereabouts of your lost princess. But if I do not receive the book by the end of that day, then we will discover if what you don’t know, really can hurt you. Agreed?”

“That is acceptable to us,” Carthas replied.

MITCHELL – THE GOLDEN UNICORN, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

10TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM

Mitchell awoke to find it already light outside. Eva crouched in the corner of the room, in the exact same position she was in when he fell asleep.

“Have you been there all night?” he asked.

“Do not be ridiculous. It is necessary to flex the muscles from time to time so that they do not cramp,” she replied matter of factly. “You should wake your companion. While I suspect he will not like you for it, and nor will he appreciate loud noises or bright light, we must be moving early this morning. I have a safe-house here I will be taking you too.”

Mitchell simply nodded. As he rolled out of bed he discovered that his head was a little groggy.

‘I hate to think what Hawkin will be feeling.’ He gingerly shook his friend awake.

“Ahhh… Good morning all,” came Hawkin’s all too enthusiastic response, “Ready for another adventure today are we?”

Even with his vision slightly blurred through his newly swollen black-eye, Mitchell could tell that Hawkin looked fine. A disappointed look must have been apparent on his face.

“What? You were expecting me to be green?” laughed Hawkin. “No Aranson has ever had a hang-over. Our constitutions apparently don’t allow it. A terrible curse I know, but one I have learned to live with.”

‘This seems entirely unfair.’

Hawkin rolled out of bed and immediately began putting his clothes back on from the night before. Mitchell was a little embarrassed to see that his friend was totally naked, but Hawkin was not even the slightest bit modest about his well chiselled frame. Mitchell quickly looked at Eva to see her reaction, but she had already replaced her mirror-helm, so it was impossible to tell what she was looking at.

‘Did she look? Did she like what she saw? How can I compete with that?’

Mitchell finished getting dressed, meticulously adjusting the belts which held the various pouches of spell components he was carrying. Then he strapped his sword to his side. Within a few moments they were all dressed and preparing to leave.

“Do we wake Gabriel and the others, or leave them behind?” asked Mitchell, quietly.

“They should not be involved. You will endanger them all,” replied Eva.

“Why didn’t I get that consideration before I was dragged into this?” interjected Hawkin.

Mitchell turned to his friend to see if he was serious, but there was a broad grin on his face. Hawkin was clearly enjoying this entire affair.

“Your role in this was destined by fate long before, young Hawkin. It was unavoidable,” replied Eva, drawing surprised looks from both her companions.

“Young! How old are you?” asked Hawkin.

“You mean Maragon knows the others are here?” asked Mitchell simultaneously.

“It is time to leave humans,” was all the response they got as she opened the door to the room and stepped into the hallway. All three were surprised to see Lord Ackton standing before them.

“Leaving so soon, my dear rescues?” he asked, in his flawless Lotese accent. “That would be rude. Besides we need to come with you, so you can watch Gaebriel while I find out what is going on in this crazy place.” He now appeared dressed in the daily clothes of a wealthy noble, or at least a pretentious, ostentatious one. Under his arm he held a tightly wrapped package. On his side he now carried a fine-looking rapier.

“But how did you know we were leaving?” asked Mitchell

“He was obviously eavesdropping on us,” answered Hawkin.

Eva, who had been silent in the exchange had just finished a short series of strange arm and hand movements and was now regarding all of them quite closely.

‘She just cast a spell. A universal spell. A Detect Magick would be my guess.’

Azzanon started to say, “Lucky guess. I was on my way to your door when…” but he was cut off.

“He planted a magickal device on Hawkin last night. He has been able to hear everything we said,” responded Eva. She reached up and pulled what appeared to be a small flat black pebble from the back of Hawkin’s cloak.

Azzanon shrugged sheepishly.

“Please understand. That young girl is being hunted by Drasak assassins, who even now seek her location. There is nobody here in Klydor I can trust, and I must leave her again to find out what is going on,” he uttered each word with his natural Drasnian accent, loud enough to ensure the message was delivered with impact, but quiet enough so none other than those in the hallway could hear him.

“The Llewyrr elves are strange to me. You do not seem as distant as your Silverestri cousins, and those are the only elves we really know of in Drasnia. But I know enough to know you won’t stand by and let a princess get killed. I suspect the same is true of those two. In return, some of what I have already learned may be of interest to you. I think our two paths may be at least somewhat intertwined”.

The word princess had shocked silence into Mitchell and Hawkin. Mitchell barely registered the rest of what Azzanon had said.

“The fact she is a princess is curious, but irrelevant. I would not stand by and let anyone be killed,” replied Eva. Eva gestured that Azzanon should see to the princess and began to move towards the stairs to ensure they were not overheard.

“Princess?” Mitchell stammered.

“Princess!” replied Hawkin emphatically.

The two followed Azzanon into the bedroom with the sleeping Gaebriel. He woke her gently. She looked as if she went to rise quite quickly, and then Azzanon appeared to hold her down.

“Please get dressed your Highness. I brought these for you,” Azzanon said, placing the tightly wrapped parcel on the bed in front of her. “They will be more loose fitting than you are used to, but I need you to be less recognisable than you would normally be. We will be waiting for you out there when you are dressed.” Azzanon pointed to the door as he finished speaking. He quickly moved for the door and dragged the other two out with him.

“Why did you hold her down?” asked Mitchell, equal parts accusation and curiosity in his voice.

“Drasaks do not share the same rules around nudity and modesty that other… more polite societies do. There is every chance she would have been near naked under those sheets, and she may have got dressed quite brazenly in front of you,” explained Azzanon. “I wanted to spare you the embarrassment of seeing a beautiful woman naked.”

Mitchell nodded as if it were sage advice indeed.

“Spare me?” responded Hawkin incredulously. It almost seemed for a moment as if Hawkin intended to reopen the door and offer his services to assist in the dressing.

“Help me find some ink and paper,” instructed Azzanon, hoping to give his young companions something to do. “There is almost certainly going to be some in as highbrow a place as this. Important people always think they have important things to write down.”

Quickly a small ink pot and quill were found on a narrow desk in the main chamber. With a quick note of thanks for the sleeping Mr Greaves, and well wishes on a speedy recovery for Archibald, Azzanon was ready to leave. As he turned to walk away, he counted out several gems that looked to be of considerable value and placed them next to the note.

Once Gaebriel emerged from the room, Azzanon then quietly lead her and the others from the room.

“What were the gems for?” asked Mitchell.

“The stagecoach I am about to borrow,” replied Azzanon honestly.

‘Umm… can we do that?.’ Mitchell’s mind raced through the implications.

‘Stealing the carriage means stealing the horses.’

‘Horse theft is a capital crime’

‘The punishment for that is death.’

“The punishment for horse theft is death,” Mitchell repeated back, amazed and horrified.

“If anything he has stolen from us,” replied Azzanon, a broad grin on his face.

The price I just paid is well more than they are worth. But I suspect our assailants may well be watching for people purchasing anything resembling a stagecoach, or passage on a coach or boat. And I need some way to move around, and likely at some point, to leave the city.”

“I think we are quite lucky,” laughed Hawkin. “Least if we die, we get to die surrounded by beautiful women.”

Azzanon looked at the big warrior for a few seconds, before he too started to chuckle.

“That’s the spirit. And I lied about everything else. I am just here to learn how you avoid getting hang-overs,” responded Azzanon, returning to his Lotese accent without missing a beat. “With my lifestyle, that would be a most impressive talent.”

ANDERS – ANDERS’ SAFEHOUSE, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

10TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM

Anders signalled for his men to remove the hood.

They yanked the hessian sack from the wizard’s head roughly. Maragon’s eyes struggled to make out his surroundings. He had been dragged up from a dank cellar, and into a lightless large open room that was being used as his interrogation chamber.

“What is the ritual required to re-join the Stone of Evronn to the Crown of Leadership?” asked Anders, a question he had now repeated so often he had lost count.

“Would you prefer I answer the same as before, or should I make up something new to entertain us both?” replied Maragon, his voice hoarse and raw. “We have had this dance twice already since you captured me. Why do you think it will go different this time.”

“Because I am running out of patience and I will kill you,” threatened Anders.

“You may find this hard to believe, but that threat doesn’t hold much sway over the Seven,” replied Maragon. “If your kind ever actually shared information freely you would know you have captured us many times. We have never given you anything. Even when you have killed us.”

“So you want to die?” asked Anders. ‘I hope not. People who want to die are usually a lot harder to get information from.’

“No. But everyone who joins the Seven knows the job will at some point likely kill them,” explained Maragon. “Perhaps like this. Perhaps in battle. But usually you will die in some lonely way that the rest of the world will never know about. This is not a position for glory hounds. You definitely would not like it.”

“You think you know me?” asked Anders, emotion creeping into his voice.

‘Careful Anders. He is goading you.’

“I do not know anything about you. You have not introduced yourself. I can tell you are Klydorian. Probably a noble. And it would appear terrified of others finding out what you really are, or you would not be keeping your identity a secret,” replied Maragon.

Anders signalled for his men to take Maragon away again.

“Do you really think the others will tell you anything?” asked Maragon. “Two of them know nothing of what you want. One knows something, but not the answers you require. Only I know what you want.”

Anders considered his options, and he had flashbacks to the recent sessions with the other members of the seven:

INTERROGATION FLASHBACK 1: RAGNAR THE NORTHMAN

“What do you know about the ritual to rejoin the Stone of Evronn and the Crown of the First King,” his interrogator had asked.

“You must stick your cock in your own ass, and then you go fuck yourself,” the northman replied, in a deep, thickly accented voice.

After the first round of beatings that response had changed to, “OK… I will tell you. You need to sacrifice a virgin… I guess you will do… to Saleercki, and during the ritual, everyone else in your cult takes turns riding you until you cannot take it anymore. In your final screams of passion the answer will come to you. ” The viking grinned, apparently oblivious to the beating he had taken.

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His interrogator had gone to work with some enthusiasm after that, breaking several ribs and shattering at least one tooth. That is when the breakthrough had seemed imminent.

“Ok… you win… I will tell,” came a much weaker voice, the northman now struggling to breathe, much less talk. “You have to take the crown to a specific place.”

His next words were too quiet and unintelligible. The interrogator leaned in to hear him.

And then the crazy northman headbutted him with enough force to knock him out. By the time Anders other men had intervened and restrained the northman, he had been sitting atop the downed interrogator, crushing his throat with the thick strip of wood that connected the lower part of the chair legs, laughing aloud while doing so.

‘I would say the odds of getting anything useful from him are slim to none. And he killed my interrogator, hence why I am now asking all the questions myself.’

INTERROGATION FLASHBACK 2: SAMTHA THE HALF-ELF BARD

“What do you know about the ritual to rejoin the Stone of Evronn and the Crown of the First King?” began Anders. “Before you answer I want you to know I have cast a spell that will detect if you lie. Each time I detect a lie I will hurt you. A little at first, and then a great deal after that.”

Samtha looked at Anders, and while it was hard to read her expression, it did not seem fear was one of the emotions controlling her. Their weapons and armour had been taken, but Samtha did not wear armour, so her outfit was largely unchanged apart from the blood stain where the crossbow quarrel had hit her. A multitude of colours clashed across her ensemble, and while she had long hair, most of that came from one side of her head, and a significant portion of her skull was shaved. Rings adorned her nose, lip and ears.

“You killed Javelin,” she said, in her distinctive drawl, the accent of those born and raised on the western shores of the Sea of Tranquility.

“I did not. Josak’s demon did.“ replied Anders. “I saved you and all the rest of the Seven. Josak had given orders to have all of you killed. Under his plan he would be sitting in my place, and you would be a spirit summoned back from the afterlife to answer his questions.”

Samtha chortled. “That would not have gone as he expected, sugar. But I am grateful to be alive,” the Bard conceded.

“How long you remain that way depends on you telling me what I need,” warned Anders. “I do not need you to be dead. But I do need to achieve my task. So whether you and the rest of the Seven live is entirely up to you.”

“Ok. I will tell you what I know. First, the only reason I know this is I am actually a forest nymph. Are you familiar with the fae?” she asked.

“I am,” Anders lied. My knowledge of demons is amongst the greatest in Driax. My knowledge of the fae is that elves are real, and are in some way related to faeries.

“We are connected with nature in a way you are not. But it is not because we live in the forests as most assume. We are aliens who came to Driax on a giant flying ship. We actually come from a planet in the stars called Avalar. I myself am the daughter of the Elven Queen, and the result of an intimate fling she had with a centaur prince. My existence was too scandalous for the royal court, so I was raised in exile. But I share my alien mother’s connection to nature.”

‘This cannot be true… can it? But my spell to detect lies has not gone off during any of this.’

“What does this have to do with the Stone and the Crown?” Anders asked, trying not to even be drawn into whether the previous comments were true.

“The Stone of Evronn is actually a shard from the ship we flew here on. It’s original name is the Shard of Avalon. Evronn was the pilot of that ship. He changed his appearance to look human. That is why he was so much better at magick than all the other humans, because he actually taught the early humans magick. The Seven’s goal is to reclaim that ship and fly in it back to our homeworld. There we will dine forever with Xarron, Zankeine, Evronn and the rest of the original Seven.”

‘This is ridiculous!’

“And the Crown?” Anders asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

“A mind control device we created to control human rulers so they would do our bidding. But we underestimated how weak human minds were, so we took the stone out and replaced it with a lesser magick item. Human minds didn’t need the good stuff. Not like the hamsters we tested the crown on. They were tough minded little bastards.” Samtha grinned.

“I rapidly grow tired of this,” Anders replied.

“But you were monitoring me. Was I lying?” Samtha asked.

“But you didn’t answer my question. How do I rejoin the two together?” Anders asked, doubtful the answer would be beneficial.

“Oh that is the fun part. You need the original creature we used to bind them,” Samtha replied, leaning in closer to whisper the rest. Anders was drawn in slightly, but kept out of harm’s reach after the earlier episode with the northman.

“You must find Glambul’ka, King of the hamsters. If you present him with a bowl of the finest food, and share it with him, eating from the same bowl of course, then you can place the Crown on his head. And as you share the same final bite of food, then you may kiss the Hamster. That will rejoin the Stone to the Crown.” As she finished Samtha bowed her head much as a Bard might at the end of a performance.

Anders glared at her. Then to his men.

“Take her from here. She is to be given no more food or drink until she concedes that was a lie.”

“Bye, Sugar. By the way I really like your hair.,” Samtha said with a grin as she was lead from the room. The comment about his hair triggered the Detect Lie spell.

INTERROGATION FLASHBACK 3: BALINOR BREVIN

‘Then came the Klydorian knight. Least he was honour bound not to lie.’

“You are Sir Balinor Brevin, of the Order of Chandrilar?” Anders asked.

“I am,” responded the Knight, now stripped of his weapons and armour, but still sitting upright and proud. He was covered in wounds from the battle. Anders people had healed the worst of them to keep him alive.

“And you are honour bound not to lie, is that correct?” Anders asked. ‘I know the answer, but I want him to say it aloud for both of us.’

“I suspect you know that I am. But I also have somewhat of an obligation not to aid and abet evil,” replied Balinor. “That would be you!”

“Evil is often just a matter of perspective,” replied Anders. “But I am not here to debate philosophy with you. What do you know about the ritual to rejoin the Stone of Evronn and the Crown of the First King?”

“A little. Why do you want to rejoin them?” asked Balinor.

“I am asking the questions here. Not you,” replied Anders.

‘Because while the others fight to capture the items we need to return our Lord to this world, I wish to offer something unique. I will be seen to have had a hand in recovering the items. But I wish to present a suitable empire for my Lord when he arrives. And I can think of none better than that of the descendants of the people who vanquished him the first time. The Crown will let me take the throne of Klydor.’

“The answer controls how much I can tell you,” Balinor said simply.

“How about you tell me what you are willing to say now, and then I torture the rest out of you later?” replied Anders.

“Sure. But if you ever meet a Knight of Chandrilar who won’t die before violating his Oaths, you let me know,” dared Balinor.

‘I am beginning to understand why Josak hates the Seven so much. So arrogant. So righteous. And so frustratingly unhelpful.’

“Just start with what you will tell me,” conceded Anders.

“OK. First, you should know it was the Seven who removed the stone from the Crown in the first place,” started Balinor.

‘Really! That is something I did not know. Maybe this won’t be a complete waste of time.’

“Did the Klydorian Royal family knowingly participate in this?” asked Anders.

“I do not know. I suspect either way the current King does not know,” replied Balinor.

“If you suspect that, why have you not told them. Aren’t you honour bound to?” Anders asked.

“No. If they were to ask me, I would be honour bound to tell them. Otherwise, I must tell them if I think not knowing endangers the Crown in anyway. A situation where that would be true has not arisen,” replied the knight.

“If I tell you everything that I know of the joining of the Crown and the Stone, will you let Samtha go?” negotiated Balinor. Anders considered the request.

‘She is highly unlikely to be of any further use directly. She may still have value in threatening to harm her to get the others to talk. But that probably only works with the Knight in any event, and he is now promising to tell me everything anyway.’

“OK. I agree. But I release her only after you tell me everything you know. And it has to be worth something to me. If you know nothing further, the deal is off,” Anders counter-offered.

“Agreed. But you take an oath on your Dragon Lord now that you will honour this deal,” countered Balinor.

“OK. I swear on the Great Dragon, the Unyielding Fire, the One True Lord of Driax, Razilin’Tera, that I will honour this deal. May I be struck down in righteous flame if I do not,” swore Anders. “Happy?”

Balinor nodded.

“The Crown was forged with the help of the Llewyrr shortly after the founding of Klydor,” recited Balinor. “But the Crown was taken by Emperor Karshak Kerensky as a prize for his having defeated the Klydorian King in a duel during the Great War. He, and his successors, then wore the crown, leading their armies as they conquered the nations of the Lestok, Morandia, and defeated the last of the great Highland armies.”

‘The Lestok were academics. No match for a real army of clansman warriors. The Morands were a nomadic horse people who mostly ran from large engagements. Their cities burned easily. Only the Highlanders were real warriors, but they betrayed their own as their own clans were not united. No magic hat did this.’

“And then they used the Crown to put down the Traston uprisings,” continued Balinor.

‘Essentially, he is blaming the Crown for the whole expansion of the Cthrag Merlo empire. The Merlo empire is built on an entire culture that supports their armies. The Emperor can just demand the support of his Clans, knowing they are honour-bound to oblige. But for another ruler, then the Crown’s powers of inspiration and charm would allow someone to quickly gather support from both the nobles and the common people, which would in turn lead to the ability to raise a large army.’

‘Perhaps large enough to seize the capital, Rashan, and the throne along with it.’

“Then, soon after, members of the Seven reclaimed the crown. It was at this time that the decision was made to remove the Stone. It was too dangerous in its current form,” concluded Balinor.

‘I have to ask this, even if I don’t quite believe it myself.’

“How does it feel to know the mistakes of your Order lead to the Cthrag Merlo empire? How many people have died because of those mistakes?” asked Anders.

He watched as Balinor squirmed uncomfortably.

“In some ways your order has done more to promote the ethos of the Great Dragon, than anything we have done. I cannot so easily point to three different kingdoms that fell in war because of my God. Perhaps you should change sides? Your order would be very much appreciated by us,” mocked Anders.

“We are judged by our intentions and what is in our hearts,” replied Balinor proudly. “You deliberately sow chaos everywhere you go, because your dark hearts lust for battle, conquest and death. We strive for peace, and only through misstep can our actions cause those other things.”

“OK. But just so we are keeping score, your missteps have caused more glory for my Lord than any of my deliberate actions. So accidentally or not, the Seven are the greatest agents for Razilin’Tera in all of Driax. I really should just let you all go,” Anders continued to mock.

“Screw you! At some point you and I are going to meet under very different circumstances. You will not enjoy that moment,” threatened Balinor.

“What else can you tell me? Remember the deal! You tell me everything,” reminded Anders.

‘I must learn not to aggravate someone as they are telling me things I need to know. But that was too much fun to pass up. Arrogant, pompous Knight.’

“That is all I know. The Crown and Stone were forever split from that time on. The great wizard, Zarthas the Great, a member of our order, took the Crown and with the help of agents unknown, split the artefacts. I know great magickal protections were put in place to make rejoining them very difficult, but I do not know what those are.”

Anders considered the information carefully.

‘Is he holding anything back? There is somewhat of a conflict between his not aiding me, and his promise to tell me everything. If I ask the right questions, he has to answer truthfully.’

“So you know nothing more that could assist me in rejoining the Stone to the Crown?” Anders asked.

“I do not,” replied Balinor.

‘Ok. But that does not mean you don’t more that can help me.’

“Who does?” asked Anders.

Anders was pleased when he saw irritation and reluctance flash across the big knight’s face.

“You promised to…” began Anders.

“I do not need to be reminded of how to keep my word from the likes of you!” scolded Balinor. He took a couple of moments to calm himself.

“Maragon may know, but I do not think he has all the answers,” continued Balinor.

“Then who does?” asked Anders, genuinely surprised.

Balinor chuckled slightly. “Brother Turin.”

‘You have got to be kidding me!’

“And nobody else in your Order would know what that old man knew?” Anders asked, desperately hoping the answer would give him another way.

“No. He was always quite secretive about certain things. A more complex and dark figure than you would expect from a Priest of Faylen,” replied Balinor.

“Ever heard of the Faylenian Inquisition? Is that dark enough for you?” countered Anders. “The things they do in service to their God rivals anything done in the name of the Great Lord, Razilin’Tera.”

“Brother Turin was not part of the Inquisition,” replied Balinor. “I guess he just got dark over time.”

‘Damn the Seven. I am going to need Josak’s help.’

Shortly after that he had Balinor taken from the room, but not before granting him a small amount of food and drink as a reward for being at least somewhat co-operative.

MARAGON – ANDERS’ SAFEHOUSE, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

10TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM

Maragon’s mind was racing, trying to engineer an escape for himself or another of the seven, but so far his captors had proven his equal. His hands were bound tightly behind him, and in a testament to their knowledge of spell-casting, his fingers were also tightly constrained by the ropes.

‘Who has captured us? Were it Josak Norgette, our long-time nemesis, I am sure we would know by now. There is no way we could have been his prisoner this long without him showing himself at least once to gloat. My head still hurts from the ‘encouragements’ I have been given to talk, and I am reasonably sure my nose, and at least two of my ribs have been broken.’

“Perhaps I should start cutting off your fingers then, one at a time, to see if that loosens your tongue,” Anders replied. After a few more seconds of silence, he groaned in frustration before continuing, “You may call me Anders. I am a High Priest of Razilin’Tera, and your new master. You should consider yourself quite fortunate. You are one of the first who will give his soul to the new Lord of Driax.”

Anders drew the dragon-head amulet from under his breastplate, and dramatically presented it. Maragon focussed through the one eye that had not yet swollen shut.

“I see. That is not Josak’s amulet,” commented Maragon. “So who did you replace?”

“Ronardo decided to become closer to his God. I merely helped him with the transition,” mocked Anders.

“I think I can honestly say I am sad to hear he is gone.”

‘I would never truly mourn the passing of a Razilin’Tera High Priest. The gods know I have caused a few of those passings over the years. But Ronardo always seemed so incompetent and harmless, that in this case his demise almost definitely leads to a more dangerous adversary replacing him. And from the looks of things, it already has.’

“Why do you want the Crown? In all of my dealings with Josak he only ever cared about the Sword or the Stone. Why the new interest in old Klydorian jewellery?” asked Maragon, seeking an answer to the most puzzling part of Anders questioning.

“No, unlike Josak, I will not gloat of my reasons or aspirations. I still don’t understand exactly how another member of the Seven is nominated when the old one dies, but I am suspicious there is some kind of knowledge transfer. I wouldn’t want to give the new recruit an unfair advantage. So let’s just say I am a Patriot who would really like to hold the Crown Jewels.”

“I do not expect you to believe me, as we both know I am immune to your little divination spells to detect untruths, but my soul goes whole to the afterlife. The soul is sacred to us, and we would not harm or diminish it, and nor would we prevent it going to the afterlife. Nothing of me remains or transfers to anyone.”

‘That is true. It is the Champion’s soul within each of us that passes to the next member of the Seven. So if this goes badly, I will indeed die. But Evronn will go on, choosing his next soul companion, and bonding with them.’

“The soul is sacred to us too. We know how many we will need to both return our Lord back into the world, and how many we will need to feed him once he is here. But the price of anything worthwhile is substantial,” countered Anders. “If your false prophet was half the master our Lord was, you would try to return him also. Although I agree with you that Evronn is not worth the effort.”

‘You understand so very little.’

“Do you really expect to get a rise out of me by insulting my Lord? I am not one of your simpleton order, and nor am I some half-wit fanatic. My Lord could not care what you think of him. In fact he prefers you cursing him to anything else. It is if you start to speak fondly of him that we will be in trouble.”

‘Anders is getting frustrated. Whatever he wants, he isn’t getting it. How do I get us out of here before he starts killing us.’

“So are you going to tell me what I want to know, or am I going to have to give you more of the truth serum,” asked Anders. “While I admire your resistance to the first dose, I warn you, at least two of the components are highly toxic and I do not think you will survive if I administer you anymore. But my chemist has just arrived with another batch, and I am tired of your witty banter.”

“Knowing as I do, the pain and duration of the death that serum will cause, and comparing that to the others you likely have planned for me, I think I am just fine with the serum,” replied Maragon.

“Balinor has already told me much of the Crown, including how it was lost to the Merlo Emperor, used by them to conquer much of the known world, and that at some point after that, your order recovered it,” continued Anders. Maragon also shifted uncomfortably when the Crown was blamed for the Merlo success.

“Interesting history, but he could tell you that because it likely does not help you in whatever scheme you are running,” explained Maragon. “Unless your order has suddenly taken up an interest in publishing controversial historical books.”

“Then will you at least share how you came to recover it? I would not have thought the Merlos would be open to parting with it.” Anders asked, as it was the one part of the tale he was keen to hear, whether it be useful or not. Maragon considered his request and could see no harm in re-telling that part of the tale.

“The Crown was actually recovered twice. The first by an ancestor of Ragnar actually. Some of the Merlo Emperors have had a penchant for fighting in their own gladiator arenas. The Seven were able to use this to place one of our own, Magnus the Wulfen, in their annual Grand Tournament. Our warrior was the eventual winner, but along the way he became somewhat of a fan favourite for the way in which he would taunt and torment any Merlo opponents he came across.”

“Two of his last three opponents were prominent bloodnamed warriors from the White Lions clan, the same clan as the emperor of the time, and the Emperor took offense to their losing their heads and having them thrown into the crowd. Seeking to solve the problem in the traditional Merlo means he challenged our warrior to a duel in the Coliseum of Zankeine. As Magnus was already a free man, the Emperor asked what prize he would wish if he won. Magnus asked for the Crown.”

“So I assume he bested the Emperor?” queried Anders.

“He did. The Emperor was a mighty warrior, but it is said Magnus’ line is descended from Zankeine himself. The Emperor was also given the same fate as that of his clansmen, and his head was sent into the crowd as a gift. This was not our intention, but the warrior concerned was prone to the most horrible bouts of battle rage.”

“And the Merlos honoured the agreement and gave him the crown after that?” asked Anders dubiously.

“No. He was held until the clans could hold a Grand Council and elect their new Emperor. The successor immediately proclaimed that Magnus had dishonoured the duel in the way he handled his victory, and refused to part with the Crown. Magnus was thrown back into the arena as part of his trial and was made to fight a champion from each of the seven Clans who had accused him.”

“But there are 14 Clans,” queried Anders, a fact known to all Klydorians from the time they can first speak and comprehend the stories of the past.

“Five, including the White Lion clan of the slain Emperor took the most unusual step of abstaining from the vote. The remaining two, clans Timber Wolf and the Blood Stalkers voted in favour of Magnus. It was their argument, and the correct one, that Magnus was entitled to do as he wished with the loser’s body in such a duel. As such, according to Merlo custom in a Rite of Judgement, their champions stood beside Magnus and all three were killed in the resulting Trial, along with five of their accusers,” explained Maragon.

“Shortly thereafter another of our order, Enteris Jarvis, stole the Crown from the Hall of the Clans,” concluded Maragon.

“May I ask why you didn’t just steal it first?” asked Anders.

“Enteris wanted to. But the Seven voted and it was agreed we were not entitled to it. The Merlo Emperor had claimed it fairly in an honour duel, and we had to do likewise before we could take it,” justified Maragon.

“Don’t you ever find your honour just a little too inconvenient,” exasperated Anders, “Don’t bother answering that. It was rhetorical. So what then, you gave the Crown back to the Klydorians?”

“Yes. It was rightfully Chandrilar’s, and therefore his lineage’s, to wear,” proclaimed Maragon.

“And in return you negotiated to be allowed to build several of your Towers within their lands, correct?” supposed Anders.

“Correct.”

“I did always wonder why they allowed one of the most powerful Merlo wizards, once head of one of the Colleges of Magick, to build a tower within their borders,” said Anders, running his hand absent-mindedly through his long blond hair.

“I am an Ashar wizard. Do not call me a Merlo. I am of the empire Cthrag Merlo, but I am not of the Merlo people.” A quiet anger seethed from Maragon, making it clear the difference meant something quite significant to him.

“What is the difference?” asked Anders naively.

“Allow me to educate you a little before I die. Perhaps the enlightenment of knowledge can yet save your soul,” uttered Maragon. Anders snorted, indicating how unlikely he thought that to happen, but he did motion for Maragon to continue.

“The Archeron took survivors from the Battle of Micronia, seeing the potential in humans, and forged a new society built on three pillars. The Trastons were to tend to nature, and ensure a harmony with the natural world. The Merlos were taught martial combat to protect the new kingdom from outside threats, and the Ashar were taught the secrets of magick. These three pillars were to operate in unison and form the perfect society,” educated Maragon.

“Let me guess… the Merlos didn’t follow the plan,” interjected Anders, knowing at least some of the rhetoric on the Merlos.

“Correct. A good deal later after the empire had become amongst the most powerful, they killed the Archeron, declaring them too weak to rule, and seized control. They then put down any Ashar or Traston who rose against them. In the worst of these uprisings they exterminated nearly all of the Traston nobility. So while to outsiders we are all just Merlos now, to those who know different, the distinction is quite important.”

“But you all now serve the Emperor?” asked Anders maliciously.

“The price of resistance has always been too high,” explained Maragon. “And now there are few left who remember enough to keep fighting. I however, will never forget.”

“Then I apologise. You are an Ashar,” replied Anders. “Now…is there anything I can say, or threaten to do, that will change your mind about telling me anything useful?”

Maragon shook his head.

“What if I torture your friends?” Anders threatened.

“Then like so many of our order before us, we will die, to be replaced by another who will oppose you,” said Maragon mournfully.

“What if I offer to let some of them go if you tell me everything?” proffered Anders.

‘That is a surprising offer. This one is different.’

“You would let all of the rest of the Seven go?” asked Maragon doubtfully.

“No. I will release Samtha,” Anders offered.

‘That is very tempting. If he does kill all of us, it will take a long time to get the Seven functional again. Time we may not have. But if he wants to put the Stone back into the Crown, I cannot help him with that because I don’t know what he wants it for.’

“It is a tempting offer. But no deal. The Seven cannot be accomplices in your efforts to rejoin those artifacts,” replied Maragon.

“Have it your way.” Anders waved his hand and two of his men came in and administered more of the serum. While it took some time to do so, they were eventually able to force more of the pale green paste into Maragon’s mouth, and then force him to swallow it.

“And go and give it to the others now too. I am equally tired of their responses. I will speak to them all again in a couple of hours when the serum has taken its toll,” instructed Anders. “You may release Samtha.”

Maragon looked at him, surprised.

“I had already agreed to release her in exchange for the information from Balinor,” Anders explained. “No matter what happens here, I want it to be known I will generally keep my word.”

‘You keep your word but would absolutely have negotiated her release twice. You are a dangerous adversary and much more a threat than your predecessor.’