Prelude

Nightal 10 1372 DR, Year of Wild Magic

In a dark basement, several assassins of the Fire Knives organization were gathered in a tight circle, huddling close to each other to protect their bodies from the chilling air that was slipping through the cracks of the basement's small window.

"Why are we all the way here in Silverymoon?" one of the younger assassins asked with a stutter that was caused by the chattering of his teeth. Many of the other assassins looked at each other and nodded. They wondered why the Grandfather had brought several members of the organization out of Cormyr and put them in the Gem of the North at this time of the year. Some speculated that he was plotting to assassinate the leaders of the kingdoms and cities that comprised the country of the Silver Marshes. Obould Many-Arrows, Helm Dwarf-friend, Bruenor Battlehammer, and even Alustriel Silverhand Their heads would make the great trophies for the guild's various headquarters back in Cormyr and Westgate. However others speculated the Grandfather was succumbing to old age and madness. Whatever the reason many the Fire Knives who had left their comfortable posts in the Forest Kingdom and came west to the cold and unforgiving Marshes were staring to conceive of plots to mutiny.

Just as the temperature in the basement was getting a little warmer, the Grandfather of Assassins entered without any sound. Like the rest of his men, he was dressed from head to toe in black leathers with red stitching along the sides.
"Gentlemen welcome to Silverymoon," the Grandfather greeted in a cynical voice He examined the room, hearing the long-winded breaths his men were taking. "Now as Geraln asked a moment ago, why are we all here in this cold wasteland? Now I'm sure you can answer that for us Geraln." He paused, looking in the young assassin's direction.

A moment of silence filled the room, but then it was broken when Geraln's body fell to the cold floor. Next to Geraln's corpse, a tall and stalky gentleman, held up his blood-stained dagger.

"Thank you Maclin," continued the Grandfather, watching the mixed reactions of the other assassins. "To answer the question, I have brought many of you to Silverymoon because word is going around that queen herself is coming to the city to spend the holidays."

The rest of the Fire Knives looked at each other, their whispers and chattering filled with excitement. Since the organization was founded, the goal of the Fires Knives was to eliminate the noble houses of Cormyr, especially the kingdom's rulers House Obarskyr. Every assassin present would trade in their own mothers to see an Obarskyr die by their hands. In their eyes, a chance to kill the Queen of Cormyr would easily make up for their stay in the north.

Underneath his hood, the Grandfather of Assassins grinned as the the voices of his men grew louder. "If that puts you in high spirits, then it should really please you to learn that she is bringing Azoun V with her. Though the war wizards and Silverymoon's forces will be watching their every move, we can easily get past them."

"That's right," yelled one pudgier members of the Fire Knives," the spells of the wizards haven't stopped us from killing before."

"Death to the queen," shouted another assassin. "Death to the king."

"Death to all Obarskyrs," declared Maclin in a harsh voice. .

The Grandfather held his hand up to silence the growing chants. "Yes, death to all Obarskyrs, and once we are done here, perhaps we will expand out into the western lands of Faerun."

The men turned to each other, discussing their aspirations for the future their leader had suggested to them. While they were doing this, the Grandfather stepped away, leaving his men to their dreams of killing the queen and the king.

He was just about to exit the basement when he felt Maclin's hand on his shoulder.

"Milord, though I am confident of our succession in destroying both the queen and her grandson, how will you know when she arrives in Silverymoon?"

The Grandfather turned to Maclin. "A good question. One thing that has always made us dangerous is our ability to blend in with the common and rich people.. Though I can not go into full detail Maclin, I will simply tell you that when the queen arrives in Silverymoon. I will know it. When she takes her first steps in the city's gates, I will not be far behind."

Maclin drew out his blood stained dagger once more, his eyes filled with eagerness "And then we will strike when their guards are down."

"Precisely," whispered the Grandfather before he left the room.