"There is no pride to be had in being the last of one's kind. Only longing. Only regret. Only the looming knowledge that one day, you shall be gone, and with you, the whole of your people." - Aroden, the Last Azlanti, former patron god of humans
16th Rova, 4721 AR
Absalom, Isle of Kortos
Temperance was almost incapable of sleeping in. If he had the free time, he could manage a midday nap, but he still carried with him the habits formed in Sarkoris. The hordes of the Abyss had been tireless, and so there was no choice but to rise early, march long, and rest late. So, he was up before the sun every morning except in the summer months, where he would awake with the sunrise.
Tem's eyes fluttered open and the world slowly came back to him. He was sleeping in a bed, which was an uncommon state of affairs recently. It was a comfortable bed. And, most predominantly, he was not alone in it.
A pale face with white hair splayed out across it was on the pillow opposite from Tem. Violetta's eyes were closed, her breathing slow and even. The cinnamon scent of her perfume from the previous day still clung to her.
Temperance smiled. Taking it slow, indeed. That had been his honest thought at the time he'd said it back in Noviste, but enthusiasm had quickly overwhelmed those words as the days had passed. Violetta had certainly not protested.
Count Temperance Irinushka. He thought to himself, not for the first time. If this courtship carries on, I'm going to be a bloody Count of Ustalav. By Desna's gleaming garters, that's something approaching madness, isn't it? Before they had left Noviste, Count Artyov, in his role as First Druzhina of Barstoi, had honored Temperance with the title of Druzhina. For the moment, it was mostly ceremonial, an acknowledgement and a blessing in equal measure. But, one day, Tem would have to return and honor that title.
Would that be such a terrible thing? Likely not. Ustalav was a troubled land that was plagued with all manner of undead, sitting with Lake Encarthan and Tar-Baphon's stronghold on the Isle of Terror directly to the south. It was not as if a Crimson Templar was going to be for want of evil to do battle with. And battle it he would; no title, no honorific, and no other duty would come before his duty to Ragathiel. Violetta knew that, and Tem knew she herself felt the same of her commitment to Pharasma.
But, that was all looking very far ahead. It was nice to have such plans in mind, but they had an army of alien dragon people to worry about right now.
Temperance carefully slid out of bed, dressing in a plain shirt, trousers, and sandals. The room around him was firmly in the classification of "nice." It was clean, the walls were painted with soothingly dark colors. The expected paintings of ships at sea were hung on the walls, and the furniture was all well-crafted, polished, and maintained. The luxury of the Courtier's Cork it was not, but the Kortos Keg was nicer than any other inn Tem had ever paid to stay in.
Tem wandered downstairs to find the tavern's owner, a broad and fat man with a balding pate and ready smile from Osirion named Meles. He looked up from setting out freshly cleaned cups of pewter and wood behind the bar.
"A fine morning to you, Sir Temperance." Meles greeted. "I hope your evening was pleasant."
"Sure was. Thanks." Tem said, rubbing the sleep from one eye. "Think I could trouble you to have some breakfast and tea brought up?"
"I will have my sons make it so." Meles assured him.
"Thanks." Tem said again.
"Will there be anything else?" Meles queried.
"Nope, that'll be just fine. Appreciate it." Temperance said. He walked out of the tavern's front door, into the street. The Kortos Keg was in one of Absalom's mercantile districts. Though Absalom never truly slept, it did go into a lull in the late night and early morning. The city was beginning to stir. Some businesses, like a news stand selling copies of the Starstone Daily, were already open and ready. Temperance wandered down the block to this stand, paid the lad running it a couple of coppers, then headed back to the inn with the paper tucked under his arm.
Temperance used his key to open the door to his room, expecting Violetta to still be asleep. He was rewarded, instead, with the sight of her sitting on the edge of the bed in her lace smallclothes, running a brush of horsehair bristles with a silver handle through her hair.
"And here I just ordered us breakfast." Temperance said with regret.
"Shame. I suppose you'll have to wait, then." Violetta said, a smile of pure evil on her face, though she did not look at Temperance.
It occurred to the tiefling that she had planned this. "Punishment for making you wait all those years, I take it?" Tem asked, chuckling as he sat at the room's small table and opened up his newspaper.
"Now you're complaining about punishment?" Violetta asked rhetorically.
Tem's cheeks turned maroon. He had been…learning a lot about himself recently.
A pause, Violetta's air of smug mischief turning to concern as she asked, "I'm not…I'm not overdoing it, am I?"
"You'll be the first to know when you are, Fangs. Promise." Tem assured her, clearing his throat.
"Okay. Whew. Good." Violetta breathed, the brush resuming its course through her snowy locks.
Tem's embarrassment faded quickly enough as he looked over the newspaper. "Still nothing about the dragonborn from anywhere in Avistan, Garund, or Kelesh." He muttered. "I've got a bad feeling about this. They have to be planning something."
"We'll be ready for them. None of us will be of any use to anyone without some time to rest and recover. We've all been pushing ourselves hard." Violetta said.
"You're right, of course." Tem agreed. Nothing else in the news held any interest to him, so he set the paper down on the table. It rested atop a small stack of newspapers from the past few days.
There was a knock at the door. Violetta picked up a blanket and wrapped it around herself as Tem opened the door. It was one of Meles's sons, whose names Tem did not know, carrying a covered platter with a mage hand cantrip.
"Thank you." Tem told the lad, accepting the platter, closing the door with his foot, then setting his burden down on top of the newspapers. He pulled the lids off to reveal a pot of tea alongside two large, flaky pastries that were stuffed with berries and honey.
Breakfast was quiet. Tem allowed himself to space off as he ate. He rarely allowed himself to do such a thing. Spacing off could prove fatal when the enemy was about. But there were no enemies here. It was just Temperance and the beautiful dhampir he had all to himself.
The rest of the morning was enjoyable. Exceptionally enjoyable, really. Eventually, Tem and Violetta had both given into the embrace of a nap, still tangled together by blankets and hugging limbs. So, when there was a knock at the door, it took Tem a moment to come awake. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked around, unsure if he'd heard the sound.
The knocking happened again.
Sighing, he extracted himself from Violetta's embrace and pulled his trousers on before answering the door. It was the lad who'd brought breakfast up. He was holding a sealed note in his hand.
"For you, sir." The youth said, his eyes following the roadmap of countless scars that wound their way across Tem's torso.
"Oh, uh. Thanks. I think." Tem grunted as he accepted the note and closed the door.
"Whassat?" Violetta asked dreamily, looking bleary eyed as she sat up, hair that had been so meticulously brushed now an utter mess once again.
"Not sure." Tem said. The front of the note had his name signed in thin, fanciful script. The seal was a plain circle of pressed wax. Tem unsheathed one of Violetta's daggers from where they were hung upon the bed's footboard and opened the seal, tucking the dagger away. He read the contents aloud:
Sir Temperance Tasgal,
Certain things have come to my attention from Lord Asaf. I believe I have information that can help you. Please, come to the Courtier's Cork tonight at seventh bell. I will be telling my customers I must close for the night to renew the enchantments around my establishment.
Faithfully yours,
Jyoti
"Huh." Tem said, scratching his scalp.
"Who is that?" Violetta asked.
"She owns the place where Halo keeps a room. Real nice place." Tem explained, setting the note down.
"What could she know about Ancalagos?" Violetta wondered aloud.
"That's a good question." Tem admitted. "She's clearly very powerful. Runs the whole place at once with just her own magic. Wondered if she might be a dragon or an axiomite, maybe." He rubbed his eyes. "I've got the feeling our leisure time is about to be cut short."
"So do I." Violetta agreed. Then she leaned forward slightly. "At the eighth bell, anyway."
It took Temperance a second to catch her meaning.
Then he grinned.
Temperance and Violetta, both fully geared up, entered the Courtier's Cork a few minutes before the eighth bell. The others were already gathered, floating trays and pitchers providing them with refreshments. They were all kitted out as well.
"Look who finally emerged!" Scaelia exclaimed with a cackle.
Both Tem and Violetta looked away. The other adventurers laughed.
"Come and sit, please." Jyoti insisted, gliding into the room. The owner of the Courtier's Cork wore a green sari, and had violet kohl around her eyes.
Tiefling and dhampir did so. Jyoti ensured they were taken care of. Then, the doors and windows were closed, locking tight.
"Do not be alarmed." Jyoti insisted as the adventurers tensed up. "Security is of the utmost importance. What I am about to tell you is…it may be difficult to accept."
"You have our attention, Jyoti." Asaf assured her.
The Vudrani woman sat upon a nearby table's edge, cogs turning behind her brown eyes. "How much do you know about the dragonborn?"
Everyone shook their heads. "Very little." Asaf added. "According to what Vesperix said at the battle we fought in Belkzen, we know the dragonborn are created in something called Forge-Wombs that can, apparently, use the bodies of others as raw materials?"
Jyoti nodded. "They were created to be soldiers in the armies of an empire that spanned many worlds. The Eox Empire. Each one was born and indoctrinated through complex magic to have absolute loyalty to the Eox. The first were created from the bodies of dead dragons, who were discovered and subjugated on a distant world. It was a…recycling initiative."
"However, the Eox learned that any biomass could create dragonborn, just with far less efficiency than dragons or fallen dragonborn. So they began conquering worlds, setting up what roughly translates to the Flesh Tithe. This made them wildly unpopular, but the dragonborn and their dragon commanders were too mighty to stop them. At least, at first."
No one could think of a response to that. Tem certainly couldn't. But, the information was not as shocking as the fact that Jyoti knew all of this. The dragonborn were so beyond the pale of his knowledge, anything outlandish about them could sound correct. But this person, if indeed a person she was, knowing their origin so precisely…?
"The dragons began to chafe under the yoke of the Eox. And one, Ancalagos, saw a day when the dragons and dragonborn would be free. He found a sympathizer among the Eox in charge of the Forge-Wombs, who made the slightest of alterations to the conditioning. At a signal, the dragonborn's loyalty would immediately change from the Eox to the dragons. They bided their time, waiting until the Eox were committed to several wars with mostly dragonborn that did not have the altered conditioning." Jyoti sighed. "Then, they sent out the signal. The dragonborn mostly turned on the Eox. War engulfed the empire. The fighting lasted for decades. Knowledge was lost. Entire worlds were forgotten…"
"How do you know all this?" Tem finally cut in. He had a feeling he knew the answer at this point, but wanted to hear it from Jyoti's own lips.
Jyoti took a deep breath, her eyes closed. "Because I am the one who helped Ancalagos. I am the one who changed the conditioning of the dragonborn. My true name is Irivjyo Tivalnidval. Or, at least, that's as close as it can be in Common." She shrugged.
"If you are not human, then show us your true form." Asaf bid her.
"No." Jyoti said so sharply that it made everyone else in the room jump in their seats. She took another deep breath, then explained. "Forgive me. We eoxi do not show our true forms to anyone but our closest kin and most trusted friends. Especially not to non-eoxi. I will not break with this custom. You simply have to trust me."
"I don't think we really have a choice in the matter." Scaelia muttered.
"Truthfully? You don't. At least, not if you want to stop Imperator Koilnyr." Jyoti said.
"You didn't say why you turned on the Eox." Tem prompted her.
Jyoti nodded once. "My people were great, once. Masters of magic, of art, of so many other things. Yet I watched them become slaving despots who were literally using thinking, feeling people as nothing more than raw materials. As something less than livestock. We had lost our way, become corrupted beyond measure. I had helped in that. My conscience demanded I rectify it. Ancalagos offered me the chance to flee here to Golarion as a reward for aiding him, when all was said and done. It ended up saving my life. Ancalagos was assassinated by the now Imperator Koilnyr, who claimed Eox loyalist dragons and dragonborn were responsible. It allowed him to conduct purges of their ranks. The rest is irrelevant to anyone who is not eoxi, dragon, or dragonborn. The real reason I brought you all here was to discuss how we can deal with this threat to Golarion before it's too late."
"In my experience, the way to deal with this problem is to chop it to pieces until it stops being a fuckin' problem. And maybe close whatever tear in reality's ass the problem's coming out of." Dergir grunted. He was looking surly, his opinion of Jyoti clearly not particularly high.
"It's not that simple, unfortunately." Jyoti responded, unperturbed by Dergir's gruffness. "We can't block off all the elf gates on Golarion. We will have to deal with the problem at its source; Cradle Station, where the Forge-Wombs are kept."
"Can't imagine the place where the dragonborn are…well…born is going to be lightly defended." Tem reasoned. He had forgotten about the food and drink on the table before him.
"No. Almost all of Koilnyr's forces will be there. By my estimate, his armies are in the opening stages of the invasion. They will be setting up camps for holding prisoners near more out of the way elf gates; the Cradle only has so much room for those who will be harvested to create the dragonborn. However, within a month's time, once he has a decent stock of prisoners to replace losses, Koilnyr will bring the bulk of the Ancalagon forces through. He will most likely hit multiple major targets around the Inner Sea to create footholds, which he will then widen out and link up. It is this opening stage when we must strike; when most of Koilnyr's forces are committed to creating the initial foothold." Jyoti held up a hand, palm up, then clenched it into a fist. "Without the Forge-Wombs to replace their losses, the invasion will fail. The dragonborn may be indoctrinated, but they are still thinking creatures. They will lose the will to fight."
A few moments of silence occurred as the adventurers processed this plan. Temperance stroked his beard, trying to think of the gap in this plan he was missing. It was sound enough, as plans tended to be on paper.
It was Asaf who thought of the missing factor. "How will we know when to go through the elf gate, and where?"
"Oh, that's simple." Jyoti said with a humorless smile. "I will be able to open the way, but I do not have the means here on Golarion to attune a gate to Cradle Station. I will have to use one that the Ancalagon are using to get here. As for which gate, I can use a ritual to sense in which direction and how far away active gates are. Cross-referencing this with a map, we will be able to pinpoint where to strike."
"Strike." Tem repeated.
"Indeed." Jyoti confirmed. "We will have to fight our way through, and for that, we will be needing an army."
"The way you say that makes me think you've already decided which army we're going to use." Asaf said.
"Indeed", Jyoti repeated, then, "which brings me to a final question; how do you feel about Taldor?"
19th Rova, 4721
Oppara, Taldor
The capital of Taldor was on the Inner Sea, and was one of the nearest major cities to Absalom. In spite of this fact, Oppara, and Taldor with it, had been on the decline for decades. Once, Taldor had been the mightiest empire around the Inner Sea. The secession of holdings like Cheliax were made possible by wars that gained Taldor nothing, especially an almost constant border conflict with Asaf's homeland, Qadira, to the south of Taldor.
However, since Grand Princess Eutropia took the throne, Taldor was in the beginnings of a renaissance. It was fragile, of course. Eutropia was young. Her throne had been hotly contested. But, so far, the crumbling edifice that was Taldor was receiving its first application of infrastructural mortar in a long time.
Oppara was a place of decadence and splendor, with marbled walks, fanciful parks, and soaring spires. As far as concentrated grandeur, it had Absalom matched, if not beat. But, in spite of the nascent resurgence, the cracks that had been there were still plainly visible. On the fringes of the glamor, the poor of Taldor were quite poor indeed, shunted into the forgotten shadows until their labor was necessary to keep those who had wealth supplied with wine and sumptuous food and fine clothes for another day.
Temperance was struck with the old, faded glory of Taldor as the ship he and his companions were on slowly floated up to the docks. He saw building facades held up by rows of thick, towering pillars. Elaborate friezes, suffering from the effects of wind and rain, still showed scenes such as Aroden casting down Tar-Baphon.
Much like there was a difference between people who were nationally Chelaxian and ethnically Chelish, so, too, was the difference between Taldorans and Taldans. To add to the confusion, the language known as Common was also known as Taldane, the primary language of the once far reaching Taldoran Empire. Taldans were similar to Chelish people in appearance, tending towards fair to olive skin tones and hair that was black or brown.
The ship was moored. Temperance moved to the gangplank first, looking down it to see someone was standing on the dock. It was a half-orc woman that matched Temperance in size. She was clad in metal lamellar armor, leaning on a two-handed axe with a bearded face etched upon the blade's leading edge. She had grown out a crest of black hair, which was greased up into what Tem had once heard a Kellid merc in the Worldwound call a "warhawk."
"Of all the people I thought to hear from since coming here, Temperance Bright-Blade was not one of them." Said Urka Astridsdottir as Tem descended. "I'm glad that expectation was defied. Welcome, brother."
"Urka Bold-Heart." Tem replied with a smile, coming up to his sister and taking her by both elbows. Sister. It was still hard to believe Temperance had one. "I thank blessed Desna for letting our paths meet."
Urka gripped Tem's forearms, smiling around her tusks, "I'll agree with that, brother, especially if it leads to the battle you promised in that sending spell."
The others came down the gangplank. Temperance introduced his companions that had not met Urka yet, then they started making their way off the ship. Jyoti remained at the back of the group, hooded and veiled.
"Come, then. Her Majesty will want to hear what you have to say." Urka said, and she started leading everyone away from the docks.
"And how has serving the Grand Princess been treating you?" Tem asked.
"Well, definitely not boring." Urka grunted. "Nobles in this country aren't so different from those back home, really. Already had to help put down a rebellion in the hinterlands. Easy fight, all things considered. But now there's whispers of dragon people. Travelers and livestock are going missing. Something's happening."
"We have only a week at most." Jyoti murmured at the back of the group.
"So, uh…where did you find that one?" Urka asked.
"Long story. Important part is that she's probably the key to stopping the dragonborn." Temperance said.
"Hm." Urka rumbled, then shrugged. "Fair enough."
"You think Her Majesty will listen to us?" Asaf asked from behind Tem.
"Maybe. She's reasonable. Bit of an idealist, but that's hardly a flaw." Another shrug from Urka. "She won't just tell you to fuck off, that I can guarantee."
Tem chuckled. "It's a start."
Temperance had known that Grand Princess Eutropia Stavian of Taldor was young, but to see it in person was something else. She was perhaps twenty, at most twenty one. Eutropia was a short woman with light brown hair she kept pulled back. Her features were soft and bore an air of steady patience. Tem was surprised at the simpleness of her attire. It was made fine silk, lace, and muslin, all of them in shades of aqua and teal, but the only embellishment was the pearls embroidered into her gown's sleeves and torso. Another string of pearls hung from her neck.
Eutropia had convened this meeting in a small sitting room in the royal palace. Temperance had noticed there were gaps on the walls in the hallways of the palace. Where paintings and magical relics had once hung, there were simple drapings or even nothing at all. This room was no different, though Tem's chair was soft enough to almost let him sink all the way in and never emerge again.
Eutropia was seated with straight-backed, regal posture, holding a teacup and saucer. Two Ulfen Guards flanked her, wearing the same armor as Urka. It struck Temperance that, technically, he was Ulfen, and could have joined the Guard if he so wished. It was an interesting thought.
"Sir Temperance Hallow-Horn of the Crimson Templars and Lord Asaf the Worldwalker, heir to Al Tamaya, Majesty." Urka introduced. She stood behind her brother and Asaf.
"Thank you, Urka." Eutropia said, smiling at Urka.
Urka beamed back. Something passed silently between them.
No way. Tem thought to himself. No fucking way. Wisely, he said nothing.
"Your…friend, Jyoti, had a great deal of interesting things to say." Eutropia began, getting on task.
Only Tem and Asaf sat across from the Grand Princess, everyone else was elsewhere in the palace.
"An understatement to be sure, Majesty." Asaf said, much more in his element than Tem was.
Eutropia stirred her tea. "I concur. You must understand that you are asking a great deal of me. A week to rally my banners is not nearly enough."
Asaf nodded. "I would not presume to tell you what you should and should not do, Majesty, but I have seen the might of the Ancalagon's armies first hand. It took the combined efforts of the orcs of Belkzen and the dwarves of the Five Kings Mountains to break a relatively small host."
"Orcs and dwarves? Fighting together?" Eutropia said, openly surprised.
"As sure as Sarenrae is merciful, Majesty." Asaf confirmed.
"It's true, Majesty." Tem confirmed. "And it was a glorious sight."
"Hm." Eutropia made a contemplative sound.
"I believe, my Princess, that this is especially relevant information for you, for I have a plan to bolster your forces here in Oppara somewhat." Asaf cast the line.
"If you are about to suggest I allow Qadiran soldiers into my country under arms, I am afraid political realities will make it impossible." Eutropia headed him off.
"Most certainly, Majesty." Asaf agreed, causing Eutropia to raise an eyebrow. "I would never dream of suggesting it. However, as I plain to see in this room, Taldor is no stranger to foreign mercenaries. You see, one of my fathers, Ahtasaf, is the commander of a company of sellswords, the Sapphire Swords, who are prepared to cross the border at your word. The cost for their deployment is being fronted by my other father, Zulifkar."
Eutropia set her tea down, giving Asaf a long, unreadable look.
"That is an awfully generous contribution." She said.
"This threat endangers all Golarion, not just one nation. I will confess, Majesty, that not so long ago, I would never have considered speaking with you, the leader of my homeland's greatest enemy." Asaf admitted. "But, recent events have taught me many things. Chiefly among them is that there are much greater things to put one's effort into than the continuous reopening of old wounds. Healing those wounds is, I have found, much better. And, forgive my bluntness, but if orcs and dwarves can work together, whose grudge is much older and more vicious, well, what says that if Taldor cannot accept the aid of Qadiran mercenaries?"
Eutropia did not bristle at this challenge as Tem had expected. She looked thoughtful.
"Kol. What say you?" Eutropia asked.
A grey bearded Uflen Guard behind the Grand Princess answered. "The Sapphire Swords are renowned cavalry, Majesty. I see no reason why not. Especially if we need not pay them."
Though I'm sure there will be money to make off plunder from another world. Tem thought.
Eutropia considered Asaf for several moments. She had several things to balance at the moment. Was the danger as great as Jyoti had implied? How could Eutropia turn this upcoming conflict to her advantage? Tem did not envy the young Grand Princess.
"Very well. Send word to them. I will ensure they have a proper escort to Oppara." Eutropia decided.
"Your trust humbles me, Majesty." Asaf told her.
"And I can assure you that my wrath will humble you further if you break that trust." Eutropia said plainly.
There it was; an iron gauntlet beneath the silken glove.
"Of course. By your leave, Majesty." Asaf said.
Eutropia nodded. Temperance and Asaf stood, bowed, and left the room, followed by Urka.
Asaf let out a sigh of relief the moment the door closed. "Merciful Sarenrae. I would face those vampires in Kintargo over another meeting like that. I don't think I am suited to politics."
22nd Rova, 4721 AR
Oppara, Taldor
Asaf and Scaelia stood atop the northern walls of Oppara, looking out over gentle, rolling hills of vineyards and olive orchards. They watched the bridge that crossed over the mighty Porthomos River. Behind them, Oppara was in a flurry of activity as Grand Princess Eutropia gathered what forces she could, raising levies from the militias of Oppara and its surrounding towns. Even with only a few days' time, Asaf was already astonished at the number of troops that had marched through Oppara's gates. They would have to start quartering in the fields outside the city soon.
"I miss the Courtier's Cork already." Scaelia sighed, laying her head on Asaf's shoulder.
Asaf nodded. "I can agree. The palace is nice and all, but there is much to be said for floating bottles of wine on demand."
Scaelia giggled. "After this is all over, then."
"Agreed. For a week, at least. Perhaps two." Asaf projected.
"You'll be taking me to the Grand Library at least once." Scaelia informed him.
"Every day, if that is your wish. I am, as always, your humble servant." Asaf assured her.
Scaelia let out an ungraceful snort. "Right."
"Well…most of the time." He amended.
"I'll take what I can get." Scaelia said with a sigh. She straightened, peering out into the distance. "Is that them?"
Asaf squinted. Coming across the great bridge was a host of riders traveling under bright azure banners. A smile crossed Asaf's face.
"It is." He said, turning to head down the stairs and to the plaza just inside the gates.
The column of riders, led by a half-dozen Taldoran knights, entered Oppara to the astonishment of passersby. Asaf was sure they'd never seen so many Qadirans in a non-hostile fashion before.
The man leading the Qadirans was a wiry individual wearing a blue and white turban. He wore leather lamellar armor and carried a recurve bow, scimitar, and spear on his person or couched upon his saddle.
"Ho, there! Who is this I see before me, this golden vagabond upon my path!" Emir Ahtasaf Yasin declared as he guided his mighty dappled warhorse over to his son.
Ahtasaf leapt down from the saddle. He was a little taller than Asaf, his face cleanly shaven with tawny skin. Though in his mid-fifties, Ahtasaf was still full of almost youthful life. The braid Asaf had told Scaelia of was still present, falling to Ahtasaf's waist, streak with grey, a heavy steel ring upon its end. The Emir's smile showed ample laugh lines around his eyes and mouth.
"Father." Asaf greeted him happily.
Ahtasaf approached his son, embracing Asaf and kissing him on both cheeks. He then leaned back, one scar-crossed hand on Asaf's shoulder, the other on his cheek.
"My boy. My light. Dawnflower be praised." Ahtasaf said, effusive in his joy. He looked his son up and down. "You're looking well, if a bit thin. Have you been eating?"
"Of course, father. Society business keeps me busy." The aasimar explained, feeling a little embarrassed with Scaelia watching for some reason.
"Quite so, quite so. Zulif sends his love and prays that Desna will bring you home to visit soon." Ahtasaf said.
"I plan on it." Asaf promised, then turned to the side. "Father, this is Scaelia Deep-Sun. She is a cleric of Sarenrae from Jorredaz, a city in the Darklands."
"A cleric of the Lady of Light, you say?" Ahtasaf, surprise mingling with respect. Rare was the person not shocked by a drow cleric of the sun goddess.
"I am. May the Everlight bless you on this day, my lord." Scaelia intoned, bowing to him.
"Hah! Up, my girl, up! Standing on ceremony gives me indigestion." The Emir laughed, taking one of her hands in both of his. "You honor me with your blessing. I have told Asaf, you know. I have said to him, 'Asaf, my boy, your wandering days cannot be forever, you must find yourself a good Sarenite girl so…'"
"Father." Asaf said, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"What? Oh, forgive me, are you two not together?" Ahtasaf asked.
There was a brief pause of consideration as Asaf and Scaelia glanced at each other. They had not discussed that yet.
"We are." They said at the same time, each surprising the other.
Ahtasaf laughed a booming laugh, clapping them both on the shoulder. "Ah, by Shelyn's flowing locks, how I miss youth. Come! You shall drink with me! I must wash the dust of the road from my mouth, and can only hope the vineyards I rode past are not for show." He looked over his shoulder. "Safdal! Take care of my horse, I have business to attend!"
"Yes, my lord!" A young Sapphire Sword confirmed.
"Youth?" Scaelia repeated, but bit back on the fact that she was a century and a half older than Ahtasaf. The commander of the Sapphire Swords began leading them away.
"Metaphorically speaking, I'm sure." Asaf murmured to her.
The two of them spent a pleasant early lunch with Ahtasaf, who was eager to hear every detail about the confrontations with the dragonborn so far. His ability to quaff copious amounts of wine while remaining relatively sober, which was legendary in Al Tamaya, kept the workers of the establishment on their toes the entire time. It ended when Ahtasaf realized he should probably go and introduce himself to Grand Princess Eutropia, leaving Asaf and Scaelia behind in the corner of a winehouse.
"I am so sorry." Asaf said as his father walked out into the street.
"For what?" Scaelia asked him.
"My father. I know he can be a bit…much." The aasimar cringed.
Scaelia raised an eyebrow. "Are you joking? I think he's great. More people need to act with their whole heart and not care who sees it. I'd say you're lucky to have a father like him."
A small grin played about Asaf's face. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I am." It was easy to forget that. Asaf had grown up so used to Ahtasaf's bold and unashamed nature that it was easy to forget it was not the norm, even when Asaf was surrounded by the norm every day.
The rest of that day was spent pleasantly enough. Asaf treasured it, for he knew that, in a matter of days, everything might just come crashing down.
23rd Rova, 4721 AR
Cradle Station
The birth of the first dragonborn had been a cause for celebration across the breadth of the Eox Empire. The name of the creature had been "Niiv'ti." This was important. Part of the mental conditioning each dragonborn went through as they were assembled from the head downward in the Forge-Womb was the completely fabricated origin of their species. Niiv'ti was the supposed name of an eoxi arcanist that, by the wishes of a dragon that was their dearest and longest friend, found a way to ensure that the dragon's body could be used for the good of the empire the dragon had loved so much in life. The dragon, the myth said, wanted to serve, even in death.
The story always made Koilnyr glower. In that lie, there was a kernel of truth the Eox had not intended. By memorializing this fictional arcanist-adept rather than the dragon that was actually used in the creation of the first dragonborn, the Eox were making a statement that was hidden behind a thin veil. That statement was well known to the dragons in charge of the Ancalagon Imperium; an eoxi will always be above all others, no matter what the others give, no matter what they sacrifice, no matter their loyalty or quality.
Koilnyr had changed that. He would continue to change that. First, Golarion would fall. Dragonkin would be put above all the rest. Other worlds would follow soon enough.
The Forge-Wombs were a marvel, one of the few pieces of Eox technology that had been saved. Those and the World-Gates were the only ones that truly mattered. With those at their disposal, the Ancalagon could easily carry out their conquest by blade and bow. The army obliterating weapons of Eox would have been helpful, but in their way, they had been the downfall of the Eox. They had made the Eox themselves weak, too reliant on technology and on their disposable soldiers.
Even as Koilnyr watched from an elevated catwalk, the honeycombed pods that were the assembly chambers of the Forge-Wombs began rising from the floor of the massive space that held them. Uneven green light filled the room; a result of the raw material slurry that ran beneath the Forge-Wombs, existing in a great pool that waited to be pulled from. There were two-hundred Forge-Wombs, though some would say there was only one and the two-hundred birthing pods were all part of it. Whichever was the truth, the familiar acrid stink of a birth cycle's completion filled the room as the pods slid open.
The Forge-Womb tenders swept forward, well-versed in this process now as they helped the newborns step from their pods. The first thing these robed dragonborn did was say a prayer to Dahak, thanking the Sorrowmaker for the healthy delivery of these creatures and asking Dahak to bless them in the battles to come. The tenders then asked a series of questions to the newborns, testing the effectiveness of their magical indoctrination. Those that passed this test would be led to a place where they could eat their first meal and sleep in preparation for physical training. This training was minimal, mostly ensuring the bodies functioned; each dragonborn was created in peak physical condition and implanted with muscle memories of combat.
Those that did not pass at every point of this process were told they were being led away from medical care. In truth, they would processed into raw materials, the flaw undone. It was not a perfectly efficient process. Some material was always lost along the way. But it was always better to remove a weak link in the chain.
Koilnyr gripped the railing of the catwalk he stood upon as he watched the tenders start guiding the newborns out of the Forge-Womb chamber. He longed for the days of leading from the front, but managing several armies at once unfortunately would keep him here on Cradle Station. It was but one of many sacrifices Koilnyr had made for his people that would go unsung. He snorted. Unsung. Some of his deeds would have him killed. If only his subordinates knew what Ancalagos had planned for them. If only they had heard that naive fool's long winded speeches of hammering swords into plough shares, growing the biomass needed for reproduction, and living in strength-sapping peace. Peace. It made Koilnyr want to vomit. Only in war to one's virtues truly emerge. Only in war did one truly find their value.
In just a few short hours, Golarion would start to see just how little value they had.
23rd Rova, 4721 AR
Oppara, Taldor
Temperance could not sleep. He stood at one of the windows of the room he shared with Violetta in the palace. It gave him a view of the gardens that surrounded the twin lanes that branched off from the palace gate. The night was clear, the stars bright, the moon barely a sliver of a crescent.
As he'd learned back in Sarkoris, the waiting was truly the worst part of a campaign. There was only so much one could do to take their mind off things. Even spending time with Violetta did not fully remove the knowledge from his mind. A battle loomed ahead, one that might decide the fate of Golarion, if not the fate of the Inner Sea Region. Temperance couldn't make it arrive any faster, couldn't make the unknown outcome anymore clear. He simply had to wait.
Their strategy required meeting the dragonborn in the field. A siege would only serve to give them more time to create more warriors. They would be marching out the next day. Jyoti had said she could come up with a way to destroy Cradle Station in the time they had left. Temperance couldn't see how that was possible. The way Jyoti had explained it, Cradle Station was the size of a city, built onto a celestial body much like Somal, Golarion's moon. How could one person create something that could destroy something so large?
"Tem?" Violetta asked, voice hoarse from sleep.
"Hm? Oh, sorry." The tiefling said, turning away from the window. His darkvision allowed him to see that, much like his own body, Violetta's was crisscrossed with dozens of scars both large and small. He had watched her receive a great many of them. The most grievous was a trio of deep, ragged marks along the outside of her right thigh, dealt to her by an incredibly powerful ghoul broodfather.
Violetta slipped out of bed. She crossed into the moonlight and practically shone for how pale she was. She slipped her arms around Tem's waist, hugging him from behind.
"You're not going to be any use to anyone if you don't let yourself rest." The dhampir advised.
"I know." Tem said.
The stood there like that for a little bit. Tem couldn't help but be soothed, feeling Violetta pressed against him like that.
"You know, there was something I wanted to tell you. I was going to save it for after the battle, but then I realized that would be stupid." Tem said, half thinking aloud.
"What is it?" Violetta asked.
"I love you." Tem said.
Violetta flinched, but not hard. She gave Tem a little squeeze.
"Granted, I've loved you for a long time. I've loved you, and Der, and Shi, as friends for years. But this is a different kind of love." Temperance felt a little silly explaining it, but her silence made him want to speak.
"I don't mean any offense, but that's pretty obvious." Violetta said with a chuckle.
Tem laughed, too. "Aye, guess so."
"I love you, too, Tem. Really." Violetta whispered. "After this is over, I want to stay with you. We can adventure together. I'm sure there's plenty of work for a Mortal Usher around a Pathfinder."
"I'm sure we'll find it." Temperance said. He hoped he'd still be able to stick with Asaf, too. He'd come to treasure the aasimar's company.
"But, until then, you're coming back to bed." Violetta said, giving him a gentle pull away from the window.
Tem allowed himself to be led away. He lay back down, his forehead pressed against Violetta's as he drew the blankets up over them.
"I love you." Tem said again, savoring the leap of happiness in his heart as he affirmed the words.
"As I love you." Violetta answered, kissing his lips before nestling into his neck.
In that state, it was almost impossible to stay awake, no matter how active Tem's mind was. He was afraid, there was no doubt. Afraid of defeat, afraid of his friends dying, afraid of losing what he now had with Violetta all too soon. In spite of all of those fears, right then, Tem felt secure. Safe. Happy. He didn't even notice that his eyes were levering shut, and before long he was asleep.
26th Rova, 4721
Western Taldor
The air thundered with the sound of booted feet marching en masse.
It spoke highly for the power that still rested in the throne of Taldor when Grand Princess Eutropia was able to muster a force that was fifteen-thousand strong on such short notice.
The pride and joy of Taldor's military were its knights. There were about two-thousand of them, ranging from high ranking nobles in Eutropia's court to landless hedge knights seeking their battle fame. A company of war wizards marched with the army, as did siege engineers with ballistae and trebuchets in tow.
Eutropia rode with them and was protected by fifty Ulfen Guards. Eutropia wore no armor, she had never attempted to portray herself as some kind of warrior-queen, but her presence alone made even the levies march with straighter backs when their Grand Princess rode past. Many even cheered her name when they saw her.
They were three days out from Oppara. Advance scouts had begun returning the second day, reporting contact with Ancalagon scouts. The draconic invaders were, apparently, pulling back before the advancing Taldorans. Tem hated to give it to them, but it was a wise decision. They did not know Taldor. Rather than give the enemy home field advantage, fortifying what they already had put the onus on Eutropia to advance and attack, or to pull back and once again surrender the countryside to plunder.
Near the end of the days march, the scouts came back. They were near the gate. The dragonborn host was preparing for them.
Rather than make a half-assed assault, Eutropia wisely followed the advice of her generals and ordered that camp be made so the soldiers could rest, eat, and hydrate after the march. The next day would be one of red blades and dying screams. Better to go into it ready and rejuvenated.
A war council was called, but unlike the battle in Belkzen, none of the adventurers were privileged with a chance to sit in on it. Jyoti was, for obvious reasons, as was Emir Ahtasaf. For everyone else, the waiting game continued. It was a return to familiar territory. Tem vividly recalled waiting for Queen Galfrey, the Knight-Commander, and the other Crusade leadership to tell them where exactly they would be dying that day and in what fashion.
After the war council, Jyoti found the adventurers, gathered them in a tent, and cast spells upon it to ward off scrying. The mood in the tent was a combination of tense, somber, and a little impatient.
Jyoti gracefully alighted on a camp stool, looking around at everyone. "What I am about to ask of you all is going to be the most dangerous part of this battle. If the Ancalagon Imperium is to be stopped, it must be done."
"Enough godsdamned foreplay, just say it." Dergir grunted.
The expected "true" explanation of the dwarf's words from Arashi did not come.
"Very well." Jyoti said with a flicker of annoyance. She produced a wand. "This is my…key to Cradle Station, for lack of a better term."
Everyone leaned in and looked at it. The wand was bone white, made of some kind of hard, brittle looking material. Minute engravings of alien characters covered its surface.
"Every eoxi on the Station had one of these access wands. It was how we interacted with almost all the technology in there. I took several of them on my way out when Ancalagos allowed me to flee. After a great deal of effort and tampering, I have opened my old wand to be able to fully access Cradle Station's systems. With this, you will be able to issue the self-destruct command that will annihilate Cradle and everyone aboard it." Jyoti explained.
"You said the Ancalagon would have prisoners." Tem recalled.
"Yes. They will be kept near the Forge-Wombs." Jyoti said. "Not many. Only enough for a single batch in the Forge-Wombs; three-hundred, perhaps. An unfortunate sacrifice, but a necessary one."
"Necessary?" Temperance repeated, incredulous.
"I think not!" Asaf exclaimed at the same time.
The eoxi looked between the two of them, expression hardening. "All you will need to do to destroy Cradle Station is step through the World Gate, activate the self-destruct sequence, and step back out. What is a few hundred souls balanced against an entire world?"
"I don't think you understand, Miss Jyoti." Arashi said, the soft-spoken ronin giving her a pointed look. "We don't make such sacrifices. None of us. We do not reduce people to a balance sheet. They are people, each with a life as vivid as yours, each with infinite potential. In Shizuru's sight, I would prefer to fall on my sword than abandon them and take the easy way out."
Jyoti looked between each of them, clearly hoping at least one of the adventurers would try to persuade the reticent parties to the eoxi's side. No one did.
"You want our help, you tell us where to find the prisoners. Or, you do it yourself." Tem told her plainly.
"I can't. It will take my full effort to the hold the gate open, allow you through it, and keep any dragonborn from coming out until you are done. I will be fighting against…very complex locks. Or wards, would be more apt." She rubbed her temples. "Fine! Fine. I will be sending you into an auxiliary Gate used to ferry each batch of prisoners into Cradle Station. It will be guarded. I'm not sure how heavily. You must dispatch anyone on the other side quickly. If you take too long freeing the prisoners, an alarm will be sounded and the entire station will come down on your heads, likely including Koilnyr himself. Your prisoners will be only about fifty yards straight down the hall, through a doorway to the left, directly across from the Forge-Womb chamber. You'll know it by its odor."
"What's it smell like?" Tem asked.
"Like nothing else. You will know." Jyoti frowned in distaste. "Are you satisfied?"
Tem looked to his friends. One by one, they gave him nods or other expressions of approval.
"We are." Temperance told her.
Jyoti offered him the key-wand. "Very good then. This will get you through any doors that are in your way. Simply channel your will through it like you would any other magic item and direct your intent. To initiate the self-destruct sequence, you will need to speak my Eox name, followed by the phrase, 'Ak'yenthel'iv Status Declared: Initiate Forlorn Mutual Grievance.'"
Tem blinked as he took the wand.
"It makes more sense in eoxi." Jyoti shrugged. "I will write it down. Study it. Memorize it, all of you. I cannot emphasize enough the fact that until those Forge-Wombs are destroyed, this world remains in danger. Whatever happens, no matter the cost, if you have no way back, you must initiate the self-destruct, then destroy the key-wand. It will take several minutes for the sequence to fire up and complete."
"We'll handle it", Tem said, rising to his feet. "Thank you, Jyoti. For your help."
"Yes, well, I have an interest in stopping the Ancalagon as much as the rest of you." The eoxi said. "One final note. Koilnyr will almost certainly be aboard Cradle Station, commanding his invasion forces through World Gate messengers. If he detects invaders on the Station he will attack, and if he does that, destroy the station immediately. He is Dahak's chosen, powerful in ways that most mortals will never be able to comprehend. If you face him in battle, you will die. It is that simple. So, no bravado, no suicidal attempts against the odds. If you encounter Koilnyr, you have already lost, and it is time for the last resort. Am I understood?"
There was a hesitation, but eventually the adventurers confirmed they understood her warning.
"Good. Then go get some rest. You're going to be needing it." The eoxi dismissed them.
The adventurers left the tent, leaving Jyoti inside. When they emerged, they found Urka waiting with her arms crossed.
"Brother, I would speak with you." The half-orc said.
"I'll catch up." Tem told his friends, then faced Urka. "What did you need?"
"When I left Vylkavik, my mothe-...that is, our mother sent me with a gift. To be used if my need was dire, she said. If you're going to be the one going into the elf gate tomorrow, I think you might need it more than I do." Urka said, holding out a simple wooden scroll tube.
Tem smiled at "our mother." He accepted the scroll tube with a curious tilt of his head. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure." Urka admitted. "All I know is mother said it will bring help when I needed it most." She shrugged. "An ice storm? A magical weapon? I am not sure. But I want you to have it, brother."
Tem tucked the scroll tube away. "Thank you, sister. We'll need all the help we can get."
Urka smiled fiercely. "Those scaly bastards are the ones that are going to need help by the time the Bright-Blade and the Bold-Heart are through with them."
"Heh. Damn straight." Temperance agreed.
They clasped each others' forearms.
"May the Lord in Iron witness your battle." Tem bid his sister.
"And may you be carried to victory on your Ragathiel's wings." Urka declared.
The two siblings parted ways. Tem was sure Urka would distinguish herself in the battle to come. Compared to taking an ice linnorm one on one, a few dragonborn was going to be a warmup for Urka.
As Tem left Urka behind, he pulled the scroll case out and removed the scroll, looking it over. He was far from an expert on the arcane, so he still had no idea what the scroll would do when he used it. The way Urka had worded things, Tem half wondered if the scroll would open a dimension door to Vylkavik that would bring a bunch of huscarls through. That seemed unlikely, though. He tucked the scroll away. He'd try to remember to ask Asaf or Scaelia later, but for the moment, the tiefling was more worried about his empty stomach than the scroll.
That final evening before the battle, as people were mostly turning in for the night, Temperance realized he hadn't seen Asaf for a little bit and neither had Scaelia. He eventually found the aasimar at the edge of the camp, looking into the distance to see the massed fires of the dragonborn camp reflecting off the clouds in the night sky.
"And here I thought the battle against Vesperex's army was going to be the biggest one I ever took part in." Asaf said as Temperance approached him.
"Aye. I know that feeling." Tem said, coming to stand beside Asaf.
The two Pathfinders looked at the orange-lit clouds together, standing in silence for over a minute.
"I must give you my thanks, Temperance." Asaf said.
"For?"
"For breaking down my door in the Courtier's Cork that day."
"Ah", Tem chortled.
Asaf grinned. "I had not realized how far into fear and self-pity I was. I still didn't, at the time. But I never would have ended up here if you had not."
"I seem to recall Venture-Captain Zenith threatening to fire you…", Tem remembered.
A scoff from Asaf. "True. But you broke down the door and refused to let me keep acting as I had been, regardless. You have my thanks for that."
"Aye, well, you have mine, too, Halo." Tem said to him.
"Oh?" Asaf looked surprised.
"After the Crusade ended, I was lost. I didn't have any idea how to function in a world that didn't have a Crusade to fight. Joining the Pathfinder Society seemed to be my only shot at something that came close to what I was used to. Your expertise and guidance got me a lot further than I would have gotten alone."
"Well, it wasn't just me for very long. We were blessed with a great deal of assistance along the way." Asaf pointed out.
"Fair, fair." Tem said quietly.
Another brief silence passed.
"I now thank Desna each day that she brought your path parallel to mine." Asaf muttered.
"Me, too, Halo." Tem concurred, placing a hand on Asaf's shoulder, the two of them still facing out at the opposing war camp. "Me, too."
