Siegfried gave King Melandrach a nod of respect and scanned the retinue of courtiers who were flanking the thatched-wood platform upon which the Elven king, queen, and prince were seated. His discerning eyes caught sight of a familiar face among the assembled elves. It was none other than the Lady Sylvar, the Misty Forest’s ambassador to Waterdeep. Stunningly beautiful, the Elvish woman wore fine clothes and an officious cape embroidered with stylized leaves. “Aunt Sylvie?” Siegfried said, just loud enough for the ambassador to hear. Lady Sylvar blinked in recognition, and it took all of her diplomatic training not to reply with “Young Sieggy?” She did, however, give a polite smile in return. Siegfried knew that Lady Sylvar was a skilled diplomat who relished her posting in Waterdeep, as comfortable in the crowded streets of the Trade Ward as she was in the forests of the Sword Coast. In fact, Lady Sylvar had been present at a number of salons organized by Siegfried’s adoptive mother, Katarina Anakir, at the Thann Family townhome. “Prince Alagondar,” the ambassador replied. “So good of you to visit the Court of the Laughing Hollow. And how is your mother?” “Very well,” Siegfried said. “Putting up with Dad.” “As usual,” Lady Sylvar replied. “I haven’t been home that much since the change in surname as you can imagine,” Siegfried said. “Of course, of course,” Lady Sylvar said. “Do send her my regards when next you meet.” “I will have to,” Siegfried replied. He subtly cast a sending spell to his mother. I’m in the Misty Woods and I just bumped into Aunt Sylvie. She says hi and asks how you are doing. I am keeping well, Siegfried’s mother replied. Odd that she is not in Waterdeep at present. I’m sure there’s a good reason. My door is always open. “Ambassador, you are always welcome at the Thann home and the Alagondar home, once I clear out all the ash and dust,” Siegfried said. “Indeed, indeed,” Lady Sylvar replied. “What brings you all the way from Waterdeep?” Siegfried asked. “Diplomatic business of an ambassadorial nature, I’m afraid,” Lady Sylvar replied. “Of course, of course,” Siegfried said. The half-orc sensed that his conversation with the ambassador was making waves among the other courtiers, some of whom likely viewed an urban diplomatic posting as beneath contempt. The prestige of the appointment was heavily weighted in Waterdeep’s favour. In Waterdeep, Lady Sylvar went to all the right parties and met all the right people. And now she has an invitation to the next King of Neverwinter’s palace, Siegfried thought to himself. She’s doing well for herself. Standing nearby was a stern-looking elf dressed in armour who gave the impression of being a battle-hardened veteran. Chancellor Miriel identified him as Lord Thalorin, commander of the King’s armies. Less martial in appearance, but no less gruff, was Master Arannis, chief wizard of the Court of the Laughing Hollow. The adventurers immediately began sizing up the Elvish magic-user. The elf wizard carried a gnarled wooden staff that gave off an aura of immense power. Slung at his hip was a thick grimoire fashioned from tree bark, handmade paper, and pressed leaves. Master Arannis was busy sizing up the spellcasters in the party. On the distaff side was High Priestess Ysara, an arch-druid who seemed as wise as she was powerful. Her blonde hair was done up in twin braids and she wore a white hood over green garments. Erwen was mesmerized. Varien noticed that many heads were turning at the sight of his polished plate armour. His armour was decorated with engravings of roses, feathers, and thorns. Here and there were whispers of “Hanali Celanil,” in reaction to the Sunite symbols etched on his and Bob’s equipment. Varien thought that sounded pretty fey, all things considered. Bob and Siegfried, however, recognized the name as belonging to the Elven goddess of love and beauty who once served as the fey aspect of Sune during the time of the Spellplague. She was known as the Winsome Rose and the Heart of Gold and embodied romance, beauty, love, and joy in elven spirits. She was the vessel by which Elves worshipped Sune. Some of the courtiers were less respectful. “Hurbryn,” one of the elves muttered from behind a decorative hand fan, using the sylvan phrase for humans common among satyrs and dryads meaning “heavy-footed ones.” Siegfried, a student of slurs and expletives from a dozen languages, took this in stride, not betraying any reaction to suggest that he understood the slight arrayed at him and his companions. King Melandrach stood from his throne. He clapped his hands once, the echo ringing in the hall and quieting all murmuration. “And now, we feast!” the King said. Master Arannis waved his staff. Instantly, a long, finely crafted table laden with earthly delights popped into existence along with comfortable-high-backed chairs, providing enough seating for the Royal party, honoured guests, and favoured members of the Court of the Laughing Hollow. The rest of the courtiers filed out silently. Staring straight ahead, Queen Aelyn took the proffered hand of the king and was led from the dias towards a seat of honour, Prince Glorfyndin slouching behind. King Melandrach made sure his wife was seated properly before taking his position at the head of the table in the finest of the chairs. Siegfried nabbed a seat to the King’s immediate right. Varien rolled his eyes and strode to the far end of the table, sitting at its foot. He noticed Lord Thalorin had taken an interest in him and the veteran elf commander arrived at the adjacent table setting and sat down. Bob sat next to Siegfried, and Erwen sidled up to Priestess Ysara. Enchanting melodies, played by hidden harpists behind wooden screens, began to fill the air in the Great Hall. The table was decorated with intricate silverware and delicate crystal goblets, with long-running chains of flowers draped down the centre of the table, which was laden with eye-catching examples of Elvish culinary artistry. The first course was a salad of refreshing forest greens, drizzled with a light dressing made from wildflower honey infused with hints of woodland herbs. Erwen dug in with both hands. Priestess Ysara suppressed an amused smile. Other food items on offer included delicate pastry shells filled with a mixture of earthy forest mushrooms, sautéed with fragrant herbs, and nestled atop a bed of creamy goat cheese. Each mushroom tartlet was garnished with a sprinkle of edible flower petals. The next course was roasted feywild pheasant marinated in a secret blend of elven spices, then slow-roasted to perfection. The dish was served with a side of caramelized root vegetables and a drizzle of wild berry reduction. Siegfried hesitated for the barest moment, considering the fey nature of the food before him, then put aside his hesitation and sampled the otherworldly dish. Additionally, there was moonlit honey-glazed ham, harvested ‘under the light of the full moon.’ The tender meat had a delicate sweetness balanced by the barest hint of aromatic spices. The bold centrepiece of the feast, showcasing the Misty Forest’s connections to Evermeet beyond the sea, was grilled sea serpent steak, marinated in a mixture of sea salts, coastal herbs, and a touch of citrus zest, then flame-grilled to enhance its natural flavors. Cupbearers and attendants ensured that the dinner guests’ ornate crystal goblets remained full of the nectar of the ancients , a sweet and aromatic Elvish elixir made from a blend of rare fruits infused with the essence of enchanted springs and aged in barrels made from ancient trees. Bob accepted a goblet of naturally carbonated spring water in place of the nectar and felt more refreshed than he had in days. Varien found Lord Thalorin to be an engaging conversationalist, and began to have a deep conversation about warfare, strategy and battle tactics during the feast. They traded strategies for dealing with their shared favoured enemies. Thalorin’s experience tended towards ambushes and hit-and-fade engagements within the shrouded cover of woodland battlefields in the Misty Forest, the Trollbark Forest and Ardeep Wood, and was curious to learn more about Varien’s experiences in the North and along the Sword Coast. “We have encountered a rogue group of elves, unfriendly towards us, on occasion,” Varien told Lord Thalorin. “I believe they go by the name of the Eldreth Veluuthra?” Lord Thalorin nodded solemnly. “That name translates to Victorious Blade of the People in the tongue of the Tel'Quessir.” The military commander shifted in his seat and averted his gaze from the far end of the table. He lowered his voice. “We elves of the Misty Forest wish to be left in peace after centuries of struggle against evil. We are guarded and treasure our privacy, though we allow travellers to pass through our territory without undue molestation, so long as they behave and do not desecrate our lands in search of plunder.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “The Eldreth Veluuthra’s ideals do not resonate with all elves in the Laughing Hollow.” Sensing that this was a touchy subject, Varien decided to probe more deeply while appearing to deflect. “Well spoken, Lord Thalorin. There are, however, elves in nearby realms who have taken up these supremacist ideals.” Lord Thalorin sighed and nodded, his expression growing troubled. “Yes, the Kingdom of Avalynn, or the Court of the Shining Throne. What’s your interest in their activities?” “My companions and I have found evidence of Elven bribery, payoffs, and payouts to the worst kinds of mercenary orcs, scheming drow, and rogue dwarves in order to wreak havoc in the Sword Coast,” Varien said. “We keep discovering a certain sort of Elvish platinum currency in the purses of these cutthroats and berzerkers, and the conspiracy seems to point to an Elven kingdom. They’ve been attacking the people around me, and I would love to have a conversation with them.” “Indeed,” Lord Thalorin said. “If you were to follow the main course of the Delimbyr River eastward, away from the coast, past Secomber, to the northeast, you will eventually reach the Shining Falls cascading down from the Greypeak Mountains. Keep the High Forest on the western bank and you shall find the Shining Court. That Court holds sway over the High Forest and the lowlands nearly to Secomber’s walls. But the seat of their power is at the falls, marking the southernmost point of the ancient Elvish realm of Earlann.” Lord Thalorin sighed. “Relations between the Elves of the Misty Forest and the High Forest are often strained.” He paused at that and muttered something in Elven under his breath. Varien only caught the name Neronvain , the exiled prince and son of King Melandrach. Varien frowned and tucked that information away for later. Siegfried was enjoying his meal. He looked across the table at Glorfyndin. “So, the Green Prince, eh?” He beamed. “That makes two of us!” Queen Aelyn dropped her fork with a crystal clatter, deflating the exquisite Whispering Breeze souffle before her. A hint of colour marked the young Prince Glorfyndin’s cheeks for a moment. His lips curled in a sneer. Sensing the tension, Bob leaned in. “Siegfried, you’re clearly more of a teal shade,” he joked. In Elvish he said, “My friend’s jokes are much funnier in the Common tongue.” Queen Aelyn smiled. Erwen dug into the dessert. The souffle was light and airy, infused with the essence of the Misty Forest's fragrant flowers and whispers of vanilla. It was served with a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a sprinkle of crushed pistachios. Erwen smiled up at High Priestess Ysara, food smeared across his face. The elf smiled back and leaned down to speak in his ear. “May I show you my garden?” she asked in a voice as delicate as a rosebud. Erwen’s eyes widened. He straightened up in his seat, dabbed at the corner of his mouth delicately with a napkin, folded it, and then blurted out, “Yes, you may!” He cast pass without trace and left the table arm-in-arm with the Archdruid. “Now then,” King Melandrach said. “Now that you have vanquished the evil beneath Dragonspear Castle, what are your next steps forward?” “We are actually on our way to meet with the spiritual leaders of the Church of Hanali Celanil in Waterdeep,” Siegfried replied. “To formalize the ascension of High Enrapturand Robert Trevelyan and Her Chosen Speaker. After that we shall make preparations for the conflict up north.” “Ah yes,” Melandrach said. “The matters of the Conclave.” “We would have liked to have you join us,” Siegfried said. “Well, we must conserve what strength remains in our realm,” King Melandrach said. “I will not stand athwart the Conclave’s decision in this matter, but I will not risk our carefully-protected resources on a far-flung military adventure.” Bob drew Master Arannis into a conversation. The Elvish wizard was somewhat gruff and standoffish, but had no desire to risk his King’s wrath in insulting an honoured table guest, and so humoured the sorcerer. “Where did you study the arcane arts?” Bob enquired. One thing he had learned about Westerners is that they loved to talk about their achievements, feats, and new levels of skills they had unlocked with experience. A wistful expression came over the wizard’s face in spite of himself. “Ah, you have opened a wellspring of memories deep within my soul. I studied at the Ulcaster School of Wizardry. You probably wouldn’t have heard of it, as it was destroyed several centuries ago.” “Ah, my condolences,” Bob said. “Nothing of the sort,” Master Arannis said. “It was rightfully destroyed. Faculty politics being what they are, you understand. It was disestablished during the tenure of Aumvor the Undying.” Aumvor the Who? Fiendsbane rattled in Varien’s scabbard. “Its charter was summarily revoked in a rather final fashion,” Master Arannis continued. “But I have fond memories of my alma mater, and I hope one day to establish an arcane academy of such reputation of my own here in the forest.” “Teaching is the noblest of professions,” Bob said. Master Arannis nodded. “After all, what good is accumulating centuries of knowledge and inspiration if you cannot pass it on to future generations you deem worthy?” “Exactly,” Bob said. He associated the name Ulcaster with Baldur’s Gate, far to the south. Siegfried mulled his next question over before clearing his throat. “King Melandrach, we know that Illydrael was lost for some two hundred years, to hold Baazka at bay, and we know that you’ve lost family to our mutual enemy, the Eldreth Veluuthra. As friends, I ask you how more can we serve?” At the mention of the Eldreth Veluuthra, Siegfried noticed the slightest gasp and hesitation from Queen Aelyn, though she masked it incredibly well. He leaned across the table and spoke in a whisper. “They wormed their way into the ears of my brother also,” he said to the Queen. At this, the King stiffened a bit, and his thousand-yard stare took on the weight of a thousand years. The King fell silent as he gazed at the trio of statues at the far end of his Hall. Without looking, Queen Aelyn placed a perfect hand on the hand of the King in comfort. “The King has long been troubled over the fate of his son,” she said. Prince Glorfyndin shot a naked glare at her mother. To Varien, it looked as though King Melandrach was staring over the paladin’s shoulder. Bob and Siegfried both leaned over and followed the King’s gaze. The king’s eyes were drawn to the veiled statue, the prince whose statue had been carved with a veil of mourning. “Bob, I wonder if you might be able to commune with Hanali Celanil to divine the fate of the lost Prince Alagarthas,” Siegfried ventured. Bob sat up straight. “I might be able to do that,” he said. “My stepson, the Prince Alagarthas,” Queen Aelyn said. “Missing and presumed dead. With the banishment of he-who-shall-not-be-named-at-this-table ,” she said, squeezing the king’s hand, “it is a dark cloud over the Misty Forest, and we have had to move past this tragedy as a family.” At this, Prince Glorfyndin straightened up in his chair. Turning to Master Arannis, Siegfried said, “Scrying and sending would be the first things I would try. What efforts have already been made to locate Prince Alagarthas?” Master Arannis nodded. “The prince’s disappearance, going on a century now, begat many theories as to his fate, the most common one being that he fell victim to the Emerald Assassin, who has long plagued elves of royal lineage in the forests along the Sword Coast.” At the mention of that name, the elves at the table shivered noticeably. Siegfried frowned. He’d never heard of this Emerald Assassin. Varien, however, had heard about the Emerald Assassin, having heard the legends mentioned in Luskan during his sojourn there. The story went that the Emerald Assassin hunted and killed elves exclusively, and has left a trail of dead elves across the Sword Coast for nearly 500 years. Most of the victims were of royal blood, with attacks in the Misty Forest, the High Moor, Ardeep Wood, and other reaches over the years. “Sounds like an orc vampire to me,” Siegfried muttered. “Of course, that’s only a theory,” Master Arannis said. “Perhaps a divination ritual, then, Bob?” Siegfried asked. “Even if it’s a negative, it’s still an answer.” Siegfried grabbed a napkin and sketched a quick flow chart of questions for Bob’s benefit. “If he’s free to come home but doesn’t want to, there’s some psychology there that we might be able to finesse, or his soul might not be at rest. At any rate, this should be an interesting conversation.” Siegfried turned to the Elven King, who had remained silent. “King Melandrach, our High Enrapturand Robert Trevelyan has the ear of his deity, who you know as Hanali Celanil, and can speak to her as directly as I am speaking to you know. We can ask her these questions and learn the fate of your son, Prince Alagarthas.” Queen Aelyn stared at Siegfried and Bob with sightless eyes.