That night after dinner, Rain bursts into the barracks screaming, “Assassins! Brotherhood Assassins in the Palace! Protect the Prince!” over and over. She is still dressed in the red cloak and white clothes from the aborted knighting ceremony, but she now has a heavy steel shield in her left hand, and a rapier (not her own) in her right. She is also girt with a dagger and a shortbow and quiver is slung on her back.

Apone and the rest of the squad are awakened by the alarm coming from the palace which began just before Rain burst into the barracks. A very startled Newt wheels around from her place by the window, and nearby resting on an empty cot, one that used to belong to Noch in fact, is Drago. Aramek is nowhere in sight.

“Rain! What’s all this!? How are you out of the dungeons?” barks Sgt. Apone.

Drago jumps out of bed at the noise and immediately assumes a defensive posture in front of Newt. A low hissing growl can be heard from him as he assesses the scene.

Rain immediately goes for her chest and starts pulling out armor, weapons and pouch. She yells “Brotherhood Assassins come up thru the Dungeons, I let myself out and followed them up into the Keep. Get the commander NOW! The Prince is in danger!” (This last part, Rain musters every bit of her command voice.) As she says this she rips off the red cloak and dons her studded leather jacket. She then straps her weapons belts on, yelling “TO ARMS! Brotherhood Assassins in the Keep! Protect the Prince. Get the HELLS UP NOW!”

She double checks by feel that her potions are in their pouch and is ready to bolt back out to the Palace.

Sergeant Apone’s eyes grow wide then he starts barking out orders, “You heard the lady! To arms! Sound the horns of alarm!”

Without another second of hesitation, all the Guard present begin throwing on their armor and strapping on their arms.

At this, Drago looks at Newt, then grunts at her as he motions toward Rain and says, “Let’s go.”

“It’s okay, Drago. Nobody is attacking me,” sighs Newt as she moves around him to get her leather on.

Drago is wearing only his green scales and does not bother with weapons.

While hastily donning her armor Rain yells, “There were assassins and goblins laying wait in the grand foyer, their bolts have drow sleep poison, beware!”

Lowering her voice to a normal pitch she says to Drago “Drago, do you have any protective magic you can spare for me?”

“Protective magic?” Clearly the notion hadn’t occurred to him before as he says, “I don’t think so….”

Rain chuckles at Drago’s response. She says in draconic “Drago, you are with me. Newt stay behind me at all times. Lets go!”

Drago blinks and loudly roars his agreement.

Newt giggles as they go, “But he can whisper sweet nothings in your ear from a long way off! Hehee!”

“Okay, I’ve got your back.” Newt quips, “Gotta keep you alive or we’ll never clear your name at the trial.”

Sir Bodwyn and Commander Gorman, unarmored but with their swords and shields in hand, come running into the room from their officer’s quarters on the upper levels of the barracks. Commander Gorman is clearly startled to see Rain and is about to say something when Sir Bodwyn cuts him off. “No time for that. What the situation Sergeant?”

Sergeant Apone quickly relays to Sir Bodwyn what Rain told him. “That’s good enough for me, we can sort out the details later,” Sir Bodwyn responds. “Guard, to the palace! For the Lion Throne!” he shouts.

Newt jumps up and starts putting on her leather armor, then grabs her weapons. She tries to be fast, but she just looks clumsy compared to Rain.

Through all the chaos, Rain takes two seconds to smile at Newt assuringly.

From inside the palace a voice can be heard crying out, “Just a moment! Just a moment!” They hear the bar being withdrawn and then the double doors swing open to reveal several younger knights and commanding them the bearish form of an older knight with a salt and pepper beard and two pieces of glass on a wire frame perched on his nose. His sword and shield are in hand, but otherwise the knight is dressed only in a nightgown and nightcap. It is Sir Godric, the valiant and noble knight of Heironeous whose cheerful demeanor long ago earned him the sobriquet: the Gay Cavalier.

“Sir Bodwyn, come in quickly! There has been an attack! We are not sure by who or what. The guards in the foyer are dead and we’re already sending patrols through the halls to…”

Bodwyn interrupts him, “It’s the Scarlet Brotherhood, or so I’ve been told. They are trying to get to the Prince again. We’ll head up to his quarters immediately! You continue conducting a sweep of the palace
with the night shift.”

Bodwyn leads the Guard through the grand foyer to the central stairs, splitting the squads so that both stairwells will be covered. “Rain, you come with me, don’t leave my side,” Bodwyn orders. Drago and Newt likewise stick close by Bodwyn and Rain.

Rain does as she is told and sticks close to Sir Bodwyn.

When Bodwyn and the Guard reach the third floor they find, Ragnbjorn, Fingol, Wat, and a knight named Hubard in the hall talking with Sedara at the open door to the Prince’s chambers. The Prince and several of the ladies-in-waiting are safe within.

“It seems a catastrophe has been avoided,” Sedara says to Bodwyn. She looks past him and sees Rain, and for a moment a flood of relief can be seen in her eyes but she covers it up quickly. “Isn’t Rain supposed
to be in the dungeons?”

“She was milady,” respond Bodwyn. “The Scarlet Brotherhood came up through the dungeons somehow. Rain says she got out in order to warn us. Sir Godric has taken charge down below and is having the palace swept to flush out the assassins.

Ragnbjorn says, “Fingol and I took care of four of them, two were goblins actually, on the second floor stairwell. They were coming down from this level. There are four dead guards back that way, two on the third floor and two on the second.

Hubard then speaks up, “Yes, we ran into three human assassins and one goblin also. They blinded Father Wat and I with a flash pellet and disappeared. They were heading back to the first floor, probably to get out through whatever way they used to get in. I am deeply sorry Commander Bodwyn that we were not able to stop them.”

Bodwyn turns to Rain, “There is much we need to speak to you about. You said the assassins came from the dungeons. Can you show us where?”

Rain casually takes out the set of dungeon keys from her pocket and hands them to Bodwyn as she replies in an even tone, “Yes, I can show you exactly where they entered the dungeons. They came by my cell to gloat, being that their leader is my brother Niccolo.”

“I knew it!” Fingol blurts out before he can stop himself, then covers his mouth.

Rain looks over at Fingol and barely smirks. She then takes off her weapons belts and hands them over to Bodwyn as he continues to ask her questions.

“Thank you,” says Bodwyn, “You have saved me the awkwardness of having
to ask.” He hands Rain’s weapons over to Sgt. Apone.

“Where is Niccolo now?” Newt asks. “Did he escape? And what of the knight that brought him to the ceremony?”

“He probably made his way down to the dungeons and outside the keep,” answers Rain.

“Prince Prospero,” Fingol says while bowing, “haven’t we learned enough to know what to do about these charges against Rain? Let her keep her weapons. We have need of her help in making this keep safe again.”

Rain interrupts, “No Sir Fingol, I have not been acquitted yet. This process must complete before I can truly be free in the eyes of the Lion Throne. I am fine, do not worry.” She ends this with a smile directed solely at Fingol.

Father Wat says, “Rain’s shout certainly alerted us to the attack. For that I am thankful.”

“But I think we may be thinking too small: either the Brotherhood sent in Niccolo early to assess the grounds, and we have pushed them back and need to secure the dungeon access… or the Cuthbertians are in on a coup. So outside this palace we will either find the Brotherhood fleeing, or the Cuthbertians ruling the streets and our brethren in trouble out there.”

Father Wat grimaces, “Or maybe I am too paranoid all of a sudden and we just need to secure the dungeon… ”

He sighs, “But I would like to get an update on what is happening outside, and if the Cuthbertians are okay… or not… ”

Fingol responds, “It’s my suspicion that Brother Burne would make a deal with Brotherhood in order to preserve his beloved law & order.” Fingol growls, “He wouldn’t care how many people had to die to save the town. If you are of a mind to venture out, I’ll stand by you. Let’s see how far this villainy reaches.”

Rain adds, “My understanding is that Brother Burne was a stooge in this assault. Regardless of my feelings for the man, I doubt he consciously is in league with the Brotherhood.”

Fingol shrugs clearly unconvinced but not wanting to contradict Rain.

Newt asks, “Why do you think this Burne is not involved? He seems in perfect position to be involved, with a small army of cudgels to enforce his will.” It seems there are some ‘nobles’ for whom Newt doesn’t have a full measure of respect.

Rain lowers her voice directed to Newt, though everyone around can still hear, “Being a complete jerk is one thing. Conspiring with an evil empire against the Lion Throne is quite another.”

Father Wat responds, “True! That is why I would love see the streets to kill of my nagging doubts… I will have to do a lot of work towards forgiveness of the Cuthbertians around here if it is just the Brotherhood we are after.

“Either way we need to keep the Prince safe and secure the dungeons. Sir Ragnbjorn, how shall we proceed?”

Drago wags his tail and nods his head in agreement, but he says nothing as he looks from the Prince to Ragnbjorn.

Well, Newt is not at all convinced, but she can see when she’s outnumbered and outranked. She gives up the argument, but in a bit of a pout, she crosses her arms and remains silent.

In the presence of so many knights and members of the guard, Sedara retreats back into the Prince’s room to rejoin the ladies-in-waiting, who have all put down their knitting needles. The Prince comes forward and says, “Rain, your actions and words fill me with great confidence in you. It is very noble of you to give Brother Burne the benefit of the doubt.”

The Prince turns to Newt, “Brother Burne is not, however, in charge of the knights of St. Cuthbert, nor the Church, nor even the militia. That would be Father Cuthmond. Bodwyn, hurry and let Rain show you where the assassins got in and secure the dungeons. For now, Rain will have to be restored to her cell, but you may leave the door open and provide her with a guard – for her safety. Newt and Drago may stay with her if they wish.”

“Yes, your Highness. Thank you for clarifying.” Newt then remains silent again, but this time due to embarrassment.

The Prince then turns to Ragnbjorn, Fingol, Wat, and Hubard. “The four of you go down to the Church of St. Cuthbert. Ask Sir Godric to send with you as many of his paladins as he can spare from the castle sweep. When you get there, ask to see Father Cuthmond and tell him what has happened. Bring Brother Burne back here. Niccolo is supposed to be there as well, but I suspect he is no longer, but arrest him and bring him back if by any chance he is there. Here take my seal with you. Hurry now!”

Rain nod-bows to Prospero, then begins to lead Bodwyn down to the dungeons and the secret breach.

When Rain returns to the dungeon, Newt goes along. In addition to supporting her friend Rain, Newt is curious to see a real dungeon.

Drago follows Rain and Newt into the dungeons to spend the night. He’s a little nervous at the prospect but tries not to show it.

“Do you think divination spells or other magical detection would help find other tunnels or secret entrances?” Newt seems not to hold on to negative emotion for long. “I think that would be a good idea—searching by those means, all over the keep, top to bottom.”

Newt makes note of the route to the dungeon, still thinking about secret passageways and humming a pleasant little melody as they go.

“Very good thinking,” says Bodwyn as they head back down into the dungeons. “We’ll have the court wizards give the whole place a sweep in the morning. They won’t be able to do it until they’ve had time to prepare their spells, but we’ll let them know to get ready for it.”

In the dungeons they find the two corpses of the guards, and also the corpses of the three goblins with shortbow arrows in them. One of them obviously shot in the back as he was running away from Rain’s cell. All three of the goblins are dressed head to toe in loose fitting dark maroon robes, like the human Scarlet Brotherhood assassins. They each have hand crossbows sized for them, and are girt with shortswords and daggers, also sized appropriately. With their gangling limbs and over sized heads, they would almost be cute if not for their beady red eyes and huge maws filled with needle sharp teeth.

The first two seem to have been shot right in front of Rain’s cell. One has an arrow in both eyes (in one and out the other) and from his position he seems to have been facing the cell. The other has an arrow in his heart and seems to have been facing back down the hall into the shadowy corner that leads deeper into the dungeons. The one shot in the back was running away from the cell in the other direction towards the palace. All three of them had taken off their hoods (the assassin hoods that cover all but their eyes).

A bloody crossbow bolt lays near the cell door. Another bolt will be found down the passage at the turn to the lower depths of the dungeon. Within Rain’s cells are three crossbow bolts. One stuck in the wall at head level by the cot, one on the floor by the cot, and a third stuck in the frame of the cot.

The dead guards back by the entrance were struck with the small bolts and also stabbed with swords (in the back).

Bodwyn surveys the scene and then says to Rain, “When you got out you didn’t by any chance secure a shortbow did you?”

Rain does not hesitate in her reply to Bodwyn and Apone, “The assassins were noticed and followed by a kid I used to run with who knows I am in here. He killed these three goblins who were gaurding me, then I let myself out. As he had been shot by a crossbow I made him leave. He gave me his weapons and I followed the assassins up to raise the alarm.”

At a dead end much farther down in the reaches of the dungeons, Rain reveals the false wall. Beyond it is a cramped tunnel leading down into the town. Bodwyn assigns knights to guard it until they can get some paladins down to lead a more thorough investigation.

“We can’t go charging in there now,” Bodwyn says as he closes the false wall again. “It may be trapped and they might also have an ambush prepared. No use running into that. We’ll send mages and paladins down there as soon as we can and get it secured. Good work Rain. Now, however, I must escort you back… Odric!”

Bodwyn quickly commands Apone and his squad to guard the secret door, then with Rain, Newt, Drago, and a couple of other knights who had come down with them he hustles back up in the passage and stops before another cell door. Within is Odric sitting cross legged on his cot staring at an assassin’s shortsword lying in the middle of his cell. The knights draw their swords as Bodwyn fumbles for the correct key.

Odric looks up and says calmly, “Brother Niccolo’s plans did not go as he wished, but he had the consideration to leave me this blade to salvage my honor. I had truly hoped to find something better among you, but after observing the carnage that you consider justice I see that the Lion Throne is no more than the other side of the same false coin. Farewell to you all.”

Just as Bodwyn finds the key and turns the lock, Odric swiftly reaches out for the blade and then impales himself upon it. The blade sinks into his heart and out of his backside. He sighs out his last breath even as Bodwyn runs to his side.

Newt’s eyes go wide, and for the second time that day she screams and reels back against Drago, her whole body quivering and twitching. Newt is overcome by waves of convulsive sobbing. It will be some
time before she can even speak as she is wracked with sorrow.

Drago catches Newt and lifts her small body into his arms again.

As it dawns on Rain what is about to happen she lunges towards Odric’s cell “No!…”, but it is too late. Stunned that he took his own life it is moments before she realizes what is happening with Newt. Standing next to her, she wraps an arm around Newt’s shoulder in comfort. Quietly she says to nobody “What a waste, if he only knew the truth.”

After a minute she sobers herself and quietly says to Apone “I am ready to go back to my cell now, would you please escort me?”

When Rain is ready, Drago follows her into the cell, lays Newt upon the cot and strokes her forehead. It is quite a sight to watch the back of Drago’s green scaly claws comfort his little pet ape.

Rain sits in a corner of the cell, knees pulled up to her chest and head down against her knees. She is not sleeping, but has not said anything since entering her cell.

After awhile, Sedara comes down to the cell to check on Newt, obviously concerned that for the second time that day Newt had fallen into a swoon.

When Sedara enters, Rain looks up but otherwise does not move.

“I’m sorry…” sobs Newt between gasps for air. “I just can’t help it. It’s so sad. And it’s my fault! I may as well have been the one to thrust that sword into him.

Newt calms herself, focusing on her recent resolution to be able to handle what she’s just been through. “People really can have their lives flash before them, and I saw his (she indicates Odric) right up to its end. All of it.

“When do we leave to find Thracia? Elias told him that he saw my parents before they were taken away. They were worried about me! When can we go help them?

Thinking at the cooling corpse Newt almost breaks into sobs again, but stops herself. “He almost made it. But for seeing the executions and but for me… he might have made friends and had a good life, with love and warmth. His was so cold and sad.” She looks at Sedara as she continues “The Scarlet Brotherhood is evil. They trick their own people, stifling what they could be—and I can’t tell if they truly believe in what they are doing or if they are just preserving their own power. Odric was looking for something better. He thought he may have found it until he saw the executions. We have to stop those or he’s right—we’re no better than the Brotherhood.

A few more sniffs pass, then, “It was Father Wat that started Odric the right way. It was his kindness that made Odric look to Keoland for a better way to live. Good Father Wat. Then I turned everything upside down. I couldn’t see it all, not then. He wasn’t planning treachery. He was only making plans in case we attacked him.” Newt can’t help crying again as she remembers. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know! But I turned us all against him by denouncing him when I didn’t have all the information. And he’s dead because of it. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.” Her voice tapers off.

After a few more moments, in a soft, more even voice, Newt asks, “Lady Sedara, what can be done to stop Brotherhood?”

As Newt talks about Odric and the executions, Rain catches Sedara’s eyes with her own which show forming tears and pain.

Sedara sighs heavily. “We have all made very serious errors. It would seem that none of us are without sin, not a one of us,” she says sadly. “Rain, please tell them what I told you about the executions. These lies must end.”

Rain responds, “The executions are only a ruse to cull the people. The Cudgels wanted to bring back old time executions, like we have seen, and the Heironians fought against it wanting more civil punishments for crimes commited. In the end what has been done is that quick and merciful executions are performed in private for crimes deserving those punishments. The more cruel public exections are only illusions. They are a compromise between the Cudgels and Heironians. One I fear has done more damage than was anticipated… as we have seen here.”

Newt recoils at the thought. “Cull people? That’s terrible! Why would that be necessary, as a ruse or otherwise?” Though still recovering from the recent experience, her mood has changed from one of sadness to one more of anger at the unreasonable mistreatment of people.

Rain looks up and sobers a bit. “Sorry Newt, I meant to say lull.” She almost smiles. “While I am sure the Cuthberts would love nothing more, there is no way the Heironians would put up with that. I believe the attempt to be an honest one… but neither group fully thought out the consequences. Groups of Olmans are fleeing the perceived new governmental regime and forming bandit camps outside the city walls. I fear we have created at least as many problems as we were trying to fix.”

Drago thinks about all that wasted meat. Having less humans in the world is not such a bad thing if life in Westkeep is representative of human kind, but he’s still confused. “How can you kill someone in public and call it an illusion,” he says in Keolandish.

Sedara responds, “The arsonists, murderers, and rapists would also face execution even in Keoland, but they would be hung in a way that would instantly snap their necks, so as not to prolong their suffering. The old legal code of the Sea Princes was much more brutal, and the Cuthbertians argued that the people of Westkeep would continue to mistakenly believe that we were too soft unless we reinstituted the old code and restored their fear of the law. As I explained to Rain before, the Heironeans would not put up with that, so the Prince ruled that the following expedient would be used: those prisoners guilty of capital crimes would be executed swiftly and as painlessly as possible, but court illusionists would use their magic to make it appear to the crowds as though a more brutal execution were happening, when actually all that was on stage were the corpses of those already put to death.”

Drago nods his head as he takes in Sedara’s words, then mutters, “Iluziighu,” as he visualizes himself as a dead Olman. Immediately his features change from those of a lizardfolk warrior to those of an Olman covered in blood and bruises, and hideous burns. Drago falls to the ground, looking dead.

“Ew!” Newt crawls farther back on the cot, away from the ‘corpse.’ She’s sure it’s not real but not sure what Drago is up to.

Willing himself to look normal again, Drago sits up and says, “Sorry Newt. Illusions can be compelling.”

Newt relaxes and scoots back to the edge of the cot. “It’s… it’s okay. I just wasn’t ready for something like that. It’s been a rough evening, and I’m not feeling myself right now.”

Drago tries to comfort Newt with a scaley paw on her knee. Looking back at Lady Sedara, Drago cocks his head, “All is illusion?”

“Yes,” Sedara says, “it was all an illusion. Nothing more than an expedient means to implement the harshness of the Cuthbertian recommendations to deter the people of Westkeep from further riots, without having to actually do anything that would force the Heironeans to quit the city in protest. It made neither side happy and in the end has only made the Lion Throne seem no better than the Scarlet Sign.”

Later in the morning, Sedara comes down to Rain’s cell and sends Newt and Drago up to the palace to get dinner. She assures them that good food will be brought down to Rain momentarily but first she must speak with her privately. She also tells them that the Marinus brothers have returned safetly to Westkeep with Joia’s family, and that Joia herself was already safe in the palace.

Rain smiles at this news.

“Yes, milady. And thank you. I wasn’t sure when Rain would get something to eat.” Newt goes to dinner, finally a bit hungry. She is still unclear about who Joia is, but she can wait to find out.

Drago silently follows Newt to morning dinner, although his stomach is audibly calling out for food as he goes.

Finally the hour arrives, the three candidates (Apone, Rain, and Aramek dressed in brown shoes, black hose, white tunics, and red cloaks – Rain bears her rapier, Apone a longsword, and Aramek his wand) are led into the great hall, which is now festooned with banners and most especially the lion rampant of the Kingdom of Keoland. Apone’s former squad is present in their masterwork armor and clad in their dress uniforms. Around the hall are many knights in full armor, among them Fingol and the Marinus brothers. Rain notes that their gear is shiny and spit-polished. Also gathered in orderly ranks are the courtiers, maids-in-waiting, and court functionaries who are off duty.

Newt is there, dressed in her court clothes, trying to be as fancy as possible. She carries just a dagger, mostly on Rain’s advice, although she doesn’t like it, as she anticipates no trouble.

As ever, Drago is by Newt’s side, this time dressed in only a loincloth, his green scales alone as his raiment.

Father Wat is also fully armed and armored and standing with the other priests and paladins of Heironeous.

Aramek sees that Parwyn and Gwen are there as well, among other members of various Guilds who have been allowed to come to the ceremony.

Horns sound the entrance of the Prince, who enters the court in shining mail, with a blue gold trimmed cloak, a longsword at his side, and in his right hand he holds his scepter of office.

The herald then announces, “His Highness calls forth Sir Gorman Goodhope and Sir Bodwyn Thurstand. Sir Gorman Goodhope, with the permission of his superior Sir Bodwyn Thurstand, begs the boon of elevating these three members of his squad to the chivalric order. His Highness should by tradition have the herald call forth the order of chivalry, and seek their advice on the matter, and if everyone is of like mind.

“Do so,” says the Prince.

The herald cries out to the assembly, “May all knights or peers who wish to give testimony regarding the candidates step forward and be recognized.”

GM: At this point Fingol, Wat, Indranil, and/or Lorindel are all eligible among the PCs to step forward and await the Prince’s questions. Drago, and Newt are not eligible – and in fact are segregated from the knights and peers (higher nobles) with Parwn, Gwen, and other wealthy and important commoners who are present.

When all who have stepped forward have done so, the Prince asks, “Sir Gorman, are the candidates free to take the oath and accept the responsibilities of knighthood?”

Sir Gorman responds, “They are Your Highness.”

The Prince then asks the others who have stepped forward, “What would you share with the court regarding these candidates?”

Fingol gives the following testimony, “I stand here in support of the candidates. Each has done more than their duty at all times and shown such conduct as befits their rank and commission. Each has advanced the mission assigned to us by your lordship even at peril to their own lives. Each has saved lives at the risk of their own.”

Indranil then says, “Each candidate without regard to their own personal safety or reward accomplished the mission given to them at great peril and by their actions have shown themselves to be true nobles. I can think of no finer people to be raised to the chivalric order.”

Just then, the doors to the great hall swing open and Brother Burne, wearing a breastplate and with a battleaxe at his side, comes in dragging with him a man in muddy homespun. The stranger has a dark brown cloak with the cowl drawn around his face.

“Your Highness, please pardon this abrupt interruption, but this is a matter of grave urgency! There is one in this hall who is not what she presents herself to be!” Burne shoves the stranger in front of him. “And this man can tell you the truth of it!”

Fingol and the Marinus brothers can see that this is the man they saw at the Church of St. Cuthbert the day before. As he lowers his cowl they immediately realize why his hair and build struck them as familiar. The hair, eyes, and other features are Rain’s – if Rain were a slightly older male.

The Prince points his scepter at the stranger and says in a tone of stately indignation, “Who are you and what is so important that it cannot wait?”

“I am Niccolo of Greenleaf village,” the man answers and then points at Rain, “And she is my sister Cassi. Before you grant her knighthood you must know that I accuse her before this court of the murder of our
father!”

Pandemonium breaks loose among the court, as the peers, knights, and guild members all begin shouting and murmuring at once.

“By the gods!”

“…such wild accusations…”

“What comes of elevating such rabble…”

“…background checks anymore?”

“…poor judgment it would seem…”

Newt cries out. She falls to her knees with her head in her hand, howling and sobbing.

Swiftly Drago catches hold of Newt before she falls over and then lifts her up in both arms and begins moving her away from the crowd to the door.

The Prince cries out, “Enough! Silence!” His scepter of office slams down repeatedly upon his throne. He rises up from the throne as the murmurs die away as all eyes turn towards him.

“There will be an inquiry into the truth of this matter! Brother Burne, take this Niccolo of Greenleaf back to your Church and hold him there. He will present his case on the morning of the day after tomorrow. If he is not here, then you, Brother Burne, will answer to me. Now begone, the both of you!”

The Prince turns to Rain, “Rain, I am sorry, but for now you will have to be taken into custody under the truth of this matter is known. Sir Bodwyn, take her below to the dungeons. Sir Jankin, Sir Wakelin, go with him.

“Aramek, Apone, I am deeply sorry, but we will have to postpone your knighting. It would not be proper to complete it under the circumstances. After this matter has been resolved we will begin again, and ensure that there will be no unseemply disruptions.

“Sir Ragnbjorn, Sir Fingol, Sir Indranil, and Sir Lorindel, Apone, and Aramek, please meet me in my solar in an hour. Court is adjourned.” With that the Prince strides forth from the great hall.

As soon as the Prince exits the great hall through one of the side doors near the throne, Burne and Niccolo hastily leave through the main door. Bodwyn, Jankin and Wakelin in his wake with their hands on their swords, takes Rain by the arm and gently steers her out of the room through another side exit. Ragnbjorn immediately gathers together his son and the Marinus brothers. Lady Sedara cuts through the crowd to where Drago is still holding Newt in his arms, and she motions for them to follow her. The peers, knights, and guilds men begin to disperse, their murmuring rising again to fill the chamber.

Parwn and Gwen stay behind, making their way to Aramek. Parwn puts hand on Aramek’s shoulder, “I am so sorry Aramek. This was… I don’t even know what to say.”

At the chapel of Heironeous, Newt begins to revive. Sedara has Drago set her down on one of the pews.

“Please leave us,” Sedara says to Drago and Wat. “I would speak with her privately. Perhaps you could go out into the corridor and make sure no one enters the chapel except of course Paragon Muire?”

After the fiasco, Newt doesn’t have much appetite. She skips the meal and waits in the barracks (this time she wants to be where the others can find her if they need to), nervous about being near too many people–especially those that may have seen her collapse.

From an awkward silence she says to Drago “Thank you for carrying me out of there. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t helped me.”

Drago wags his tail, “Did you and Lady Sedara figure out what happened?”

“We did.” Newt looks around, making sure nobody else will hear what she’s about to say. In Draconic she says “Rain killed him, but there were reasons.”

Unsure if they should be talking about Rain’s case even among themselves, Newt changes the subject. In common she says (with a bit of a smile in her voice) “So now we’re even, right?”

Drago barks with laughter. “Ah, my little hatchling, I believe our fates will be entwined for a long time to come.”

With a slight smile Newt sighs, “Yeah. I kinda thought so.”

“Well, you’d better go get something to eat while you still can. Don’t worry–I’ll be good while you’re away.”

Drago grunts his agreement and leaves the barracks.

At dinner Drago finds the nobles very subdued. Burne and many other Cuthbertians have chosen to dine at their Church. Sitting nearby are Fingol, Ragnbjorn, and Wat.

Father Wat seems calm at dinner, as if nothing untoward has happened; or as if all things will work out as they should in the end.

Drago bobs his head in respect for the human nobles and takes a seat by his friends. “Any word on our friend Rain’s fate yet?”

“I’m very sorry,” Fingol apologizes “but the less said about that, the better. At least for right now. I don’t know very much about what is going on. What I do know makes me think that anything that is said might hurt Rain’s chances of clearing her good name. I do know she is being kept well and wants for nothing but her freedom.”

Drago grunts his thankful agreement as he looks around the table to see what kind of meats are being served for the evening meal.

Father Wat comments, “I am glad that Rain is being taken care of appropriately. It is unfortunate that such a thing had to happen during the ceremony.”

Fingol replies, “I don’t see why it had to happen at all.”

Slurping on a leg of lamb, Drago says, “Seeds sprout, grow and fruit in their own time.”

Father Wat pauses and tries to assess Drago’s comment. Then he says, “Sir Fingol, do you mean, ‘You don’t know why her brother had to come here at this time to make sure a claim?’ or do you mean, ‘Why would she have to kill her own father in the first place, if she did so.’”

Fin responds, “You’ve got an unfailing sense of charm, don’t you Father Wat?”

Father Wat frowns slightly, “What, am I supposed to get all righteous in indignation – so much so that I cast my family’s honor and my career onto Rain, a young lady I have just met? Sir Indranil thinks it is a good idea. But he is impetuous. And possibly misguided, since we have no clue what all the facts are in this case.

“Should I stand up and declare I believe the girl, regardless of what the facts might be?

“Or are you telling me you were there. You saw who actually killed her father? Or maybe you have spoken with Rain’s father recently and can prove the brother lies? Or maybe you watched the Cuthbertians beat up the brother until he would say anything to anyone?

“Here is where my charms come from: I believe my god will see justice done AND I am humble enough to know I don’t know all the details yet. I have no need of Sir Indranil’s righteous and foolhardy statements. I don’t need to declare my belief in the brother’s story, nor Rain’s. All because my god, not me, will divine the truth of the situation.

“So I sit here eating and praying that Rain is being kept well, and that the truth will come out. And if Rain did kill her father, and no just cause if found, I will pray her punishment will be swift and painless. And if she is found to have cause, I will do whatever I can to help her move past that to heal and stay as good a person as she now seems to be.

“But I certainly won’t sit around thinking that looking into an allegation of murder is ever a bad thing – I will just sit around HOPING the allegations are wrong, because I like Rain.”

Fingol replies, “I’m glad you are hoping for justice. I hope the same because I think that when it is done Rain will be vindicated.

“I don’t ask you to do anything other than what is in your heart. If you do not know Rain well enough to vouch for her, then don’t. Frankly, it never occurred to me that you should. You simply didn’t have the opportunity to know the woman Rain has become, despite her past. So do as you will, but I find your question impertinent at a time when a life hangs in the balance. Forgive me if I am a bit anxious as a result. Perhaps that is why Sir Indranil is behaving so impetuously. Although frankly, there is no gray in his world. So standing on the sidelines might be unforgivable to him.”

When Aramek finishes his nap, Drago walks up to him and asks, “Master Sorcerer, what might be the power word to disguise myself?”

Aramek gets a thoughtful look and says, “Master Drago, since you are only now discovering your powers, it will be necessary for us to have a more lengthy conversation at some point, but in the mean time, I will give you some simple invocations. It’s important that you learn to control them, which means meditation and resolution. To disguise oneself, say quietly but firmly to yourself: Iluziighu [iluziiĝu], which literally means to become an illusion.

"Thank you gracious Master." Wondering if it works, Drago repeats the magic word and wonders what might happen.

Drago appears as the tall blond haired blue eyed man that he appeared to be at the gate the day before.

Aramek smiles, and claps Drago on the shoulder. “Well done, sir, well done indeed! You do seem to have a natural aptitude for spellwork.”

Looking mostly at Adelina as he begins to speak, “Master Sorcerer, when we were all playing in the river by the outpost, another strange thing happened. Lady Newt here told me that somehow I sent her a message on the wind. I didn’t realize it and I didn’t even hear it, but when I got out of the river, Chief Rahk stopped me on the bank.”

Drago stops, takes a breath, and looks from one to another. “He told me that long ago a copper colored reptile lived with our people and he had hatchlings. Ever since then, his descendants occasionally and spontaneously are gifted with magic. He said the village elders believe my ancestor Kopep was a copper dragon.

“Master Sorcerer, what might be the power word for sending a message on the wind?”

“Keep in mind,” Aramek begins, “that this spell has limited distance, for you about 100′ and you must be able to point at the person you wish to communicate with. They will also be able to respond back to you.

“So, you will look at the targeted person, point your finger, err claw, at the person and then whisper: Sendu Mesaghon [Sendu Mesaĝon] — then you can begin your message. The ability, once you invoke it, will last about 10 minutes. For now you will only be able to target one person per spell, but as you learn, you’ll be able to send messages to more and more people simultaneously.”

Also, after Aramek teaches this spell to Drago they will notice that Newt has left the room. I am going to assume that the conversation actually takes longer than what is presented above and that she is gone at least 5 minutes. She slipped out shortly after Drago began explaining about sending a message to her.

In a playful mood, blond Drago points his human finger at a scrawny human at the far end of the barracks and whispers, “Sendu Mesaghon — Hey there big guy….”

As expected, the member of the Guard is quite startled and begins looking around.

It is then that Aramek and Drago notice that Newt is nowhere in sight.

“Newt… Where’s Newt? Can she get into much trouble in this palace? Who’s more at risk? She or everyone else,” blond Drago grunts. “Should we follow her?” he says to Aramek, voicing his own thoughts.

Aramek looks around and the smile forming as Drago startles the member of the Guard disappears instantly.

“We have no idea what evils may be hiding out here in the palace. After all the Brotherhood managed to send in assassins, which was the impetus for us to go into the swamp in the first place.

“Drago, we need to find her immediately. I suggest we split up so we can cover more ground. I’m not sure how long your disguise will last, but stay with it for now.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Drago hisses in Draconic. Still, Drago puts the cloak on again but leaves his pretty human face exposed. “Meet you back here if not out there?”

Aramek nods to Drago, truns and leaves the barracks at a run.

Half startled, Drago jogs off in a different direction to look for the hatchling.

Aramek and Drago go their separate ways and search all around the courtyard but neither of them see her in the courtyard. Here’s the layout of the keep:

Aside from the palace and its various towers and wings, within the walls of the keep are the barracks for the town watch, as well as the paladins and knights who guard the keep itself; stables for the horses; granaries; and also sheds for the blacksmiths, bowyers, armor-smiths, weapon-smiths, carpenters, and other craftsmen. In the middle of it all is a large courtyard where the well is located and the parade grounds for the men-at-arms where they can drill and engage in weapons practice. Now that the sun is setting it is relatively calm and quiet. The servants are mainly in the kitchens preparing for supper and setting up the trestle tables and benches in the great hall.

Drago let’s loose with a long quiet slur at his ineptitude in Draconic. Since Newt cannot be found in the inner courtyard. He makes a loop around the the keep, but Drago makes sure he stays in the palace where he is “safe.”

When his spell expires, he quickly says “Iluziighu” to go back to blond Drago as he looks for the conniving hatchling.

Drago sees an open door to the palace – it is the servant’s entrance. He ducks inside and looks around to see if perhaps Newt was inside. He sees a few servants and asks if they have seen a young girl outfitted like a guardsman, but they just shake their heads and return to their business. Finally, Drago comes to the door to an inner courtyard. It is the Western Garden of the palace. He can see walkways winding among the flowerbeds and trees, and marble benches and statuary.

Drago looks inside and decides to have a look around. He does not call out but uses his senses to detect sound and smells. After a few moments he sees that no one else is there, but then he hears a rustling from off the path among the hollies there. Then the door to the garden slams shut, though there is no one in sight who could have done it. After a moment Drago, hears a soft sibilant voice saying to him, “I don’t recall seeing you here before. Who are you stranger?” Still there is no one and nothing in sight, except the magnolias and hollies.

Willing himself to look normal with his green scaly head exposed he says, “I am Drago, guest of the Prince and emissary of the lizard folk. Who are you, my new invisible friend?”

“Ah, one of the lizardfolk! You must be Drago. I was told about you. I too am a guest of the Prince. Actually, I am lending my services to the Heironeans. My name is Lady Sauraa.” The enchanting voice of this unseen lady seems to come from all around, but Drago still sees no one among the trees nor shrubs nor on the pathways.

“What do you think of these humans, Drago?”

Drago blinks at the voice around him, “They mean well, milady.”

From somewhere nearby, though still unseen, Lady Sauraa laughs. It is a sound that cheers Drago’s heart for some inexplicable reason. “Yes, they do mean well despite all appearances to the contrary. I hope you have better fortune than the last emissary who came here, Father Gar. Just remember that those who serve the Lion Throne do mean well, even if some of their methods at times seem overbearing or perhaps mistaken. There is much that you lizardfolk could learn from them, I think. There is more to this world than just nesting and bare survival. But you strike me as one who has already come to suspect that. You are no ordinary lizardfolk to change your appearance on a whim. But that is a riddle I will leave for myself to while away the days here. It has been good talking to you, Drago.”

The door to the garden suddenly opens again, as does another door on the far side. Drago feels a soft kiss on his forehead and feels a powerful presence moving away down the path, stirring the dust in its wake. Then the far door closes again, though the one near Drago stands open still.

When Drago leaves the garden and then the palace, he sees that Aramek has found Newt. They are over by the entrance to the keep.

“There you are, my little hatchling,” whispers Drago’s voice in Newt’s ear as she walks back across the courtyard with Aramek as the sun sets. She looks and sees Drago by the servant’s entrance to the palace, with his hood back over his face, out of which his snout is sticking and pointing a claw in her direction. He had been practicing what Aramek taught him and now seems to have control over his power to send messages.

“Yes, here I am,” Newt whispers back, “a hatchling that everyone still believes is ready to be snatched up and eaten.” Newt is remembering how Chief Rahk had described her to Sir Ragnbjorn some time ago. “No need to worry. I was never in danger and Sir Snoop sniffed me out quickly enough.”

“Sir Aramek, I suppose we should be off to supper?”

Aramek finds a servant to lead him to the hall where Indranil and Lorindel share a room, and where Fingol and Drago have each been given a room. He finds that Fingol is not in his room, but then he hears people speaking in the next room over and it sounds like the Marinus Brothers and Fingol, and so knocks at that door.

Indranil gets up, unlocks the door and opens in a crack peering out. Seeing Aramek he opens it widely with a grin and stepping to the side says, “Ah Good Aramek! Please come in, we would like to talk to you.” After Aramek enters Indranil looks both ways down the corridor and seeing no one, closes the door and re-locks it.

“Guardsman Aramek, thank you for coming so quickly.” Fingol says in a low voice “I know you have important personal matters to deal with, and that makes this all the more appreciated.

“I called you here because we have a question only a sorcerer can answer. Drago, our companion from the Malarat tribe evidenced magical ability. He claims sorcery runs in his family and can come on suddenly. In a word, he claims that he has no knowledge or training in sorcery, and that this manifestation today was his first clue that he might have the gift. If this is true, he will need some guidance in the development and control of his gift. We were hoping you might serve as his mentor.

“It is also possible that he claims ignorance for some other purpose… which I cannot guess at… If that is the case, then we would need to know that as well. You have shown a good understanding of arcane magic. I think you could figure out whether he is playing dumb or not. Perhaps not right away, but over time. We were hoping you might help with that also.”

Indranil has been nodding along with Fingol. He then adds continuing in Elvish as they have been, “Aramek in essence we need your help to figure out if Drago is being honest with us about his magical abilities..

“If he is truly as unaware of his powers as he claims to be then he is a danger to himself and to us until he develops understanding and control over them and will need a trusted mentor to help guide him. However, if he is being deceptive with us to keep his powers and mission hidden then we need to know that too.

“While we understand that Drago is Chief Rahk’s envoy we suspect he is also covertly acting as Chief Rahk’s spy with the mission. We think Drago has been tasked to find out what became of G’ruk and his followers and whether the Deathwalkers pose any further threat to the Malarat. Whatever other peculiarities Drago may have, we believe him to be acting as Chief Rahk’s eyes and ears and perhaps even hands and tail on this mission.”

“We believe it important to the safety of this mission to understand his motivations on this forthcoming mission.”

Aramek looks at all assembled, then back at Fingol.

“Sir Fingol, your concern is appreciated. In fact I was able to give Master Parwyn the herbs and plants that you so kindly helped me collect and he was most appreciative. Further, I was able to tell him of the fate of his son and the kindness of his response to me has left me deeply touched. All is well.

“As to Drago…” and, looking at Indranil, Aramek takes a breath. “I don’t know anything about him beyond what we’ve all observed. So I am no more certain of his motives than any of you, good sirs. And you do me a great honor by even considering that I might prove an able mentor for him, should he be as he claims.

“I’m afraid that I am probably the most naive of us all when it comes to sensing peoples motives – Father Gar being the most obvious example – but I believe I am learning to be a bit more cautious and observant.

“I will try to become better acquainted with Drago to see whether I can ascertain his honesty. And if I can help him at all regarding his magical abilities, I will try to.

“As to his being a spy for Chief Rahk, of that I have no doubt, although I’m going to try to think of him as an observer on behalf of our ally.”

Aramek smiles.

Fingols replies, “If you will serve as his mentor for now, the rest may work itself out. I am thinking of the time you and I talked of herbs and it became apparent how much more you knew of them… I was thinking the same thing may work itself out in this. That Drago may show himself to know more than he lets on… or not.

“Its my hope and expectation that he is what he claims… a new sorcerer in need of direction. And I think you have shown that you know your craft well. I don’t know if you want an apprentice, and the decision would be yours alone. Still it would appear that one has found you. There’s only to accept his request, or deny it.”

“Sir Fingol, your confidence in me does me great honor and I will accept the charge of working with Drago. And we shall all see how things unfold,” and with this, Aramek bows to Sir Fingol.

“Keep a watchful eye,” advises Lorindel, “but do keep it objective.”

Indranil nods his agreement.

Fingol takes Aramek across the hall and knocks on Drago’s door. When Drago answers he says, “Drago, you had said you wanted to see Guardsman Aramek. And to ask him for advice in controlling your new found powers. Fortunately, he is free to meet with you and consider your request.”

Aramek looks at Drago and nods politely, awaiting his response.

Drago bobs with appreciation, In Common, Drago says, “Master Sorcerer, I would be deeply honored if you would guide me during my draconic awakening. I noticed your Words of Power and wonder if they can help me learn to control what appears to have begun.”

Now when Fingol and Indranil returned they overheard Drago and Lorindel talking about sending messages and then:

“Greetings Sir Jankin, Sir Lorindel, and Drago. Talking shop?” asks Indranil.

“Hello, everyone. Has anyone found where they keep the ale?”

“No such luck,” sighs Lorindel. “Remember, no R&R,” he says sheepishly glancing towards his brother.

Drago grunts his agreement and his hood falls back off his head, “Meat too.”

“I’ll see what they might have salted away,” calls back Jankin as he heads out.

Indranil eyes widen slightly. He looks at Fingol with a slight grimace, then with a wink at Fingol he turns to Drago and says, “Would that be raw or cooked?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Drago bows respectfully. “If the Prince has any who have desecrated our ancestral mounds, they will do.” It is impossible to tell if he is joking or not.

Indranil looks vaguely irritated by Drago’s response, “Drago, I suspect you might have to reset your dietary expectations if you plan to remain with us. Humans do not eat their enemies nor find such talk tasteful. You are not so far from the egg not to know that so I caution you to watch your tongue.”

GM: At this point the argument begins – note that Indranil has Favored Enemy Reptilians and so he can’t possibly be ignorant of the fact that lizardfolk never let the meat of their dead enemies go to waste. So he should have known where joking about meat with a lizardfolk would lead. As GM I can chalk this up to Indranil having reptilians as favored enemy because he is ultra-wary of them and even feels dislike of them and is thus goading Drago deliberately.

In any case, Drago’s responses have been spot on for the role that Don is playing.

What does stretch credibility is that Fingol the supposed diplomat did not speak up to defuse this as Fingol knows that Drago is Chief Rahk’s emissary. Drago also has very good reasons indeed to feel a life-debt to Newt. Moreso in fact, since he would have become an undead if she had not risked her life to rescue him. This is in keeping with their culture as far as I the GM is concerned. So it is discourteous of Indranil to be taking the tack he is with Drago.

Also, you would not leave Drago while going off to get food and drink for yourselves – that’s discourteous too. Jankin at least would say something even if Fingol did not. At any rate, I decided that Jankin would already have provided for such and so amended that above.

And so, a bit of dialogue that got shunted aside I am going to put at the end like this:

Then turning to Drago, Lorindel instructs, “I recommend you fall in
line if you are to be considered a member of this party. Our mission
is simply too great. If you want to be trusted, you must earn it. Live
by your word or face the wrathful consequences.”

Indranil says, “Brother, you words are wise and I pay them heed. I do
find these punishments… extreme and would prefer other means.

GM: But think about this – would the three of you (Fingol, Lorindel, and
Indranil) really leave Drago with Jankin or by himself at this point?
And would you really say in front of him that you want to go and talk
behind his back about why you don’t trust him? That doesn’t make
sense. At the very least it would come across as very rude to Chief
Rahk’s emissary. So let’s skip this and likewise I will overrule
Drago’s response to it.

Now then to get back to the earliest thread of the conversation that
got shunted aside but which I will put here:

“Well, I see you are back to your more accustomed face. Have you
determined how it was changed earlier?” Fingol asks trying to change
the subject.

“Actually we were discussing some of the methods we employ to transmit
messages over great distances,” Lorindel explains. “I was letting
Drago know that we could contact Chief Rahk despite the long
distances.”

Drago replies, “Well, right before you arrived, these fine gentlemen
informed me that your human sorcerers can do so. Even animals can do
so. Then the thought occurred to me that perhaps a sorcerer can help
me learn to control what is happening to me. Is that nice human,
Aramek, around?”

Just then Jankin returns and says, “Food and drink are on the way. And
yes, we had been discussing how Drago could get a message to Chief
Rahk and back in order to corroborate his story about his rather
interesting family tree and hidden talents.”

Drago grunts his appreciation for the food, ale and Sir Jankin.

“I don’t think it is important to corroborate anyone’s story.” Fingol interjects “I am willing to take your word, until it is proven false. I do think it would behoove all of us if we understood your powers. Or at least were assured they are under your control. To that end, I would be happy to try to help you contact Chief Rahk. There are limitations on what I can accomplish, however. The clerics of Heironeous may be able to help you with more powerful magics.

With his head bowed submissively Drago hisses in Draconic, “A sorcerer to guide me would be most helpful.”

“That would be up to Guardsman Aramek, I suppose.” shrugs Fingol.

Drago’s head bobs happily, “Can you please send for him?”

“Well, maybe later I can take Drago over to the barracks and see if we
can find this Aramek,” offers Jankin.

“I believe Guardsman Aramek is dealing with a personal issue.” Fingol says “But I believe he’ll be summoned to the Keep on other business soon enough. So you shouldn’t have to wait long.”

Just then a harried looking middle-aged courtier approaches. Lorindel
recognizes him as Liam the Steward. “Good sirs, I have come to see
that our esteemed guest, Drago, is taken to his quarters. You are all
being put in the same wing, so you can all follow me and put your
things away and change. In fact, Sir Fingol, Sir Indranil, and Sir
Lorindel, you are being given the same rooms that you had before. I
think you will find that things are more secure here at the palace
than during your last stay.” Liam then leads the way to the guest rooms.

“Darn!” thinks Fingol, “I could really use more trail bars!”

Drago follows all orders submissively. He knows he is the bottom of this clutch.

Fireseek 23

Once inside the foyer of the palace, Sir Jankin says, “The Prince asked me to have you all brought up to his solar for a debriefing.”

“Very well,” says Ragnbjorn, “but first there is something we need to get straightened out first.” He then steps over to Drago and says, “Drago, please remove your cloak.”

When Drago does so, they all see that once again he is a lizardfolk warrior.

Ragnbjorn asks, “Drago, we need to know what is going on with you before I can in good conscience bring you before Prince Prospero. How is it that you made yourself appear to be human?”

Drago respectfully hisses in Draconic, “I did no such thing.”

Ragnbjorn raises his eyebrow, “You didn’t? Well, you certainly appeared to be human when that guard pushed back your hood. Are you seriously claiming that was not your doing?”

Fingol: “You neither resisted the guard as pushed back your hood, nor showed surprise at his reaction. So you must have known or been a party to the deception. Explain it to us, evasiveness is not going to win you the trust you will need to continue as Newt’s self appointed bodyguard.”

Drago blinks and ponders. Finally he says in Draconic, “Sir Ragnbjorn, before we left on your ship, Chief Rahk told me that such is the way with sorcerers and adepts in my family. Their powers appear without aware and without control. At least at first. For myself, I have seen no evidence other than your reactions to me. It is very odd.”

Indranil has taken a step back, pushed his cloak away and placed his hand on his sword’s hilt. His eyes have narrowed and he is slipped into his hyper aware state of readiness.

Fingol holds his arm out between Indranil and Drago. “Peace cousin. Let’s continue to see the Prince. Meanwhile, we’ll have the guard show Drago to a room here in the keep where he can consider how it was we all saw what we saw. Afterall, if his powers are not under his control, he can scarcely expect to be brought before Prince Prospero.”

Ragnbjorn nods, “I agree Fingol. I did notice that the guard reached out rather quickly and Drago’s hands were too wrapped up in his cloak to stop him. I did notice, Drago, that you were a bit surprised that the guard was not surprised. So I do believe you when you say this was not of your conscious doing. Still, we must be careful.”

Ragnbjorn turns to Sir Jankin, “If you will, could you please take Drago as our guest to where he can have something to eat and drink until we have talked to the Prince and quarters have been assigned to him? I know the way to the Prince’s Solar.”

“As you will my lord,” Sir Jankin replies. To Drago, “If you would follow me this way, I’ll see if the kitchen staff can prepare something for you. I have never met one of your folk before and would be happy to keep you company for awhile. I am sure there is much you can teach me about the lizardfolk and the marshes.”

Indranil: “We cannot leave an untrained sorcerer alone in the Palace if we send to one of the guest quarters he needs to be kept under guard by a warded unit or escorted back to the Javan Queen to await our pleasure.”

“I am sure we will be fine, Sir Indranil,” says Jankin with a smile, “I am confident of my ability as a paladin of Heironeous to handle one lone sorcerer. There are also plenty of other knights and clerics about. But if you think my company is not sufficient for Drago, perhaps one of you can be spared from the meeting with the Prince?”

“Hmm,” Ragnbjorn considers, “Sir Lorindel, would you be good enough to keep Chief Rahk’s envoy company?”

“Of course, sir,” says Lorindel.

Indranil bows, “Good Sir Jankin, please excuse my caution. I do not question your capabilities only to note that whoever does guard him needs to be a paladin or cleric themselves skilled in detecting and warding from
magic. We have had recent dealings with evil clerics and sorcerers narrowly escaping with our lives against great odds and to return to Westkeep under martial law. It is uncertain times.”

“No need to apologize,” I would be feeling ill-at-ease as well if I returned from the field to find the city as it is. In fact, I cannot honestly say that I do feel at ease with the present conditions.”

Jankin turns to Drago, “It would be best for your own safety and our own peace of mind if you were escorted until you have been formally introduced to the Prince and the court.”

“I don’t suspect evil.” Fingol jumps in “Please don’t take Sir Indranil’s words as an inference. But to bring one with untrained power before the Prince is a risk that cannot be justified.

“I am sure you will enjoy your time with Drago. There is much to be admired in the Malarat.”

The ever quiet Drago, dizzy from the accusations and the ramifications, finally says in butchered Keolandish, “Please, please, I would be happy to join this kind human, Sir Jankin and our friend Sir Lorindel. I too would not trust me. I too do not trust me.” Then looking at Sir Jankin, “But I trust you. I will tell you all I know.”

Still not feeling terribly safe in this hell hole palace the humans call home, he dons his cape once more as a disguise and walks with Jankin and Lorindel.

As Drago walks away, he appears unusually talkative with Jankin and Lorindel, but the others can’t hear what he is saying over the din.

Switching to Common to more easily express himself and lowering his voice an octave so as not to be overheard, Drago begins, “For me, it all began near the end of our battle to take the ancestral mounds of my people away from Deathwalkers. The wight Relikez paralyzed me and then drained my energy. The hatchling Newt rescued me or surely I would not be with you today. Chief Rahk believes that I was able to cure myself because of my ancestors. Only two days ago, he told me that our village elders believe that I descend from a copper dragon who long ago lived amongst my people. He said there have been many adepts and sorcerers amongst Kopep’s descendants ever since.”

Drago went on and on, hardly pausing to breathe, thankful to express at last what has been bottled inside him these last few days. He told them about the message to Newt that, evidently, he sent on the wind and repeated that he has no knowledge of the magic when it occurs. He only sees the evidence in human words and their faces, which he still cannot read well.

Sir Jankin exclaims, “What a marvelous story! So you are supposedly descended from dragons, or a dragon anyway, and now you find yourself a sorcerer? Is this common among the lizardfolk?”

Drago replies, “No, it is not common among our kind, although adepts and sorcerers are honored for what they can contribute to the tribe.”

Drago, that is quite a revelation,” admits Lorindel. “I have no reason to doubt such an account, and as you quoted Chief Rahk some corroboration can be established.”

After a brief pause, Lorindel says, “I meant no disrespect by that, it’s just that Sir Indranil is very strict on security, understandably, in this detail.”

After walking a few steps in silence, Drago says, “But Chief Rahk is far from here. Can humans send messages on the wind as well?” If they could see his face, they would see a quizzical and curious look. The human world is so much more complicated than he imagined.

“Yes, there are many who have the means to send and recieve messages over long distances,” explains Lorindel. “Some use arcane and divine powers, while others utilize animals and other creatures to relay messages.”

Fingol and Indranil return to the lower hall where Jankin, Lorindel, and Drago are waiting for them. They overhear Drago and Lorindel talking as they come in.

Drago ponders this for a moment and a light goes on in his dimly lit mind and he says softly, “Perhaps a sorcerer can help me learn about myself?”

“I don’t see why not,” responds Lorindel.

Just then Fingol and Indranil return from their meeting with the Prince. Ragnbjorn is no longer with them.

Fireseek 23: at the Gate to the Westkeep Palace

NOTE: What follows are excerpts from the narrative. Drago is genuinely unaware that anything out of the ordinary occurs when the drakonik power of Kopep to disguise himself first appears. His only clues are the looks on human faces.

Arriving at the entrance to the keep they see that it is flanked by gibbets, iron cages in which have been hung the corpses of executed criminals. Crows peck at the carrion and hover all about the palace. From within the courtyard can be heard a large crowd shouting and yelling, and occasionally gasping in dismay.

The guard at the entrance seems to be doubled. In addition to the pike wielding members of the Guard, a fully armored knight walks out to meet them. He flips back his visor to reveal that it is Sir Jankin who has come forth to greet them. He looks a bit pale and drawn however, though he makes an effort to be pleasant. “Hail Sir Ragnbjorn. It is good to see that you and the others have returned safely. Please follow me, and I will take you Fingol, and the Marinus and any other dignitaries who may be with you in to see the Prince. Sgt. Apone and the Guards may be go over to the barracks and report in to Commander Gorman.”

“Thank you Sir Jankin,” Ragnbjorn replies. “It sounds as though the executions are still going on. They haven’t finished with all the rioters yet?”

Sir Jankin looks quite downcast as he answers, “Yes, they are finishing with the rapists now. These,” he indicates the gibbets, “will be replace with the fresh bodies soon. I believe they are preparing the arsonists now. Let us please go now. It may be just, but it is not a sight I wish to see and I would prefer we are all within the palace when they start.”

Fingol responds, “No my friend, it may preserve order… for a time… but it is not just.”

“As you say, Sir Jankin, there is no need for us to delay. Indrani, Lorindel, Fingol, and I will come with you.” Ragnbjorn turns to Sgt. Apone. “Sergeant, please bring Adelina and Drago with you to the barracks. We will send for them later. And also see to it that Odric is put in the dungeons, but well away from the other rabble.”

“As you will,” Sgt. Apone responds.

Just then one of the guards manning the entrance comes over to Drago’s cloaked form and says, “Sorry sir, but we can’t let anyone through without getting a good look at ‘em first. Those are the rules, no exceptions.”

Before anyone can stop him, the guard reaches out and knocks back the hood of Drago’s cloak to reveal a tall handsome man with fair skin, close cropped blond hair, and cornflower blue eyes.

“Who is this then?” asks the guard. “Are you with them?” He nods towards Sgt. Apone’s squad.

“Yes, sir, my name is Drago,” he responds to the guard.

Indranil raises his eyebrows when Drago’s hood is cast back and utters an involuntary gasp. Then he turns to Lorindel and whispers, “Well that will come in handy.”

“Indeed it will, Brother,” agrees Lorindel.

Ragnbjorn looks quite shocked but then steps over to the guard and says, “Yes, Drago is with us.”

The guard nods and steps aside.

Sir Jankin asks, “Is everything alright, Sir Ragnbjorn? You look a little…”

Ragnbjorn waves him off, “No Sir Jankin. Everything is fine, but I think that Drago had better come along with our party after all. Drago, please stay with me.”

Drago knows enough about humans to wonder that the guard doesn’t recoil in horror from him. He also finds it curious that Ragnbjorn, Indranil, and others are looking at him so curiously.

Without further ado, Drago pulls the hood back over his head. He feels exposed. He wants to hide.

Once away from Drago Newt explodes, angrily venting to the Guard. “Can you believe him?! So what is he? Lizard or human? And WHO is he?! Oohhh! I’m SO ANGRY! How can we trust someone who presents himself one way then switches who he is just like that (she snaps her fingers)?” She is genuinely indignant at the deception.

Fireseek 23

NOTE: This was an open conversation upon the Javan Queen.

The Javan Queen finally arrives at the docks of Westkeep in the mid-afternoon. They could smell Westkeep long before seeing the levee-docks of the warehouse district. The next thing after the god-awful smell was the raucous cacophony of noise – at first a murmur at the edge of hearing then building to a loud buzzing like being inside a mill. Turning the final bend of the meandering river the levee-docks of the warehouse district came into view.

A dozen small riverboats are docked and in various stages of loading and unloading. Stevedores swarm everywhere, carrying cargo up and down the ramps leading from the levee-docks down to the warehouse lined thoroughfare called the Riverway or else loading or unloading larger crates onto large wooden cranes. Shouting and whip cracking rises above the noise as masters and supervisors drive the predominantly Olman workers to new levels of toil to speed up the work. Here and there atop the levee-docks can be seen groups of Cuthbertian militia wearing crumpled hats and white tabards emblazoned with the ruby starburst of St. Cuthbert. In their belts or held menacingly at their sides are the clubs they use to preserve order. They seem to be watching over everyone and checking all the incoming cargo.

The Javan Queen is poled alongside the central wharf extending out from the levee-docks. Two of the crew jumps ashore and begin securing the bow and stern lines. A Cuthbertian patrol hails Captain Olman and they begin walking down the wharf.

Uglash says to Varkgrub and Drago, “You two had better stay below for now until Captain Olman and Sir Ragnbjorn have talked to the dock inspectors.”

“Varkgrub, this isn’t quite the city we left. It might be better if you did stay below for now.” Father Wat grimaces at the Cuthbertian patrol and says to Varkgrub, “It is not entirely clear I can get us both safely to my brethren just this second. But soon…”

Drago is torn. His senses are assaulted by his first glimmers of Westkeep. He looks from Newt to Uglash to Wat, finally grunts his agreement and silently follows Varkgrub below deck, but looking over his shoulder at Newt.

“What?” Newt says, realizing what that look may mean. “I’ll be okay. And besides, I told you, you’re not bound to me.”

Group chatter and warnings from Indranil follow, finishing with, “Rain, Adelina must never leave your sight and she is not to leave the palace under any circumstances without permission from the Prince, Sir Ragnbjorn, Sir Fingol, Sir Lorindel or myself. He looks directly at Rain and asks, “Is that clear? It is a shame Drago cannot join us, his added protection would be valuable.”

At that moment, Drago comes up into the deckhouse and from inside he calls to the others in Draconic, “I don’t want to be left behind where I cannot protect Newt. I have found camouflage.” With that, he pulls the hood over his snout, tucks in his tail and steps onto the deck, covered from head to feet in a long cape. “I hope you don’t mind if I borrow this, Uglash,” he adds in Common to the tall half-orc.

Uglash, who has come back aboard with Captain Olnut after speaking with the Cuthbertians, snorts and says, “Be my guest.”

Captain Olnut says to Ragnbjorn, Indranil, Fingol, and the others, “You’re all cleared. They understand that you are the King’s Rangers coming back from a mission for the Prince.”

Indranil looks at Rangbjorn and nods his acceptance of Drago joining them. After all the Malarat are now allies and he likes the idea of Newt having a second body guard.

Newt just sighs again, but much more quietly this time. Her face shows classic teen ‘But I’m an adult! I can take care of myself’ emotions. But she doesn’t make a fuss. Besides, the big city has too much to see for her to be troubled with trifles like bodyguards.

Ragnbjorn smiles and rubs his jaw thoughtfully, “I suppose that will do. Okay then Drago, you help Rain guard Newt. I am sure that the Prince will also be happy to meet one of Chief Rahk’s fine warriors.”

“Thank you, Sir Ragnbjorn, best friend of the Malarat,” hisses Drago in Draconic.

NOTE: While this was a private encounter, nothing new is revealed here.

Fireseek 21

Chief Rahk motions to Drago to follow him. Together they approach Ragnbjorn. In Draconic Chief Rahk says, “Sir Ragnbjorn, I would like to speak with you in private.”

“Certainly Chief Rahk,” Ragnbjorn responds in Draconic. “In fact, I wished to speak to you about the disposition of the spoils.”

Chief Rahk shakes his head, “That is no concern of mine. We have the mound and have revenged ourselves upon our enemies. We shall take their weapons, but not their armor. You are welcome to the coins and other items. After all, we have no stores. What would we buy with it? No, I must talk to you about another matter.”

Ragnbjorn nods and the three of them walk up the riverbank away from the others, their path lit only by the moons and the stars.

Chief Rahk indicates Drago and says, “This warrior is Drago. He is courageous and honorable, but he has long wished to see the world beyond our nests and hunting grounds. Also, his life was saved by that child that you call Newt. He owes his life and very soul to her and would continue as her protector. In addition, I would like him to guide you through the marshes to this lost city you seek as a representative of the Malarat tribe. He does not himself know the way to this city, but he certainly knows the marshes better than any human possibly could. Also, if you run into other lizardfolk, he may be able to negotiate safe passage for you. Will you do me the honor of taking him with you?”

Ragnbjorn considers this. “It is certainly a reasonable request. Yes, I think it might be good to have one of your warriors with us. Drago, you are welcome to join us, though I must caution you to cloak yourself when we get back to Westkeep. Things are a little tense there, and outside the palace I cannot guarantee your safety. Inside the palace I am sure that Prince Prospero will see that you are made comfortable until the expedition to find Thracia embarks. I will introduce you to Sir Fingol, the Marinus brothers, and Sgt. Apone and let them know you will be joining us. Then we will find a place for you on the boat. You should probably stay on the boat tonight as we will be leaving first light.”

Drago remains quiet during the conversation, looking from one to another. After Sir Ragnbjorn’s agreement, Drago bows deeply and then butchers his Keolandish, “Thank you, milord, for allowing me to serve you.”