The Lord’s Court closed its session with little formality. Aulbaram cleared his throat and addressed the assembly. “The Candle is out; testimony has been given; judgment has been rendered. The Proceedings have concluded.” “Do you hear that, fellows?” Siegfried said sotto voce to his comrades. “That’s the sound of exoneration.” With the last wisps of smoke from Baeron’s Candle still lingering in the air, Open Lord Laeral Silverhand stood, straightened her robes of the archmagi , and unceremoniously exited stage right to a final cheering round of applause from the assembled throng. In unison, the Masked Lords and their retinue of advisors withdrew from their galleries above the audience chamber in a choreographed formation that ensured that no Lord’s exit was given prominence. “Right,” Siegfried turned to his companions. “We know that the Ashmadai is probably going to do some cleanup at the God-Catcher before long. That’s probably our most time-pressing issue.” Varien nodded in agreement. Fiendsbane rattled in its scabbard. “But we’ve also been given permission to go into the City of the Dead and go underground in search of the Ettin Axe of Uruth,” Siegfried said. “That probably means undead.” Varien nodded in agreement. Fiendsbane rattled in its scabbard. “However, having mentioned the fiendish conspiracy in Court today; they’re probably already shredding the paperwork down at the God-Catcher,” Siegfried continued. “So we should probably go there right the heck now.” “No argument from me,” Bob said. He was still blushing from his encounter with an Aspect of Sune. Varien turned and began to walk purposefully out of the chamber as if he knew where the God-Catcher was located. “Which one’s the God-Catcher?” he asked over his shoulder. “Big statue. Half-buried in the ground. Holding up a stone sphere. You can’t miss it, really,” Siegfried replied. Before Siegfried could follow Varien, there was a polite throat-clearing beside him. Aulbaram bowed politely and said, “The Open Lord would speak with you.” He gestured towards one of the exits near the main dais. “Oh, yes, absolutely,” Siegfried replied. “Your friends as well,” Aulbaram said, nodding at the rest of the adventurers. “Well friends, I know the way. This isn’t the first time I’ve been called onto the carpet in Piergieron’s Palace,” Siegfried said, herding his friends towards one of the side exits. The half-orc turned to the clerk. “Aulbaram, would you dispatch some guards to surround the God-Catcher statue and secure the location as per my testimony? We have reason to believe that the Ashmadai are going to engage in a clean-up operation and we need to clean up that clean-up. Aulbaram made a note in his ledger. “I shall notify the City Watch,” he said. “Very good,” Siegfried nodded. The side exit led to a warren of stone stairwells that ascended to the upper levels of the Palace. The thick stone corridors no doubt provided a rather mundane sort of protection against eavesdropping as the party moved through the bureaucratic heart and soul of the City of Splendours, but it was also doubtlessly true that the walls were warded to protect against scrying and other forms of eldritch espionage. There were guards at the entrance to the Open Lord’s expansive private chambers, which took up a large portion of the second floor of the palace, including two towers in the Northern Wing. The guards, however, appeared to have been expecting the party’s arrival, and allowed them entry. More guards and sentries were posted at regular intervals throughout the chambers, a show of ceremonial force that told the adventurers that the palace was one of the most secure locations in the city. The party was escorted through fabulously well-appointed drawing rooms and reception halls until they were afforded entry into the private offices of the Open Lord of Waterdeep. The room was massive, featuring a wide wooden desk atop which were piled the paperwork of a city’s ruler; a long conference table; entrances to several antechambers, the purposes of which the party could only guess at, and tasteful statues representing the past Open Lords and Warlords of the Waterdeep. At the far end of the room, which opened onto a portico that afforded an excellent view of the city. Open Lord Laeral Silverhand was standing at the balcony railing, staring wistfully at her domain. The sounds of the city’s hustle and bustle was a dull roar that echoed against the palace’s marble walls. Lady Laeral had let her silver hair down; her silver circlet had been discarded atop a pile of requisition forms on her desk that rustled in the midday breeze. The Open Lord turned to the approaching party. “Welcome, Siegfried Thann, and to Siegfried Alagondar as well. It has been an eventful day.” “It certainly has, Open Lord Laeral,” Siegfried replied carefully so as to chart a course between disrespect and deference, granting the Open Lord neither. Laeral smiled, almost to herself. “Formalities are all well and good on the floor of the Lord’s Court, Siegfried, but in my chambers we can certainly speak freely.” Siegfried intuited that Lady Laeral was being polite while not betraying any deference back. He figured that while a court may have rendered judgment, he was not yet wearing the crown.” Siegfried sighed. “This is going to take some getting used to,” he said wearily. “Well, as a loyal agent of the Lord’s Alliance, you are no stranger to politics,” Laeral said. Now it was Siegfried’s turn to smile. “At least you’re finally finished with Dangeresque.” Laeral smiled again. “Yes, I suppose it wouldn’t do to demote you yet again and continue the cycle of performance appraisals now that your reputation has been publicly elevated.” “Well, you wouldn’t have been promoting me if you didn’t know I was doing that on purpose,” Siegfried said. “Of course, of course,” Laeral said, turning to the party and approaching them. “That’s one of the reasons I have invited you and your companions here. Under the auspices of the Lord’s Alliance, you, Siegfried Alagondar, Robert Trevelyan and Alec Trevelyan, I hereby promote you, Siegfried Alagondar, to the rank of Warduke of the Lord’s Alliance, with all the privileges and obligations pertaining thereto. In addition, Robert Trevelyan, I hereby promote you to the rank of Warduke of the Lord’s Alliance, with all the privileges and obligations pertaining thereto, and Alec Trevelyan, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Stingblade of the Lord’s Alliance, with all the privleges and obligations pertaining thereto. Thank you for your continued service to the Lord’s Alliance, the free peoples of the Sword Coast, and of course to Waterdeep and its environs.” “Varien Aether, your service to Waterdeep has not gone unnoticed,” Laeral continued. “You have our deepest thanks.” “And thanks to you too,” Varien replied. “And Waterdeep thanks you for your service as well,” Open Lord Laeral said to Theryn and Erwen. The moment passed. “At any rate,” Laeral said, “a lot of what transpired at Court today went over the heads of many in attendance, the Masked Lords notwithstanding of course.” Varien and Siegfried could feel the Open Lord’s pretenses dropping away as she became more plainspoken by the second. “The aboleth in the room, I suppose,” Siegfried replied. “Yes,” Laeral sighed, turning back to the balcony. “The Grand Game, as it were.” “How familiar are you with the grand prize? What it actually is?” Siegfried asked. Laeral sighed again. “When I was…asked…by the Masked Lords to take on the mantle of Open Lord of Waterdeep, there was a certain degree of stock-taking that had to take place with regard to how my predecessor was conducting operations. And it didn’t take long for the coin-counters to uncover certain discrepancies. That wily Lion of the North has outdone himself yet again.” “Would you be surprised to learn that the hidden mountain of gold is of secondary importance?” Siegfried asked. Laeral shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past Dagult.” “I’m sure the Open Lord is aware of the intertwining histories of Toril and Aebir, and the role that the Aboleths played in the two worlds’ primordial era, culminating in the creation of the Stone of Golorr, that devourer of knowledge,” Siegfried said. “What the stone learns, the worlds forget. That is the grand prize of this Grand Game. What the former Open Lord, the Ashmadai, the Xanathar Guild, and Levistus Himself are set on recovering for their own ends.” Laeral smiled patiently. “It seems as though you’ve been putting the pieces together yourself. Well done.” “We have found the location of one of the Stone’s eyes,” Siegfried said. “And have hints on the location of two more.” Laeral nodded. “Well, were you to tie everything up in a neat little bow, you will of course have Waterdeep’s gratitude.” She smiled. “And the return of certain coins to the city’s coffers would not go amiss.” “Less our finder’s fee, of course,” Siegfried replied. Laeral chuckled. “Oh, for the days when I could take up a sword, slap it on my back, and wander out into the wilds in search of fortune and glory,” she said. “But I fear those days are long behind me.” “Oh nonsense, you’ll outlive us all,” Siegfried declared. Laeral raised a silver eyebrow at that. “There is just one other thing,” Laeral said, moving from the balcony to her mahogany desk. She shuffled through some paperwork. “With you and your friends’ interest in diplomacy, particularly off-the-books back-channel diplomacy, I wonder what you might make of this.” She pushed a document towards Siegfried. Siegfried read the missive, which was written in an articulate hand on heavy-stock paper: To Her Ageless Majesty, Laeral Silverhand, the Witch-Queen of Stornanter, Lady of the North, She of the Seven Sisters, Chosen of Mystra, and Open Lord of Waterdeep: Your predecessor left the City of Splendors in a sorry state, but you have done wonders to lift the spirit of the citizenry during your short time in office. I know how politics offends you, so forgive me for taking this opportunity to point out the obvious. We can make both our cities stronger and strike back at he who robbed Waterdavians of their wealth and dignity. I'm speaking, of course, of Dagult Neverember. Why let Neverember get away with his crimes against Waterdeep? Helm’s Hold has long stood as a bulwark against threats to the north in partnership with Neverwinter, but what happens when Neverwinter embodies the greatest threat to the North’s security? These are the questions that haunt my dreams, along with the nightmares that continue to grip our citizenry as a result of Neverember’s negligence. Can we be allies, if not friends? I implore you: support the Order of the Gilded Eye and extend the privileges and obligations of the Lords’ Alliance to us as Helm’s Hold extends the olive branch of peace and friendship to you, and to the City of Splendours. Sincerely, Javen Tarmikos High Commander and Inquisitor Order of the Gilded Eye Helm’s Hold Siegfried knew from his study of history that Stornanter was an ancient human kingdom founded in 806DR that had once had its seat of power in Port Llast. “Varien, you’d better read this too,” Siegfried said. They read the letter. “Dagult Neverember is safer for the North than Javen Tarmikos, who is a madman,” Siegfried said after reading. “Ah,” Laeral said. “Your counsel and its context are of course noted. Varien Aether, what say you? What is your impression of Javen Tarmikos?” “I say his days are numbered,” Varien said. “It’s only so long you can walk around an aggressive fool before you find the wrong end of someone’s blade.” “Indeed,” Laeral said with a chuckle. “The Gilded Eye has been bold of late.” “Historically, the role of Helm’s Hold has always been a place for refugees to be safe. Waterdeep welcomes those with gold. Baldur’s Gate is a place where one can reinvent oneself, and Neverwinter, the Jewel of the North, accepts those with skilled hands. Silverymoon is a place where those with knowledge can learn. Helm’s Hold should remain a place where those who are lost, hungry, and frightened can find safety. Javen Tarmikos took that responsibility and locked out the wailing, the hungry, and the widow, and that I cannot forgive. I would forgive you for that, I would forgive Dagult for that, but I cannot forgive Javen Tarmikos, for in his leadership he has murdered Helm’s Hold in the hearts of humanity.” There was a polite cough from the corner of the room where Aulbaram had been silently standing. “Tell us what you really think, Young Master.” “Robert and Alec Trevelyan, tell us what has been your experience with Helm’s Hold and the Order of the Gilded Eye,” Laeral asked. “Last time we were in Helm’s Hold, the city tried to kill us,” Bob said. “Quite,” Laeral said. “Dagult is a racist, arrogant hedonist,” Siegfried said, “but he does not torture widows for their property.” “This is true,” Alec said. “And more importantly, Dagult does not call it good to torture the widow. When Dagult sees a widow homeless and destitute on the street, he at least has the decency to say ‘that’s sad, that’s not good, shame,’ but Javen Tarmikos will rejoice in the righteousness he has done in robbing the widow. Regardless of how opportune his political standing is, the only think Javen Tarmikos should feel from Waterdeep is to touch Azuredge for half a second while it passes through his neck.” “Perhaps there is a more diplomatic way to phrase that,” Laeral said, “but your point, or your edge, is well taken.” “Now, in the absence of Javen Tarmikos, an alliance with Helm’s Hold isn’t impossible,” Siegfried said. “Well, this comes to the crux of our discussion,” Laeral said. “Helm’s Hold is many things. It was, until very recently, the headquarters of the Order of the Gauntlet before the unfortunate schism that led to the creation of the Order of the Gilded Eye and their struggle for power. Waterdeep of course has welcomed those high-ranking exiled members of the Order of the Gauntlet to our fair city. But yes, Helm’s Hold’s future is always in motion. And it may yet join the Alliance, however, it must be under the right circumstances.” “Chevall Radegast De’ath recently provided the Order of the Gauntlet with evidence of the Order of the Gilded Eye’s sins, and we all know the importance that the Order of the Gauntlet places on facts over truth,” Siegfried said. “The thing about evidence is that it often provides pretext,” Laeral said. “And while me must maintain a certain distance from internal Gauntlet politics, there are larger issues at play, namely this orc warband on the march who you are repositioning at the moment.” “You’ve got my memory of that horrid ritual we interrupted?” Siegfried asked. Laeral nodded. “Yes, the Bloodspear Ritual.” “Quite foul,” Siegfried said. “Yes, it’s interesting to see such old dark magic being re-used in our current circumstances. Sometimes you have to return to the classics, it seems. Certainly, the Bloodspear Ritual has not been attempted for many centuries.” “Indeed,” Siegfried said. “The lengths one must go to in order to verify executive authority. Thank you for that, by the way.” Laeral nodded knowingly at Siegfried. “Yes, of course within the walls of Waterdeep that judgment carries weight, but you’ll find the weight decreases the further you travel north.” “Yes, but that’s why I want the Ettin Axe,” Siegfried smiled. “The Bloodspear Ritual is a consolation prize for something harder to get, and alliances in support of the Bloodspear Ritual are secondary to the ones that could be forged by the Ettin Axe of Uruth. If we can get that axe…” Siegfried paused. “What impressed me about Rulgar is that he is educated, which is a rarity among orc leadership.” Laeral raised an eyebrow. “Orc culture is skilled at many things,” Siegfried said. “Intelligence is measured varyingly across cultures. One skilled in trade would be regarded as a simpleton in a culture that valued martial prowess and cunning. But we know that is culture, not race. There’s no reason why we can’t trade openly if we can play nice with Many-Arrows.” “Yes. The Kingdom of Many-Arrows is still recovering from the recent War of the Silver Marches, and yet somehow Rulgar is fielding this new, strengthened horde.” “Well, he’s not going to be using an undead army along with it,” Siegfried said, surreptitiously high-fiving Varien behind his back. “We took care of that.” “Well,” Laeral said. “We shall be watching, I suppose.” “I have been in touch with Rulgar and informed him of Waterdeep’s openness to a peace agreement,” Siegfried said. “I have asked him to send an envoy to negotiate. Should that envoy be sent here to speak with you and yours directly?” “I think for now we will probably have to back-channel much of this discussion. There are members of the Lord’s Alliance, some members, who will need to be placated and mollified based on current events as recent as two to three years ago. If an envoy is dispatched, an envoy will be received, just not in the Palace,” she said. “I will have Jalaster finesse this meeting.” “I will leave that to your specialty,” Siegfried said. “But the alliance should be between Waterdeep and Many-Arrows, not between Siegfried and Rulgar.” Laeral nodded. “But I do believe that lasting piece between cultures requires a few amputations if it should save the body,” Siegfried said. “That is politics, isn’t it? The continuation of amputation by other means,” Laeral said. She clapped her hands. “Of course, here I am holding you up, but I did want to speak with you and your friends a moment before giving you the opportunity to depart the Palace with your heads held high.” “Thank you,” Siegfried said. “Varien has a blunt instrument work to be doing. He will not be acting with finesse, and as an individual with no allegiance to anyone other than his goddess, the rest of us have a certain deniability.” “I am familiar with this arrangement, trust me,” Laeral said, her eyes flicking to Blackstaff Tower for a moment. “Just try not to make a mess of things out in the open. Because even I am not above the Code Legal. You wouldn’t believe the angry letter from the Guild of Streetsweepers and Cobblestone Layers about that unauthorized road work this morning.” She picked up three silver balls from her desk and began to twirl them in the palm of her hand. “Because of course the guilds, the Masked Lords, and the Nobles, they all check one another.” “Do you keep those balls around just so you can make that demonstration?” Varien asked. Laeral smiled. “Allow an old woman her eccentricities, Varien Aether.” She placed the balls back on a little stand. “Compared to running a city, juggling a few balls is easy,” Siegfried said. “We will continue to watch your careers with great interest,” Laeral said. “You know the Gilded Eye has been operating in your city without your sanction, I assume?” Siegfried asked. “Therein lies the difficulty,” Laeral said. “The question of the true authority behind Helm’s Hold and the competing Orders is one that I’m staying out of. I know that may seem to be a dangerous course, but sometimes you have to let these brushfires burn before you can plant a new crop. We are aware and we are watching.” “I would assume that any such actions taken by a hypothetical anonymous group in Helm’s Hold would not be held accountable by Waterdeep, Helm’s Hold not yet being an ally of Waterdeep?” Laeral smiled. “Of course, Waterdeep’s authority only extends so far to the north,” she said. Siegfried wiggled his eyebrows at Varien. “There is a certain plausible deniability you might say, on our part,” Laeral said. “There would be the ritual forms of disavowal, were problems in Helm’s Hold to come to light, and of course no official connection to any such activity.” “Of course!” Siegfried said. “Aulbaram, where would you recommend a purveyor of fine balaclavas?” “There are many such garment makers in the textile district,” Aulbaram said. “It would be best if they were not knitted in Waterdeep. Get them from down south, in Calimshan or somesuch.” “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. Well, we have a mess to make over by the God-Catcher, and we’ll try to make as small a mess as possible,” Siegfried said. “Thank you for your discretion,” Laeral said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a city to run.”