On the deck of the St. Anne’s Revenge , Herc McGurk was still talking up Silla Scalesweep, who was enraptured by his knowledge of lures, bait and tackle. Siegfried dispelled his sequestered sanctuary , depositing what little remained of Brevindon Margaster unceremoniously onto the deck . Violance’s hooves clacked smartly on the deck as the nightmare surveyed its surroundings, and found them wanting Nearby, Gulliper Blackwater, who had just finished mopping the deck to a reflective shine, sighed heavily and grabbed his bucket and brush as he approached the spreading bloodstain. “Can’t leave anything for the seagulls,” he muttered. Siegfried fingered Brevindon’s signet ring in his pocket. He turned to Bob. “Bob, this is Violance,” he said, indicating the horse. “Yes, we met earlier when he devoured that cultist friend of yours,” Bob said warily. Violance gave side-eye to Siegfried. Seeing Varien walk up the gangplank, Bob called out. “Hey, Fiendsbane! We just downed a horn devil. Where the hell were you?” Fiendsbane rattled in its scabbard. What is Bob talking about? “Yes, we were questioning Brevindon Margaster, and Lorcan sent a devil to butcher his head,” Siegfried said. “You missed it! It was amazing.” “Perhaps next time don’t wander off,” Varien said. “It’s fine, I said we handled it,” Siegfried said. “Look, we even stole Lorcan’s horse!” He patted Violance’s neck. “Sure,” Varien said, skeptical. “But that doesn’t change anything I just said. It could have been worse, so next time don’t wander off alone.” A devil in a man’s head? Fiendsbane said to Varien. That sounds suspicious. I’ve heard of this before, but where? “Violance, do you know how Lorcan puts devils in people’s eyeballs?” Siegfried asked. Violance looked done his long nose at Siegfried. “Trade secret,” it snorted. “Violance! I stole and enslaved you through the Law of the Blade!” Siegfried said crossly. “You will answer my question!” Violance snorted. “You can ride me; that doesn’t mean I have to confide in thee.” Siegfried frowned. “Remember where your loyalties now lie,” he said. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Violance said. The nightmare shook its head. “But fine. Sounds like your friends crossed paths with the Ashmadai.” Siegfried nodded. “That tracks. They have been a thorn in our side for some time. It might be a question for our mutual friend from Neverwinter.” He gave a significant glance to Varien. Violance snorted again. “This bores me,” it said. “Very well,” Siegfried said, “We are traveling to a place of beauty and holiness. Would you prefer to be in a special place?” Violance shook its mane and snorted. “Pass,” it said. “Call me when you need me.” “I’ll make sure it’s worth your time,” Siegfried said. “You’d better,” Violance said. Siegfried dismissed his mount. Violance stuck around just long enough to indicate that it was his decision to leave the Prime Material, then vanished in a puff of cinders. “I appreciate that horse’s sass,” Siegfried said. “Now then, to the Temple of Beauty?” Siegfried asked Bob. Bob nodded. The party made their farewells to the crew of the St. Anne’s Revenge . There was a slightly hungover yet tearful parting from members of the crew. “Yeemik, do you want the axe of the bloodsworn ?” Siegfried asked. Yeemik brandished his hellthorn axe . “I think I’ll keep this one in case a fiend shows up.” “Fair enough,” Siegfried said. Captain Laurel informed Siegfried that it would take several tendays of work to get the former pirate ship into shape. Siegfried, in confidence, told the Captain to keep billing repairs and refitting costs to Lady Lureena under Siegfried’s auspices. “I want her gunning for my throat, financially speaking. Don’t rip the family off, but make this the best ship in the fleet.” Quartermaster Berrick cringed. Siegfried smiled. “Remember Berrick, this was all my idea.” The party prepared to leave. Erwen crawled down from the crow’s nest to join his companion, taking pains to avoid Silla Scalesweep. Siegfried cast a sending spell to his brother Rulgar. We should speak, properly and at length. Do any of your mages know the Dream spell? I'll go take a nap. Your Brother, Siegfried. His brother replied. See you in your dreams, Siegfried, if not your nightmares. The party teleported to the Temple of Beauty’s main sanctuary. Varien looked about. He immediately sensed tension in the sanctuary – the usual atmosphere of self-actualization, pleasant diversion and reverence was not present. Even the statue of Sune that overshadowed the sanctuary above the altar was somehow diminished from its usual splendour. Flanking the perimeter of the chamber were Sunite paladins in full plate armour, polished to a vibrant sheen. Though their weapons were ceremonial, their appearance was a meaningful symbol that all was not right in the Temple of Beauty. Sitting here and there in the ranks of comfortable pews were individual Sunites, heads bowed in prayer. Siegfried found an unoccupied pew in the back of the sanctuary and lay down, stretching out his booted feet. He began practicing some breathing exercises to help him fall asleep quickly. Standing upon the chancel were Nero of the Garden and Dhaera Darklight, holding court as a young, voluptuous acolyte sang a song of devotion in a tremulous soprano. Nero’s gaze rose to the back of the sanctuary as he sensed the ripple of teleportation magic, and he gave a slight nod to the adventurers. Varien used his divine sense as he walked up the central aisle towards the raised platform. There was definitely an atmosphere of discordance and divine turmoil that surprised the paladin. There was a crunch beneath Varien’s boots. He looked down. Scattered on the marble floor of the sanctuary were shards of what looked like mirrored glass. Varien frowned. This was entirely not in keeping with the design and beauty standards of Sunite temples the world over. Varien could see other small scatterings of broken glass here and there, glinting in the light that streamed in through the lurid stained-glass windows lining the sanctuary. Something was clearly amiss. Nero stepped down from the chancel to greet Varien, clasping his hands in a firm grip. “Well met, Varien. Tell me, what news?” “No news, Nero,” Varien said. “I have just returned. How is everything here?” Nero sighed and leaned in to whisper into Varien’s ear. “The first thing you should know is that the Watch has our temple under surveillance.” Varien gestured towards the nearest knight. “After the unpleasantness, we’ve had to put on a show of force to restore order within the temple,” Nero explained. “Consider them to be a decoration and nothing more. Symbolism, that sort of thing. However, the Watch is looking for you and your companions.” “They’re looking for us?” Varien asked. “What do they intend to do with us?” “Well, the ways of the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors are oftentimes complicated and obscure,” Nero said, “However, when a leading member of the clergy in Waterdeep is struck dead, they do tend to question those present. I have done what I can to stall them, to provide assurances, and to turn their attentions elsewhere for the time being, but they are at least being discreet in the eye that they are keeping out for you.” Varien rolled his eyes and clapped Nero on the shoulder. “We shall no doubt speak to them and clear the matter up.” He squatted down and prodded the shards of glass and glistening powder strewn on the floor. He picked up a shard. “I have to ask. Why hasn’t this been cleared up?” Nero’s expression grew solemn. “While you were away, it appears as though Sune Herself had a message for her followers here. Simultaneously, every hand mirror in this temple broke. Shocking, I know. That’s a lot of bad luck. And so, we have chosen to let the shards lay where they fell to remind us of Lady Firehair’s discontent.” He passed Varien a folded broadsheet, a recent copy of the Waterdeep Wazoo , which featured a frontpage article on the phenomenon. “It even made the papers.” Varien looked at the article headline. “’Sune Enraged?’” he read. He quickly scanned the article and handed the paper back to Nero. “And you can’t think of anything that you or someone did before it happened?” Nero shrugged. “It’s not often that I’m at a loss,” he said. “Has anyone tried communing with Our Lady?” Bob asked. Nero shook his head. “Our prayers to Sune have since gone unanswered,” he admitted. “I am here in the Temple as a steward, and I’ve often considered it my duty to elevate others than myself.” “So that’s a no, then,” Bob said. “Thank you for your candour, Robert,” Nero said with a smile. “I am, after all, a figurehead.” Varien squatted back down and replaced the broken shards on the floor. He put his hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Let’s take a look around.” Bob nodded. “Yes, let’s do that, and if it comes to it I will gladly commune with Lady Firehair.” Nero’s smile widened. “Robert, you have the right idea. You see, this is what I mean, elevating others and giving others wings to fly! Bob, you have a bright future within the Church of Sune, I believe that with all my heart.” He leaned in close to Bob and whispered, “Play your cards right, Trevelyan, and you might be shepherding this flock someday.” “Good to know,” Bob said. “Alec, can you look around and talk to some people about what’s going on?” Alec nodded. “Yes, of course.” He took his shirt off and flexed experimentally, knowing what Sunite followers respected. “Come on then,” Varien said. He and Bob began to search the Temple’s recesses, Theryn in tow. Siegfried began to snore loudly. Siegfried’s eyes fluttered open. He found himself on a bluff overlooking Neverwinter, the Jewel of the North, the City of Skilled Hands. “Nothing on fire? My dreams usually start after the apocalypse,” Siegfried said aloud. “Well, that’s to be expected,” Rulgar said, materializing next to Siegfried. “You were the younger brother. You were born in the fire. But give it a minute.” There was a flash of angry red light to the north as in the far distance, Mount Hotenow erupted, throwing its highest peak into the sky atop an expanding funnel of lava and thick ash. The sound of the dormant volcano’s awakening took several seconds to reach the pair where they sound, a few instants ahead of the sound of every window in Neverwinter shattering from the shock wave. The ground around the two half-orcs began to tremble as the pyroclastic cloud of destruction began to roll across the Crags and the fields of the low flood plain, as though it was building steam towards a well-aimed strike at the heart of the city. Trees were bowed and broken by the blast wave as enormous chunks of what used to be mountainside bounced, caromed and carved their way across the terrain, at the end of their long arcs through the darkening sky. “The beast roars,” Rulgar said, almost to himself. Then the ground beneath them, and beneath the city of Neverwinter as well, lurched and rolled, quaking as the wall of stone and ash many times higher than her defensive walls ran madly towards the ocean, burying and burning everything in its path. The volcano pained a line of devastation from the mountains to the sea. The folk of Neverwinter had a tremendous view of their approaching doom, and in a panic did what panicked folk do – taking to the streets, screaming for their loved ones, running and rushing for cover in the face of the oncoming avalanche. The waddle and daub buildings of the average Neverwintan would not provide protection, Siegfried knew. Even the strongest structures: the great stone and iron bridges, the immense Castle Never itself, and the domed Halls of Justice would be hard-pressed to withstand the destruction that was to come. And come it did. Boulders the size of houses, trailing tails of molten rock, slammed down atop the rowhouses at random, crushing them to their foundations. The Neverwinter River hissed in protest as great clouds of steam shot skyward from contact with superheated rock. The screams of the Neverwintans rose in pitch and magnitude until roars like those of a thousand dragons drowned them out once and for all. Then came the explosions, the crumbling of buildings, and the splash of water. Every building in the path of the pyroclastic rage became an oven, cooking their inhabitants. The tallest spires of Castle Never swayed under the onslaught before being consumed by the roiling cloud of ash. On and on it went, the thunder and fire, the falling fireballs, the utter devastation of an entire city. And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the cataclysm ended as silence descended over the ruins. It was a dead, muted silence. Not a scream, not a groan, not a wail broke it, and there was but a bit of wind, nothing more. Everything was grey and deep, and dead. Neverwinter was dead. Siegfried let out a breath he realized he had been holding. “Not much to look at, is it?” Rulgar said. “But I guess we can’t choose our birthright, now can we?” “Speaking of which, have you spoken to mother in the last day or so?” Siegfried said, his eyes still on the devastated ruins of the once-great city. Rulgar shook his head. “I try to keep Mother at arm’s length at the best of times, brother.” “Well, that’s sensible. She’s not nice” Siegfried said, “We had a disagreement, you might say. I stabbed her. I stabbed her on the Ethereal Plane, and I believe I hurt her.” Rulgar’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “That’s every child’s dream on some level, isn’t it? Brother.” “We don’t have to be creepy about it, Rulgar,” Siegfried said. “How did things go after I ruined your big day? Did you get out okay?” Rulgar sighed. “Yes, thank you for that, by the way. We managed to escape with a good deal of our ranks intact, if not our dignity.” “You get where I’m coming from, don’t you?” Siegfried said. “The stabbing of the gnome kids, that’s the antipathy of what I’m about, you understand.” Rulgar shook his head slowly. “I understand that you’re choosing a somewhat more sensitive path than I would. But opportunities must be seized, Seigfried, if not with the Bloodspear Ritual, then whatever else is at hand.” “Right, and that means the Ettin Axe is the next-closest artifact at hand,” Siegfried said. “That’s in my neck of the woods. You’re aiming to retrieve it?” Rulgar smirked. “You might think so. I couldn’t possibly comment.” “Do you want it?” Siegfried asked. “I’m about to go to the Lord’s Court and make the case that I need to get it to keep it out of your hands, but if you want it, we can talk. There’s no reason why we have to be assholes to each other about it.” “Fascinating,” Rulgar said after a slight pause. “Assuming for the moment that the decision to retrieve the axe lies entirely with you, what are you proposing?” Siegfried sighed and soldiered on. “I’m starting to think Neverwinter is Mother’s dream more than mine. Are you familiar with the Hand of Nessus or what the Ashmadai has been up to? I know you’ve been speaking with the Thayans.” “I may know a few things,” Rulgar said. “I have nothing to hide from you, Rulgar,” Siegfried said. “I’ve stolen Lorcan’s horse. The people I’m with are on the warpath against Lorcan’s fellow fiends, and I’ve got a concern about the 15 th of Mirtul. The solar eclipse, the Dread Circle. Have you ever slept within the vicinity of Neverwinter and Helm’s Hold and seen the necrodragon?” “I’ve heard tales of the nightmares that plague those poor people,” Rulgar said. “Though they do not yet know what nightmares truly are.” “Have any of your scouts found the circumference of the area of effect?” Siegfried asked. “Neverwinter Wood is similarly threatened,” Rulgar said. “Cards on the table. Are you interested in a solution where everybody lives?” Siegfried asked. “Go on,” Rulgar said. “I’m listening.” “I’m not as invested in sitting on the throne of Neverwinter with a crown on my head than I am at ensuring that Neverwinter survives and is prosperous as the next century dawns,” Siegfried said. “Same for Waterdeep, same for Many-Arrows. If I could have my way, everyone would be fine, talking, trading, not murdering one another but talking like civilized persons. I think it’s possible, were it not for certain gods unworthy.” “All right,” Rulgar said. “I think we can be better, but that only begins when we decide that, when we are not playing the parts laid out for us when we were born.” Siegfried said. “Well,” Rulgar said. “Rule is rule.” “Rule is rule,” Siegfried repeated. “But we can always aspire to something greater,” Rulgar conceded. “Perhaps Many-Arrows shows us both the truth and the error of our ways. A possibility.” “We raised a goblin from the dead as a Tiefling,” Siegfried said. “Sounds like an interesting afternoon,” Rulgar said. “He murdered Nezznar in Tholl Sla-Houk,” Siegfried said. “You might remember, the one holding the flail? He died betrayed in Ieirithymbul, we reincarnated him, helped him get his revenge, rehabilitated him, took him to Waterdeep, put him on a boat, and now he’s a first mate.” “A touching tale of redemption,” Rulgar said. “If he can change his mindset once freed from the tyranny of those such as the Black Spider, anyone can,” Siegfried said. “I’m interested in ensuring the people under the Crown of Neverwinter are safe and happy.” “Peace and harmony in the North?” Rulgar said smugly. “I never said harmony,” Siegfried. “I’ll go as far as to say commerce and capitalism in the North.” “Ah,” Rulgar said. “I want to be able to build a railroad without someone nicking the copper,” Siegfried said. “Ambition, Siegfried, must be backed up with something,” Rulgar said. “Absolutely it must. Both are necessary. But where those who have tried and failed before, someone will have the nice chair and fancy hat this time around.” Rulgar chuckled. “Precisely.” “And that’s not where the power is,” Siegfried said. “It’s only where the people who agree on what the power is say it is.” “Those who govern can only govern with the consent of the governed, is that what you’re saying?” Rulgar asked. Siegfried shook his head. “No, I’m saying Executive authority lies where those with Practical authority thinks the power lies. I just watched a paladin of the highest order and calibre and a healer of the highest calibre, who regularly communes with his goddess on a nightly basis, walk into a cathedral of Sune where there was no leadership ask why no one was in charge doing miracles that they themselves are capable of doing, because they expected someone else to be in charge. What I’m asking is, if you’re not part of the plot to massacre several cities in the North on the 15 th of Mirtul, can we work together to disrupt the Ashmadai and resume whatever boyish games Mother has set us towards after the fact?” “You wish a truce, then?” Rulgar asked. "Neither of us can sit at the head of the table while the Ashmadai burn the banquet hall,” Siegfried said. “We must remove the interlopers before we can determine our own seating arrangements." Rulgar nodded slowly. “Perhaps the clenched fist of Many-Arrows can be stayed for a time.” “You don’t have to stay it, just point it towards the Ashmadai first,” Siegfried said. “I have but two conditions,” Rulgar said. “Let’s hear them,” Siegfried said. “The Ettin Axe of Uruth,” Rulgar said. “And the proverbial knife between Mother’s shoulder blades.” “I can arrange that,” Siegfried said. “I feel like it’s entirely likely that the Ettin Axe might be denied me, but in that case I will do my best to arrange it so that your people might be able to steal it from Waterdeep. I will let you know how my day in court goes, and whether I will have to contact you to arrange a heist of sorts to claim it.” “I look forward to watching you work, brother.” Rulgar said. “I’m glad we could speak as brothers,” Seigfried said, pulling his brother into a bear hug. Rulgar whispered into Siegfried’s ear. “You may find taking down Adeline the Burned Queen of Evernight more of a challenge than you might think.” “Do not mistake compassion for weakness,” Siegfried whispered back. “I never said I would be the one to place the blade. I have a paladin for that.” “Spoken like a mother’s son, like a true king,” Rulgar said. Then he disappeared. Siegfried awoke in the sanctuary. Immediately he set about ordering a magnificent bouquet of flowers to be delivered to the Hawkwinter estate. The Sunite floral arranger in the Temple was more than happy to assist him. Siegfried then took out the pad of enchanted messenger paper and wrote three copies of a note to be delivered to the Lord’s Alliance, the Harpers, and the nearest Magister on watch. Siegfried Thann has returned to the City and will be presenting himself to the Lord’s Court at Highsun tomorrow. The papers folded themselves into bird-like shapes and took wing out the nearest open skylight into the air above the streets of Waterdeep. The one destined for the Watch suddenly arced sharply towards a nondescript covered hire-coach that was parked discreetly up the block within sight of the Temple of Beauty’s main entrance. The paper bird fluttered straight into the neck of the smaller of two men seated on the wagon’s uncomfortable bench. “Ouch! Damn it!” the bespectacled investigator said. He grabbed the bird, fixed his spectacles and read the message. “Ha! I knew it!” He turned to his partner, an older, taller man who had the look of a jaded veteran about him. His City Watch cape was threadbare and at least one generation out of date, though it was fixed at the man’s neck with a prominent badge of the Watch that looked like it had seen some action. “I knew it! Aren’t you glad I called you in on this, Saeth?” The bespectacled man waved the note in Saeth’s age-worn face. “Anything to get us off this uncomfortable buckboard, Barnibus,” Saeth muttered. “Are you saying you have a lead?” “I always have a lead, Saeth,” Barnibus said. “Stick with me!” Saeth rolled his eyes and settled back onto the uncomfortable bench, watching the temple’s entrance with practiced eyes.