Mehnaz stands by the entryway, studying the Oracle in quiet meditation. The assassin is certain that this is the same girl who interrupted the attempted assassination of the heretic witch.

No doubt one of the first manifestations of her latent abilities. Perhaps there is validity to the stories that she brought Faisal back from the brink of death when I was certain that my blade struck true.

The isha-ghazi slips into the prayer chamber, silently approaching the dais. The giant standing guard outside had been easy to bypass, and the crippled servant was away on some errand. Only the feda-talib and the Oracle are present, the child having apparently resumed her duties after being snatched back from the apprenticeship.

That is a matter to be rectified at another time.

As the black-clad woman glides closer, the Oracle speaks, her Keleshi marred by a harsh northern accent.

“Assalamu aleikom wa rahmatoh Sarenrae wa barakatoh, isha-gahzi.”

The northern woman’s eyes open, her face remaining calm as she gazes directly at the assassin’s hiding spot. The child glances up in confusion as Mehnaz steps from the shadows and replies to the traditional greeting.

“Wa assalamu aleikom wa rahmatoh Sarenrae wa barakatoh.”

The feda-talib leaps from her kneeling position, a silver kukri flashing in her small hand. The girl’s eyes widen in recognition as she sees the Qadiran woman. Mehnaz supresses a smile of approval as the apprentice steps in front of the Oracle and adopts a fighting stance.

A simple, yet effective style for a smaller combatant. He continues to teach her well.

Mehnaz raises her empty hands and stops, giving a shallow bow to the girl and a much deeper one to the young woman. “Forgive me, Oracle, I did not intend to cause alarm. I come in peace to speak with you, as a follower of The Goddess of Light and Compassion.”

The Oracle rises, “Thank you, nuryeni, but your blade won’t be necessary today. Please check that Grok and the others are well.”

The girl barely moves, her eyes never leaving Mehnaz’s. “Are you certain, Oracle? She is isha-ghazi.”

“I’m well aware of our visitor’s nature, feda-talib”, says the northern woman, her voice becoming slightly more stern and commanding. “But she isn’t a threat today. Please do as I ask.”

The girl bows deeply, never taking her eyes off Mehnaz, and never dropping her blade from its guard position. As the student leaves reluctantly, Mehnaz turns back to the Oracle, the fair-skinned woman patiently waiting for her to speak.

“Thank you, Oracle”, says the assassin, again bowing deeply. “I wish to discuss the Tetheyr and your role as Voice of the Sarenrae.”

The younger woman remains standing, her face revealing little.

“The Dawnmother has named the teachings of Scarlet and Faisal as heretical, and sent a Holy Cleansing to deal with them. The evidence against your Dawnsister is conclusive, but I am less convinced of the feda-ghazi’s guilt in this matter.”

“These are serious allegations, isha-ghazi”, replies the Oracle. “How are you so certain of Scarlet’s guilt?”

“When the feda-talib was claimed under our ancient pact, we found a copy of the Karain in her possession. The text of the document has been magically altered, the ancient verses modified to include text from northern traditions and customs. Unsanctified rituals from local worship that violate the Proper Forms. Teachings that I have personally witnessed Scarlet preaching to members of this congregation, and to the feda-ghazi.”

The northern woman nods, seemingly unsurprised by the accusation. “But The Eternal Light of Compassion has always tolerated the inclusion of local traditions in Her worship. A Tetheyr would be an extreme response.”

“Yes, Oracle”, agrees the assassin. “If this were just a matter of the form of the worship. But the desecration of the Karain, and the corruption of one of the feda-ghazi, is a much more serious matter. I have perused several copies of the Book of Forms since coming to this land, and all bear the same alterations, including an ancient copy given to brother Faisal after his tazkiah.”

The Oracle nods. “Very well, I understand the seriousness of the Dawnmother’s concerns, and I have also despaired at Scarlet’s contempt for the Proper Forms. Alteration of the scriptures is a serious offense and I agree that she must be held accountable. Although she will undoubtedly deny any knowledge or involvement in the matter. But you said you have doubts about Faisal’s guilt?”

“Yes, Oracle”, replies Mehnaz. “I have studied the feda-ghazi’s observance of the Forms, and questioned the feda-talib extensively on his teachings. Other than a few incidents of the heretic directly influencing his performance of individual rituals, I can find no evidence that he is complicit in the heresy. Or that he is even aware of Scarlet’s crimes.”

“So why are you here today, isha-ghazi?”

“The Emira, the leader of this Tetheyr, is convinced that both Scarlet and Faisal are equally guilty of heresy, and does not wish to consider other possibilities. I am seeking intervention from the Voice of The Sarenrae, either to confirm the heretics’ guilt, or to help the Emira see the truth of the crime and place blame where it belongs.”

Mehnaz stands quietly, watching the fair-skinned woman’s face carefully as she considers the request. With Waliyah’s forces poised to strike at any moment, this will be her last chance to avert what she suspects would be a terrible mistake. As the silence drags on, Mehnaz’s doubt turns to disappointment, certain that the Oracle will deny the request.

After all, the holy war threatens the woman’s homeland and friends. Could anyone expect her to set that aside for good of all The Goddess’ followers?

The assassin’s thoughts are interrupted as the Oracle takes a deep breath.

“You are correct, isha-ghazi. The heresy falls solely on Scarlet’s shoulders. She is responsible for the desecration of the Holy Book, for the false teachings, and for leading the feda-ghazi astray. Faisal is guilty of no more than being her unwitting pawn.”

The northern woman takes a step forward and gives a small bow.

“Take me to the Emira. I should discuss this matter with her in person.”

“Our goals are aligned and we could assist each other.”

Waliyah leaves the implied question hanging as she turns her attention back to the festival events. Her brother strides onto the field, clad only in a simple tunic and breeches. The warrior takes a few swings with the massive axe, testing its heft and balance. He positions himself near the great wooden posts and the priestess’ eyes narrow as her gaze settles on tattoo of The Goddess that spreads across the young man’s forehead.

I shall take great pleasure seeing the khimaar peeled from your skull, strip by bloody strip.

The outlander beside her finally speaks, interrupting her revenge fantasies.

“Listen, sugah”, he drawls in his ridiculous accent. “Ah ‘ppreciate yer offer, an’ all, but ah don’t rightly give a possum’s teat whut you an’ the rest’o yer camel-humpin’ friends is-a feudin’ about. All this-here talk about apple states…”

“Apostates”, corrects Waliyah.

“Whutever. Whut ah means tuh say is, ah don’t put no stock in yer hullabaloo about hairy ticks…”

“Heretics”, interrupts the priestess.

“That’s whut ah said. Anyhoo, all this-here fussin’ and a-feudin’ about who believes whut about which in the where ain’t got no meanin’ fer me. And it’s all a moo point.

“It jus comes down tuh one thang. If’n helpin’ you an’ the rest ‘o yer rag-head pals is gonna hurt that red-headed chunt and her ass-wipe friends, then ah’m in.”

Waliyah smiles and leans forward, handing the package to the heathen. “Excellent. I am certain you will find these items helpful in your efforts. There are instructions on their proper use inside. Be cautious that you do not harm yourself in the process. I look forward to your performance in the Midnight Joust.”

The man takes the container and sets it down near his feet. “Yah-yah, quit yer yappin’ an’ let me watch the ackshun. Ah wanna see what this-here darkie friend of yers can do.”

As the horn sounds and Faisal begins the competition, Waliyah turns and walks quietly from the grandstand, unnoticed in the cheering crowd. One of the feda-ghazi guards falls in step with her as she pushes through the last of the onlookers.

“He should have his head separated from his shoulders for such insolence”, growls the warrior. “I do not understand why you are negotiating with the unclean fool instead of allowing us to deal with the matter ourselves.”

“Calm yourself, Jabbar”, purrs the priestess. "Using heathens to destroy heretics is a time-honoured tradition. The uncultured outlander may succeed and save us a great deal of unnecessary effort. Or Glynraven may fail and bring himself to judgment before the Merciless Gaze of The Eternal Light of Justice and Wrath.

“Either way, I win.”

“…dragged him straight to the house and he married us on the spot!” Tamara spreads her hands wide, an incredulous smile on her lips.

Deirdre claps her hands together, also smiling broadly. “Even more romantic than the first try! There was no doubt in my mind that he would still sweep you off your feet.”

The young witch blushes, bowing her head to the older woman. “You were right, Oracle. There was not even a hint of hesitation in his step.”

The taller woman rolls her eyes and fixes Tamara with a mockingly stern stare. “Please call me Deirdre. All day long I hear: ‘Yes, Oracle’, ‘No, Oracle’, ‘As you wish, Oracle’. It’s enough to drive you mad. It would be nice to have one person who would treat me as a friend instead of a walking religious icon.”

Tamara leans over and gives her a quick hug, “Of course, Deirdre. You have been a wonderful friend.”

The older woman catches her breath at the wave of images, covering the moment by sipping her cider. As the disorientation passes, she smiles knowingly at the girl.

“And your wedding night was romantic as well?”

Tamara blushes even more. “He is very… dextrous.” She clasps her hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle. She reaches down to stroke her fox’s red fur. “Although we had to kick this one out of the room. He kept peering at us over the edge of the bed, whining like a neglected child.”

Deirdre laughs and takes another sip. “Despite his youthful vigor, I’m sure Nicholas was happier not having a curious audience.”

The Oracle leans forward, giving her friend a bittersweet smile. “I’m so happy for you, Tamara. Nicholas is a fine young man. Strong, well respected, capable. Certain to be a loving husband.”

One of the bevy of images replays itself in her mind’s eye.

And a good father.

“Your Grace, Lord Faisal and I will leave you to say farewell to your father before we leave.”

The silence in the room stretches long after the Baron and Duke-Regent leave the chamber. Sadrion stares at the floor, an occasional sniffle the only noise he makes. He clenches and opens his fists repeatedly as his breathing slows and he forces himself to calm down. Visibly relaxing, he finally stands and looks Scarlet in the eye.

“I apologize for the intrusion, your grace. Your friends felt we still had something to discuss, despite my attempts to explain your previous feelings on the matter. Your stepmo… [ahem] Valainistima wished to see Abigail and Dorian before we return to Iadara, and we had not planned on intruding upon your patience. Your sister and her husband will be staying longer. At your pleasure, of course.

“I wish you and your companions the best of luck at the Rushlight Fesitival. I am certain you will all do well. Please be cautious, there will be many in attendance who would not shed tears should Tuskany’s interests come to harm.

“If there is nothing else, I will take my leave. Farewell, Duchess Teasen’rretyn.”

The elven man gives a stiff bow and turns to go…

Scarlet gazes at the floor unable to speak in awe of what has just came to pass moments before. She looks up to see her father opening the door.

”Wait!” At the sound of her voice, he releases his grip on the handle and turns to face his daughter.

“Is it true you left Kyonin in disgrace and abandoned mother for several years? ”

Sadrion opens his mouth to answer but no sound comes out.

Scarlet lowers her head deep in thought burden with conflicting emotions. After a long pause, she raises her head and fastens her sorrow eyes upon his and calmly says, “Nevertheless, I forgive you.”

Sadrion begins to protest. “But everything Ildrim had said…”

“It does not matter – I care not for the Elf you were before you left mother. I have fond memories of you raising me and amusing me with your card tricks and teaching me how to gamble… that I will always cherish.

Truthfully I have no memories of Talreth. You are the only father I know and have, so despite the pain and suffering you have inflicted upon me in recent years, I forgive you.”

A flow of tears trickle down her cheeks as the warm, conforting memories of her father flood her mind.

She suddenly clutches both of her father’s hands and tells him earnestly, “Father, I need you.”

“Look at me. Look at my chamber.” She releases a hand and waves it in the air to attract attention to the vast amounts of empty decanters lying around her chamber floor.

Sadrion startled by his daughter’s sudden outpour of emotion and plea for help remains silent. For he remembered not long ago she was bidding him to leave and never to return. Was she giving him a another chance?

“I am a lonely, wretched drunk who is a slave to alcohol as you have witness. You are troubled with gambling urges and debts. But together we can battle and defeat our demons. I beg of you, leave Valainistima and come live with me in the castle. As long as you are willing to overcome your addiction, you will never worry about food and accommodations. I assure you, you will grow accustomed to Tuskany as I have. It is a young nation that has potential to be great like Kyonin. And Perhaps one day, you will find a wife here that will love and respect you like mother.

So what do you say?”

Sadrion stands quietly for a moment, staring down at Scarlet’s hands. He steps forward and enfolds her in a tight embrace, and she can feel him take a deep breath in before he steps back, holding her gently by the shoulders.

“Thank you, Scarlet.” His voice cracks with emotion. “For accepting my flaws. And for still needing me. Of course I will be there to help you. And seeing my girls together again makes me feel a hundred years younger.”

He steps back and his shoulders slump again. “But I cannot give all that you ask. Despite the Baron’s harsh words and accusations, there is much more to the situation than what your arrogant friend thinks he knows. I can no more leave Valainistima and our unborn daughter than I could abandon you and Sapphira after her moment of weakness. I was not able to be a perfect father, but I cannot begin to atone by hurting another innocent child.”

As Scarlet opens her mouth to protest, he holds up a hand. “I know, the Magister is a… formidable woman. And she has been harsh and unfair in her treatment of you. But Baron Ildrim is correct in his assessment of her level of ambition, even if much of his assessment may be filtered through the bitterness of their failed relationship. You are a danger to her, powerful enough to carry influence in her spheres, but outside of her control. You frighten her, and she seeks to exert dominance as your step-mother to control that fear. She was harsh with Brianne and Abigail as well, but she has softened as they have become part of her circle of perceived control through their marriages. If you give her time, she will come to fear you less.”

“And please understand that I do not seek to replace your mother. I was privileged to enjoy a blessed companion for the short time she was in my life, and I do not expect to ever find her equal.”

“As to your generous offer; I cannot leave them, but I can promise to return once I see them safely back to Kyonin. I will stay as long as you need me. As long as you will have me. We can battle our demons together.”

Sadrion again takes his daughter’s hands and looks at her ernestly.

“Can you accept what I am able to offer?”

Mikmek loiters in the hallways of the castle, enjoying the vague looks of fear that many of the human servants direct his way. The little kobold pats his stomach, remembering the moonradish pie extorted from the baker earlier in the day.

Assassin is good job, nice to be part of Royal family. Not really like being related to Faisal Blahblah bin Yaddayadda al-Stupido von Pompoushead. But still good. More interesting to be Spymaster, but [urp…] better benefits to Royalty.

The sound of booted feet hurrying up the hallway causes the kobold to instinctively blend into the shadows. Within seconds, the large man known as Sigmar strides by, the weakling General Carson trailing in his wake.

“But, did Duke Faisal say what he needed to see me about?” Mikmek admires the little man’s ability to snivel. “Can’t you give me some idea?”

“His Grace will inform you when we arrive, your lordship”, growls Sigmar, his contempt for the small man dripping from the title.

As the men pass, Mikmek slips along behind them, staying in the shadows.

This look too important for Royal Assassin to miss. Duke Blahblah would want Mikmek to see.

As the men reach the Duke’s chambers, the General’s step slows. Sigmar holds the door open as Carson becomes more like a terrified pup with each step. Mikmek growls in annoyance as the door closes before he can get an opportunity to slip inside unnoticed.

Important meeting. They should not miss Mikmek’s wisdom. But how to get in…?

The assassin contemplates the situation for a few minutes, considering the layout of the castle. Slipping into various chambers was simple, and an important part of his job. But doing so with the Duke present and Sigmar standing outside would be much more tricky. Humans often did not understand how much they needed the kobold’s assistance with difficult decisions.

A plan forming, the kobold is halfway through the nearby window when the chamber door opens again. Dropping down to hang from the ledge, Mikmek peers over to see Carson backing out of the door, bowing obsequiously. The man’s face is as white as a newly hatched grub and the sweat drips from his balding head. Sigmar steps inside the room and the door slams. The general stands and wipes some of the perspiration from his brow, before turning to scuttle up the hallway.

Mikmek abandons his cunning infiltration plan and climbs down from the window, making his way back to the kitchens to look for more pie.

Mikmek wonder if this mean sweaty man no longer buy love potions from cousin Cumek?

The intrusive humiliating memory of her time spent with Carson resurfaces and Scarlet stares fixedly at the floor reliving her traumatic experience.

Her belly begins to ache at the thought of Carson without his pants in bed with her while she was naked and she closes her eyes shaking off the horrific image.

“Dawnsister you do not look well. Perhaps you should cancel your horse riding excursion and rest ”, Faisal comments with a concerned look on his face.

Oh, YOU would like that wouldn’t you!!

She smiles weakly and says, “No need Faisal, I have just the thing that will remedy my ailment. ”

Scarlet nervously pulls out a bottle of Elvin wine from her stash and pours herself a drink. She had promised herself she wouldn’t drink before lunch as part of the recovery process to overcome her addiction. But from her past experiences nothing washes away repressed memories like copious amounts of wine. Granted, she is fully aware that the humiliating incident was the result of her excess drinking.

Nevertheless, She gulps down the drink ignoring the voice in her mind advising her against drinking prior to horseback riding and pours herself another glass until her nerves are calm which coincidentally is when the bottle is empty.

Why bring this up now! Why is he tormenting me! He clearly does not wish to see me happy.

Scarlet dismisses her spiteful thoughts and focuses on Faisal’s question carefully determining how to respond and how much should she divulge.

If I say yes, who knows what will happen to Carson.

And should I confess my true feeling of Deirdre and restate her involvement with Carson’s drugging?

Scarlet finally says, “Yes. Carson did drug me.”

Faisal’s expression darkens and she quickly adds, “But the love potion failed. It had no effect on me.“

Other than being highly addictive…

The warrior’s fists clench tightly.

“He poured the love potion in my wine and being the experienced wine drinker that I am, I suspected the taste was a bit off and that was when he confessed.”

Close enough.

The duke is nearly red, and Scarlet anxiously continues, trying to defuse the building fury.

“Carson sees the error of his ways and atone for his sins so there is no need for him to be reprimanded.”

Not quite the truth but it will do.

Faisal begins to turn, clearly intent on leaving. Worried about what he might do, Scarlet casts about for another topic to distract him.

“About Deir…the Oracle”, Scarlet begins but then abruptly stops. The paladin turns back, his anger now focused back on her.

Mentioning my feelings of Deirdre and her involvement is futile – what purpose would it serve? He did not believe me the first time and expressing my dislike for her will only provide him another reason to excuse my accusations… if there was only another way to prove it.

“Did you have a chance to speak to her about her resentment of me? Perhaps we should pay her a visit with Sigmar, after all the investigation must go on. I must confess I was not able to perform another commune because of the chaos with the preparation for the weddings”

And the expense of the commune…

“Though I plan to commune with the Goddess to track Beppo’s fiancé should we need more information. Also may I ask what recent events triggered your memory?”

Faisal exhales deeply in an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself. He continues to glower, the tendons in his broad shoulders crackling with tension.

“The Oracle has reassured me that any small animosity has been set aside, and that she has nothing but the greatest love and respect for the Dawnsister. Respectfully, I remain at a loss as to why the Dawnsister continues to insist on pursuing this matter when The Sarenrae has clearly indicated the truth of the matter. Perhaps the Dawnsister would be better served spending her efforts in correcting her own…”

Faisal’s words are interrupted by Abigail’s arrival as the girl bounces into the room, dressed in elegant riding attire.

“Hey Sparkles, are you ready to…”, her voices trails off as she recognizes the tension in the room. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.”

Faisal bows to Scarlet’s sister, managing a thin smile. “Good morning, Lady Abigail. I was just leaving. May I recommend that you and the Dawnsister go for a walk in the gardens rather than riding? It appears she is again feeling unwell.”

Abigail glances at the empty wine bottle and glass on the table, then steps aside in confusion as the warrior stalks out of the room.

“Please excuse me”, growls the dark-skinned man. “I must attend to an important matter.”

“…ibn Kalilah ibnt Dilawar ibn Amahalmuta al-Tuskany, Holy Warrior of The Sarenrae, Divine Justicar of the Eternal Light, Protector of the Oracle of Tuskany, Destroyer of Undeath, Wielder of the Fiery Blade of Justice, Duke-Regent of Tuskany”, completes the page, managing to stumble over very little of the rambling introduction. Soletha struggles to keep the graceful smile plastered to her face as she whispers to Ildrim out of the corner of her mouth.

“Does he do this every time he goes to visit someone?”

“Only on formal occasions”, murmurs Ildrim. “Mostly.”

The couple rise as Faisal strides into the room and bows deeply.

“Baron Ildrim. Baroness Soletha. A thousand pardons for interrupting your busy schedules, but I come for an important personal matter. In celebration of your wedding, I present to you a small token of friendship and good wishes.”

The warrior hands a pair of small silver boxes to the pageboy, who brings one to each of the elves. The engraving on Ildrim’s box is clearly Qadiran in origin, with a strong Sun Goddess motif and flourishes very typical of elven artistry. Soletha’s box has more generic, less Sarenrae-themed decoration, also typical of fine elven work. As they open their respective boxes, each finds a single armband with similar carvings and bearing their respective names in ornate elvish calligraphy.

Ildrim reflexively examines the band for arcane auras, unsurprised to find evidence of transformation magic embedded in the device. “Reunification Bands”, he comments. “An interesting choice, Duke Faisal.”

Soletha shoots Ildrim a disapproving frown before smiling at the holy warrior. “Thank you, your grace. They are lovely. The engraving is created by elves, is it not?”

Faisal bows again, “Indeed, Lady Soletha. The kaffir…[ahem] the elves of Qadira are renowned for elegant craftsmanship. Their work is highly prized by nobles across the Empire of Kelesh. I am pleased that you approve. If you will excuse me, I must return to Tuskany to oversee the new road constructions. I look forward to your return to Firenze in the near future.”

After the dark-skinned man’s departure, the baroness turns to her husband, giving him a quizzical look.

“They are teleportation devices”, explains Ildrim, “Constructed in matched pairs and usually linked to specific individuals. They are sometimes given in place of simple wedding bands by Qadiran nobles. They allow the wearer to teleport to their partner’s side, provided they are within range of the spell. I would suspect these could each be used once per week, judging from the strength of their magic.”

Soletha contemplates the device in her hand. “So, I could spend an evening with you, even when you are away?”

“Indeed. But unfortunately, the devices do not provide a means to return from whence you came.” Ildrim contemplates this for a moment. “Perhaps we could find another pair, for yourself and your mother, to allow you to return to Freeport or Tuskany after our evening together.”

The baron ducks quickly as an engraved silver box bounces off the headrest of his chair.

The sounds of laughter drift through the evening air as Faisal arrives at the door of the large house. Flickering candlelight inside confirms his knowledge that the occupants are present, although at the happy sounds coming from inside, the warrior considers returning another time. Setting aside the thought, he raps loudly on the wooden frame and waits patiently.

Nicholas’ posture when he opens the door reveals a subtle wariness at the late visitor, but the young man relaxes and slips the dagger back into its hidden sheath when he recognizes the duke-regent. The holy man fails to notice the even more subtle rolling of the eyes as Nicholas returns his bow.

“Good evening, Marshal Nicholas. Councilor Tamara. A thousand pardons for intruding on your evening, but I have important business. May I impose upon you for a moment.”

Nicholas is about to protest when Tamara steps forward. “Of course, your grace. Please be welcome.”

After the door closes, Faisal turns back, declining the offered seat. “Thank you, no. I will only be a moment.” He produces a small package, wrapped in red silk with gold embroidery. “In the chaos of your planned wedding day, and the excitement that followed, I did not have the opportunity to present your wedding gift in a proper manner. And as you will soon be parted again by circumstances, there may be no better time.”

Faisal hands the gift to Tamara, who gives Nicholas a questioning look. The young man shrugs and nods, and she begins to carefully unwrap the silk. Opening the carved wooden box, she reveals a pair of beautifully carved silver lockets, one attached to a long fine necklace chain, and the other to a shorter, heavier set of links. Handing the box to her husband to hold, Tamara removes the smaller, more delicate locket and opens it, revealing a fairly well-rendered likeness of Nicholas.

“They are beautiful, your grace. Thank you”, says the girls, fixing the clasp about her neck before examining the other locket and the portrait of herself.

Faisal bows deeply. “High Diplomat Beppo was also kind enough to enchant each locket to allow you to communicate with each other. Each day, if you wish, you may hold the locket while concentrating on the portrait, and send a short message to the other.”

“Really?”, asks the girl. “Let me try.”

She grasps the locket, gazing intently at the small image of Nicholas. The young man gives a start, and turns slightly red. “Tamara!”, he whispers.

The young woman giggles and turns back to the warrior. “This is a wonderful gift! Thank you!”

Faisal bows deeply. “I am pleased that you approve. I will leave you to your evening.”

As the duke-regent steps through the doorway, an unpleasant thought occurs to Nicholas.

“Wait… Did you say Beppo enchanted these lockets?!”

“Goodmorning, your Grace”, Ildrim bows, “I see your sickness remains this morning.”

Ildrim enters motioning Faisal and Sadrion into the room.

When Scarlet notices her father, her face reddens and she directs her words forcefully to Ildrim, “I had told him rather directly that he should leave with his wife.”

Sadrion flushes and takes a few steps toward the door, eager to leave.

“Please your Grace, a bit of patience and understanding”, Ildrim closes the door, “Your father wishes to say his goodbyes and I wish explain some pertinent historical events of your extended family.”

Ildrims pulls out a chair from the table, “Your Grace”, he gestures. After Scarlet is sitting, he turns his attention to Sadrion, “Sit!”.

Ildrim quickly scans the room and notices the collection of empty bottles, “Lord Faisal would you please have a seat while I request one of the servants to fetch a bottle of …”, he glances quickly at Scarlet, “a jug of chilled water and a bottle of wine.”

Ildrim takes a seat after closing the door again, “Let me tell you a bit about your grandfather Evreth. Evreth has a wild spirit, a soul who loves exploration. I apprenticed under him many decades ago and that apprenticeship took me through Brevoy, Numeria, Galt, Kyonin and the River Kingdoms. This was in a time before Razmir claimed a portion of the River Kingdoms as a new nation Razmiran.”

“Evreth and I had spent some time in Kyonin around the year 4652. While there I had met a beautiful elven Maga and we had grown quite close. Valainistima and I had talked of marriage but in the end resolved that we should wait. Evreth had grown weary of Kyonin and we set off again on our explorations. Several years later old Corahir retired from his position as the Magister of Kyonin. Evreth was summoned and the Queen requested that he accept the position but Evreth had just discovered a book and was being very secretive about it even with me. He declined the position and set off this time alone on his exploration.”

A servant opens the door quietly and pours out 4 glasses of watered wine and quickly leaves.

“The position was given to Valainistima. I remained with her in Kyonin but soon realized that she only cared about her position. From Valainistima’s perspective I am sure her relationship with me had been mostly about status. Even though I wasn’t as great a wizard as Evreth, her association with me was considered by some to be an acceptance by Evreth. I am sure this earned her some amount of favor in court.”

“Alas the relationship didn’t last, I remained in Kyonin and grew close with Soletha. But several years later Evreth returned, he requested the Queen to consider sending aid to the western river kingdoms to fight Razmir. Evreth was convinced that no good could come of his tyrannical control over the western river kingdoms. Valainistima argued that it was not in the interest of Kyonin to send aid to a non-elven nation. Evreth’s arguments fell on deaf ears and he departed once more this time with Soletha. I had argued with him to let me join them as had Soletha but he requested I apprentice his son Talreth.”

“Now this brings us closer to the day you were born. Your father Sadrion had been looked down on by many in Kyonin especially in the capital Iadara. Among a people like Elves a person like your father who thinks only of quick gains through gambling and other high risk endeavors is not highly regarded. I happened to be in Iadara at the time Sadrion left as a disgrace and I headed with him north east towards Restov where I was to continue Talreth’s apprenticeship. Sadrion had soon lost all his money and left town heading north west toward New Stetven. He soon met your mother, married and left her pregnant with your older sister Brianne. Sadrion had gone on another gambling binge and come back several years later. In this time it seems Talreth had met your mother and had been helping your family financially. I will skip over most of the rest that you already know…”

“About a year ago, not long after Talreth had been proclaimed Baron of Tuskany. Valainistima sought out Sadrion, I’m assuming to use him as leverage against you in the event that you …”

“That is NOT true!”, Sadrion stands, knocking his chair over, shaking with rage.

Ildrim stands, keeps his eyes on Sadrion, “Lord Faisal, would you please have Sadrion take his seat.”

Faisal slowly starts to rise out of his chair but Sadrion quickly rights the chair and flops down into it, red faced with arms crossed in front of his chest.

“As you know, Kyonin wishes our nation to be subservient to them. They have already approached me asking that I usurp your throne. Now as I have previously told you, I have no interest in your position. Your Grace is the rightful ruler and I would only be willing to assume leadership if the alternative was to have the nation fall into incapable hands. Unfortunately, the Queen of Kyonin would have more than one strategy in place to deal with Tuskany. She would not assume that Talreth would agree to submit to her when his father did not. She would not assume that I would want to usurp your throne much less succeed. I’m sure Caladrel, the Kyonin High Diplomat, would have guessed at my lack of ambition. So this brings us to Valainistima. As much as she might love Sadrion”, Ildrim quickly glances his way, “like she loved me in the past, she will have ulterior motives. She loves power and influence. Even with their marriage Sadrion is not more highly thought of in Iadara, he is known as a pawn.”

“Maybe you can answer these question, Sadrion. Why would Valainistima take you as husband? Was it your money? No, she paid off your debts. Was it your skills as a lover? Unlikely, you had already had one wife stray from you for neglect, seeking comfort from another. Valainistima could have had any younger, stronger, more attractive male she wanted. Was it the great respect she had for you as a father? Doubtful but I think your daughters could answer that more than I. Was it your power and position? She already had both power and position. The only power she thought you might have had was some influence over your daughters and that seems to be waning.”

Sadrion starts to stand barely able to contain his rage.

“But you did get her with child, so maybe you finally have given her something. So I congratulate you on your virility, unless she too sought comfort from another.”

Sadrion falls back in his chair, surprised. “I, uh I, uh…”, tears spring to his eyes, “I was away last year for a …”, he wipes his eyes with a handkerchief, “for a business trip, but she says its mine…”, snot bubbles at his nose.

Ildrim stands, “Your Grace, Lord Faisal and I will leave you to say farewell to your father before we leave.”

Faisal takes a deep breath before knocking. As the door swings open, Scarlet’s smile fades slightly at seeing the warrior.

“Oh, Faisal. I thought you were Abigail. We’re going for a ride in the country today.”

“A thousand pardons for the intrusion, Dawnsister”, Faisal begins. “But I beg a moment of your time.”

At the young woman’s nod the duke steps into the chamber, but declines the offered seat. The priestess is dressed in simple riding garb and nearly glows with excitement.

“Your sister’s presence has been a blessing”, comments the warrior.

Scarlet’s smile brightens even more. “Yes, she is a dear, isn’t she? It is nice to have family around again.”

“Indeed. One’s family can be a great source of strength and comfort. She is a sweet girl, and full of life. Her new husband is a remarkable young man as well. I have been very impressed by his involvement with the troops. We shall likely benefit greatly from his visit.

“Incidentally, Baron Ildrim sends word that your father and his wife arrived safely in Freeport.”

Scarlet’s smile fades instantly.

“Although”, continues Faisal, “from the tone of his note, I am uncertain if he is truly pleased to see his old friend…”

The warrior shrugs off the thought. "Nevertheless, I wish to speak with you about a separate matter. In the aftermath of your family’s arrival I had forgotten about the issue, but recent events have brought it to mind.

“During your communion with The Eternal Light of Justice and Compassion, you asked if ‘Deirdre was responsible for Carson drugging you into loving him’. I ask that you please explain this. Although The Sarenrae absolved the Oracle of this accusation, the implication inherent in the question is no less dire.

“Did the General attempt to drug you into loving him?”