Chapter 5: The Last Note of Betrayal

  Berf's Magnificent Horse Whispering

  Berf started leading the cart and horse back to the Merchant district as Ashen and Magnus rolled their eyes. Berf was quite a character. “Meet back here when you’re done,” Kaeric said to Ashen and turned on his heals striding south towards the Temple District.

  “You got it buddy. Right back here.” Magnus waved to his huge back as the orc marched away. Sylvi shrugged, gave a little wave then turned to follow him.

  As the cart moved through the city, a smile crept across Ashen’s face. “You know Berf, you are just about the best horse handler anybody could ever have. I’ve seen the way you tie the ropes and.. Untie the ropes. And brush the horses. And scratch the horses. There’s no one like you Berf,” Ashen said.

  “Ain’t that raight? I’m the best!” Berf said. “I been ‘round horses my entire whole complete life you knows. So I can take care of horses. I can… tie the horses… and I can. Untie the horses. You gotta be able to untie the horses if you’re gonna be tying them to things. Especially to carts. Otherwise they just get … well they stay tied.”

  “And you know, we were talking about how great you were at handling the horses while we were out and about in the city and we remarked that none of us in the group could possibly do as good job a job handling the horses as you.” Ashen’s voice was thick with sarcasm as he continued to complement Berf’s true talent.

  “You know Berf,” Magnus said. “I said, we could never replace Berf with any of the people here in Haverford to take care of the horses. You’re just that important.”

  “That’s what Magnus said,” Ashen exclaimed. “Just yesterday. He’s one of your biggest fans. He’s probably your second biggest fan, and I’m just your third, but you know who thinks you’re just incredible?”

  “Oh who?” Berf asked, as he sat up in the cart and urged the horse to go faster.

  “Sylvi! She really likes you,” Ashen said.

  “Oh Sylvi?! I didn’t know she liked me that much. Oh I guess she did give me the four gold,” Berf said.

  “That’s right, and some sausages,” Magnus chimed in.

  “And sausages. She definitely gave you sausage,” Ashen said. Conversation continued like this from the Twisted Wand back to the Merchant Guild Hall where Lady Valeric resided. As they approached, Ashen directed Berf to stay and watch the cart with the sarcophagus in the stable while they spoke with Lady Valeric. “Now Berf, it’s very important that you watch the cart. This is why we know you’re so important. Can you do that?” Ashen asked.

  “Oh I can definitely do that,” Berf exclaimed.

  “Great…” Ashen and Magnus walked to the front of the hall and knocked. As the door opened a man opened the door with a sneer. His left eyebrow seemed to be permanently wrinkled into a mass of incredulity as he poked his head out and pushed out his chin.

  “What do you want?” he asked, stretching his words out to fill the open space like a balloon. His eye looked inquisitively at them, unsure. He looked them up and down and Magnus thanked the gods, for what little he venerated them, that at least Ashen had covered up the half plate armor with the seal of the Golden Hand.

  “Ah, yes. We’re here to speak with Lady Valeric,” Magnus said. “She’s not expecting us, but we have urgent information regarding the investigation into her husband’s death. We are the group that saved her baby.”

  “Oh you are?” he said, slowly. “I’ll, uh, see if she’s receiving visitors. She’s only receiving family right now.” With that he shut the door and left us on the front step. Twenty minutes passed as we stood on the step.

  “Have you noticed that Berf is a little friendly with the horses? Like maybe a little too friendly?” Ashen asked. Magnus' eyebrow curled in confusion. “I mean, he’s always brushing them, and –” At that moment two people stepped from behind them and opened the door letting themselves in, looking at the pair strangely. As the door closed behind them, Ashen and Magnus looked at each other sheepishly.

  “Public building?” Ashen asked. They nodded to each other and opened the double door into the entranceway. The same man sat at a desk directing the two gentlemen that had just passed down the hall.

  “You decided to come inside to wait then? She’ll be out in a couple of minutes.” he said as he returned to writing at his desk. Examining his attire more, Magnus noticed that his uniform was less like a guard and more like an administrator. He grinned Lady Valeric walked out into the hall to meet them.

  “Ah, Ashen, Magnus, is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

  “Lady Valeric, perhaps it’s better if we find a private space to talk. We have some disturbing information about the murder of your husband,” Magnus said. She looked at him and nodded, then turned to the man at the table and said a few words. “I’ve asked Gerrick to let the company I have know I will be away for a moment. Please follow me to my private office.” They followed her through the reception hall and into one of the rows of offices reserved for official business. They passed three doors, then she ushered them into a room with a large crescentwood desk with gilded gold edges. She sat behind the desk and motioned for the two adventurers to sit in the two chairs. As Magnus sat down in front of her, Ashen took a place behind him standing.

  The Blunt Diplomacy of Lady Valeric

  “Thank you for making time to see us while you’re still in mourning, Lady Valeric. I know this can’t be an easy time for you, and we would normally wait to bother you, but we’ve uncovered information that could lead to the capture of your husband’s killer- and more importantly, it’s … It seems like your husband’s death was just a small piece of a much larger puzzle. The Prophet Kaelthar Brunnsen - you told us about the prophet rising to power recently in the city. We believe that he’s tied directly to the cult and we need to go to the Golden Hand. Can you introduce us to the Golden Hand?”

  “I’m sure they’re looking into his death but what does this have to do with -”

  “Should you tell her about how we stopped them from raising something from the dead to run rampage throughout the city?” Ashen leaned over to Magnus interrupting her. He craned his neck back to look at him.

  “I mean, technically, they weren’t raising anything from the dead? It was more like a trapped shadow monster that they were going to release through the city? So it wasn’t dead, just contained, and - Oh that’s right, “ turning back to the very shocked Lady Valeric. “So we stopped a group of seven. Eight? I don’t know. Let’s call it seven cultists as they were trying to release some horrible monster in the slums, but in their leaders pocket, we found a letter to the prophet as being one of the chosen. So it looks like this is all a power play from the prophet to look like a hero and your husband’s death was just part of a plan to get them political and religious hold within the city and disturb the foothold of the Golden Hand.”

  Lady Valeric blinked at Magnus.

  She blinked again.

  “Uh Lady Valeric? I don’t mean to be rude but-”. She cut him off as he was speaking.

  “My husband died as a pawn in a political game? Snuffed out like a candle so that a holier than thou hypocrite prophet can get his jollies to be more powerful?”, she started screaming.

  “I mean, they’re also trying to bring a demon lord to earth,” Magnus said, not quite interrupting her as she continued screaming epithets of rage and cursing his name. Slowly she began to quiet down, but she was not calm. She was boiling.

  “What do you need from me?” she asked.

  “If you can just give us the introduction to Lord Veylon, we want to deliver evidence and make sure it’s not covered up by a lower ranked member who may have infiltrated the organization,” Magnus said.

  “We’re going now. I need to put on my riding dress, meet me in the stables,” she said and left the room.

  “Well, I guess that went well.” Ashen said.

  “I mean, as best as it could?” Magnus said, taking an apple from the fruit bowl on her desk and biting into it. We should get Berf ready." With that they walked down the hall to the stable entrance to find Berf prancing the war horse that they had found on the trail through the swamp in a high trot. The cart was completely undone. Ashen's eye roll was practically audible as he stared.

  “Seee Magnus? I told you there was something funny,” Ashen said as he pointed.

  “Berf, tie up the horse to the cart. We need to go. Now.” Magnus said, taking another bite of the apple. “It’s really important-”, he said chewing,” that we-”. he swallowed. “Get ready now. Lady Valeric is on her way.”

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  “You can tie the horses on yourself! I’m just trotting this horse around!” Berf said.

  “It’s not the time. Move,” Ashen said loudly. Berf climbed down and started re-hitching the horse to the cart as Magnus finished the apple.

  At this moment, Lady Valeric appeared and went to a stable and stepped up to a tall white horse. “She was given to me on my wedding day by Lord Veylon.” We set off for the Golden hand.

  Streets and Stealth

  As Silvie and Kaeric approach the Temple District, they begin to watch the streets more carefully. It is bustling with people moving from place to place. Some are obviously on their way to one temple service or another. Still others are simply on their way to another part of the city. They passed the Golden Hand headquarters as they got further into the temple district and continued walking. Perhaps it would’ve been easier to meet back at the Golden Hand? Well, no matter at this point. Up ahead on the right, Sylvi saw the Radiant Hall, and nudged Kaeric. It was a humble temple, in comparison to the others, but it was still ostentatious and ornate with flames for Soltheris, the Radiant Flame seeming to glow from the sunlight.

  “Uhm, I don’t think we can just go in there and give it to him if there’s this many people Kaeric. We may have to figure out a different way,” she said.

  “We’ll look for other doors. We’ll need to find him inside,” Kaeric said.

  “And then once we identify him, we’ll be able to separate him and deliver the letter,” she said.

  Kaeric made a turn and darted to the right before the building. They casually walked amidst the crowd to get a sense of the building, only finding the double doors in front and a single back door that looked to be very closed, and probably locked. As they came back to the front door, they crossed the street and Sylvi looked down at Ember who mewed up at her. She bent down to whisper a request to her, not needing to put her though into words, but doing so to make that vocal connection. As she did, Ember scratched her neck along Sylvi’s fingers. With that, Ember took off across the street with her tail waving them goodbye.

  Whiskers and Marble Floors

  In what could only be described as the most stealthy way that a black cat can sneak across white marble floors, Ember managed to get past the two guards at the door of the temple without notice. Whether it was due to her ability to blend in, or the ineptitude of the guards, didn’t really matter to her, but she liked to think that she could blend into any surroundings. She peered into the large room as men and women filled the church. Some were in quiet prayer, others were talking to various clergy members.

  She slinked along the bright white and gold wall to make sure that she moved as sneakily as she could see possible. It was after all a brightly lit room, but she could do her best. She darted across the aisle to make her way under a pew. Edging her head out, she listened for voices. Which one of the Prophets was Brunnsen? No. Which one of the priests was the Prophet Brunnsen. She nodded to herself and paid attention to the various clergy dressed in white as they walked.

  In general it was relatively hushed, but an occasional laugh could be heard from someone as they talked about “glory” and “praise” and "thankfulness" and — “Brunnsen” That was who she was looking for, she found where the words were coming from as she focused on a couple standing in front of a clergy member. “Thank you again, Prophet Brunnsen” This was him. She focused her thoughts back to Sylvi and sent her a mental image of the Prophet Brunnsen as the man returned to the dais at the front and sat in a meditative prayer in the largest chair. A few moments later, she could feel Sylvi’s presence walk into the room and sit at the end of one of the pews. Ember crept silently beneath the pews and made her way to Sylvi then tucked her head out to view the dais as the man still sat in quiet.

  One of her whiskers tingled for a moment. A man shouted, ““Excuse me, but what exactly are you do-”. As he did, Kaeric burst through the door near the dais and onto the stage in a black hood - A black hooded cloak - Like the cultists. She could sense Sylvi as her palm covered her face and she shook her head, then went back to … holding them together? Praying. That was the word. She was praying.

  Kaeric kneeled before the prophet and held out a letter for him. “I believe this is for you,” Kaeric said loudly, not meeting his eyes. The prophet stood up tall and his eyes seem to drill through him as a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, covered the lower half of his face.

  “My son, my sheep, if you need guidance, you can come to me properly,” Brunnsen said.

  Ember felt a flood of thoughts as Sylvi cast a sense thoughts spell on the Prophet.

  -Certainly they know that this is the most inappropriate way to continue my cover. Who would dare send a servant to me so publicly? In front of Everyone here?

  “I was told this is for you,” Kaeric said, still not looking up to meet his eyes.

  The thoughts came again -By whom? Who would have sent you in the middle of my church. My flock. I can’t accept this now.

  “Go now orc. If you need spiritual guidance, I may be able to help you,” Brunnsen said, his smile, unfaltering.

  Just go, people are already staring. Guards.. I’ll have the guards remove him. - The prophet's mind raced.

  He gestured to a guard as Kaeric stood and his full height towering over the man. He turned and said over his shoulder, “Morgan is dead.”

  Morgan! How does he know that name. No one in the city knows that name but my innermost circle. Who is this man? I’ll need to find him alone. Alone. Quickly. Morgan is dead? - The thoughts snapped silent as Sylvi wordlessly told her to follow Kaeric to make sure he was safe. Two guards were ushering him towards the door as Ember began to follow, making her way back to the door across the white marble. Ember could hear the thoughts of Sylvi in her head.

  We can’t just give him the letter in public, I said. We’ll have to approach him later, I said.

  As Ember followed Kaeric out the door, she remembered that she was hungry and she imagined that there was a non-zero chance that one of the guards had some tuna in their pockets. She would come back to this thought later.

  High Knights and Lowered Expectations

  Ashen, Magnus, Berf, and Lady Valeric arrived at the headquarters of the Golden Hand after making their way through the busy city and sent Berf along with the guards to watch the cart and the sarcophagus in the stables. Inside, Lady Valeric strode confidently through the main hall to the desk where the High Templar, Lord Veylon Crestwarden sat. It was covered with maps and books and notes. His gleaming armor had small dents and scratches throughout the chest piece making it clear that even if he was the highest dignitary in the organization, he was a sturdy warrior. He looked up from his work and his eyes wrinkled at their corners, turned from weariness to a calm pleasant smile, if not just a bit of sadness upon seeing Lady Valeric.

  “Lord Veylon,” Lady Valeric said. “thank you so much for helping during my mourning period. These two gentlemen were part of the group that saved my baby. They’re… heroes. I would not have lived if - My baby would not have lived without them, and I believe you need to hear what they have to say.”

  “And you are?” he asked. His eyes followed Lady Valeric sadly as she turned to leave, walking out the hallway.

  “This is Ashen and I am Magnus, The Weaver. You may have heard tales of … nevermind that for now. Sir, what i’m about to tell you is quite shocking and I realize this, but we believe that the cultists that have currently grown in the slums of your city are actually surreptitiously gaining followers for the Zarathax, the Lord of the Seventh Circle of Hell. They are working to bring about a portal for him come to the material plane and they are working in league with the Prophet Brunnsen. It actually seems to also be politicially motivated to garner more support for the Prophet and to diminish the standing of the Golden Hand. This cult specifically targetted Lady Valeric’s husband for a part of a summoning ritual and were about to have another beast unleashed upon the city at the Prophet’s direct order.”

  He raised his eyebrow unamused, “The Prophet is beloved among his people and works amongst the poor in the community. He’s been nothing but a light working in parallel with us to bring virtue in this city. And quite frankly, I don’t care who you saved, you can’t just be slandering good men - good holy men without evidence.” He began to get frustrated.

  “We know, which is why we brought this. Ashen, give him the letter,” Magnus said as he rummaged in his pocket to pull out the letter.”Last night, we were attacked… well, we stopped a group of seven of the cultists in the slums.” he said, rifling on his desk for a map of the city. “There, right there. If you send your men, you’ll find their hideout where they were hiding. You’ll find all their bodies.” Lord Veylon called two guards from the side of the room. And sent them to check out the spot on the map. “We found them as they were about to unleash and unholy beast upon the city. You should find- seven? No… eight? Six ish on the third floor and one on the second.. Oh! And another one. First floor, covered with hay.” Magnus called after the guards. “Anyway, the leader Morgan, was killed and we took this letter off of his body and this,” he said pulling one of the Amulets of the cultists out and putting it onto his desk. Lord Veylon took it into his hands and turned it over then gestured for a young woman to come over.

  “See what you can dig up on this symbol and ‘Zarathrax’,” he said. Magnus handed her the etching he took from the front of the Grimoire.

  Veylon began to read the letter as Ashen interrupted, “Yeh, see this Morgan Drelkar was the leader of this little cult and-”

  “Actually,” Magnus said, “That’s the thing. I don’t think Morgan is Archservant Drelkar. Drelkar? No Dreknar - Archservant Dreknar. I think Morgan is a subordinate. When we found them on the street, they were coming from somewhere with the sarcophagus and the letter says that the seal has been weakened. Now, that means that they probably picked it up from someone who had weakened it and had given Morgan the letter to hand off to the Prophet. And Oh!” he said, remembering. “We have the sarcophagus. Whether you have enough evidence to move on the prophet, you have to do something about the sarcophagus. It’s in your stables and it has to be– I don’t know… protected? Destroyed? Something! But you have to—”. Veylon held up a finger as his eyes went back and forth over the letter again, but his face began to get angry. The room echoed with the sound of him slamming his hands down on the table as he kept reading.

  “He was hiding among us… Using holiness as a shield while he hid his evil. Cultivating the poor… the hopeless. So that he could bring about - ,“ he roared with rage. And went to a small table at the back of the room and slammed his fist on the table, snapping it. As he returned back to us, he calmed his demeanor. A guard came into the room and replaced the table behind it with an identical table. “A sarcophagus. Where is this sarcophagus?”

  “It’s uhm. In your stable sir,” Magnus said arching his neck to watch the guard replacing the table. “Does that hap-” Without waiting for him to finish Veylon began to march towards the stable and flung the door wide. Magnus hopped onto the cart and moved the hay out of the way so that he could see it clearly. Without faltering, Veylon jumped onto the cart and put his hand out glowing. The chains seemed to glow.

  “This… this is unspeakably evil,” he said.”I need ten Senior Knights Templar. Now!” he shouted.”If this had been unleashed upon the populace in the slums, this would have killed thousands of people before my men would be able to reach it. Even then, I don’t know we would’ve sent enough.”

  “Yes,” Ashen said, “They were in the middle of releasing it last night when we stopped them.”

  “And where did you come from?” he asked.

  “We actually, we’ve come across the cultists before in Greymoor, have you heard the Tale of Greymoor’s Blight? Lord Griffin Allistair actually gave his recommendation for having saved the town.” As Magnus began to tell the story, of how they met, Lord Veylon held up a hand.

  “Look, it’s very impressive that you’re held in high regard with Lord Allistair, and I hold you in high regard as well for having brought this all to us, but I’ll have to hear this story… uhm… later,” he said, looking back at the sarcophagus as ten of his men arrived.

  “So, do you have a rewards program?” Ashen asked.

  Lord Veylon looked at the two adventurers flatly.