The standing ovation inside the Lightsinger Theatre continued. Roses were being thrown from the balconies by the appreciative audience, and Erwen’s pixies delightedly grabbed them out of the air and shredded them as they flitted mischievously about. Hapless stagehands were attempting to stamp out the smouldering sections of the Tiamat construct that lay scattered across the stage. The adventurers took a few bows alongside the confused cast members before pulling their quarry backstage as the curtain began to close. Harvo Caulminster was basking in the limelight even as smoke continued to trail from the seat of his scorched breeches. He leaned over to Varien and asked sotto voce, “So tell me, are you currently represented by the Council of Musicians, Instrument-Makers, & Choristers?” Varien backed away as the curtains closed. “If we’re going to visit Brandarthall, Renaer Neverember’s manse, we should probably case the place first,” Siegfried said to Varien. “I suggest that Violance take you, me and the Arcetalos into the Ethereal Plane to cover our approach. Your mount is highly visible, especially at night.” Violance sniggered. To Renaer he asked, “do you have servants at home? Asking so I don’t accidentally stab one of your employees.” Renaer nodded. “Certainly, my butler Madrak, his son and a few other servants will be working at this late hour,” he said. “No doubt turning down my bed and warming up the fireplaces.” “Splendid,” Siegfried said. He turned to his nightmare. “Violance, if you please?” The nightmare’s purple mane turned to smoke, tendrils of which began to encircle Siegfried, Varien, and the Arcetalos, and enveloped them as they strode into the ethereal mists, leaving their companions backstage. “I’ll summon a few familiars to scout out ahead of us,” Alec said, casting summon flock of familiars. A trio of shadowy mastiffs blinked into existence. Renaer Neverember joined the party backstage. “I know my way around here,” he said conspiratorially. “Follow me. I assume you arrived here in a carriage?” “You assume correctly,” Bob confirmed. “Perfect,” Renaer said. He led the party to a side door backstage that let out into an alleyway beside the theatre proper. “Pending any intelligence from your friends, we can take our conveyances back to my home in the Sea Ward.” Alec manhandled the Tiefling into the back of Bob’s carriage, followed by Lady Hawkwinter, who was intent on keeping an eye on the prisoner. Bob took Skraper’s reins. “Skraper not sure about this situation,” the liondrake growled. “You’re living your best life, Skraper, and don’t you forget it,” Bob replied. Renaer Neverember’s coach was muted in style but of mastercraft quality, with clean lines and a team of fine horses attended to by a driver and footman. He invited Theryn and Erwen to join him. Bob let Renaer’s coach lead the way. The two vehicles pulled away from the theatre into the lamplit warren of Waterdeep’s rain-slick streets. Siegfried, Violance, Varien and the Arcetalos drifted through the Ethereal Plane on their way to Renaer’s abode, a grayscale simulacrum of the city’s blocks and streets visible at times through the ectoplasmic fog. Siegfried knew that Brandarthall was formerly known as Neverember Manor when it served as the Open Lord’s private residence, but with his departure, Renaer had restored the mansion’s former name in honour of his late mother, Althea Brandarth. Dagult had married an heiress of the wealthy Brandarth family, adding her properties, credit and assets to his own, and Lady Brandarth bore him a son, Renaer, but died when her son was a young boy. Somewhat scandalously, the Lady had willed her wealth to her son rather than her husband, which had no doubt contributed to Dagult and Renaer’s rocky relationship over the decades. With Dagult having decamped to Neverwinter permanently, Renaer had the residence renamed to connect with his mother’s side of the family. The duo discerned no ill omens as they approached the mansion. The convoy started its way down Bazaar Street just south of the Market away from the Lightsinger Theatre. Theryn sat on the plush seats inside the coach across from Renaer Neverember. Erwen dozed on the seat next to him. The scion of the Neverember family looked like he’d been through it. He reclined on the comfortable seat, exhausted, his eyes staring absently out the carriage window, bathed in light by the passing streetlamps. “Quite the show back there,” Theryn said. “Yes, quite,” Renaer replied tiredly. “I certainly got more than I bargained for with the price of admission.” Theryn nodded, assessing Renaer’s demeanour. The man was distracted and exhausted. He seemed drained, and his hand absently moved to his neck now and then, as if grasping for a pendant or necklace that wasn’t there. “What do you think went wrong back there?” Theryn said. “If you had to point a finger.” “What went wrong?” Renaer repeated, his eyes narrowed. “it’s not every day you’re accosted by devils in your private box, even in my line of work.” He thought for a moment. “They were asking about a stone…” “Who was?” Theryn asked. “Those creatures,” Renaer replied. “Led by the Tiefling. They must have used zone of truth because I was unusually forthright with them.” “The Hand of Nessus?” Theryn said. Renaer nodded. “They asked about a stone, and an eye. It was all very confusing.” “How do you intend to get to the bottom of this?” Theryn asked. “Well, your friend Siegfried seems to have a handle on this,” Renaer said. “Or at least he thinks he does.” “That’s his default perspective,” Theryn nodded. “They kept asking where this alleged stone was,” Renaer continued. “I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about, which must have been true given the charm I was under.” It was very quiet in the Sea Ward this time of night, doubly so in the Ethereal Plane. Siegfried, Varien and their mounts approached the approximate location of Brandarthall, which appeared out of the gloom like an architect’s ink sketch, a slime-covered frame like a ghostly inversion of its material form. Siegfried noticed that there were pockets of the building that appeared to be walled off from his view. Sections of the house appeared to have been warded or fortified against ethereal intrusion. Interesting that there are spaces protected from planar intrusion, Siegfried thought to himself as he crept through the interior of the building. I’ll have to ask about that later. He detected several humanoid shapes dimly through the ethereal fog that appeared to be moving from one room to another. Siegfried noted that at least one of the shapes were Halfling-sized, and the movements did not appear agitated and were instead casual and leisurely. Varien found a flat space of ground to open his portable hole and started to put on his plate armour. Siegfried cast a sending spell to Renaer. Brandarthall secure. How shall I introduce myself to your staff? Renaer replied: Knock of the door. Ask for Madrak. Introduce yourself as Danilo’s grandson, seeking a glass of rivengut. Siegfried knew that Danilo Thann, sixth son of Lady Cassandra and her husband Rhammas, had been a Harper in his day and was known by many as the Walking Grape. Rivengut was famously his favourite libation. Siegfried asked Violance to drop him off in the Material Plane and then return to the Ethereal Plane to pick up Varien. He turned to Varien. “When it’s time for you to emerge, I will draw my ethereal cutlass , and you will see its glow.” Violance tossed his mane. So, I’m doing errands for you now? “What did you expect?” Siegfried asked his horse. Violance gave a spiteful nicker and ferried Siegfried back into the Prime Material. The half-orc emerged in an alleyway and approached Brandarthall, mounting its exterior steps to knock on the front door. At navel height, a small slot opened to reveal a peephole. “Who calls?” a suspicious voice queried. “I’m Danilo’s grandson, seeking a glass of rivengut,” Siegfried said. “Are ye now?” the voice replied. There was a thudding sound of several locks being opened, and the door swung inward to reveal a white haired, mutton-chopped Halfling in a butler’s uniform polishing what looked at first glance to be a piece of kitchenware that Siegfried quickly recognized as a stiletto. “Welcome, honoured guest of Brandarthall, I am Madrak Salibuck, at your service. Please, take a seat in the parlour while I fetch you that glass of rivengut. “An attempt was made on Renaer’s life at the theatre tonight,” Siegfried said. “We are bringing one of the scoundrels back here for questioning. They should be arriving with Renaer shortly. Where should we receive such a difficult guest.” “An excellent question,” Madrak said without missing a beat. “I will prepare the basement.” “Wonderful,” Siegfried said. “I have a paladin and two mounts hidden upstairs. Where shall I send our steeds once I retrieve them?” “The stables around back,” Madrak said, unfazed. Siegfried went upstairs to fetch Varien. Alec kept the Tiefling in a headlock as Lady Hawkwinter kept her dueling blade leveled at his throat. His summoned hounds kept pace with the carriages as the convoy threaded through the city streets. Shadow said to Alec telepathically, I smell something, master. “What do you smell, boy?” Alec replied. Lady Hawkwinter gave Alec a strange look. I smell brimstone, I smell sulfur, Shadow replied. “Where is Fiendsbane when we need it?” Alec said. He turned to Lady Hawkwinter. “Be at the ready. Trouble is coming.” In the driver’s seat, Bob could see Skraper’s hackles begin to raise. The carriage began to weave as the liondrake became agitated. “Skraper smells devils!” Skraper roared. “There are fiends afoot,” Bob agreed, tightening his grip on the reins. He looked over his shoulder and saw a vehicle closing in on the convoy. Curiously, the carriage did not appear to be pulled by any horses he could see, though there were two burly men with top hats on runners holding on as the carriage moved towards them. The carriage was drooling. Flying at rooftop height were two squads of flying creatures, their leathery wings beating furiously on an intercept course. The mastiffs began to bay a warning. As the pursuing carriage drew closer, the adventurers could see that it had a tongue lolling out where its driver’s seat would normally be, its landau sporting teeth like slavering jaws. Theryn turned to his bird Edgar. “Best you’d stay inside, little fellow,” he said. “Way ahead of you!” Edgar said. “Pocket bird! Rawk! Pocket bird!” He burrowed into Renaer’s cloak. Theryn turned to Erwen. “Erwen, smash! But first, keep Renaer safe. I’ll be back in a moment.” He opened the window and flipped out onto the roof of Renaer’s carriage. Pulling his stormbow, he sighted down on the pursuing creatures. He cast hail of thorns and fired an arrow towards one of the knots of flying devils. The arrow struck home, and a burst of thorns rained down across the other flying creatures, peppering them with piercing shards. Theryn drew back another arrow and let fly, and blasted another flying devil. Renaer’s carriage shot down a side street in an effort to evade the pursuers, and Bob kept pace. Erwen poked his head out the other window and smiled as he cast wall of stone . Stone panels were suddenly manifested into the street, crisscrossing the roadway as they attached to existing building fronts to block the pursuing carriage. “Go home!” Erwen shouted. Alec let the Tiefling go and burst out the carriage door, leaping onto the roof in a rage. He drew his crossbow and began picking off targets, snapping off three shots that hit the flying devils. To his dismay, he could tell that the creatures’ hides were tougher than his bolts. There was a screeching sound and then a thunderous splat as the carriage attempted to avoid the sudden blockage in the street. The two footmen were catapulted overhead and landed atop the stone barrier, getting road rash in the process. Dazed, they shook their fists impotently at the departing carriages. “Sune take the reins!” Bob shouted, letting go of the reins and turned to cast sunburst . A false sun blossomed overhead, brilliantly illuminating his pursuers with holy daylight. The fiendish flyers screeched in unison as they were disintegrated by the radiant explosion, leaving nothing but ashen shadows behind. “Kaboom!” Bob shouted triumphantly. The carriage creature cringed as its carapace was blackened by the sunburst. One of the two fiends on foot clapped his hands to his eyes and stumbled about, bellowing in rage as the sunlight faded away. Theryn shielded his eyes against the sun and blinked away sunspots in his vision. He took note of the two fiends that remained. “Do I need to fire the shot?” Theryn asked, slackening his bowstring. Then he smiled. “Yeah, I do.” He drew back the stormbow , charged it up, and let fly with an arrow. The lightning arrow struck home and exploded, sending a blast of radiant damage washing over the target’s companions. Theryn loosed another arrow, which thudded into the blind fiend, sending it spinning around. Alec shrugged and got back inside his carriage, grabbing the Tiefling in a headlock again. Erwen cast animal friendship on the two horses pulling Renaer’s carriage. “Hello friends, I’m Erwen!” he said. “I’m Harry Trotter and this is Pony Soprano,” the horse said to him. “Driver, all ahead full!” Renaer shouted to his servant. With a roar, the carriage creature began to crawl over the stone barrier, using its wheels like claws as it scrabbled for purchase. As it rolled forward, one of the fiends managed to grab hold. Bob watched as Renaer’s carriage careened around a corner and followed suit. He decided to use the shard of the ise rune to cast sleet storm . The street behind them became ice-slick as a sleet storm rained icy precipitation down in a whirling cylinder, obscuring the city block. There was a defiant roar as the carriage creature and its occupant fell behind, sliding around on the sheer surface. The midnight sun and the sudden ice storm grabbed the attention of the night watch of Waterdeep’s Griffon Cavalry, who began to approach the chilly devil and frustrated mimic carriage that was spinning helplessly on the ice. Renaer and Bob’s coaches fled into the night, turning towards Brandarthall, a few snowflakes trailing in their wake, glittering in the lamplight.