Author's Note: Welcome to the first chapter. I hope you enjoy it and as always I welcome any comments that you might have and appreciate any help keeping it true to the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting. And, also, please review.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Forgotten Realms and I don't get anything out of this except something to do when I'm bored.

Chapter One

"We'll be making it into town by nightfall tomorrow, Miss Maeve. We've made excellent time thanks to you," a round man with a thick, dark beard by the name of Yorren called out from the head of the caravan. He held a tight rein on the draft horses pulling the large wagon as he added, "We'd have made it yesterday is it wasn't for all this mud! We might have been held up a whole week if you hadn't been here."

It had rained for three days straight, having finally slacked off that very morning. As a consequence, the roads had turned to slosh that ate the horse's hooves and the wagon wheels hungrily and grudgingly gave them back. The road had claimed several horse shoes already and if it hadn't been for Maeve's farrier skills, they might not have made it to their destination at all.

Maeve Haroc smiled down at the wagon driver- who also happened to be her employer- from the back of her large, bay stallion, Exilon, and replied, "I was just doing what you hired me for. I'm going to make a quick scan."

She wheeled her horse around and sent him into a quick canter, her long mahogany braid trailing out behind her. She guided the horse around the entire caravan, making sure everyone was doing okay and that none of the other horses pulling the wagons had lost shoes to the treacherous footing. She then scanned around for a second time, her sharp green elven eyes not missing a thing, this time looking out to the sides for any sign of raiders that might want to loot the caravan she was in charge of.

Maeve carried quite a reputation on her shoulders and was often hired to do just this. Even if one didn't know of her, it was easy to tell she was a warrior just from the balanced way she carried herself. She wore a longbow at her back, a dagger on her right hip, a long sword on the left, and an oblong buckler fitted with cruel hooks- all facing strategically towards the center- on her left arm. A foe would be a fool, and a dead one at that, to underestimate her. Many had done just that, taking her for a fragile elven maiden dressed up for war, and regretted it sorely.

After she was certain that nothing posed a threat on the caravan at that moment, she rode back up to the front where Yorren was lackadaisically chatting the ear off of a young boy sitting next to him. The trader was the type of person anyone would count themselves lucky to have met. When he laughed, he did it heartily and meant it, and when he frowned he only did so when something was truly wrong.

He was beaming and laughing as Maeve pulled Exilon up at an even pace with the wagon.

"How's everyone doing Miss Maeve?" he said while grinning from ear to ear.

Maeve couldn't resist the contagiousness of his grin and smiled as well replying, "All's well. Not a lame horse or filthy orc to be seen. For now." At her last statement, her smile fell from her face, replaced by her usual scowl of determination and focus. Her job was too dangerous to let her guard down for long.

Yorren's smile dropped a fraction of an inch as he watched her face, but his mirth would not be contained. "Well that's what I hired you for! Knew you'd get the job done, I did! Now, what do you say we ride straight up until twilight and then set up camp- might even get into town sooner that way!"

Maeve nodded curtly, "That will be fine. I'll tell the others."

She wheeled Exilon around again and began riding from wagon to wagon telling all the drivers and guards working under her Yorren's plan. No one argued, they were all eager to see this muddy road behind them. Maeve could not blame them. This escort had been one of the most drawn out and painful ones that she could remember. The rain had not helped it along at all either.

The road from Highmoon to Immersea had never been known for the ease travelers found in traversing it. The road cut through the Thunder Peaks via a narrow and danger filled pass. That leg of the trip was perhaps the most eventful, orcs crawled out of their mountain caves on more than one occasion but the caravan guard, led by Maeve who had plenty of experience with the creatures, had turned them aside every time.

After the pass, they had found no refuge while passing through Hullack Forest. Though the orcs had given way to their lesser cousins, the goblins, there was still more than enough trouble to be found.

They rested for a night in Arabel and shortly after leaving had been met with that accursed rain, the monotony of re-shoeing horses, and the itch of wearing drenched clothes for days on end. The walls of Immersea would be a welcoming sight indeed.

The caravan plugged along until the bottom rim of the sun was kissing the horizon, sending an explosion of reds and oranges into the clouds that still hung in the sky, heavy with what promised to be a night shower. Maeve surveyed the western sky with adoration. No matter how many sunrises and sunsets she would see in her long, elven life, they would never grow dull. She delighted in nature, in the simplicity of its existence and the complexity of its connections with all things. No matter how powerful the world of men, elves, and dwarves became, they would always bend to nature's might.

The caravan pulled off from the road just enough to form a tight circle out of the wagons. All the horses were unhitched from the wagons and let loose to graze in the circular center they had created. The cook and his workers immediately got to work starting a fire and preparing a meal for all forty people in the caravan. Everyone else was either grooming the horses or making sure everything was locked down for the night. Maeve stood somewhat off to the side, with Exilon standing loyally next to her without needing to be tied, grooming him absent mindedly.

Returning to town was always a bittersweet experience for Maeve. She was glad for the respite from the worries of the road, glad that her charges had safely reached their destination and that she was able to help. The concept of "town," however, was just the thing that bothered her.

Maeve had been raised by humans. What had become of her real parents, she had never found out, and she had never been overly worried about it- her adoptive family loved her like their own. Maeve had lived for nearly a century and a half. She had lived long enough to see her foster parents and even their natural born children grow old and die. She had seen the entire village grow old and die. Seemingly before she knew it, her trips out into the wilds became for longer and longer, until the day came that she returned to the small town where everyone had once known her to find that not one person even knew her face.

She had never returned home, and every time she arrived at a new town, she felt that same sense of distance between herself and the residents of the town. It was uncomfortable.

She was allowed only a brief moment for reliving her younger years before Yorren called her over to get some of the stewed beef that the cook had finished preparing. She waved to tell him that she was coming, replaced her grooming tools in the bag next to her bedroll, and reluctantly made her way over to where all the caravan's people were gathered, weaving through the grazing draft horses with Exilon following close behind her.

"Here you are, Miss Maeve," Yorren said, handing her bowl of food to her himself. "The old man did a good job on the food tonight!" He chuckled and sauntered off back towards were the cook was while shouting short orders at a couple of workers as he went.

Maeve sighed and sat down right where she was standing, crossing her legs and tilting the bowl up to her face. Yorren was right; the stew was delicious and filling. Exilon started grazing behind her while she drank her stew, deep in thought.

By the time Maeve starting making her way back across the sheltered circle of wagons, everyone else had already retired to their bedrolls. The guards could be heard circling around the wagons, alert for any signs of an ambush.

Maeve crawled under a wagon, and popped out right beside one of the guardsmen. He quickly drew out his long sword and held it up to her throat.

Maeve was amused. She could have easily escaped his blade, but she had decided at the last moment to let this play out for sheer amusement.

"Who are you?!" She chuckled. "Who you are I said!" he repeated, clearly becoming more tense and flustered by the moment.

"Lower your sword, Ponce," Maeve said calmly. She laughed again as Ponce gasped and quickly sheathed his sword. His pale complexion darkened and would have matched his red hair if it hadn't been night.

"I am so sorry Maeve! I did not expect you to just crawl out like that and-"

Maeve cut him off with an upraised hand. "It is fine, Ponce. I am glad to see that you have your wits about you. I just wanted to speak with one of you to make sure the watch has been set for the entire night. It has been, has it not?" She lowered her hand and looked at him inquisitively.

Ponce's face darkened again under her sharp, scrutinizing gaze. "It has been. We went over it throughout the course of the day and we all know our shifts."

"Good, I just wanted to be sure of it before I took my rest." Maeve put a hand on Ponce's shoulder, "Stay vigilant."

With that she turned and disappeared under the wagon once again. She crawled out on the opposite side and made her way back to her bedroll. Exilon was lying near to it, waiting for her safe return before resting himself. She unrolled her bedroll and crawled into it, muttered a good night to Exilon, and drifted into Reverie.


As the next day was drawing to a close, the walls of Immersea came into view on the horizon, wedged between the King's Forest and the southwestern corner of the Wyvernwater. The entire caravan seemed to gain more momentum as excitement built, the anticipation of their long waited arrival soon to be at an end.

The excitement was even getting to Maeve, who smiled lightly at everyone who approached her to quickly tell them how glad they were to see the city at the end of the road. Despite herself, she began to chat animatedly with them, recalling events from just a few short days ago like they were epic tales told by bards across the centuries.

The town rolled up quickly, even the horses seemed to be anticipating their arrival, and before the sun went down, they were lined up outside Immersea's thick, wooden gates awaiting approval for entry.

Maeve was up at the head of the caravan with Yorren when a series of loud clicks were heard resounding from behind a small, iron door on the right side of the main gates. A tall, thin man with a large, blonde mustache walked out from the door at a quick pace and walked right towards Yorren's wagon at the lead. His armor was elaborately decorated with brass scrollwork and his helmet sported a ridiculously large, purple plume on the very top. He carried a large and equally elaborate halberd in his right hand. His dress and stature marked his as the captain of the gate guard. Maeve frowned at him; she knew exactly what type of man this was.

When he arrived at the wagon, he slapped the handle of his halberd across his left hand and spread his legs wide; gazing up at Yorren like one would look at a child that had just been caught trespassing.

"State your name and your business," he said. The man's voice was sharp and direct. The voice of a man who was accustomed to having every one of his words well heeded.

Yorren beamed down at the arrogant man all the same. "My name is Yorren and this is my caravan here behind me," he said gesturing behind him. "We've come from Highmoon to trade our wares in your city." When he finished, he turned his eye quizzically on the guard, almost daring him to refute his claim.

The guard missed the glance entirely. "Very well, you must submit to an inspection. We've been having troubles lately. Orders are to inspect all the wagons coming in and going out." Without waiting for Yorren to give him his consent, he whistled loudly and four simply clad guards came rushing out of the same door he had passed through. "Give them their inspection."

The guards fanned out and began going through all the wares that Yorren was hauling with him- looking for what Maeve couldn't be sure. Yorren was sitting calmly in his seat, but his smile had faded completely from his face.

It wasn't long before it happened. Maeve had turned in her seat to glance behind her when she saw it. One of the guards, an over-weight, pox-marked man, was leaning lewdly in towards the daughter of the oldest man driving a wagon in the caravan- he was approaching 70. The man made a move to ward the guard off from his repulsed daughter and the guard slugged him in the ear. The sound of the contact could be heard sharply, even from Maeve's place at the front of the caravan. The man quickly retreated back into his seat, holding his bleeding ear tenderly as the guard grasped the maiden's arm and began to try and drag her from the wagon.

Maeve wheeled Exilon around in a flash and sent him into a headlong gallop towards the man. The man turned towards her at the last minute- far too late to avoid the consequences of his actions and exposing just what Maeve was going for. She had drawn out her longbow, all five feet of it. When she was even with the guard, she sat deep in her saddle, sending Exilon into a hard, sliding stop and used the momentum to bash the guard across his exposed throat with the hard wooden handle of her bow.

The guard released his grasp on the maiden's arm and fell back onto Exilon's side, gasping in pain. The stallion snorted and tossed his head, pinning his ears back in warning. The guard remained slumped back, oblivious to everything but the pain in his throat as he tried desperately to get air.

"It would be best for you if you got off of my horse's flank," Maeve stated angrily. She put her leg against her horse's side and he obediently scooted to the side causing the guard to fall over, sending him into a violent bout of coughing.

"What is the meaning of this!?" the captain shouted while running towards the scene, Yorren huffing at his heels.

Maeve casually slid her bow back into its place across her back and gestured towards the elderly man with the bleeding ear. "This man and his daughter were assaulted by your guardsman here. I think he'd be a better person to ask for a retelling."

The captain turned towards his man for an explanation. The guard tried to speak up, no doubt to refute Maeve's claim, but was capable of nothing more than a pitiful wheezing noise.

Maeve smirked and gestured back towards the old man, "He'll be your best bet. That guard will not be speaking for awhile, if ever again at all."

The captain looked furious, but by now someone had come over with bandages for the old man's bleeding ear and it was hard to turn aside from such obvious proof of an assault. He had no choice but to listen to the man's story.

The rest of the incident was short. The guard at fault was stripped of his title and hauled off by the men who had such a short time before been his equals to await trial. The caravan was allowed entry into the city shortly after that; the rest of the inspection going off without a hitch.

Maeve was ridding at the back of the caravan as it rolled through the gate. When she was about to enter the city, the captain of the guard called for her to halt. She complied, slightly annoyed, but trying not to cause any more of a stir.

The captain walked over towards her and stood very close to the side of her horse and spoke in a low voice, "If you cause another scene while you are in this town, you will be the one escorted to the jails. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Maeve looked down at the man with disdain. "You are full of nothing but piss and vinegar old man. Next time, choose the men you put under your charge more carefully and there will be no need for another 'scene'," she told him, her voice dripping with unspoken threats.

Without waiting for the man to step aside, she put her heels to Exilon's sides and he jumped forward into a swift hand-gallop. She caught up with the caravan easily and assumed her place at the front, beside Yorren's wagon. The round man was laughing and joking as if everything had gone just as expected.

Maeve sighed.

Welcome back to society.