Chapter 7

Local residence of House Relan, Aithen, Eastern Realm, Andor, two days after the confirmation of Mistress Anastasia Whiterune of House De la Rose.

Master Lucien Relan was a merchant master from the city of Cat Harbor, a seaport on the Souter Peninsula, southeast of Aithen. He was in fact the wealthiest and most influential merchant in Cat Harbor and had his hand in almost every endeavor within the city, both the legitimate and the not so. He was at his desk early going over paperwork for the day when a knock at the door interrupted his train of thought, and his mental calculations

"Come!" he called out irritably, placing the latest inventory reports down.

The door opened, revealing his butler leading two other men; Masters Darroc Clovis and Roland Breton. Lucien carefully covered his reports and stood to greet the two merchant masters.

"Gentlemen," Lucien announced, pointing to chairs near his desk. "Come, sit down. Adams, bring tea and scones for my guests."

The butler, whose name was not Adams, lifted his gaze to stare at his master and nodded at the coded message. He backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"What brings you both here, to my private residence, this early?" Lucien asked, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"We wish to learn more of your plan for House De La Rose," Darroc answered, assuming the role as spokesman.

"And it could not wait until I was in my office?" Lucien's tone was harsh and unforgiving.

"I have been doing some cursory investigations into the house's finances and have discovered some interesting facts," Darroc explained, trying to appease the volatile man.

"What facts?" Lucien asked, leaning forward, clearly interested.

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. The butler opened the door, after receiving the command to enter from Lucien, pushing a serving cart and commenced serving the assembled guests. After the butler withdrew Lucien nodded at Darroc to continue.

"The house is flush with funds," Roland answered, stealing Darroc's thunder. "Veritably rolling in it."

"Interesting," Lucien replied, pondering the information. "How good is your information?"

"Most reliable," Darroc replied, taking a bite from a scone and a sip of the tea. "Right from Gerard's secretary."

"And you were discreet?" Lucien asked. "I cannot begin to tell you how displeased I would be if we were found out."

"No one knew that I was there and no one saw me leave!" Darroc exclaimed in a huff. "I know how to be discreet."

"My initial plan was to pass information to a bounty hunter that specializes in returning dark elves," Lucien explained, holding his own cup of tea, but not drinking. "However, the hunter declined the contract. I did ask him to inform his contacts within the dark elf community of the existence of a 'Rown-In', their term for a renegade, and he did."

"Why did the hunter pass?" Roland asked, drinking from his cup of tea. "The Thieves' Guild does not normally pass on such lucrative contracts."

"He did not say, and I was unable to discern," Lucien replied, and shook his head. "It does not matter, for the Dark Elves will reclaim their own. I expect it to be resolved within a week or so."

"And then what?" Darroc asked.

"Then I will deal with Mistress Anastasia and you two will have a share in the bounty of House De La Rose. Did either of you tell anyone you were coming here?"

Both men shook their heads in the negative and continued to nibble on the scones and sip from their cups. Lucien talked about mundane things all the while watching the two men. He noticed that Darroc was starting to sweat and Roland looked a little peakish causing Lucien to smile. He asked them if there was anything lead and when he received negative replies he suggested that they should get back to their respective houses so to not raise any suspicions.

The two men agreed and Lucien escorted his visitors to the door and cautioned them again about doing anything that could bring suspicion upon all of them. The both promised to be discreet and left the residence, albeit a little wobbly. Lucien watched them stagger away toward their own residences and smiled as he shut the door.

"Soon, my little miss," he whispered, leaning against the closed door. "I will have you and your house, and then my revenge will be complete."

Old temple ruins near the edge of the Duskwood Forest, on the border of the Western Realms, Andor.

The chirping of birds coupled with streams of sunlight finally woke Tristan. He sat up and looked around disoriented; it was well after sunrise and he had never slept in this late on the trail before.

"Graydon," he whispered, looking around. "Graydon, get up!"

Graydon groaned and rolled over and started snoring. Tristan got to his feet and arched, stretching his back before kicking at Graydon to wake him up.

"All right, I am up," Graydon replied groggily. "It is too bright to be midnight, what is going on?"

"We slept through the night," was Tristan's terse reply.

"Unmolested, apparently," he added.

"What happened?" Graydon yawned as he rose to his feet and looked around while scratching his backside.

"I do not know," Tristan replied. "I must have fallen asleep, and yet, I never fall asleep on watch."

Tristan's ears perked up as he began to hear whistling in the distance. It sounded like many mouths whistling the same tune over and over. The whistling was getting louder and louder, as if whoever was whistling was fast approaching.

"Graydon, prepare yourself!" Tristan called out as he turned toward the source of the whistling.

Two columns of beings no taller than two feet appeared out of the forest, marching in unison and, swinging their arms in time to the tune. They were dressed in forest green shirts and brown trousers in a camouflaged pattern with a brown felt hat sporting a camouflaged green feather. They had little brown camouflaged rucksacks on their backs, short swords on their hips, and all were carrying a wicked little glaive. For all of their small stature they appeared very formidable looking.

The two columns split apart and angled outward of Graydon and Tristan's position. The columns stopped, flanking the two travelers, and turned inward toward the top.

"Ready, arms!" their apparent leader barked and all of the little people swung their glaives off of their right shoulders and into a ready position, pointing at both Tristan and Graydon.

"MacGonnal, report!" the leader barked out the command.

A little folk dressed identically to the little troopers materialized out of a nearby stone column and marched, arms swinging back and forth, to the front of the twin columns of troopers and stopped, with a half-step, hop and stomp, in front of the leader. He then crisply saluted with his palm facing forward.

"Lieutenant, these two have trespassed on sacred grounds," the little folk, MacGonnel, reported. "The shorter is human and has some power, which is highly unusual given his race. The halfbreed has considerable power, from his sire. I believe it was he who tripped the wards."

"Very good," the lieutenant replied. "Dismissed."

MacGonnel saluted again, hopped, stamped, and pivoted before marching off, arms swinging back and forth. He marched right into the stone column from which he came, and faded away.

"Well, we seem to have a little problem," the Lieutenant began to explain. "My warriors have been charged with protecting these sacred grounds and you have trespassed. What should we do about that?"

"Charged by whom?" Tristan asked. "And what, or who are you, actually?"

"I am Lieutenant MacGregor, and I command Second Platoon of Bravo Company, of the First Expeditionary Brigade of Warrior Brownies."

"Warrior Brownies?" Graydon chuckled. "Warrior Brownies?"

"Is there something funny, Half-Dwarf?" MacGregor asked, menacingly.

"N-no, Lieutenant," Graydon replied, trying to get his laughter under control. "What makes this sacred ground?"

"By order of the High King, of course," MacGregor replied. "Do either of you bear a token giving you permission to pass?"

"High King?" Graydon asked, looking toward Tristan, who shrugged in reply.

"Yes, before the time of mortal kings the Five Realms were ruled by a High King," MacGregor replied. "Again I ask; do either of you bear a token allowing you to pass?"

"Ah, two celestial warriors gave us sanctuary a ways back," Tristan replied. "Is that good enough?"

"Wait, I have this," Graydon announced while pulling the amulet given to him by his mother from beneath his shirt and showing the lieutenant.

"Yes, quite," MacGregor announced coming to attention, stomping his feet, and saluting Graydon, palm forward. "Very good, you must be the candidate."

"Candidate?" Graydon and Tristan asked at the same time.

"Yes, quite so," MacGregor replied while dropping his salute. "Second Platoon, A-ten-hut!"

The warrior brownies lifted their glaives up and stamped the hafts on the ground as they came to attention.

"Be wary, Candidate, there are elves about, as well as Orc marauders," MacGregor cautioned them. "A-bout face! Forward march!"

The warrior brownies all pivoted around and began to march forward, swinging their arms back and forth as they began to whistle. MacGregor hurried forward, taking a position at the front of the column. The platoon of warrior brownies marched into the forest and disappeared.

"Now, that was very strange," Tristan remarked as he looked around. "Now what, Candidate?"

"As if I know," Graydon replied and shrugged. "Why did he caution us about elves? I thought elves were friendly?"

"As far as that goes, yes they are," Tristan replied. "We are technically on Elf lands which could be construed as trespassing. Elves do not take kindly to trespassers."

"Great, we are on some type of sacred lands, with Elves and Orcs in the area," Graydon stated. "I am some kind of candidate and for what I have no idea."

"Speaking of which, what was that amulet?" Tristan asked, pointing.

"My mother gave it to me right before she died," Graydon replied while fingering the amulet. "She received it ... she received it from The Soulsmith on the day I was conceived."

"On the day you were conceived?" Tristan asked before his eyes opened wide. "Oh! I am sorry, Graydon, I did not mean to bring up old wounds."

"It is all right, Tristan," Graydon replied and sighed. "Since we are here we might as well search the area and see if we find anything useful."

Tristan agreed and they searched together, not wanting to split up and be caught unawares. Tristan discovered a stone pathway that led to a clearing where a large circular stone platform dominated the clearing. Positioned at true north next to the platform was a small stone column, about waist high with a tabletop inset with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds in rows and columns. Tristan studied the tabletop to determine if he could remove the gemstones. He had drawn his dagger and was trying to pry out a ruby when Graydon approached.

"Tristan!" Graydon yelled in admonition.

"Fine!" Tristan replied, stopping what he was doing and sheathing his dagger. "I just thought that a few gems might come in handy later."

"If gems are so important that you would desecrate this place then I pity you," Graydon replied and reached into his jerkin.

"Here!" he exclaimed disgustedly as he threw a small bag at Tristan's feet. "Curb your greed!"

Tristan nodded, a look of shame spreading across his face as he knelt and retrieved the bag. He opened the drawstring end and turned the bag over into his cupped palm. Fifteen or so large, beautiful gemstones tumbled into his hand; diamond, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies, twinkling in the dawn light. Tristan carefully, so not to spill any, poured them back into the bag and drew the strings tight.

"Graydon, I am sorry," Tristan explained contritely, holding the bag out toward Graydon. "Please take this bag back, I do not want it."

"I accept your apology, Tristan," Graydon replied and grasped Tristan's shoulder. "Keep the bag, like you said, they may come in handy."

They resumed searching the area but did not find anything else that was noteworthy. Many of the buildings and structures had deteriorated over the years but the main pyramid shaped structure looked still intact. There were a set of stone steps set in the front side of the pyramid leading up toward the top.

"Should we go up?" Tristan asked while shielding his eyes as he looked up.

"I am not sure. I would like to know more," Graydon replied while looking around.

"Well, there is no one else here to ask," Tristan replied, taking a step up the stairs.

"I am not so sure," Graydon replied and then turned toward the column that the warrior brownie disappeared through.

"MacGonnal?!" Graydon called out.

The warrior brownie, MacGonnal, stepped out of the column and approached to where Graydon was standing.

"Candidate?" MacGonnal asked.

"MacGonnal, I called you because I have questions," Graydon replied. "Questions that I believe you have the answers to."

"Yes?"

"What is this place? Why are you calling me Candidate? Why does my amulet allow me entrance?"

"I will start with your first question; this is a sacred temple built by one of the first races on Andor, it is called 'The Temple of the Evening Light'. They were a nomadic people and this was one of several holy temples. My people, a secret sect of fey, called Warrior Brownies, were charged by the last High King of Aithen, before his fall, to protect these temple areas from desecration."

"Each temple ground has a caretaker, a warrior scout, who is responsible for ensuring that no one trespasses. The scout reports to a platoon size unit for reinforcements if needed."

"We use a glamour to protect the lands from would be pillagers. Only a very strong Adept or someone that has permission to be on the lands can even see them."

"An adept?" Tristan asked and cocked his head quizzically.

"A special type of magic user," MacGonnal replied.

"So, the amulet allowed me to see the temple and therefore gives me access to the surrounding grounds?" Graydon mused.

"Quite right. Before you ask, I do not know the reason you have been given passage."

"I am a candidate for what, exactly?"

"I cannot say," MacGonnal replied.

"You have answered my three questions and for that I thank you. Is there anything else you can add?"

"No, you must discover for yourself why you have been granted permission, but I warn you both; take more than what is your right and you will have to deal with me."

With that proclamation MacGonnal stamped his foot, saluted, pivoted around, and began marching away. He marched back into the column and disappeared.

"Not very enlightening," Tristan declared. "Although, the warning was direct and to the point."

"I agree," Graydon replied while nodding. "Up?"

"Up," Tristan replied in agreement and began to climb the steps leading to the top of the temple. Graydon shrugged and followed behind, quickly overtaking Tristan for the lead.

Central Plains, Andor.

Brother Artemis led the remaining paladins on a south-easterly course, following the devastation left behind by the black rider. Artemis determined that their quarry was most likely an anti-paladin based on the manner in which the cleric had been left to die. That revelation was disconcerting to say the very least. An anti-paladin on his own was just as powerful as any of the brothers, but this particular one wielded a sword from the very pits of Hell and could be trouble for the three of them.