“Well lads, if we follow the river to our
destination, we can hire a fishing boat and if we’re lucky we’ll be in
Neverwinter by dinnertime,” Siegfried said brightly. “Aye aye, Captain!” Erwen chirped. Varien rolled his eyes. Checking out their tattered copy of
Gundren’s map of the region, the party surmised that they were about 25 miles
from Neverwinter as the crow flew, and that a route along the river would add
miles and hours to their journey. The Neverwinter River was a steam-shrouded
ribbon that wended its way to the Sea of Swords, its banks bordered by wide
flood plains dotted hither and yon by stands of trees that swayed in the
midmorning breeze. Beyond stretched wide expanses of fertile farmland. To the North, the verdant expanse of
Neverwinter Wood was broken only by the dormant volcano Mount Hotenow, which rose above the trees like
a set of serrated teeth among the eroded hilltops of the Crags that border the
forest to the northeast. Erwen picked up the
faint traces of a disused trail that followed the river along its southern
bank. “Ah yes, the
Neverwinter Trail,” Siegfried said, nodding. “Good eyes, small man.” He patted
Erwen on his head. Siegfried took point, striding confidently
away from the gloomy dome of ash that hovered over Thundertree and its hedge
barrier. Varien and Radegast moved in behind, and the Brothers Trevelyan followed,
walking two abreast. Erwen brought up the rear, stopping to sniff the flowers
now and then, and then running on his little Halfling feet to catch up to the
party. “If I know this region, and I do, the only
settlement of any note between the ruins of Thundertree and Neverwinter proper
is a tiny farming village on the northern side of the river,” Siegfried said to
Varien. “There might be a bridge or two over the river as well, but your map is
sadly lacking in detail.” Varien rolled his eyes. “We should keep our pace up, lads!”
Siegfried called to the group. “With luck we can still celebrate Waukeentide in
Neverwinter this very night!” He made a mental calculation. “Hmmm, we’ve missed
Caravance completely but there might just be a few Revels of the Spheres to
visit. One hopes Neverwinter keeps up with the proper social traditions in
polite society.” The party marched briskly for more than an
hour, mostly in silence, as they followed the Neverwinter Trail, which kept a
discreet distance from the river, which retained a misty shroud even as the
heat of the spring morning became noticeable. Siegfried cast a sending spell to his adoptive father, Millio Thann as he marched. Approaching Neverwinter, who's patsy? Contact
Burning Dawn, Varien Aether from Luskan found Bryn Lightfingers, meet us at
Neverwinter Sunnite Tenple soon. Got clockdrive for Kowalski. His father’s reply returned after an appreciable
lapse in time: "Letters of introduction to Winterpole and
Nidris Families. Winterpole champions Neverember; Sala Nidris is Lady Lureena’s
cats-paw. Cauldar will handle Burning Dawn details. Kowalski is…pleased." Siegfried allowed himself a chuckle at the
thought of his socially awkward adoptive brother Kowalski geeking out over a
gnomish clockwork construct, and then took some time to absorb his father’s
message. The Thann family would have sent officious letters of introduction to
these two prominent families in Neverwinter announcing the impending arrival of
a scion of House Thann. Clearly his father had done his due diligence. Based on all the courtly gossip he had been
able to absorb, Siegfried knew that Danas
Winterpole, matriarch of the family, was a successful Halfling merchant and an
outspoken supporter of Lord Neverember’s reign. As for the Nidris
family, Siegfried was acutely aware of their associations with Lady Lureena
Thann, the matriarch-in-waiting of House Thann. He also knew that his father’s
branch of the family tree did not play well with Lureena’s, owing as much to
their penchant for mixing bloodlines while the rest of House Thann remained
relatively pure of human blood. His father, Millio, was considered a
“quarterling,” having both Human and Halfling ancestry, and his
great-grandmother Arilyn Moonblade, Seigfried’s adoptive
great-great-grandmother, was herself a half-elf. For his part, Millio had
married an Elven Bladesinger named Katarina Anakir, so Siegfried’s seven siblings
had a very distinctive exotic look to them, one they were quite proud of even
if polite society disapproved. Their money, of course, made up for the occasional
askance glance directed towards them, and Millio was well known in Waterdeep as
a booster of equal rights, something that was seen by his peers as a bit of an
edgy pursuit. But back to the Nidris
Family. House Nidris’s matriarch was Lady Sala, late of Calimshan, whose
trading business brought spices and fine fabrics from the south to ports in
Waterdeep and Neverwinter. Lady Nidris had a reputation for her fashionable
dress and grace of form, but she was also known to be unflappable and appraised
all with a critical eye. She was often seen in
the company of her firesoul Genasi bodyguard Vees, which of course was the
subject of all sorts of gossip. Her armored carriage was a familiar site on
Neverwinter’s streets and her manor house was located in the city’s upscale
Blacklake District. Lady Nidris has a son
named Zan of whom she was very fond and overprotective. Lady Nidris’s seneschal
was named Talzu, who likely received Millio’s official correspondence. Siegfried’s educated
guess was that Nidris is connected to Lady Lureena through Lureena’s familial
connections to Velen, which was once part of Tethyr but is now an independent
duchy on the Dragon’s Neck Peninsula. Velen was a likely stopover point for
Calishite trading vessels making the run up the Sea of Swords to Baldur’s Gate,
Waterdeep, and Neverwinter. Millio appeared to be
implying that Lady Nidris serves as Lady Lureena’s eyes and ears in
Neverwinter, and whatever designs Lureena might have on the City of Skilled
Hands, Nidris was there to execute them. This was not welcome
news to Siegfried, but it was a very valuable piece of information nonetheless. “Well done, father,”
Siegfried muttered to himself. As the party marched
westward, Erwen whistled. Varien turned around.
“What is it, boy?” he asked. Erwen was on all
fours, sniffing the grass. “There’s a path here, leading down to the river,” he
said. “It’s been taken by someone recently.” “You don’t say?”
Radegast said, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s take a look.” “It’s like the old
saying goes,” Erwen said. “‘Do not go where the path leads, go instead where
the path is not, and leave a trail.’” “Er,” Radegast said.
“Those are certainly words of wisdom.” Erwen cast speak with plants and spoke to a clump
of grass. Immediately he heard
overlapping calls of complaint and grievance. “Trampled so early in the morning! Ridiculous!” “Hello, my grassy
friend,” Erwen spoke to the plant life, and to his companions it was a noise
like a clarinet’s reed vibrating. “What’s your name?” “Sister Sedge is the
name, Tall Tree!” the grass spoke back. “Well, Sister Sedge,”
Erwen replied. “What happened here?” “What happened here,”
Sister Sedge snapped, “is that a bunch of grass-eaters and ground-stompers ran
through here and mowed us flat! Where’s the justice in that?” As Erwen spoke,
Radegast surveyed the scene with a critical eye. She took in the flattened
blades of grass, the furrows dug into the overgrowth, and the more obvious
clumps of fresh horse manure. “Warhorses,” she spoke
with confidence. “A half-dozen, in full barding bearing the weight of armored
riders, shod in iron shoes smelted from ore mined in the Sword Mountains, no
doubt.” “You sure you didn’t
miss anything there, smartypants?” Bob called. Radegast ignored him.
“Judging from their road apples, these horses dined on hay and oats in Helm’s
Hold. I think I saw a few sacks of feed stashed in the Gilded Eye
chapterhouse.” Erwen continued his
conversation with Sister Sedge. “And what did these ground-stompers look like?
Did they look like us?” He indicated his companions. The clump of grass
waved in Varien’s direction. “They looked like that .” “The armour of a
Knight of Helm,” Radegast nodded. “Three guesses as to who our trailblazers
are, and the first two don’t count.” “One last question,”
Erwen said to the grass. “How long ago did this happen to you?” “I had not yet drank
of the morning dew!” Sister Sedge said. Erwen relayed the
grass’s gripes to his companions. “Morning dew?”
Radegast said. “Does that taste any different than Mountain Dew?” “If the Gilded Eye is
ahead of us, then they could accuse you of being party to an assassination plot
in Helm’s Hold, or worse,” Siegfried said. “They could give Dagult Neverember
their own packet of papers implicating you in all manner of crimes.” Radegast also took
note of rotten lengths of tree bark cast aside the pathway. “Perhaps there’s
someone in Neverwinter we can notify of the Gilded Eye’s bad actions,”
Siegfried continued. “Perhaps we can have them arrested before they have us
arrested.” Varien shook his head.
“If I understand things correctly, Neverwinter and Helm’s Hold are allies. If
we go accusing them publicly without backing up our claims, it won’t put us in
good stead with Neverwinter.” Radegast glared. “The
Gilded Eye must be brought to justice for their crimes.” Siegfried nodded. “No
matter. If you’re intent on sowing discord between Neverwinter and the Gilded
Eye as it is, then let them make the first move. And then we will play them and
beat them at their own game.” “All right,” Varien
said to Radegast. “We’ll do this quietly.” The paladin and the
bard began to move stealthily through the tall grass, keeping the fresh trail
in their sights but their eyes and ears open. Siegfried shrugged and
began walking down the path. Radegast and Varien
encountered some debris within the overgrowth – rotten logs and a derelict cart
abandoned long ago – as they crept forward, weapons at the ready. The path dipped
steeply down towards the river’s edge. Radegast’s keen eyes
picked out the outlines of a long-abandoned logging camp, with piles of
mouldering timber festooned with bright fungal growths, and the barest remains
of oilcloth tents. The Neverwinter River burbled ever on westward, its waters
lapping away the sandy shelf of the shoreline. A tangle of waterlogged logs lay
half-submerged in the water, trailing lilypads and assorted flotsam and jetsam. Radegast heard voices. Varien found himself at the edge of a sandy
cliff that dropped steeply away, revealing the flattened expanse of the
derelict encampment. He peered through the tall grass at the goings-on below. There were seven Gilded Eye operatives
milling about. Four of them were knights on horseback, while two others were
paladins breaking camp. A freshly-doused campfire sizzled and spat. Nearby,
three riderless horses nibbled on the grass. A war priest paced back and forth before
the paladins, giving them orders. Radegast and Varien recognized him as one of
the Gilded Eye agents they had fought in the Chapterhouse Library – Radegast
thought his name was Brother Cardan. Cardan was speaking. “All right lads, let’s
mount up and continue the search. They can’t have gone far!” At this point, to Radegast and Varien’s
complete dismay, Siegfried strolled into the Gilded Eye’s midst, whistling and
kicking a stone before him as he sauntered forth. Siegfried used prestidigitation to conjure
a holy symbol of Helm, which he flashed to the surprised Gilded Eye operatives.
“Ah,” he said in a sweetly innocent voice. “It’s so good to see fellow Brothers
out here this day. May I ask where you are heading?” The priest frowned. “One could ask you that
very same question, stranger.” “I’m happy to answer you,” Siegfried said
unctuously. “My name is Darvin, late of Silverymoon, and I am making a journey
to Neverwinter to tend to my sick grandmother. If it’s not too forward of me,
might I ask that you escort me to Neverwinter? I fear many dangers on the road
these days.” The priest harrumphed. “You look like you
can take care of yourself, brother. I’m afraid we’re on official business and
will not be able to escort you to Neverwinter.” “Oh, well then,” Siegfried said smoothly.
“Perhaps I can ask for your company and travel together until such time as we
must part ways?” “I am afraid I must decline,” Cardan said
with a hint of impatience. “However, perhaps you can assist us. Have you seen a
group of brigands on the road in your travels?”
“Brigands? Oh my!” Siegfried replied. “Can
you describe them to me?” Cardan nodded. “Two men, a half-elven
woman, and a Halfling druid,” he said. Siegfried spread his hands innocently. “I’m
sorry, I am afraid that I haven’t seen these brigands, but it would be my
honour to assist you in the search for-” An arrow zipped out from the tall grass and
struck one of the knights squarely, knocking him clear off his horse as a
divine smite released a blast of radiant energy. Varien smiled from his
concealed position. “What the-” said Cardan and Siegfried
simultaneously. Radegast popped up and loosed an arrow from
her stormbow, which struck Brother Cardan and detonated, sending lightning
energy playing over the two paladins who stood flat-footed nearby. The War Priest
grunted in surprise and staggered under the blow. “Fireball!” Bob called out as he cast a fireball spell on the centre of the
camp, catching three of the four knights and the two riderless horses in a
fiery blast that rose into the midday sky. The horses screamed in agony as the flames
scorched them. The fallen knight did not stir as the ball of fire washed over
his body. Erwen let a single tear fall down his face
at the cries of the dying horses. Then, his eyes clouded over in anger. “LET IT BURN!” he shouted as he wildshaped
into the rampaging form of a Fire Elemental and rushed the Gilded Eye agents,
putting the horses out of their misery as he came into contact with them. Flames
spread into the overgrowth as the Gilded Eye search party began to burn.
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Siegfried took an involuntary step back, trying to
maintain his composure as his next dissembling comment died on his lips, which
were open in shock at what was happening before him.