Members of the City Watch swarmed the God-Catcher Inn, securing the premises and procuring alcohol with equal vim and vigour. Siegfried slapped a handful of gold coins on the bar. “This should cover our expenses,” he said over his shoulder to the grateful guards. Saeth Cromley slipped behind the bar and began rattling bottles with practised ease as Barnibus Blastwind took a seat nearby. Erwen sat next to Barnibus. Siegfried and Varien entered the tunnel that had been partially explored earlier. “It was about here that we first heard about trouble upstairs,” Siegfried said, gesturing at the long tunnel. Varien scanned the corridor, noting that there was an abundance of moss growing between the stones, except for a section near the eastern wall. “What’s this then?” He said, feeling the section of wall with his gauntleted fists. Unexpectedly but not surprisingly, a section of wall gave way to reveal a closet of sorts. The tiny room held six sets of robes and gold-painted tin masks hanging on hooks. “Look familiar?” Siegfried asked. Varien nodded. “Your friend Brevindon and his cronies at the lighthouse were garbed in these red robes.” “Well, they’re evidence now,” Siegfried said, bundling several up. Varien draped one robe over his shoulder. Siegfried affixed one of the tin masks atop Varien’s Helm of the Regent’s Glare. He stepped back to appraise his work. “Oh, very fashionable,” he said. Varien rolled his eyes. As they moved down into the unexplored area, the tunnel began to cant steeply upwards, soon becoming a ramp, then a set of rough-hewn steps before much longer, until it grew steeper still, an almost vertical climb with handholds. Varien visualized a pathway through the interior of the God Catcher statue. “I would hazard a guess that we’re climbing up the inside of the statue’s arm at this point,” he said to Siegfried. Siegfried turned to Varien. “I don’t suppose you’d condescend to carry me?” Varien rolled his eyes. The handholds soon were replaced with a rude iron ladder that led to a heavy stone door emblazoned with the symbol of the cult: a hand with outstretched fingers with the infernal numeral “9” contained within the palm. “A bit awkward, this,” Varien said, pressing against the door one-handed while he gripped the ladder with the other. “I’m sure the cultists believe this is some sort of test for the faithful,” Siegfried said from over Varien’s shoulder. “Bit of a steep drop for the doubters.” Varien pushed the stone door open and leveraged himself up into the doorway. He had to crouch as the ceilings were just shy of six feet high. Varien found himself staring at the fearsome countenance of Asmodeus. A statue of Asmodeus, anyway, complete the horns, goatee, bat-like wings, and two eyes that glittered in the light blazing forth from the pair’s magical weapons. The statue had been knocked on its side, glaring up at the two heroes. One of its wings had been crushed against the stone floor. “Step carefully, Varien,” Siegfried said, his eyes flashing as he detected magic all around them. “This place has been guarded and warded by a professional, and somewhat recently, at that.” Varien nodded at the room’s motionless occupants. The bodies of four cultists lay on the stone floor in the poses of the violently done-to-death. “Looks like they should have been guarding themselves.” The two entered the chamber. The walls featured murals made up of overlapping handprints, like a demonic kindergarten art show. Siegfried gave the dead cultists a cursory look. “Bludgeoned and stabbed, stabbed and bludgeoned,” he said. “Quality work, if a little rushed,” Varien said. “Varien, when it comes to the Order of the Gilded Eye, under no circumstances do you ‘gotta hand it to them’,” Siegfried said. Nearby, a pentagram had been painted on the floor in blood. At the points of the pentagram were five black globs of wax — the remains of burned candles — and there was a variety of writing in charcoal surrounding the pentagram. “The ritual performed here was a form of weak demonic divination, similar to a legend lore or contact other plane spell, but more like a weakly amped up Ouija board or similar parlor trick,” Siegfried said as he used his magical detection abilities. “Rank amateurs, these Nessian cultists.” He shook his head. Varien knelt to examine the infernal inscriptions. “The runes indicate that this ritual was performed in an effort to find something associated with “Neverember”, “the wealth of Waterdeep”, “Golorr”, “where love lies,” and “that which has been lost to the waters of Lethe.” “We know some of those words,” Siegfried said thoughtfully. “But ‘that which has been lost to the waters of Lethe,’ now that’s devilishly cryptic.” Varien grimaced. “Could be symbolic rather than literal,” he mused. “Although, the waters of Lethe could refer to a tributary of the River Styx.” Varien kicked open the door to the east and wrinkled his nose at the strong lavatory stench. This room contained a small chamber pot, its vile contents splashed across the floor. A single dead cultist, robes still cinched about his waist, was dead on the floor, perforated by multiple stab wounds. “They didn’t even let him finish,” Siegfried quipped. Varien turned and opened the door to the western chamber, frowning. The entire chamber was choked with gooey spiderwebs. “I’ve seen this before,” he said. He set about burning his way through the thick entanglement towards a wooden ladder that led up to a trap door in the ceiling. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about the Sinister of Seven of Nessus. Wasn’t Rimmon, one of the Sinister Seven, a former ruler of Cania, the level of Hell where Lolth the Spider Queen resides? That could explain these infernal webs.” “Webs are a part of typical warding magic,” Siegfried said. “But I admire your train of thought.” Varien mounted the ladder and opened the trap door. The space above was choked with fog. Varien sighed. “I’ve seen this before, too.” The ladder hatch opened into a vestibule of sorts with doors to the east and the west. The walls here were covered in murals made of bloody handprints. The fog here was shot through with wisps of pale pink smoke. “Best not tarry in the mists here,” Varien said. “I do believe the fog is laced with poisonous vapours." Varien and Siegfried moved into the eastern chamber. The corpses of three human cultists were sprawled in what looked like a common area. There was a table atop which was arranged a dragonchess board, its playing pieces swept aside during the melee that had led to the murder of the two men nearby. On the south wall there was a writing desk laden with papers, parchment, and folios, the corpse of a woman slumped in a chair before it, her back showing several malicious stab wounds. Varien moved past the carnage and found a door with a sign on it that read “Imp Trainers Only.” “Imp Trainers?” Varien said, shocked. “They were training imps?” “Let me tell you, imps are more trouble than they’re worth!” Siegfried called out. “We had an introductory summoning course at school and they nibbled you something fierce if you didn’t keep your distance.” “Of course you did, Siegfried,” Varien said with a roll of his eyes. He pushed the door open and looked at the mangled bodies of several dead imps on the floor of the chamber. Shrugging, he crossed it and opened another door to the east. He found a small vestibule that contained a cushioned pedestal in the centre of an infernal floor symbol. The shattered remains of a ball of onyx crystal was now scattered on the floor, amid splashes of what looked to Varien like holy water. “Ah,” Varien said. “They consecrated this desecrated chamber.” Outside, Siegfried pulled the woman’s body off the pile of papers, leaving her seated. At the center of the drift of miscellaneous papers was a large map of Waterdeep, blotted with black candle wax here and there. Strange lines of blood criss-crossed the map in bizarre patterns, but one location within the City of the Dead had been picked out from the pattern and circled in black charcoal. Accompanying writing identified it as the “Brandath Crypt”. “Ah, the Lady Brandath, widow of Dagult Neverember and mother of dear Renaer,” Siegfried said. “Now the pieces are falling into place.” He looked at the woman’s corpse, who clutched a feathered quill in her writing hand. Turning back to the pile of papers, he nodded as he found a page sodden with spilled ink and blood. He was able to make out a bit of the letter the woman had been penning: “Dearest Anders, my heart beats for the time when we shall be reunited…” He looked at the woman’s surprised expression. “I’m afraid you’ll be missing that meeting, lass.” He took a closer look at the woman’s body. Her robe’s pockets had been turned out, but the belt holding up her mannish breeches looked unmolested. “The Gilded Eye would’ve checked such an obvious-” Siegfried said as he ran an index finger around the woman’s waistline. His fingernail caught on something. He withdrew an intricately-folded bit of creamy heavy-stock paper, the sort of stationery that was used to send fancy invitations to fancy folk about town. He unfolded the paper and read. Seffia, The Lady and I are both deeply moved by what your ritual accomplished. It speaks to your true faith and you have clearly been blessed by the Master. As you suspected, we did, in fact, find an Eye in the crypt of Lady Brandath. Thank you for all that you have done. V. p.s. destroy this letter but hold its message close to your heart Siegfried grinned and regarded the dead woman. “Seffia, you dumb bitch,” he said. “When Lord Victoro Cassalanter sends you a thank-you note for doing cultish things like the cultist you are, and instructs you to destroy the note, by the Nine Hells, you destroy the note !” He chortled and then coughed as he inhaled a lungful of poisonous vapour. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Though I understand the reluctance one might feel to divest oneself of such a keepsake.” He thought for a moment. “Seffia. That name sounds familiar. Didn’t Kovkorin the Tiefling finger you as one of the cultists? I guess we can strike your name from his list.” “Are you having a conversation with that corpse?” Varien said, lost in the fog. “No, that’s Nero of the Garden’s department,” Siegfried said. He touched a hand to his forehead and winced at the sudden headache. “We need to speed things along,” he said, turning west. Siegfried took a running leap at the western door. At the last second he realized that the door was little more than a flimsy wood-and-paper frame, and tore through it, landing on the far side with a crunch. He found himself tangled in bloody bedsheets, sharing a narrow bed with a stabbed corpse, who looked like he’d been in the process of throwing on his robes when he was surprised. “Ugh!” Siegfried exclaimed, rolling out of bed and landing on the floor. Beneath the bed he spied a folded piece of parchment. “Hullo, what’s this then?” He grabbed the note and unfolded it. Meeting. Tarsakh 29 th . The Shrine on Aveen Street. “Just around the corner from the old homestead,” Siegfried said to himself, pocketing the note. “Clearly this cult needs to have stricter document control protocols!” He got to his feet and headed for the ladder. The two climbed up to the next chamber. The ladder terminated in a webbed chamber. There was a door ajar to the west that was letting in daylight. “Ah,” Varien said. “I’ve been here before. I’ll leave you to the rest of it, Siegfried.” He stalked out to the space between the thumb and index finger and called for the Arcetalos. Siegfried checked out the small chamber to the east. “This must have been Loreloth’s lounge,” he said, eyeing the hotel furniture arrayed around the room. There was a small cache of liquor bottles, high-quality stuff befitting the avaricious cult leader Siegfried knew Loreloth to be. “Though I suppose there was a change in cult management, however brief,” Siegfried said, looking at the drow’s blood staining the comfy chair and rug on the floor. “I imagine the Gilded Eye corpses in our portable hole will have their pockets filled with things like rings and other incriminating bits of evidence.” Siegfried quickly rifled through the cult leader’s papers and found a diary entry entitled “Thoughts on Neverember’s Enigma.” He quickly scanned the document: Our rivals to the North seek this abolethic artifact as a weapon to use in their own plots. I say they are welcome to it, for the real prize is this: Neverember’s Enigma is nothing less than the fortune, possibly half a million in gold dragons, embezzled from the city funds of Waterdeep. The Cassalanters are rich enough as it is, but their avarice knows no bounds. I say we cut them out of the whole affair and enjoy the fruits of Neverember’s labours. I hear whisperers from my master Lorcan urging me along this course. Gaining control of an Eye must be our top priority. Those who control this Golorr Artifact are the pivots on which the outcome of the Grand Game will turn. “The eyes have it,” Siegfried mused to himself. “One possibly held in Renaer’s locket, where love lies.” His eyes narrowed. “No, that would be where Dagult laid his wife to rest. Brandath Crypt. The Cassalanters have that one I reckon. But Xanathar also has an eye. And there’s this spy of Neverember’s, Dalakhar. What’s the connection?” He thought back to his interrogation of Kovkorin and the brief words he’d exchanged with Renaer Neverember. " When the Lords of Waterdeep ousted my father, I thought his long, dark shadow was finally gone for good,” Renaer said, looking out the window at the rain beating down. “The truth is I want nothing to do with him, and since Laeral Silverhand took over, it would seem that all my father’s former friends feel the same way. They’ve all gone to ground and forgotten Dagult’s name, for all the good they think it will do them. You might want to contact Kalain of the Nine Waters. My father broke many hearts during his tenure as Open Lord, but he broke poor Kalain’s mind as well.” The only other chamber on this level was a small private cell, likely for prisoners who warranted “special” attention from the cult leader personally. “If we hadn’t intervened at the theatre, Renaer would have ended up here,” Siegfried said. On his way out, Siegfried found the iron ladder that led to the hidden vault and cleared out the cult’s nest egg, which consisted of several gold trade bars and a heaping helping of silver coins. “Ah, good to have some silver in my pockets again for walking-around money,” Siegfried said to himself. While the City Watch secured and investigated the God-Catcher Inn, Siegfried joined Varien and the rest of the party in the inn’s great room. Siegfried nodded to Barnibus Blastwind. “You should be aware that there’s a warded room in the basement that your men would do well to avoid. The Blackstaff has been notified and is going to conduct her own investigation.” “Thank you for the heads up,” Barnibus said, adjusting his glasses. To his men he called out, “The Blackstaff’s on her way! Everybody look busy!” Siegfried smiled. He turned to his companions. “Now, off to the family home for a much-needed reunion. I have some explaining to do.” The trip back to the Thann rowhouse was uneventful. Cauldar was there to answer the door. “Ah, young Master!” he said, welcoming the party inside. “Actually, it’s Prince now,” Siegfried said. Cauldar arched an eyebrow. “The news is out then, it would seem.” He shrugged. “You’ll have to forgive an old butler who is set in his ways.” “Cauldar, you have my permission to call me by whatever title you like,” Siegfried said warmly. “Are my parents home?” “Glad that’s settled,” Cauldar said. “And yes, actually the family’s gathered in the sitting room if you and your companions wouldn’t mind…” Cauldar led the party to the sitting room. “Siegfried!” His mother called out, rushing to embrace him, followed closely by his sisters Willow and Sariel. On a settee near the fireplace perched his elder sister Mialee, who barely acknowledged his presence, and his younger sister Sofia, who did not conceal her disdain. Brothers Hugo and Kowalski sat on another overstuffed couch nearby, unsure of how to act in this social situation. Siegfried’s elder brother Felix was busy sparring with an invisible partner with lightning kicks and a flurry of punches, but he turned and shouted a greeting as well. In the corner, Millio lurked. Siegfried hugged his mother and sisters in turn. “It’s been too long,” he said, regarding Willow and Sariel. “Well Siegfried, sounds like you made quite the spectacle of yourself at court today!” his father said. “I had hoped to come here before the evening broadsheets carried the news to your doorstep,” Siegfried replied. Millio looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Actually, uh, Lureena stopped by earlier. None too happy either. Turns out the first set of invoices from the refit of the new ship of the Thann fleet crossed her desk. I gotta tell you, I enjoyed adding my signature to the paperwork before passing it along to her.” He grinned. Cauldar leaned forward. “I didn’t let Lady Lureena get past the front stoop,” he said. “I believe she attended the Lord’s Court in the hopes of seeing you taken down a peg or two. Things did not go the way she thought they would.” “My thanks, Cauldar,” Siegfried said with a smile. “You always know how to handle unexpected callers and uninvited guests. He turned to his family. “So by now you’ve heard the news. The truth of my parentage and my birthright has been confirmed by the Lord’s Court.” Mialee sniffed. “At least you’ve found a better tailor,” she said. “One befitting my station, perhaps yes,” Siegfried said. “Respectability comes easier to some than others.” Mialee said nothing. “Though you will always be my family, it is now time to put a safe distance between me and my loved ones in order to protect you from what’s coming,” Siegfried said. Millio nodded gravely as Katarina’s eyes teared up. “You know, son, you must have learned something from Grandmother Cassandra after all. Birthrights often make inviting targets.” “Indeed. I shall be moving into the Temple of Beauty for the time being,” Siegfried said. “I have an in with the High Priest of Sune.” “I’ve taken the liberty of packing the best bits from your room,” Cauldar said. “I will of course keep the rest of it in fine condition for your inevitable visits.” “Of course,” Siegfried said. He handed over the ships in bottles to the major-domo. “Take good care of these, Cauldar. I have avenged the sinking of the Redwater Jewel and the memories of those who perished should be preserved.” Cauldar accepted the items and nodded. Millio approached and held out his hand. Siegfried grabbed him up in an embrace. Into his ear he whispered, “Would you like to know what smuggling operation Lureena is a party to?” “Son, if you don’t tell me I don’t have to deny hearing about it later,” Millio said. “Loose lips sink more than ships.” “Indeed,” Siegfried replied. The two parted. “Now, Siegfried, remember you’ll always have a home here, no matter what your surname,” Millio said. “It’s not a mutually exclusive sort of deal.” Now it was Cauldar’s turn to hug Siegfried. “Step carefully, Young Master,” the major-domo whispered. “That crown is a target.” “That’s what the older brother is for,” Siegfried whispered back. “To draw Dagult’s fire.” “As the spare, watch what happens to the heir,” Cauldar replied. “Rulgar and Dagult will have their reckoning,” Siegfried said. “History will remember who had the opportunity to expose him, and who chose not to.” To the rest of his family Siegfried said. “If Lureena comes back here looking for so much as a copper, send her to me. She can look royalty in the eyes and answer for how she has treated bastards and children.” Felix hugged Siegfried until the half-orc’s ribs creaked in protest. Felix wiped manly tears from his eyes as he set his adoptive brother down. “Take care, son,” Millio said as he held a sobbing Katarina. “Remember: when you’re here, you’re family.” As the party headed back to the Temple of Beauty, Siegfried summoned Violance, collected his new barding, and rode towards Vaelle Lurval’s flower shop, intent on tying up another loose end. He was not surprised to see the City Watch crawling all over the place as he approached. A pair of guards were removing a body from the interior of the flower shop. “Murdered?” Siegfried asked the nearest guard, who nodded. “Inform Saeth Cromley and Barnibus Blastwind that another member of the Hand of Nessus has been terminated,” Siegfried said. He peeked inside the flower shop, grabbed the nearest bouquet, and headed off. He wrapped Seffia’s note around the flowers and paid a street urchin to deliver the bouquet to Lady Hawkwinter, posthaste. Siegfried received a sending message from Mordai Vell. As a show of good faith, I have secured your associates’ release. General Sabine has accepted reprimand for overzealous prosecution. Shall we conclude our business? Siegfried smiled and sent a mental reply. Killing The Gilded Eye has left me tired today. I leave Waterdeep tomorrow for Helms Hold and won't be back until the evening. Where and when? Siegfried felt the familiar prick of a paper crane striking him in the neck. He unfolded it and read a note written in Lady Laeral Silverhand’s hand. “Before you visit Helm’s Hold we must discuss things further.”