Siegfried
entered the cellar where the Harpers of Neverwinter had gathered. If the
surroundings were particularly inauspicious given the half-orc’s schemes, the
assembled agents did little to improve matters in Siegfried’s eyes. There were
ten of them; eight women of human and Elvish descent and two men – an aged Half-Elf
and a young Halfling. Siegfried
took a seat at the wooden table in the centre of the room, ignoring the meeting’s
attendees for the moment. The only sound was the guttering of candles and the
crinkling of parchment as the half-orc perused the papers that Theyris had put
together. The Harpers
stood about silently, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other while
Siegfried read in silence. Then, when
the candles had burned down noticeably, he spoke. “Is this
everyone?” Theyris
sighed. “Well, Rethan’s not here for obvious reasons. Nobody’s seen Absalon
since this morning’s…unpleasantness. Toram was sent into exile last year. And
Sandyse Thunderquill guards our safehouse in the New River District.” Siegfried
nodded. “Well then, Theryis I’ve met. As for the rest of you – who are you and
what good are you?” A competent-looking
woman stepped forward. “Harpshadow Boward, under cover as a member of the
Neverwinter Guard, stationed in the Protector’s Enclave.” A female
Elf straightened her posture. “Watcher Windle. So far as anyone in town knows,
I’m an adventurer, but I keep a close eye on the Neverdeath Graveyard.” A human
woman wearing a hood and veil over a close-fitting bodice said. “I’m Harpshadow
Gaelen. I tend bar at the Driftwood Tavern and keep an ear to the ground for
information of interest in the region.” “When she’s
not on her back,” an exceptionally beautiful woman with straight auburn hair
and green eyes said knowingly. Gaelen sent her a fierce glare over her veil. A stout Gnomish
woman hopped up on a nearby barrel. “Risca the Wise Owl, they call me. I work
as a tinker in the Protector’s Enclave.” The woman
who had made a crack about Gaelen’s line of work wore a long green gown over a
breastplate and carried a quarterstaff, which she spun in her hand with practiced
ease. “I’m Brightcandle Lippa Nesav, steward at the Beached Leviathan. I specialize
in dockside gossip.” “That’s not
all she specializes in,” Gaelen hissed. Lippa
tossed her hair and laughed. “Afraid of a little competition, Gaelen?” A thin Elven
woman, shorter than usual for her race, nodded at Siegfried, her curly silver
hair bouncing as she fixed her grey eyes on him. She was wearing flowing pants
and a buttoned shirt. “Harpshadow Merey, embedded as a quartermaster in the Neverwinter
Guard, stationed in the Protector’s Enclave.” A male Halfling who looked like he’d just come in off the
street stood nervously nearby, fingering a blowgun and running a hand through
his straight copper hair. His leather armour looked like it had seen better
days. “Watcher Hadow,” he said. “They call me Hadow the Wily. I'm under cover
as a wheelwright in the New River District near the Drover’s Gate. I keep tabs
on the gangs that operate in the city.”
A fine-featured woman whose brown hair matched her eyes turned to face Siegfried.
She wore a well-kept suit of chainmail armour. “Harpshadow Luusi Wintermere,”
she said. “I’m under cover as a sell-sword and keep an eye on the activities of
the Mintarn mercenaries.” An aged Half-elf, his hands and forearms scarred from what
looked like fishhooks, cleared his throat. “Watcher Aejossin. I work as a
longshoreman down at the docks. I make port business my business, if you get my
meaning.”
“That’s everyone here,” Theryis said. “Sandyse is under cover as a scrivener, Absalon
is known as a birdkeeper in the Protector’s Enclave, and Rethan was our man at
the Drover’s Gate, apprenticed to a Blacksmith while he kept an eye on teamsters,
caravans, and cargo that made its way in and out of Neverwinter.”
“Guess that’s my beat now,” Hadow grumbled. Siegfried
sat silently, casting an appraising eye over the Harpers in the room. He was
sure that Theyris was rock-solid, and Harpshadows Boward and Merey had to be
competent if they’d managed to infiltrate the Neverwinter Guard. The rest he
had his doubts about, but that would soon be rectified. “First
things first,” he said. “I want to know what Rethan has done, on whose orders, and
how quickly it will be traced back to us.” “Whatever
he did, none of us were involved,” Gaelen said. The others nodded. “Okay,” Siegfried
said, considering this. “Whether the Harpers orchestrated this amateurish
assassination attempt or not, the fact of the matter is that one of our number
exposed himself to the Lord Protector and paid for it dearly. His body was
tossed into the harbor, and as soon as the Neverwinter Guard fish him out of
the waters, questions will be asked, doors will be knocked down, and the heat
will be turned up on all of us. So the first thing we’ll do is recover his
sodden corpse before the city watch does. I’ve heard that there’s a gang of
short-statured pirates who work under the docks, scavenging corpses from the
water. What can you tell me about them?” “There’s a
gang in the swamped docks led by a Halfling named Palas,” Hadow piped up. “They call themselves the Slips. They do have a contract to clear flotsam and jetsam from the harbor, but it’s a
front for their less-than-savoury activities. They are not the most co-operative
sorts.” Siegfried
pulled out a bag of gold and tossed it at the Halfling rogue. “Consider that
the going rate for a soggy assassin’s corpse that you’d like returned in one
piece. Bring him home before the Neverwinter Guard does.” Hadow
nodded and tucked the gold away. “Yes sir.” He turned to leave. “Watcher
Hadow,” Siegfried said to the departing Halfling, who hesitated. “If things
look too hot, don’t be a hero. Pull yourself out if you can’t reach an
understanding with those thugs. Survival is more important than success.” Hadow
nodded and scampered up the stairs. “Now then,”
Siegfried turned to Luusi Wintermere. “The Mintarn mercenaries. What can you
tell me about their motivation these days? Are they loyal to the Lord Protector,
can they be bought, and would they turn their swords on the city and burn it
down if so ordered?” Luusi considered
this. “Well sir, they certainly are bought and paid for. Their price is quite
high, after all. The Lord Protector’s pockets are-” “Assume we
could match or exceed their current contract,” Siegfried said. “Humour me.” Luusi
nodded. “Well the Lord Protector has paid them to grind down any opposition,
and they’ve done that with relish for many years now. Heavy hands and heavy
boots. Their loyalty gets a boost with every payroll delivery, and they spend
the rest of their time leaning hard on the townspeople. I doubt they’d burn the
city down unless they were no longer under contract, and even then…” “All right,
Harpshadow Wintermere,” Siegfried said. “You have contacts inside the Mintarn
organization?” Luusi
shrugged. “I know people.” “Then know
this,” Siegfried said. “You’ve recently heard a conversation at the Moonstone
Mask and learned that the Lord Protector has ordered a reduction in the Mintarn’s
ranks on the order of 20 percent. Are you able to share that intelligence
without arousing suspicion?” Luusi
shrugged again. “Consider it done.” “Quite,”
Siegfried said. He turned to the gnome and handed her the ghast mask he’d taken
from the Gilded Eye outside Thundertree. “You’re a tinker, you must work for
Zapford Clockdrive then. Tell me, does his success owe to the good quality of
his work, his high prices, or would it be easier to ruin him and support one of
his competitors?” Risca frowned.
“Clockdrive’s position in Neverwinter is secure, owing to his support of the
Lord Protector. His only competition is the Waterclock Guild, and most of them are
in the grave.” “Well then,”
Siegfried said. “Were somebody to foolishly aim to injure Clockdrive or his
operation out of jealousy, who would be a likely scapegoat?” Risca pondered
this. “It is likely that he would suspect the Waterclock Guild if anyone were
to make a move against him, but he would also likely suspect the Nashers.” Siegfried’s
eyes narrowed. “The Nashers?” Risca
nodded. “Yes, the Nashers are one of two factions of the Sons of Alagondar.” “Indeed,”
Siegfried said. He addressed the group. “Speak plainly now. Are we still
working with them?” The Harpers
eyed one another uneasily. Theryis cleared her throat. “Not since the…incident…with
Cymril.” Siegfried
nodded at this. He knew that Cymril had at one time led the Harpers in
Neverwinter, and had been tasked with the leadership of the Sons of Alagondar as
well, before turning on her compatriots in a night of betrayal that had destroyed
both the Harpers’ reputation in Neverwinter and the unified opposition to Neverember’s
rule that the Sons of Alagondar had mounted early in the Lord Protector’s reign.
The Sons had splintered into two disparate, distrustful factions – the aggressive
Nashers, who favoured direct action and insurrection, and the more moderate
Graycloaks, who took their name from the Neverwinter militia of ages past, and
who worked behind the scenes to put political pressure on Lord Neverember to give
the people of the city a greater voice in its rule. Siegfried
prestidigitated the symbol that Rethan had worn around his neck. “And what of
this?” Harpshadow
Gaelen’s eyes widened. “That is the symbol carried by the Nashers.” “And yet
this was found on Rethan’s body,” Siegfried said. “Is it possible that Rethan
was working for the Nashers as a double agent?” The Harpers
looked at one another with unease and, this time, alarm. “Allow me
to explain,” Siegfried said. “Rethan used a Thayan mask of disguise to
infiltrate the Lord Protector’s Waukeentide celebration, and after he was
killed this pendant was found around his neck. While I am increasingly relieved
that this half-baked, clumsy assassination attempt did not have its genesis in
our house, I am increasingly distressed that it was done without any
foreknowledge on our part.” The
half-orc stood from his chair and surveyed the group. “Now then, if anyone
among you has allegiance towards a group other than Those Who Harp, disclose it
now, and you will be forgiven by our new management, namely me.” He paused
expectantly. None of the
Harpers took the bait, but Siegfried could tell without looking that there were
more than a few corrupt or incompetent agents among the assembly. Time would
tell, and he would not be as forgiving when the truth outed itself. “Moving on,”
Siegfried said, sitting down and shuffling the papers before him. “Who can tell
me about the man who leads the Nashers and sends stupid young boys to die?” Once again,
Gaelen volunteered some information. “Arlon Bladeshaper leads the Nasher
faction, while the Graycloaks can count Madame Rosene as their spokesperson.” “Madame
Rosene, who runs the Driftwood Tavern?” Siegfried said. “Do you think they know
of your true allegiance, Harpshadow Gaelen?” Gaelen’s
eyes twinkled. “I’m still breathing and serving drinks there, Brightcandle.” “That you
are,” Siegfried replied. “What about this broadsheet I’ve heard so much about,
the Waterclock? Who runs it, and what is its editorial stance?” “Seipora
Gend publishes the Waterclock,” Theyris said. “The newspaper is openly critical
of the Nashers’ approach to opposing Lord Neverember’s rule, but is in general
agreement with the aims of the Graycloaks, such as they are. Gend publishes a
wide range of editorials and strives for objectivity while criticizing the
excesses of Neverember’s regime.” “Of which
there are many,” Gaelen murmured. “Good to
know,” Siegfried said. “And any news on Xylon Nightshade?” Luusi and
Gaelen shook their heads. “Nothing yet, Brightcandle.” “Fair
enough, it’s only been a few hours,” Siegfried said. “But know that I expect
results in a timely fashion.” He turned
to the rest of the Harpers. “Speaking of results, Harpshadow Merey, I want you
to shadow our dear friend Absalon. He’s likely to be stewing in his own juices
at home, but you are to keep a gentle eye on him. If he’s sober, I want him to
know you’re watching him, because I’m concerned that he might decide to turn
traitor after this morning’s change in leadership.” Merey
nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” “I would be
pleased if he didn’t drown in a gutter but instead saw reason and returned to
the fold,” Siegfried said. “I’ll handle Madame Rosene.” Gaelen
nodded. “Risca,”
Siegfried said. “I need you to have a think about how we can infiltrate
Clockdrive’s factories to plant evidence of Nasher theft while we keep his loot
for ourselves. Take no action at this time, but scheme away.” Risca
nodded. Siegfried
said. “I want you to pull together a dossier on Seipora Gend and the Waterclock.
Watcher Aejossin, that goes to you.” Aejossin
looked pained. “Uh, Brightcandle, that’s not really my beat.” “And what
is your beat, exactly?” Siegfried asked. “The docks,”
Aejossin replied. “The docks,”
Siegfried repeated. “Fine. I have recently become aware of the existence of relics
and tombs in old Neverwinter connected to the family of Nasher Alagondar,” he
said. “One of them was discovered beneath the Sleeping Dragon Bridge, close to
the docks district. I want you to inspect the docks and find entry points to
more of these hidden tombs. I want a map.” Aejossin
nodded. “Harpshadow
Wintermere,” Siegfried said. “The Waterclock dossier?” “Yes,
Brightcandle,” Luusi said, nodding. “Excellent,”
Siegfried said. “Now, Watcher Windle, I understand you patrol the Neverdeath
Graveyard. How infested with the undead is it?” “Very much
so,” Windle replied. “There’s a great deal of undead activity in the area.” “Perfect,”
Siegfried replied. “I’m going to need you to procure a key or other entry to the
graveyard for a friend of mine.” “I can get
him in, yeah,” Windle replied. “Wonderful,”
Siegfried. “I will introduce you to my friend in due course.” He turned to Boward. “Harpshadow
Boward,” Siegfried said. “On your next shift on guard duty, and going forward,
I’m going to need you keep track of any extraordinary undead or demonic
activities, or instances of citizens falling to sudden insanity and murder.”
“Okay,” Boward said. “Now, a
question for the group,” Siegfried said. “How many of you sleep with a
dreamthief doll?” The
non-elves raised their hands. “I see,”
Siegfried said. “And how far north does this nighttime affliction impact those
seeking rest?” “At least
as far north as Rothé Valley,” Gaelen offered. “But not as
far north as Luskan, I take it?” Siegfried asked. Nobody had a reply. He sighed.
“And as far east as Helm’s Hold at least, but not as far south as Phandalin? Do
we have an epicenter of these unnatural nightmares?” Nobody
offered a reply. “People,”
Siegfried said sternly. “Our first priority is to protect the people of
Neverwinter while they sleep, something that the Lord Protector is unable or
unwilling to do.” He thought a moment. “No, wait, first things first. I have
managed to insinuate myself into the Lord Protector’s official investigation of
the assassination attempt. I will handle matters relating to the investigation
and ensure the Nashers take the fall for the assassination,” Siegfried said. “If
the Lord Protector discovers that it was Rethan who committed the act, he will have
our heads. I should be able to spin it and have the Nashers wiped out. Then we
will be able to take control of the city peacefully.” “But our most
pressing concern should be solving the mystery of these dreams,” Siegfried
said. “I’m a dreamer myself, and my dreams are reliable. But when they change
or are distorted by some outside force, it unsettles me. I want to rip the
cause of these dreams out at the root.” The Harpers
nodded. “The most
benevolent scenario is that a coven of night hags are at work, stirring up
people’s dream states so that they can continue to sell dreamthief dolls for a
profit,” Siegfried said. “As bad as that would be, that’s the least troubling
cause I can think of, and I fear the problem is much worse than that.” “I intent
to keep the people of Neverwinter, the idea of Neverwinter, alive,” Siegfried
said. “Am I understood?”
The Harpers nodded. “This is
our overarching priority,” Siegfried said. “Brightcandle Nesav, I need you to
start speaking with sailors and travelers to see if we can find where the
nightmares start geographically. I want a chart of the Sword Coast so I can
pinpoint the exact source of this madness. The children of Neverwinter must be
able to sleep peacefully. Dismissed.” Lippa
nodded as the meeting broke up. The Harpers cleared out, with Theyris the last
one up the stairs, leaving Siegfried to his work.
The half-orc continued to read until sleep took
him like a stealthy assassin.