It was the sounds of battle which had first led him to the Promenade; thunderous explosions that made the very earth tremble with their might. Lightening summoned from a clear summer day; mages and thieves alike turned to stone then ash; and fire spread through adjacent buildings, driving the curious way with its intense heat. But that was hours and lifetimes ago; the taunting, masked mage and pink haired girl were gone, taken to Spellhold. The true witnesses, the friends of the girl abducted, had fled into the shadows and obscurity of the Athkatlan slums.

At midday, Sir Keldorn still wasn't satisfied with what information he had gathered. The hot sun beat down, parching his throat and making his brow slick with sweat. The north-eastern section of the Promenade lay in ruins; a testament to the power of magic that wouldn't be soon forgotten. He bent down to examine the debris of what was once a support pillar, but the stone turned to powder at the touch of his fingertips. Burn marks licked the ground where the abducted girl had stood, and whether fire or lightening was the cause, Keldorn still didn't know. The paladin paused for a moment, wiping off yet more beads of sweat from his grizzled face. The glare of the sun made his temples throb, and he longed for the shade and comfort of his summer estate and his wife's arms.

Ignoring the pang of guilt he suddenly felt, Keldorn abandoned his investigation and headed back to the Temple District. A report would be expected of him, and it wouldn't do to keep the Prelate waiting.

Keldorn felt his irritable mood lighten as soon as he set foot within the Order's hallowed halls. The cool marble floors and walls gave the paladin reprieve from the blistering sun, and the guilt from earlier had all but evaporated. Truly, the Order felt as close to a home as anything could, with the church and Maria holding equal portions of his heart. The paladin allowed himself a small smile: after wandering for these last months, it felt good to be back in the place he had spent his youth. He would see his wife tomorrow.

He was brought back into focus by a squire reverently ushering him into the Prelate's private chambers.

"Ah," Wessalen said, "Welcome back, Sir Keldorn. I have heard that you were seen around the Promenade when the wizards' battle began. Do you have anything to report?"

There was not much to tell, at least nothing that the Prelate didn't already know.

"We were contacted by Corgeig Axehand, the city's chief military officer, about an hour after the battle ended," Wessalen explained. "Since he doesn't have the resources to conduct a thorough investigation, he has asked the Order to supply some Inquisitors to aid him.

Axehand's informants within the Shadow Thieves were vague on the subject, but we do know that a wizard made, and later broke, a contract with the thieves. Bloodscalp ordered an attack on the entrance to his lair, and you saw the results for yourself. Rumours have also connected the adventurers who slew the Bhaalspawn Sarevok and the people who you saw leave the dungeons. I would say it is too big of a coincidence not to be looked into." The corner of Wessalen's mouth betrayed the verge of a smile, "After all, how many young mages with pink hair can there be?

I would like you to head the investigation about these people. Find out who exactly they are, and how they ended up in the middle of a battle that destroyed a quarter of the Promenade. I ask you to do this discreetly, Keldorn. If we are indeed dealing with the so called heroes of Baldur's Gate, then we may have another Bhaalspawn on our hands ..."

Keldorn felt the pounding in his head return as he left the Prelate's office. It seemed to him that he had postponed retirement a day to late.