The party members slept fitfully that night in Helm’s Hold. Each one was gripped by nightmares. Varien relived the Shade of Lorelei in grisly detail. Radegast watched helpless in horror as an undead army sacked Silverymoon, destroying the Elven libraries and scattering knowledge to the four winds. Bob dreamt that the mountainside gnome village he had seen in his previous vision was under attack by a terrifying undead dragon, the villagers’ unseen defender nowhere to be found. Alec dreamed that his dead mercenary comrades, Dalleg included, were howling at him from beyond the grave, dragging him down to be consumed as their accusations grew fangs. Erwen dreamt that his home forest was burning with a necrotic fire that withered and rotted the wood even before the flames touched each tree trunk. Erwen snorted himself awake, the odour of decay and smoke still lingering in his nostrils. He was still sitting inside the dry fountain, a tin cup hanging from his forefinger. He looked at it, shook it, and heard the rattle of coins inside. The people of Helm’s Hold were getting an early start to their day, and Erwen could hear the sound of many people in close proximity in what he assumed was a marketplace nearby. A passer-by fished a silver piece from his pocket and dropped it into the cup with a clink. “Chin up, friend. Things can always get better.” Then he joined the early morning foot traffic and was gone. Erwen blinked and looked into the cup, spying several pieces of silver and copper at its bottom. “Nice,” he said to himself. He yawned and stretched, getting to his feet and crawling out of the fountain. Looking skyward, he caught a glimpse of a bird of prey wheeling and turning in the sunlight. “Not a bad idea,” Erwen said, and wildshaped into the form of a giant eagle, rocketing skyward with a bellowing screech that sent the morning crowd scattering in shock. “Hey,” Radegast said to Varien as the paladin strapped on his armor. “So as I was saying, I think I know who killed your family.” “Sure, Radegast,” Varien said. “But before we get into that I think we have some more pressing business to attend to.” He went downstairs and sought out the innkeeper. “So, did anyone come by last night looking for me or my associates?” Varien asked. “I was expecting company.” The innkeeper frowned. “Can’t say I recall. I saw you and your friends leave last night just before I retired for the evening, and other than your friend returning for a few minutes, I didn’t see anyone else go up to your rooms.” Varien frowned. “What do you mean, my friend returned?” “The big fellow. Carried a sword. Symbol of Helm around his neck. Handsome fellow, truth be told.” The innkeeper smiled. “Walked right in and out again like he’d forgotten something.” “Well, thank you for the information,” Varein said, and returned to the party’s rooms. He and Radegast knocked on Alec’s door, and the fighter left them in. “Ugh,” Radegast said. “The Venturer’s Rest is definitely going to have to spring for a new bed after this.” Alec shook his head grimly. “The smell is not going to get any better, that’s for sure.” “Okay, so we don’t have to rely on a plant’s testimony,” Varien told his companions. “Innkeeper says that someone who looked a lot like Alec came back to the inn after we left and went up here.” “I’m sure Erwen would be the first to tell you that plant’s don’t generally have reason to lie,” Radegast said. “So someone came in here disguised as me while we were busy in Scar Alley?” Alec said. Varien nodded. “So someone, let’s call him False Alec, came in here and killed Dalleg and then strolled out. Either that, or you yourself are in fact False Alec, and Real Alec is the one who killed Dalleg.” “Wait, which me am I supposed to be?” Alec said. “Okay, let’s think about this for a second,” Radegast said. “Didn’t you used to travel with a friend who could change identities like other people change clothes?” Varien smiled grimly. “Friend is a rather loose term,” he said. “Is it at all possible that he’s been hired as an assassin to kill your associates?” Varien shook his head. “Not really Ragnar’s style, I don’t think. Plus, Dalleg named names. We should follow up on those leads.” “Yes, I am interested in avenging my friend’s death in case you were wondering,” Alec growled. “Unfortunately I don’t have access to the kind of clairvoyant or divination magic that might help us solve this mystery,” Radegast said. “But I do have somebody on the inside of the Law here in town, who might be able to help us.” “This Jamie you’re talking about?” Varien asked. “Yes, he’s an arsehole, but he knows what he’s doing,” Radegast said. “He also knows that Alec has an alibi — he saw him with you when you investigated the, uh, incident in Scar Alley. He could corroborate Alec’s story, and is more likely to help us than hinder us.” “What about your friends in the Gauntlet?” Bob asked. “They must be good for something.” “Yes, I was considering sending Kraklos a message,” Radegast said. “Kraklos?” Varien snorted. “No good fancypants…” “Give me a moment or two to compose my thoughts,” Radegast said. “Then I will see what’s what.” Bob went downstairs in search of breakfast. Radegast began to cast sending , composing a brief mental message that would wind its way towards Captain Kraklos, her intended recipient. Delivered package. Starving refugees outside walls. Torture beneath cathedral. Gilded Inquisitors squeezing blood from stone. Alec framed for murder. Asset awaiting instructions. You can reply. Kraklos’s return message came back in a flash. “Confirm status of embedded agent. Corroborate torture claim and false inquisition with evidence. Deliver to Gauntlet Chapterhouse in Helm’s Hold. Sorry about your friend.” Radegast sighed. “What did your buddy Kraklos say?” Varien asked. Before Radegast could reply, there was a thudding sound and the walls of the inn shook. “What in blazes?” Varien shouted. There was a sound of ripping timber and a shadow obliterated all light from the window. Alec lunged forward and pulled aside the curtain, throwing up the sash to reveal the inquisitive eyes of a giant eagle perched on the window ledge. As the walls groaned Radegast realized the bird wasn’t perched on the ledge at all; rather its talons had dug into the side of the building as the horse-sized bird loomed in. Varien’s hand strayed to his sword hilt, but he stopped as he noticed a particularly familiar coloured pattern to the bird’s feathers. “Erwen, is that you?” Birdwen screeched loudly and ducked his head twice. “Amazing!” Radegast cried. “You know I’m going to ride you everywhere, don’t you?” Birdwen stretched his wings and buffeted the party members with a blast of wind that sent the window’s shutters clattering. From the streets below, cries of alarm could be heard as the giant bird began to attract attention. Bob was downstairs eating breakfast when a member of the Gilded Eye strode in and spoke to the innkeeper. The matronly woman pointed in Bob’s direction. Bob swallowed and stood to greet the messenger. “Your presence is requested within the hour at the Grand Cathedral,” the Gilded Eye agent said. “By order of Zealot Lysandra.” “Yes, of course,” Bob said, taking the proffered letter of introduction from the man’s outstretched hand. “Do tell our friend Lannister that we will be in attendance presently.” The Gilded Eye agent frowned, and then nodded and departed. Bob exchanged a glance with the innkeeper and mounted the stairs. Radegast was working out how best to settle between Birdwen’s wings when Bob entered the room. He blinked at the giant eagle, and then shrugged and turned to Varien. “Your buddy Jamie Lannister promised us a meeting with the Gilded Eye, and he delivered,” Bob said, holding up the official letter. Varien snatched the letter out of Bob’s hand. “Right, well that’s that then. We’re on our way.” He turned to Alec. “It’s probably best if you don’t accompany us.” Alec nodded. “And maybe don’t get caught in the same room as this corpse.” Alec nodded. Birdwen screeched and took wing, Radegast hanging on for dear life as he circled the air above the Venturer’s Rest and then came in for a landing in the street outside. “Whew!” Radegast said. “Hey, that reminds me, when we’re in the Grand Cathedral, can you peck at the spot where you said you heard the screaming? That would help me out a lot.” Birdwen ducked his head twice and began walking through the streets, his feet slapping loudly on the cobblestones. The crowds parted before him as the people of Helm’s Hold scrambled to get out of the lumbering bird’s way. Varien and Bob followed closely, Varien waving the official letter at any guard who looked at him sideways. They soon reached the Inner Court of Helm’s Hold. Flanking the defensive walls and a set of tall steps were two shrines — one to Ilmater, and one to Tyr. Radegast and Varien reflected on the religious implications of having temples built so close to a suspected torture factory. Beyond the gates of the Inner Court were the cathedral and a number of other buildings — an orphanage, judging by the children gamboling on the green outside, another building that looked like a hospice or infirmary, complete with a sanctuary garden, and a newer structure emblazoned with the symbol of the Order of the Gilded Eye — Helm’s gauntlet curled into a fist. Nearby, what looked like a training ground was populated by foot soldiers engaging in mass exercises with wooden swords. Towering above all was the imposing Grand Cathedral. They approached the main gate, which was protected by a number of well-armed ceremonial guards. The lead guard put up his hand. “You’ll have to leave your mount outside,” he said, indicated Birdwen. “Well, that’s a problem,” Radegast said cheerfully. “This isn’t a mount; he’s a member of our party, a Halfling, and honestly he’s in a bit of a mood.” Birdwen squawked and tore up a flagstone with his talon. “It’s fine,” Jamie called from where he stood just beyond the gate. “I’m actually curious as to what the Inquisitor’s reaction will be when he sees this creature.” He beckoned to the party members. “Come forward, please.” They approached and were ushered into a courtyard before the main entrance of the cathedral. Varien sidled up to Jamie and whispered in Celestial. “Now is the time for you to pay us what you owe,” he said. “You promised us a chance to kill what’s under the ground.” “That’s precisely what this meeting is all about,” Jamie said back in Celestial. The interior of the cathedral was hung with banners of Helm’s sigil and warded at all corners by suits of armor that featured stylized eyes on their gauntlets and prominent, blank-faced helms. Cavernous chambers soar high through flying buttresses, and great statues of Helm and heroes of legend gazed down upon the hall’s occupants. The room could hold at least a hundred armored knights comfortably, but only a few armed paladins and war priests were present, standing as silently and still as the statues. Birdwen noted that the rows of wooden pews had been removed, and the space of the sanctuary was open. Above the platform at the end of the hall, the morning sunlight shone through a great stained glass window, which depicted Helm fully armored to do his duty. Before the platform stood a Halfling woman and a human male, who were both wearing official-looking sashes of public office. “That’s Amarandine Wanderfoot, Chief Speaker of Helm’s Hold,” Jamie whispered. “And that is Doloran Bard, one of the Speakers.” Standing atop the platform was a tall, willowy woman wearing a priest’s headdress and robes whose outlines gave the suggestion of armor to an otherwise flowing costume. The priest’s circlet also evoked Helm’s own visor, through which she stared at the approaching party. “I present to you Holy Watcher Qerria,” Jamie said, bowing respectfully. “Holy Watcher, this is Pitt Moonflower and companions Varien Aether, Robert Trevelyan, and…and…their bird.” Birdwen screeched loudly. The Holy Watcher smiled. “Welcome to the Hall of the Guardian,” she said softly. “So, these are the adventurers who dispense bread by day and battle chokers beneath the streets by night.” A deep voice rang out, echoing amid the flying buttresses above the party. A handsome man with dark hair and a beard walked out onto the platform. He was resplendent in a suit of shining plate armor emblazoned with the insignia of the Order of the Gilded Eye. With his square jaw and piercing eyes, he looked like a walking recruiting poster. “Benevolence and bravery,” he said. “You shame us, but we are the better for your example and instruction.” Varien and Bob recognized him from the hanging in the Heartward. “I present to you Inquisitor Javen Tarmikos,” Jamie said. “Greetings,” Varien said. “Javen, thank you for being here this morning. I will keep it simple. My friends and I do not care about the politics here at Helm’s Hold, nor are we here to encroach on your authority. All we ask is that you follow our demands and grant us access to the underground beneath your city.” “Demands?” The Holy Watcher mouthed silently to Javen, who grimaced. Bob suddenly hoped that the exits weren’t too well guarded. “We make no other demands,” Varien continued. “Excuse my brashness, but time is short, and you have no reason to refuse our request.” “Bold words,” Javen said. “I did ask you to excuse my brashness,” Varien said. “I am curious,” Javen Tarmikos continued. “What know you of the evil beneath Helm’s Hold?” “Well, it seems to be great and powerful, and seems to be necrotic,” Varien said. “I have expertise on that score.” “And it needs a good stabbing, if you ask me,” Radegast said, dismounting from Birdwen, who began doing a mating dance, spinning about as he puffed out his chest and flexed his feathers. “I have come from a city far to the north, where all my friends and family were killed, save one,” Varien said. “I vowed to spend the rest of my life fighting evil. Let us save Helm’s Hold from a similar fate.” “And what city was this?” the Holy Watcher asked. She appeared to have been affected somewhat by Varien’s description of his lost hometown. “From where did you hail?” “It was far to the north,” Varien said. “A place called Lorelei. Frankly though, that is not much of a concern. As soon as we have dealt with the evil beneath your streets, we will be out of here.” Javen waved a dismissive hand. “The people of Helm’s Hold kept the gates open and one eye on the road, and they were rewarded with treachery, with deceit and betrayal from those whose needs we had cared for,” he growled. “Five years ago we fought a terrible war. But we emerged victorious, thanks be to Helm and the vision he gave me and my comrades, the vision of the Gilded Eye, to root out evil deeds.” “Well, good job, I say, but it’s a job left undone.” Varien said. Tarmikos glared and stepped forward. “Impudence! And what are you proposing, my bold young friend? How do you propose to succeed rather than pay the final price for your brashness?” “It’s simple really,” Varien said. “Give us access to your resources, let us go below your city, and give us a couple of hours to wrap things up.” “Hours?” Tarmikos laughed a cruel laugh. “You’ve got spirit, I will grant you that. But you do not know what you are talking about this day.” Radegast scowled and pulled out the dreamthief doll from her pack, throwing it to the ground before the Holy Watcher. Then she pulled a dagger and threw it, pinning the doll to the stone floor. The guards around her stiffened and went for their weapons. “Why?” Radegast shouted. “Why does a holy city have its people so fearful that they have totems eating their dreams in the night?” “What did you say?” Tarmikos hissed. “Why is this Holy Cathedral plaguing its citizens with the horrible effects of the Shadowfell?” Radegast said. “What will there be left for Helm to watch over and the Gilded Eye to protect if all that remains here is shadow and death? Helm’s Hold is threatened by necrotic energy and the worst of the Shadow Weave!” Radegast pointed to the doll, in whose back her knife was still quivering. “We experienced terrible nightmares last night, but we will not surrender our dreams to the darkness with these dolls!” “Amidst your guard, on your watch, the darkness grows stronger!” Varien said. “Your time is limited.” “Speak no further,” Tarmikos growled. “Your accusations are flippant and baseless!” “The only thing baseless is what the Gilded Eye has focused its gaze on,” Varien said. “The truth is the threat is not outside your walls, where those poor refugees starve and cry for help, but rather right under your throne!” The Holy Watcher reached out and touched Javen’s arm. The paladin stepped back. “In this regard, you are correct,” the Holy Watcher said to Varien softly, though there was steel in her voice. “Unfortunately for us, the evil that corrupted Helm’s Hold runs deeper than we first thought.” She turned to Tarmikos. “Tell them.” Tarmikos frowned and bit back an angry retort. Then he sighed a deep sigh. “We have set guards, we have sent forth brave bands drawn from the ranks of Helm’s Hundred, the sworn protectors of the city, and patrols drawn from our own Order,” Tarmikos said. “And they have not returned, or if they did return, they returned decimated, and shadows of their former selves.” “Then the battle is not yet won,” Varien said. “And what are you willing to do about it?” Tarmikos asked. “Bring us the light,” Radegast said. “My brothers and I will defeat the dark.” “We will go down there and vanquish the darkness!” Varien repeated. Birdwen took this opportunity to peck at the grate on the floor where he had heard the sounds of screams during his last visit. Radegast began conspicuously checking the grate, hoping to get a rise out of Tarmikos. But the paladin remained impassive. “Basically it’s looking like there’s a portal to a very dark place beneath Helm’s Hold, a portal that you have not yet closed,” Radegast said. “This is what I’ve been talking about, Inquisitor!” the sour-faced noble on the right side of the platform shouted. “That is why we should immediately strike-” “You will hold your tongue, or you will be picking it up off the floor,” Tarmikos growled at the politician. “Hey now,” Varien said. “This man is an elected Speaker of Helm’s Hold. I say let him speak.” Tarmikos’s smile was positively reptilian. “Oh, pay Doloran Bard no mind. He speaks of mundane, political issues that factor not into our parley here. And after all, you said yourself that you were not interested in our politics.” “We’re interested in bringing light to the darkness that corrupts this place,” Radegast said. “And to bring an end to these accursed nightmares, so you can get rid of these dreamthief dolls for good.” “I,” the Holy Watcher’s voice faltered. “I too have been plagued by visions of late.” “Holy Watcher-” Tarmikos said. The Holy Watcher ignored the Inquisitor and stepped forward, a troubled expression on her face. “Premonitions of a nightmare that is unfolding beneath our sanctuary. In the darkest depths, the coldest crypts buried deep, something unspeakable stirs.” Her voice grew shrill and she shuddered as if gripped by something unspeakably cold. “Something that threatens to bring down the lowest vaults of the cathedral as it claws forth in bloody ascension!” Her voice rang and echoed in the chamber as he eyes rolled back into her head. Varien thought he saw the Holy Watcher’s feet leave the ground as she stood ramrod-straight, her head arched back, her mouth issuing forth a torrent of undecipherable tongues, her eyes fixed sightlessly skyward. “Qerria!” Javen lunged forward, catching the Holy Watcher before she collapsed. “Qerria,” he repeated softly, with a surprising tenderness. She slumped into his arms and he stared at her contorted face with an expression of pain on his own. Then he cleared his throat. “Holy Watcher, perhaps the strain of this conversation is too much too soon.” “Yes,” the Holy Watcher sighed as she regained her senses. Her attendants, who had rushed out from a side chamber at the first sounds of distress, gently pulled her from Javen’s arms. “Yes. I need to…I need to retire. Bless you, brave adventurers.” She whispered to the party. “May Helm watch over you.” Javen Tarmikos watched the attendants as they helped the Holy Watcher. They disappeared into a side chamber. “Well, I think that means you’re legally bound to grant us your blessing,” Varien said. Bob slapped a hand to his forehead. Javen exhaled sharply, turned to the party and set his jaw. “Well then. Let’s talk business.”