Barry McGuire

July 9th - August 1, Albanus 1

Beaten, battered, and burned, the party waited for the sun to rise.  Corvina and Marius made Philipus as comfortable as possible.  Dawn revealed a tunnel of some sort high up in the cliffs of Harrans.  An odd wood pole and contraption dangled from it, which turned out to be a platform that could be lowered to the docks.  At sunrise a small boy rode down in it to ask the party's business.  Guards at the top then levered them up to the tunnel, which ran up into the Valley of Harrans.  The band was taken to the castle, past a gruesome "flag":  the flayed skin of the spy from the Temple of Lil hung from a pole on the battlements, flapping gently in the morning breeze.  The sight made their Uncle Larentius turn green.

Count Dignus was delighted to see them -- though it was difficult to tell as, like all Harrans, he seemed constitutionally incapable of smiling.  Marius delivered his mother's ashes, and the Count's first order of business was to see her interred in the family crypts.  While the rest of the band rested (and devoured platters of bacon), Marius and his uncle descended into the Harrans mausoleum, past countless grim-faced busts of dead Harrans.  The Count told his nephew that he wouldn't offer him any weak southern platitudes and puling sympathy -- but he did swear to him that his mother would be avenged.  Marius agreed, and pointed out that he, himself, intended to be part of that vengeance.  This pleased the Count (as evidenced by a faint pursing of the lips), who said he would never dream of denying him this revenge.  Once Marius performed his mother's funeral rites, the pair returned to the surface.

Back on the surface, the Count lost his momentary good humor.  Why, he asked the Surrexi, was Leyna here?  Her father was besieging his southern gates.  Did the General know his daughter was consorting with rebels?  He did, Leyna assured him.  In fact, Martialis was on their side.  After hearing about the General's true feelings, Count Harrans relented and gave an apology for his gruffness.  Then, he turned on Larentius and got surly once again.  Larentius stammered out an abject apology (with prompting), but the Count was not appeased.  Why should he let this man live?  Severus patiently explained that they needed his testimony to help clear Matina's name.  Okay, so he needed to be alive and have the use of his tongue, Dignus countered -- why did he need his extremities?  If he was maimed, Severus said, people would think he'd been forced to retract his statements.  Marius chimed in, asking if Larentius could not be sent to a temple, where he could do some good.  Reluctantly, the Count agreed to let him stay -- in Harrans itself, where he'd be safer, and where he could be watched.

The Count then passed on the news he'd received from the outside world.  Molossus, Invictus, and Benobles had sent him their full support.  His wife Aeria spoke to her brother, Count Corresanti, and found him deeply disturbed by these accusations.  He was inclined to believe them, but worried about the state of his own household.  Corresanti told his sister he did not trust his wife (who lives in Rostilla, with Severus' lady-friend Catarina), his son the general, or three of his children who were in the Mages' Tower at Rostilla.  Until he knew where his family stood, he had to be careful.  The last of the Dale-Lords, Count Olivans Nimborus, annoyed Count Harrans.  Nimborus had strong ties with the dwarven kingdom of King Morradin, which lies beneath all of Rostilla's western mountain range.  Olivans was worried about the accusations but wanted to speak to Morradin before he said more.  Harrans was vexed:  couldn't the man make up his own mind, without consulting a dwarf?  But the party pointed out that the dwarves might well have information about this conspiracy.

Count Signarum had sent Harrans a cryptic message, suggesting that he was very concerned about these rumors and that they needed to talk.  The Count didn't trust them, though;  Corresanti's flighty wife was a Signarum, and Corresanti thought she might be corrupt.  Finally, Dignus had word of one count who was definitely not trustworthy:  the count of Galens, the wealthy grain-growing county near Rostilla.  Counselor Innocens Harrans had managed to slip out of the city and was fleeing to Harrans.  Count Galens captured him, and returned him to the King.

With the work done, the party spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing.  Marius spent some time chatting about theology and studies with his grandmother, Velata, who had trained at the Golden House back when Abbess Halaessa was just a young girl.  The count also had one of his clerics heal poor Philipus.

Just before they left, Leyna cornered the Count and asked for a moment alone.  Her cousins, she said, were proud and would never ask this.  But was their any way the Count could help them?  They had not been able to take much money with them when they were forced to leave the country, and they were short on equipment and supplies.  For the first time, the corner of the Count's mouth actually did quirk into a smile.  "My mother always told me," he said, "that a woman's job was to do the sensible thing when her men were too proud or too stupid to do it themselves."  He called for vellum and a quill, and wrote a letter of credit, authorizing the Harrans merchant in Viridia to give them all of the proceeds from that year's sales.  (Later Leyna delivered this to Severus and fled before her flabbergasted cousin could squawk about how she'd sullied the family honor.)

(Click here to jump to the rest of Episode 16, by-passing last week's stuff.)

During a break in the talks with Count Dignus Harrans, his brother Sir Darius came over to greet Titus and catch up on news.  A middle-aged man, tall and beginning to grey, Darius was clearly delighted to see that his former squire was alive and doing well.  Darius casually mentioned a fact that horrified most of the party:  about half of all new paladins died in their first year.  The older knight seemed to find this depressing, but not surprising, and was simply glad that his young knight was one of the lucky ones.  The party, meanwhile, wondered if this extraordinary death rate was a result of Theodosius' plots.

Darius took them upstairs to meet his new squire, fourteen-year-old Balthasar of Talamanthus.  The boy answered the knock on his door promptly, assuring his knight he'd be ready "by the time they came."  "I doubt that," Darius snorted.  "Do you have your pants on?"  When Balthasar said yes, Darius swept the door open and ushered everyone in.  His poor squire -- who still wore his nightshirt, half-tucked into his pants -- was horribly embarassed and stood there clutching a copy of Solitus' Commentary On Sin and Volition to his chest during the introductions.  Though when Titus asked him about the book, his embarassment melted away and he chattered happily about theology and the importance of maintaining purity of thought as well as deed.  Balthasar, clearly, was a well-educated boy.  But his knight sighed that it was a constant struggle to get him to practice swordplay, and the party privately opined that he was the most effete squire they'd ever seen.  

There was a moment of awkwardness when Leyna greeted her young cousin -- but the meeting went much more smoothly than some of the previous occasions they'd met in High Hold and Talamanthus.  Primarily because Leyna resisted the urge to put her cousin in a head-lock and give him noogies, and thus Balthasar wasn't forced to bite her in self-defense.  Things were much more civilized now that they had reached the mature ages of 16 and 14 respectively.

Darius brought one piece of bad news for Lucellus.  Count Robertus Tillaford had given him a sending, disclaiming any responsibility for "the problems" with Mores.  After investigating the matter, the Count said that he had found that Mores was indeed taken for questioning after his knight was seen speaking to known traitors.  (The party disputed this chronology, insisting that Sir Pelius didn't see them until afterwards.)  He was questioned about this, found innocent, and released.  The Count had no idea what happened to him after that.  It wasn't his job to baby-sit squires if their knights fled town and abandonned them.  And if demon-worshippers had kidnapped him later, it was his knight's fault for leaving.  The accusation of negligence stung Lucellus, but the party assured him that the story was a tissue of lies.

With that, the party said their goodbyes and returned to the Skipping Stone -- where Balthasar's angelic good-looks caused a brief spate of swooning amongst the sailors.  The weather was beautiful and the ship made good time, sailing north-west towards the elven forests.  Entering the elvish lands uninvited was a death-sentence, Regulus warned them, but there was an island at the mouth of the Elesaren River where one could land.  If the elves wished to speak to you, they would send an emissary.  As the days passed, Captain Skunk-Biter talked Corvina into pulling his teeth for him.  "Got a nice set of wooden teeth here, but I ain't had my real teeth pulled.  Now's the time to do it," he said, "when we got such a shit-load of paladins on-board.  You can give me poppy, nice and proper, and I don't got to worry about no mutinies while I'm out."  Corvina agreed and, with a little help from a lay on hands, patched the captain back together.  For his part, the captain seemed very pleased with how easy this trip had been, dragons or no.

The island of Elesaren was small and ringed with tall oaks and elms.  Young birches and willows grew along the isle's bank, with irises and wildflowers scattered about.  There was a stone pier on one side, and the band took a skiff over to it (along with Lucellus, Regulus, and young Balthasar -- who weaseled permission from Sir Darius by promising to do extra sword practice).  Gaius noticed that the island was perfectly still.  No squirrels, no birds moved in the trees.  There was a faint aura of disapproval, an unwelcoming coldness to the air.  And everyone felt eyes upon them.

Regulus led the way into the woods, following a path that led to a marble table.  It would take some time for the elves to come, he warned people;  they might have to wait a day or two.  But when they came to the glade at the island's center, there was already a tall elven woman sitting there.  Clearly, they had been expected.

The elf bowed her head towards Lucellus first (and towards Ancilla, his sword).  Speaking in Lillendi, she murmured "Hail child of the Eternal Forest, first to bind her soul to the fate of mortals."  Then she straightened to gaze at the party, and switched into elvish.  "The dreams of the world grow disturbed, and the ripples wash you to our shores.  Be seated, please, and speak, that we might know what troubles the Sleeper."

The party did so, explaining about the situation in Rostilla.  The elven woman seemed unconcerned about such things;  mortals were constantly involved in foolishness.  Then they mentioned that four of the five Council Blades had been lost.  At that, an elven man stepped out of the forest and strode to the woman's seat.  "You lost them?" he snapped, blue eyes flashing with cold disdain.  "You were just given them.  How could you lose them so soon?"  "Well, it was 800 years ago," Lucellus began.  "I'm not sure I'd call that 'soon'..."

Several people pointed out that the Order wasn't entirely to blame.  There was evidence that Theodosius and the demon worshippers had been working to steal the blades.  The elf wasn't at all reconciled... until, during the talk about Theodosius, an odd accident occurred.  Severus mentioned that Theodosius had some sort of iron crown... at the same moment that Gaius asked, "What can you tell us about the Sebetu?"  This combination made both elves uneasy suddenly, though they were loathe to explain why.

The Sebetu, the woman assured them, were safe.  "She who made them, guards them still -- and will until the end of times.  We have spoken to the Watcher recently, and she assures us they are safe."  Warned by the previous "800 years = 'just now'" slip, the party pushed her for an exact date... at which point, she had to admit that the last time the elves had spoken to the Watcher was, oh, say, 150 years ago.  

A lengthy debate ensued.  The party kept insisting that there was a problem, a very big one, one that needed to be taken care of now.  The elvish woman tried to assure them that everything was alright and they had nothing to worry about.  Though, they noticed, the man seemed disturbed.  Finally the woman agreed to return to "her mother", who could speak to the Watcher and the lost Council Blades.  She summoned a beautiful black steed that appeared in a shimmer of light, and left them in the man's care.

Once she was gone, the elf introduced himself as Sandarfon, first among the elvish paladins.  The woman was Kalandariel, daughter of the Queen of the Elves (and a mere baby at only 600 years).  The party asked why he'd been waiting for them, and Sandarfon admitted that the Queen had sensed great troubles in the world -- far more than a mere cult warranted.  And he was disturbed by the news of Theodosius.  A council blade should be able to ward her wielder from almost all evils.  There was nothing he could think of that would overcome that... except one of the Sebetu.  "And if that is true," he said, glancing up at the paladins, "then I fear for your souls.  For the blades are tied to your souls when you take your oaths;  that is why you can hear their call.  If one of them is in evil hands, I do not know what that means for you."

Under questioning, Sandarfon explained that the Sebetu were the Sleeper, a demon lord who was summoned into this plane ages ago.  His body was slain in time, but nothing could be done about his soul.  "What cannot be destroyed must be bound, and warded."  Queen Loviatar of Altanis (an old name for Altania) severed the Sleeper's soul into seven parts and bound them to seven items:  the Sebetu.  Then she took an oath to watch them eternally, voluntarily foregoing the blessings of the Afterlife and becoming, in a sense, a fas though undead Watcher.

Silence fell, and in time Kalandariel returned, visibly upset.  The Watcher (Loviatar) assured her mother that all was well and that the Sebetu were all safe with her.  The Queen had then bespoken the Council Blades.  Latona (lost to the slaad lord Oromanthus) replied that she was safe, still lying by the body of her lost knight, and that none of the slaad could approach her.  Oddly, Camilla (the one that just disappeared, in Viridia) did not answer.  Sandarfon suggested that powerful warding could block sendings.  The elves were sure, however, that none of the blades had been destroyed.

The shock was Severillia, Theodosius' sword.  The Queen of the Elves could speak to her -- and when she did, Severillia screamed at her.  Full of rage and hatred, the lillendi accused the elves of tricking her into the council blade and cursed them for abusing and abandoning her.  (Showing, the party agreed, that the Council Blades could indeed fall...)

Clearly there was a problem.  The Watcher insisted the Sebetu were safe... but nothing short of a Sebetu could have wrought the corruption that enveloped Theodosius and Severillia so quickly.  (Or so the elves believed.)  None of the elves wished to think that the Watcher had become corrupt herself, but...

In the end, Sandarfon said that he would go to Loviatar's tomb and speak to her, to see if she was still pure or not.  Quickly? the party urged.  Not in 200 years?  Yes, the elf agreed.  He would go now, and bring them word in Viridistan, in a month's time, when the paladins were gathered.  Titus asked what protections he had to shield him from the corruption of the Sebetu.  Sandarfon admitted he had none -- but his comrades would watch him from a distance, and if he was tainted, those who were still clean would bring word.

As the party returned to their boat, Severus paused and asked Sandarfon if he might have one of the elf's arrows.  "Certainly.  It will stand as proof that we have spoken," the paladin replied.  Severus nodded... and didn't tell anyone that he really wanted the arrow as a love-token, a gift he could send to his lady Catarina.

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(Episode 16)

The return trip was pleasant and uneventful, and Captain Raff wished them well as he saw them off at the docks of Ardens, capitol of the barony of Ardentis in Viridia.  Titus teased him about charging for the dental work, and said he'd have to change his name now.  No more "Skunk-Biter".  He'd have to become "Captain Chops" or something like that.

They left Ardens directly, avoiding the city.  Regulus gave a quick warning about Viridian law.  The worship of Dulcea is illegal;  don't make it clear that you venerate her.  Mages are required to have a license before they can cast spells.  And be very, very wary of strange knights.  Viridian knights had much more extensive powers than Rostillan knights did, and some hedge knights abused these powers greatly.

Despite the warnings, the trip was extremely uneventful.  The party and paladins headed south, climbing gradually into the Ripuarian Hills south of the river.  The road was a splendid engineering feat:  flat stone, level, smooth, well drained, with delicate arched bridges crossing the streams and rivers.  It got a bit rattier at the first crossroad, where they chose to follow the more dilapidated road through the Ripuarian Hills rather than continuing east, through the more civilized parts of the Empire.  Hot, sunny days followed as they worked their way south through the hills, rarely passing anyone else at all.

One encounter enlivened this section of the trip.  As the band passed beneath a large pine tree, several people heard a sad cheeping sound from the branches above.  Investigating, they found a small pseudo-dragon;  clearly a hatchling.  It was terrified of Brennus, Severus' eagle familiar, which it called "Death".  To coax it down, Severus had Brennus fly above the tree.  The pseudodragon promptly plummeted down and tried to hide in Gaius' armpit.  Questioned, it said that its name was "Alive."  Gaius managed to find its nest, which contained bits and pieces of several other dead hatchlings.  Apparently Alive and his nest-mates had been attacked by an eagle;  Alive had some scars and unhealed wounds on his side.

There was also a tiny incident, which would prove to have far-reaching effects.  Privately, Titus took Leyna as his squire.  At her request he said nothing about it to anyone except her cousin Balthasar, who was startled and intrigued by the theological ramifications of the question.  The Order had never had a female knight.  On the other hand, neither Titus nor Balthasar could think of a reason why such a thing was impossible.

Several days later they came down out of the Ripuarian Hills to the Elsenwood, the great, damp, dark forest that lies at the heart of the Viridian Empire (oddly similar, in location at least, to the Dearthwood near Rostilla).  Centipedes crawled everywhere.  Alive found them delightful and would often offer to share half of one with Gaius.  None, however, were large enough to cause concern.

A couple more days of riding brought the party to the edge of the Elsenwood.  When they cleared the forest, they found themselves before a great stone wall, stretching to the east as far as the eye could see:  the wall marking the beginning of the Imperial Farmlands.  Sprawled in front of it was the town of Solisporta, home to about half of Viridia's standing army.  They spent the night in a tavern, and Leyna noticed that while there were many, many soldiers about, they seemed lax and ill-trained.

On the last day on the road, the band crossed through the Imperial Farmlands, mile after mile of quiet fields and busy peasants.  As evening approached they saw Viridistan in the distance, an enormous city perhaps four times as large as Rostilla.  Its walls were made from a lovely dark-green marble, laced with black veins.  This stone (native to this site alone) gave Viridia its nickname:  the Green Empire.

Viridistan was surrounded by swarms of guests and merchants, here for the fair.  Following the paladins, the band pushed its way into the city, to a neat, orderly inn called The Sword and the Spear.  City guards appeared to be the main clientele, though several paladins' tabards were in evidence, too.  One, Sir Tinnius, a venerable and conservative knight, came over and greeted the band.  Regulus and Lucellus received a warm welcome from him;  Titus and Darius a slightly cooler, though polite, one.  (Balthasar merited nothing more than a faint, disbelieving stare.)

The inn-keeper recognized all of the paladins in the party, and sadly informed them that there were no rooms left.  Nor did he know of any available, this late before the fair.  All he could offer was "the Squire's Bedroom" (a euphemism for the haylofts above the stables).  Would this do?  No it most certainly would not, Severus snapped.  Regulus wearily tried to explain that there would be no rooms the night before the fair.  Tinnius interrupted.  Was Severus noble-born, he asked?  Severus angrily introduced himself as Count Severus Surrexus and said he would not make himself the laughing stock of the city by sleeping in a hayloft.  On hearing his title, Tinnius blinked and smoothly offered the Count his own room.  (He also switched into lillendi and snapped at Regulus -- how could he be so foolish as to imply that a nobleman sleep in the barn?  Regulus stammered out an apology and blamed his fatigue.)  Severus accepted the offer, whereupon Tinnius called another knight over and told him there were two noblewomen who required a room.  The knight, one of Tinnius' former squires, cheerfully volunteered his own.  And so, despite the lateness of the hour, the party found themselves with rooms for everyone except Titus, who joined the other paladins in the Squire's Bedroom.

Titus, meanwhile, was busy scanning the inn for signs of evil.  He found none from within... but spotted a momentary shadow flickering across his own party.  So faint was it, that it disappeared when he tried to look at it directly.  But by waiting and watching, he determined that the darkness centered on Sir Regulus.  As Lucellus and Tinnius stepped out to speak privately, Titus pulled Darius aside and warned him about what he'd seen.  He then explained to Regulus, who was quite shocked.  But when questioned, he admitted that he'd been feeling snappish and surly for several weeks -- especially around Lucellus.  And yes, he'd been having dreams... dreams about arguing with Lucellus.  Regulus made plans to visit the Temples in Viridia and see if the priests had any advice on how he could protect himself.

Lucellus emerged from his talk with Tinnius, grim-faced.  Pontifex Orosius of Legis, he snarled, had had the audacity to charge Tinnius for sending to Mores.  Lucellus recommended that people deal with Pontifex Caelum of Askelius instead.  Caelum had done three more sendings to the boy.  On the first, he was incoherant, babbling about his pain.  He didn't answer the second sending.  By the third he was lucid and told Caelum he was being held in a castle, overlooking a broad plain.  But his thoughts were oddly stilted, and Caelum suspected that he had been forced to answer (through a spell like domination).  "It's a trap, then," Corvina said, "since they're giving you information on how to find them."  Lucellus agreed sadly.  "But what do you do when you know it's a trap... but you can't give up on the bait?"  "You take allies," Leyna replied.  "After the Council, take your brothers with you and ride on Theodosius."  Lucellus blinked, then for the first time in weeks he broke into a bright, sunny smile.  "By the gods, you're right!  There's no need for me to do this alone."

One last discussion closed the evening.  Titus pulled Darius and Regulus aside and informed them that he had taken Leyna as his squire.  Both knights were stunned;  Regulus, appalled.  Women couldn't be knights.  It would be indecent for a man to wander the countryside with a young girl.  Or, worse, a teenaged woman!  He had to admit that there were no laws preventing such a thing.  But dear gods all common sense said it was a terrible, terrible idea.  Darius wasn't quite so horrified, though he did beg Titus not to mention this until the Gods had actually blessed Leyna.  The Order would rage against a female squire;  however if the Gods actually blessed Leyna, there was little anyone could say.  Perhaps, some thought, Darius prayed that the Gods would squelch this foolishness by withholding their blessings.  Whatever the case, he refused to try to dissuade Titus.  His former squire was now a knight and his peer.  Besides, he admitted with a lop-sided grin, Harrans had a long history of damned mean women.  Quite a few of them would probably have made good knights.