Standard Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is a tribute to the Forgotten
Realms, its creator and its fans. Certain settings and characters appearing
in this story are © WotC. They are used without permission and for
entertainment purposes only. Some of the characters are "canon" while
others are my own. These two scenes describe the backdrop of a 3E AD&D
campaign set in Cormyr in the Forgotten Realms (DR1372). All reviews are
welcome.
Special Note (07/14/03): Most of the characters and events depicted here are based on "Death of the Dragon" by Ed Greenwood.
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THE COUNCIL
Cormyr, the Palace in Suzail, autumn, DR1372, the Year of Wild Magic
The Steel Regent Alusair Obarskyr summoned her Privy Council as soon as the Grand Council was ended. The Grand Council had been an exhausting all-day affair, full of blustering nobles by the dozen and whining merchants by the score, and her temper had begun to flare. Alusair had taken one of the Obarskyr blades from the Treasury to wear during the Council, and only now did she remove it from her belt. She placed the sheathed sword on the table before her. Those gathered here she considered her friends, and she wanted to hear what could not be said before the other nobles in the Grand Council. But Alusair was in a foul mood. The Court Mage Caladnei and the Dowager Queen Filfaeril were in no better spirits.
"My Lord Chamberlain, would you begin?" Alusair said. Anzser, an elderly, bookish man, nodded and stood. In his youth, the Lord Chamberlain of Suzail had been respected for his sword arm. He'd always been a close friend to Alusair's father, and had ridden beside the old king in the great cavalry charge which had shattered the Tuigan horde on a field in Thesk, many years ago. Now, Anzser put his efforts into managing the treasury and the affairs of Suzail. The man was competent and loyal- and he didn't seem to mind shuffling papers. Something which gladdened Alusair to no end. He bowed, and cleared his throat.
"I am afraid I have little to add to what was said in the Grand Council, your Grace. The treasury is drained, and tax collections are down. Because of bandits and because many of your people simply cannot pay them." The Lord Chamberlain peered sheepishly over his spectacles at the stack of papers on the table in front of him.
"What is this about the Houses not paying?" asked Queen Filfaeril. "Was what I heard in the Great Council true?"
Anzser looked uncomfortable. "It is, your Majesty. The Huntcrowns, Illances, Thunderswords and Silverswords are not paying their debts to the crown, and the Tathcrowns will probably soon stop as well."
Alusair pounded a fist on the table and glowered for a moment. Then, a thought occurred to her. She looked up at Anzser. "My father sent money from the royal treasury to various cities outside of Cormyr when the war started, as a contingency should we be defeated in the north. His plan was to have Lord Wyvernspur gather the people of Cormyr and lead them overseas, and rely on these hidden caches of money to sustain the remnants of our people. What of this?"
"What you say is true, your Highness," Anzser said quietly, "but most of these have been already recovered."
"Most?" asked Alusair.
"Aye, there are two such caches which still have not yet been brought back."
"Only two?" The Steel Regent sighed. "I had hoped there would be more than that we could still draw on. Still, we should get this money back."
Anzser did not immediately reply.
"Is there some problem, my Lord Chamberlain?" asked the Court Mage, Caladnei.
"I'm afraid so, Lady Caladnei. You see, we have already sent for the return of these caches. The two which did not come back were, how can I put this."
"Stolen?" asked Lord Hawklin. The nervous chamberlain nodded.
"Well by the Seven Hells, let's steal them back then," growled Alusair.
"We are doing all that we can, your Highness," pleaded the Chamberlain. "I have already retained two parties of adventurers-"
Alusair cut him off. "Enough. Sit down. Anzser, you will let us know as soon as your adventurers come back with my father's money." The Lord Chamberlain bowed and quickly took his seat. The Regent turned next to Sthavar, another aging knight who now served as the Lord Magister of Suzail. His news was no better.
"The Purple Dragon contingent in Suzail is nearly up to full strength, but we've had to strip the border garrisons to do it. The nobles are no longer contributing their own guardsmen. They claim they have enough to do patrolling their own lands and manors."
"Treason!" snarled the Regent. Dauneth Marliir, the Warden of the Eastern Marches, raised a hand to try to calm her.
"Indeed, your Grace," he said. "But there is some truth to it. We lost many men in the Dragonfall War, and then in the retaking of Arabel, and then in the battle of Tilverton. The Purple Dragons are stretched too thin, and many of the lords are forced to patrol their own lands."
Sthavar looked gratefully over at Lord Marliir as the angry Regent turned her glare at him.
"I realize that Cormyr is surrounded by enemies, my loyal High Warden," she said, "but Arabel has long since been retaken, and adventurers have done well clearing the orcs out of the King's Forest. What exactly do these nobles need guardsmen for?"
Dauneth Marliir struggled not to glare back at her. She already knew the answer, but he gave it to her anyway. "What for? What for?" The Warden bristled. "The flatlands north of Eveningstar are still crawling with orcs. No one has heard from any of the estates near the Haunted Halls in some time. Brigands in the east are hiding in the Hullack Forest. The canals of Marsember are no longer safe by night. Between the wars and this damnable weather, food is in short supply and the roads are in a terrible state. As you heard in the Grand Council, the nobles are at the end of their patience, Your Grace."
"Then they will soon be at the end of ropes," she shot back. Alusair sighed and closed her eyes to regain her composure.
"These bandits in the east, are they being supported by Sembia?" she asked.
Lady Beri Huntsilver, the Court Chamberlain spoke up first.
"Some are, Lady Alusair, according to the rumors I have heard at Court. But one group calling themselves the Bandits of the Briar has taken to raiding across the border into Sembia. They are something of local heroes to the poor folk of eastern Cormyr."
"I see," nodded Alusair. "We shall have to do what we can to aid them, then. What other rumors have you heard, Beri?"
"There are whispers of Pretenders beginning to appear, but I don't think there's much to them. They are spreading mainly because so many of the nobles are unhappy. There is one other whispering at Court which may interest you."
Alusair raised an eyebrow.
"Since Beliard has left court," Lady Huntsilver said with a smile, "Storn Tathcrown has been seen wooing the Steel Regent. And not unsuccessfully, some would say."
Alusair was about to deny this rumor when she was interrupted by Queen Filfaeril.
"Beliard has left court? Why was I not informed?"
"That was my doing," answered Caladnei. "I sent him to lead an expedition into the Stonelands."
The Dowager Queen was unable to contain her anger. "What sort of business is that of yours, Caladnei?" she shouted. "I am none too happy with your interference in my daughter's personal affairs. I had Beliard safely under my thumb here at court in Suzail, but now with him leading an army in the Stonelands, what ways have we of influencing him? What if he starts getting ideas?"
"Why mother," Alusair said, "Your concern is touching. But I can handle my own 'personal affairs,' thank you. Suitors are the least of my problems. Anyway, Caladnei sent Darvaer Huntinghorn along as well. He'll keep an eye on my little Bladebrother."
Dauneth chuckled. "No one would suspect an ulterior motive for sending another foray into the Stonelands." He didn't know which would be harder- conquering the Stonelands, or taming the Steel Regent. Dauneth wondered if perhaps Caladnei had set Beliard the easier task.
Outside, a bell tolled, reminding them the hour was growing late.
"Let's move on," suggested Caladnei. Everyone nodded. "Lhaspeera, your report please." Lhaspeera Naerinth, second in command of Cormyr's War Wizards, nodded to her superior, and to her Regent.
"We've been looking into these bandits in the Hullack," she began. "Their leader may be one of Azoun's, shall we say, little indiscretions. As soon as we find out for sure, we will bring him in." The War Wizard glanced at the widowed queen, who was scowling at the mention of an illegitimate child of the old king. But Filfaeril held her tongue and allowed the other woman to continue. "To the west beyond the marshes, the Zhentarim have strengthened their control of the Far Hills. I do have some good news, however. Zhentish activity within our borders lately has been far less than expected." As if an afterthought, she added, "And the Thayan enclave in Marsember has been quiet, but we have been watching them closely."
"The War Wizards need to spend more time rooting out traitors and less time worrying about the Red Wizards," snapped the Dowager Queen.
"As you say, your Highness. For the report on our enemies abroad, I must defer to my lieutenant, Ambrestus."
The wizard who had been sitting quietly beside Lhaspeera stood. He was middle aged, young-looking for a senior War Wizard, and rather handsome, with a short, neatly trimmed beard just beginning to go grey. Ambrestus was somewhat new at Court, and bowed formally to the Regent.
"There has been no activity among the exiled houses in Westgate, your Grace," he said, "The Bleths and Cormaerils seem to be preoccupied with other endeavors at the moment." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "As for Sembia, we have suspicions that Lord Belmer Huntcrown of Suzail has been dealing with one of the powerful houses in Ordulin. He seems convinced that the Sembians have a Pretender of their own, and they are raising him as a prince. But we have nothing to connect the two, nor to convict Lord Huntcrown."
"I also have news from the north, your Grace," he continued. "Perhaps a tenday ago, a fleet left the free city of Calaunt in the northern Vast. It carried some 1,200 of that city's soldiers, and another perhaps 500 mercenaries. The army landed in Scardale and claimed the town for Calaunt."
"The Merchant Dukes seek a foothold in the Dales," exclaimed Dauneth.
"There is a new ruler in Calaunt, my Lord High Warden," replied Ambrestus. "The mercenary force was lead by an adventurer who names himself the new lord of Calaunt. He also claims all the lands north of the River Vesper and east of the River Lis to the Giantspike Mountains, and it is his banner which now flies over Scardale as well as Calaunt."
"Well, the Merchant Dukes will not be mourned in Calaunt, nor in the rest of the Vast," observed Lord Hawklin. "Does anyone really care who rules the hinterlands? Aside from Calaunt and Scardale Town, all he claims is the Flooded Forest."
"There have been troubling reports that he has banished or executed Harpers, but there can be little doubt that he is no friend of the Zhentarim. Apparently, he slaughtered the entire Zhentil Keep garrison in Scardale, then went on the defeat a force of beholders sent against him by the Black Network. There are rumors that he is in league with the Red Wizards and is closely tied to the church of Loviatar, but by most reports, he follows either Selune or Tymora."
"Do the Dalelands have another Lashan on their hands?" asked Queen Filfaeril.
"So it would appear, your Highness," answered the War Wizard. "By most accounts, this man is a harsh ruler but fair, an educated man, and one who is more interested in building and trading than conquering and enslaving. He has gone a long way towards winning over the beleaguered folk of Scardale and Calaunt. He has somehow cleansed Scardale of the Shaking Plague, begun raising fortifications in the Scar, laid the foundation for a new temple to Chauntea in Calaunt, and is even building a large shrine to Lashan Aumersair in Scardale. News out of Chandlerscross is that some two hundred Dalesmen went to Scardale Town to swear fealty to him."
Ambrestus hesitated a moment after completing his report. He looked to Caladnei and Lhaspeera before returning to his seat.
"Well," said Alusair. "It is getting late, and we have not accomplished much. Is there anything else before we end this?"
Lazslo Hawklin and Owden Foley both shook their heads.
"One more thing, my Regent," said Dauneth Marliir. "The replacements for Gwennath of High Hold and battlemaster Ilnbright still have not been made permanent."
Alusair blinked. "Well, they are now. Anything else?"
From the far end of the table there came a discreet cough. Rhauntligan Glarasteer, famed turret and spire merchant of Suzail, stood and cleared his throat.
"Ah, yes, Rhauntligan. How could I forget you?" Alusair gave the warmest smile she could manage.
"Ahem, yes," he answered. "I have some friends looking into the Iron Throne, in Suzail. We can't have them growing too wealthy."
Alusair knew what he meant by friends. "What of Those Who Harp?" she asked. "They have been awfully quiet lately."
"Hrm," said Rhauntligan, fidgeting. "You noticed? The reason they have not been of much help lately is a bit cloudy. Some sort of schism within their ranks." A few eyebrows raised at this news. "I'm afraid that is all I can say about that for now. But I do have other news. You recall that a group of adventurers helped save Marsember from a pirate attack during the war. It seems that they captured a Sembian, and have been keeping him hidden since then. After finally interrogating this pirate, they learned of a plot by the Fire Knives against the infant prince. They turned their prisoner over to Lord Huntinghorn, who was able to foil the plot."
"Who leads this band? Bring him to me," ordered the Regent. "I will make him a Highknight." The merchant bowed, but did not yet take his seat.
"You have something more?"
"One last bit of news, my Regent. "To speak further on this matter, if I may be permitted, I would like to introduce Maxer Hlarr." Alusair nodded her assent, and Rhauntligan went over to a panel in the side wall. Pressing a hidden switch opened a section of the wall, and Rhauntligan ushered in a distinguished looking elderly man. His robes were purple and scarlet, trimmed with black.
"Your Grace, your Highness, Royal Mage and Lords and Ladies of the Realm," the merchant said in a formal voice, "I introduce to you the esteemed magician, Maxer Hlarr, Defender of Suzail, representative of the Council of Mages."
Maxer was not permitted to bring his staff into the council chamber, and had been kept waiting in the antechamber for some time. He was incredibly ancient, but he hobbled forward as best he could and bowed first to the Steel Regent and then to the Dowager Queen.
"On behalf of my brother the Prince Ascendant I bid you welcome, Maxer Hlarr," said Alusair. "Your Regent is most grateful for your loyalty to the realm, and I have not forgotten the services you have rendered to the crown. Now, what is this news you have for us?"
"It seems," Maxer began, "that a powerful spellcaster has come into Cormyr. Incognito, so to speak." Caladnei and Lhaspeera both frowned. "Out of fear for his life, he has not yet appeared before the War Wizards. Instead, he came to us at the Council of Mages. I beg your forgiveness for not bringing him forward immediately, but I have been asked to request an audience with the Regent herself on his behalf. He has not dared come near the Palace, for his mere presense would be perceived as a threat by the War Wizards, and out of professional courtesy toward the Mage Royal, he would rather visit only as a guest."
"Who is this wizard?" demanded Caladnei.
"One claiming to be Semmemon of Darkhold," answered Maxer Hlarr. "And he has sent a gift."
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"The Black Dragons were founded when Glarasteer went into the prison in Suzail in the dark of night with a Writ of Pardon from the Regent and came out with a hand-picked group of scoundrels."
~War Wizard Lhaspeera Naerinth
***
Glarasteer Rhauntligan carefully made his way across the square, trying not to lose his footing in the dark or get mud on his robes. The week of rain which had turned Suzail's streets to mud had finally lessened to a drizzle. The huge stone building before him was once a proud fortress, but now it served Suzail as a prison. He could remember better days when it was nearly empty. But no longer.
Sighing, Glarasteer mounted the wide steps of the prison, and came to a halt before the great wooden doors flanked by two sour-looking Purple Dragons. Visitors normally weren't permitted after sundown, but upon hearing his name, the guards opened the gates and sent him in. Inside, Glarasteer found himself in a drab courtyard. Crossing it, he made his way to a side door, and came in out of the rain. A prison clerk was sitting behind a small desk. Glarasteer cleared his throat.
"Glarasteer Rhauntligan," he said. "I'm here to see a prisoner. I have a Writ of Pardon from the Regent herself."
The clerk, busy with his record book, gave his visitor little more than a passing glance. "You'll have to see the Captain," he said, pointing with his quill. Glarasteer looked in the direction the clerk had indicated, and saw a hallway. At the end, he found another office, slightly larger than the first, inhabited by another clerk slightly more important than the first, and slightly less busy. This clerk escorted Glarasteer through a maze of passageways and down several flights of stairs, until at last they came to a musty room where an old Purple Dragon lionar sat on a stool with his feet propped up on a crate.
The Captain was very interested in seeing Glarasteer's Writ. In fact, the man insisted. He broke the seal, unrolled the document, read it carefully, turned it over and back in his hands, then read it again. Glarasteer waited patiently. Finally, the Captain grunted and stood up. He grabbed a torch from a wall sconce, and headed down a dark passageway.
"Follow me," he said. "Let's go find the jailer."
The jailer at last lead Glarasteer and the Captain to a long corridor lined with torches with cells on either side. The merchant had to hold a kerchief over his nose against the stench.
"Wasn't always like this," grunted the Captain.
Glarasteer peered into each of the cells as they passed. The jailer followed, twirling his stout club about by its leather thong. Finally, Glarasteer stopped and pointed into the third cell on the right. "These are the ones I want," he exclaimed.
"This one?" asked the jailer. He looked to the Captain, who nodded. "Well, as you say." With a shrug, he took a great ring of keys from his belt, and began to unlock the bars. "Step back, you dogs, while I open the door."
"Looks like Tymora is with you lads tonight," said the Captain.
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Author's Note: In "After the Dragon" in Dragon Annual #5, Ed Greenwood writes that Alusair would like to have an unofficial agency of the Crown to spy on the Crown's enemies in Westgate and Sembia- an agency independent of both the War Wizards and the Harpers. Again, while not an order of knighthood, this would make quite the campain hook for a group of adventurers.
In my own campaign, this group (the PCs) is known as the Black Dragons. The Black Dragons are run by Glarasteer Rhauligan, who answers directly to Alusair. Since the Harper schism, Glarasteer has been looking for a more stable organization to call his own, and is on the verge of leaving the Harpers altogether in favor of the Black Dragons.
My Black Dragons have already rooted out a traitor among the War Wizards, captured a Pretender among the nobility in Eveningstar, and foiled a Fire Knives plot to assassinate the infant Prince Ascendant. They've had run-ins with the Queen's Guard and are seen as little more than ruffians by the "brat's bodyguard." They are very much frowned upon by the Purple Dragons, and a rivalry is beginning to develop there. This is in part because they've willingly had dealings with Semmemon of Darkhold and the thieves guild of Marsember in order to better complete Alusair's missions- the end justifies the means for the Black Dragons.
Most of the Black Dragons came from questionable backgrounds, to put it mildly. According to Lhaspeera, "the Black Dragons were founded when Glarasteer went into the prison in Suzail in the dark of night with a Writ of Pardon from the Regent and came out with a hand-picked group of scoundrels." Despite their somewhat shady reputation, the Black Dragons get things done, and their fame is spreading.
Recently, the Regent sponsored a medieval-style tournament to demonstrate to foreign enemies that Cormyr can still muster some formidible military strength. A Black Dragon, a commoner, won this tournament by defeating the best of the nobles and the Purple Dragons on the field. More than one noble house is now plotting a way to discredit these upstart Black Dragons.
Special Note (07/14/03): Most of the characters and events depicted here are based on "Death of the Dragon" by Ed Greenwood.
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THE COUNCIL
Cormyr, the Palace in Suzail, autumn, DR1372, the Year of Wild Magic
The Steel Regent Alusair Obarskyr summoned her Privy Council as soon as the Grand Council was ended. The Grand Council had been an exhausting all-day affair, full of blustering nobles by the dozen and whining merchants by the score, and her temper had begun to flare. Alusair had taken one of the Obarskyr blades from the Treasury to wear during the Council, and only now did she remove it from her belt. She placed the sheathed sword on the table before her. Those gathered here she considered her friends, and she wanted to hear what could not be said before the other nobles in the Grand Council. But Alusair was in a foul mood. The Court Mage Caladnei and the Dowager Queen Filfaeril were in no better spirits.
"My Lord Chamberlain, would you begin?" Alusair said. Anzser, an elderly, bookish man, nodded and stood. In his youth, the Lord Chamberlain of Suzail had been respected for his sword arm. He'd always been a close friend to Alusair's father, and had ridden beside the old king in the great cavalry charge which had shattered the Tuigan horde on a field in Thesk, many years ago. Now, Anzser put his efforts into managing the treasury and the affairs of Suzail. The man was competent and loyal- and he didn't seem to mind shuffling papers. Something which gladdened Alusair to no end. He bowed, and cleared his throat.
"I am afraid I have little to add to what was said in the Grand Council, your Grace. The treasury is drained, and tax collections are down. Because of bandits and because many of your people simply cannot pay them." The Lord Chamberlain peered sheepishly over his spectacles at the stack of papers on the table in front of him.
"What is this about the Houses not paying?" asked Queen Filfaeril. "Was what I heard in the Great Council true?"
Anzser looked uncomfortable. "It is, your Majesty. The Huntcrowns, Illances, Thunderswords and Silverswords are not paying their debts to the crown, and the Tathcrowns will probably soon stop as well."
Alusair pounded a fist on the table and glowered for a moment. Then, a thought occurred to her. She looked up at Anzser. "My father sent money from the royal treasury to various cities outside of Cormyr when the war started, as a contingency should we be defeated in the north. His plan was to have Lord Wyvernspur gather the people of Cormyr and lead them overseas, and rely on these hidden caches of money to sustain the remnants of our people. What of this?"
"What you say is true, your Highness," Anzser said quietly, "but most of these have been already recovered."
"Most?" asked Alusair.
"Aye, there are two such caches which still have not yet been brought back."
"Only two?" The Steel Regent sighed. "I had hoped there would be more than that we could still draw on. Still, we should get this money back."
Anzser did not immediately reply.
"Is there some problem, my Lord Chamberlain?" asked the Court Mage, Caladnei.
"I'm afraid so, Lady Caladnei. You see, we have already sent for the return of these caches. The two which did not come back were, how can I put this."
"Stolen?" asked Lord Hawklin. The nervous chamberlain nodded.
"Well by the Seven Hells, let's steal them back then," growled Alusair.
"We are doing all that we can, your Highness," pleaded the Chamberlain. "I have already retained two parties of adventurers-"
Alusair cut him off. "Enough. Sit down. Anzser, you will let us know as soon as your adventurers come back with my father's money." The Lord Chamberlain bowed and quickly took his seat. The Regent turned next to Sthavar, another aging knight who now served as the Lord Magister of Suzail. His news was no better.
"The Purple Dragon contingent in Suzail is nearly up to full strength, but we've had to strip the border garrisons to do it. The nobles are no longer contributing their own guardsmen. They claim they have enough to do patrolling their own lands and manors."
"Treason!" snarled the Regent. Dauneth Marliir, the Warden of the Eastern Marches, raised a hand to try to calm her.
"Indeed, your Grace," he said. "But there is some truth to it. We lost many men in the Dragonfall War, and then in the retaking of Arabel, and then in the battle of Tilverton. The Purple Dragons are stretched too thin, and many of the lords are forced to patrol their own lands."
Sthavar looked gratefully over at Lord Marliir as the angry Regent turned her glare at him.
"I realize that Cormyr is surrounded by enemies, my loyal High Warden," she said, "but Arabel has long since been retaken, and adventurers have done well clearing the orcs out of the King's Forest. What exactly do these nobles need guardsmen for?"
Dauneth Marliir struggled not to glare back at her. She already knew the answer, but he gave it to her anyway. "What for? What for?" The Warden bristled. "The flatlands north of Eveningstar are still crawling with orcs. No one has heard from any of the estates near the Haunted Halls in some time. Brigands in the east are hiding in the Hullack Forest. The canals of Marsember are no longer safe by night. Between the wars and this damnable weather, food is in short supply and the roads are in a terrible state. As you heard in the Grand Council, the nobles are at the end of their patience, Your Grace."
"Then they will soon be at the end of ropes," she shot back. Alusair sighed and closed her eyes to regain her composure.
"These bandits in the east, are they being supported by Sembia?" she asked.
Lady Beri Huntsilver, the Court Chamberlain spoke up first.
"Some are, Lady Alusair, according to the rumors I have heard at Court. But one group calling themselves the Bandits of the Briar has taken to raiding across the border into Sembia. They are something of local heroes to the poor folk of eastern Cormyr."
"I see," nodded Alusair. "We shall have to do what we can to aid them, then. What other rumors have you heard, Beri?"
"There are whispers of Pretenders beginning to appear, but I don't think there's much to them. They are spreading mainly because so many of the nobles are unhappy. There is one other whispering at Court which may interest you."
Alusair raised an eyebrow.
"Since Beliard has left court," Lady Huntsilver said with a smile, "Storn Tathcrown has been seen wooing the Steel Regent. And not unsuccessfully, some would say."
Alusair was about to deny this rumor when she was interrupted by Queen Filfaeril.
"Beliard has left court? Why was I not informed?"
"That was my doing," answered Caladnei. "I sent him to lead an expedition into the Stonelands."
The Dowager Queen was unable to contain her anger. "What sort of business is that of yours, Caladnei?" she shouted. "I am none too happy with your interference in my daughter's personal affairs. I had Beliard safely under my thumb here at court in Suzail, but now with him leading an army in the Stonelands, what ways have we of influencing him? What if he starts getting ideas?"
"Why mother," Alusair said, "Your concern is touching. But I can handle my own 'personal affairs,' thank you. Suitors are the least of my problems. Anyway, Caladnei sent Darvaer Huntinghorn along as well. He'll keep an eye on my little Bladebrother."
Dauneth chuckled. "No one would suspect an ulterior motive for sending another foray into the Stonelands." He didn't know which would be harder- conquering the Stonelands, or taming the Steel Regent. Dauneth wondered if perhaps Caladnei had set Beliard the easier task.
Outside, a bell tolled, reminding them the hour was growing late.
"Let's move on," suggested Caladnei. Everyone nodded. "Lhaspeera, your report please." Lhaspeera Naerinth, second in command of Cormyr's War Wizards, nodded to her superior, and to her Regent.
"We've been looking into these bandits in the Hullack," she began. "Their leader may be one of Azoun's, shall we say, little indiscretions. As soon as we find out for sure, we will bring him in." The War Wizard glanced at the widowed queen, who was scowling at the mention of an illegitimate child of the old king. But Filfaeril held her tongue and allowed the other woman to continue. "To the west beyond the marshes, the Zhentarim have strengthened their control of the Far Hills. I do have some good news, however. Zhentish activity within our borders lately has been far less than expected." As if an afterthought, she added, "And the Thayan enclave in Marsember has been quiet, but we have been watching them closely."
"The War Wizards need to spend more time rooting out traitors and less time worrying about the Red Wizards," snapped the Dowager Queen.
"As you say, your Highness. For the report on our enemies abroad, I must defer to my lieutenant, Ambrestus."
The wizard who had been sitting quietly beside Lhaspeera stood. He was middle aged, young-looking for a senior War Wizard, and rather handsome, with a short, neatly trimmed beard just beginning to go grey. Ambrestus was somewhat new at Court, and bowed formally to the Regent.
"There has been no activity among the exiled houses in Westgate, your Grace," he said, "The Bleths and Cormaerils seem to be preoccupied with other endeavors at the moment." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "As for Sembia, we have suspicions that Lord Belmer Huntcrown of Suzail has been dealing with one of the powerful houses in Ordulin. He seems convinced that the Sembians have a Pretender of their own, and they are raising him as a prince. But we have nothing to connect the two, nor to convict Lord Huntcrown."
"I also have news from the north, your Grace," he continued. "Perhaps a tenday ago, a fleet left the free city of Calaunt in the northern Vast. It carried some 1,200 of that city's soldiers, and another perhaps 500 mercenaries. The army landed in Scardale and claimed the town for Calaunt."
"The Merchant Dukes seek a foothold in the Dales," exclaimed Dauneth.
"There is a new ruler in Calaunt, my Lord High Warden," replied Ambrestus. "The mercenary force was lead by an adventurer who names himself the new lord of Calaunt. He also claims all the lands north of the River Vesper and east of the River Lis to the Giantspike Mountains, and it is his banner which now flies over Scardale as well as Calaunt."
"Well, the Merchant Dukes will not be mourned in Calaunt, nor in the rest of the Vast," observed Lord Hawklin. "Does anyone really care who rules the hinterlands? Aside from Calaunt and Scardale Town, all he claims is the Flooded Forest."
"There have been troubling reports that he has banished or executed Harpers, but there can be little doubt that he is no friend of the Zhentarim. Apparently, he slaughtered the entire Zhentil Keep garrison in Scardale, then went on the defeat a force of beholders sent against him by the Black Network. There are rumors that he is in league with the Red Wizards and is closely tied to the church of Loviatar, but by most reports, he follows either Selune or Tymora."
"Do the Dalelands have another Lashan on their hands?" asked Queen Filfaeril.
"So it would appear, your Highness," answered the War Wizard. "By most accounts, this man is a harsh ruler but fair, an educated man, and one who is more interested in building and trading than conquering and enslaving. He has gone a long way towards winning over the beleaguered folk of Scardale and Calaunt. He has somehow cleansed Scardale of the Shaking Plague, begun raising fortifications in the Scar, laid the foundation for a new temple to Chauntea in Calaunt, and is even building a large shrine to Lashan Aumersair in Scardale. News out of Chandlerscross is that some two hundred Dalesmen went to Scardale Town to swear fealty to him."
Ambrestus hesitated a moment after completing his report. He looked to Caladnei and Lhaspeera before returning to his seat.
"Well," said Alusair. "It is getting late, and we have not accomplished much. Is there anything else before we end this?"
Lazslo Hawklin and Owden Foley both shook their heads.
"One more thing, my Regent," said Dauneth Marliir. "The replacements for Gwennath of High Hold and battlemaster Ilnbright still have not been made permanent."
Alusair blinked. "Well, they are now. Anything else?"
From the far end of the table there came a discreet cough. Rhauntligan Glarasteer, famed turret and spire merchant of Suzail, stood and cleared his throat.
"Ah, yes, Rhauntligan. How could I forget you?" Alusair gave the warmest smile she could manage.
"Ahem, yes," he answered. "I have some friends looking into the Iron Throne, in Suzail. We can't have them growing too wealthy."
Alusair knew what he meant by friends. "What of Those Who Harp?" she asked. "They have been awfully quiet lately."
"Hrm," said Rhauntligan, fidgeting. "You noticed? The reason they have not been of much help lately is a bit cloudy. Some sort of schism within their ranks." A few eyebrows raised at this news. "I'm afraid that is all I can say about that for now. But I do have other news. You recall that a group of adventurers helped save Marsember from a pirate attack during the war. It seems that they captured a Sembian, and have been keeping him hidden since then. After finally interrogating this pirate, they learned of a plot by the Fire Knives against the infant prince. They turned their prisoner over to Lord Huntinghorn, who was able to foil the plot."
"Who leads this band? Bring him to me," ordered the Regent. "I will make him a Highknight." The merchant bowed, but did not yet take his seat.
"You have something more?"
"One last bit of news, my Regent. "To speak further on this matter, if I may be permitted, I would like to introduce Maxer Hlarr." Alusair nodded her assent, and Rhauntligan went over to a panel in the side wall. Pressing a hidden switch opened a section of the wall, and Rhauntligan ushered in a distinguished looking elderly man. His robes were purple and scarlet, trimmed with black.
"Your Grace, your Highness, Royal Mage and Lords and Ladies of the Realm," the merchant said in a formal voice, "I introduce to you the esteemed magician, Maxer Hlarr, Defender of Suzail, representative of the Council of Mages."
Maxer was not permitted to bring his staff into the council chamber, and had been kept waiting in the antechamber for some time. He was incredibly ancient, but he hobbled forward as best he could and bowed first to the Steel Regent and then to the Dowager Queen.
"On behalf of my brother the Prince Ascendant I bid you welcome, Maxer Hlarr," said Alusair. "Your Regent is most grateful for your loyalty to the realm, and I have not forgotten the services you have rendered to the crown. Now, what is this news you have for us?"
"It seems," Maxer began, "that a powerful spellcaster has come into Cormyr. Incognito, so to speak." Caladnei and Lhaspeera both frowned. "Out of fear for his life, he has not yet appeared before the War Wizards. Instead, he came to us at the Council of Mages. I beg your forgiveness for not bringing him forward immediately, but I have been asked to request an audience with the Regent herself on his behalf. He has not dared come near the Palace, for his mere presense would be perceived as a threat by the War Wizards, and out of professional courtesy toward the Mage Royal, he would rather visit only as a guest."
"Who is this wizard?" demanded Caladnei.
"One claiming to be Semmemon of Darkhold," answered Maxer Hlarr. "And he has sent a gift."
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"The Black Dragons were founded when Glarasteer went into the prison in Suzail in the dark of night with a Writ of Pardon from the Regent and came out with a hand-picked group of scoundrels."
~War Wizard Lhaspeera Naerinth
***
Glarasteer Rhauntligan carefully made his way across the square, trying not to lose his footing in the dark or get mud on his robes. The week of rain which had turned Suzail's streets to mud had finally lessened to a drizzle. The huge stone building before him was once a proud fortress, but now it served Suzail as a prison. He could remember better days when it was nearly empty. But no longer.
Sighing, Glarasteer mounted the wide steps of the prison, and came to a halt before the great wooden doors flanked by two sour-looking Purple Dragons. Visitors normally weren't permitted after sundown, but upon hearing his name, the guards opened the gates and sent him in. Inside, Glarasteer found himself in a drab courtyard. Crossing it, he made his way to a side door, and came in out of the rain. A prison clerk was sitting behind a small desk. Glarasteer cleared his throat.
"Glarasteer Rhauntligan," he said. "I'm here to see a prisoner. I have a Writ of Pardon from the Regent herself."
The clerk, busy with his record book, gave his visitor little more than a passing glance. "You'll have to see the Captain," he said, pointing with his quill. Glarasteer looked in the direction the clerk had indicated, and saw a hallway. At the end, he found another office, slightly larger than the first, inhabited by another clerk slightly more important than the first, and slightly less busy. This clerk escorted Glarasteer through a maze of passageways and down several flights of stairs, until at last they came to a musty room where an old Purple Dragon lionar sat on a stool with his feet propped up on a crate.
The Captain was very interested in seeing Glarasteer's Writ. In fact, the man insisted. He broke the seal, unrolled the document, read it carefully, turned it over and back in his hands, then read it again. Glarasteer waited patiently. Finally, the Captain grunted and stood up. He grabbed a torch from a wall sconce, and headed down a dark passageway.
"Follow me," he said. "Let's go find the jailer."
The jailer at last lead Glarasteer and the Captain to a long corridor lined with torches with cells on either side. The merchant had to hold a kerchief over his nose against the stench.
"Wasn't always like this," grunted the Captain.
Glarasteer peered into each of the cells as they passed. The jailer followed, twirling his stout club about by its leather thong. Finally, Glarasteer stopped and pointed into the third cell on the right. "These are the ones I want," he exclaimed.
"This one?" asked the jailer. He looked to the Captain, who nodded. "Well, as you say." With a shrug, he took a great ring of keys from his belt, and began to unlock the bars. "Step back, you dogs, while I open the door."
"Looks like Tymora is with you lads tonight," said the Captain.
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Author's Note: In "After the Dragon" in Dragon Annual #5, Ed Greenwood writes that Alusair would like to have an unofficial agency of the Crown to spy on the Crown's enemies in Westgate and Sembia- an agency independent of both the War Wizards and the Harpers. Again, while not an order of knighthood, this would make quite the campain hook for a group of adventurers.
In my own campaign, this group (the PCs) is known as the Black Dragons. The Black Dragons are run by Glarasteer Rhauligan, who answers directly to Alusair. Since the Harper schism, Glarasteer has been looking for a more stable organization to call his own, and is on the verge of leaving the Harpers altogether in favor of the Black Dragons.
My Black Dragons have already rooted out a traitor among the War Wizards, captured a Pretender among the nobility in Eveningstar, and foiled a Fire Knives plot to assassinate the infant Prince Ascendant. They've had run-ins with the Queen's Guard and are seen as little more than ruffians by the "brat's bodyguard." They are very much frowned upon by the Purple Dragons, and a rivalry is beginning to develop there. This is in part because they've willingly had dealings with Semmemon of Darkhold and the thieves guild of Marsember in order to better complete Alusair's missions- the end justifies the means for the Black Dragons.
Most of the Black Dragons came from questionable backgrounds, to put it mildly. According to Lhaspeera, "the Black Dragons were founded when Glarasteer went into the prison in Suzail in the dark of night with a Writ of Pardon from the Regent and came out with a hand-picked group of scoundrels." Despite their somewhat shady reputation, the Black Dragons get things done, and their fame is spreading.
Recently, the Regent sponsored a medieval-style tournament to demonstrate to foreign enemies that Cormyr can still muster some formidible military strength. A Black Dragon, a commoner, won this tournament by defeating the best of the nobles and the Purple Dragons on the field. More than one noble house is now plotting a way to discredit these upstart Black Dragons.
