Table of Contents Chapter One: Order in the Court Introduction "By all the Watching Gods, this is too much! " The armored fist of the Lord of Storm Tower crashed down on the council table. No, into the council table. The Steward of Storm Vale neither flinched nor changed expression, though the Throne Lord's gleaming gauntlet left a deep depression in the polished duskwood. Such marring was nothing compared to what had already been done to the once-prosperous vale all around them. In another two summers we'll be just one more unknown backwater of Tethyr, he thought. I wonder where Lord Aviatharr's bones will be then. "Steward!" Aviatharr roared, as if Braegrel was at the far end of the Tower rather than seated right across the table, "where's that sneering high-nose of a herald? Bring him here at once -- and those fool priests, too!" The steward assumed his best expression of politely puzzled interest. "Which particular 'fool priests,' my lord?" "All of -- the high priests, you idiot!" Aviatharr spat, slamming his other fist down. It held his usual heavy goblet, but was bare -- and as Braegrel rose and bowed with precise correctness, he took some satisfaction in watching that goblet ring off the floor, and the Throne Lord wince and wring his numbed hand. Three familiar faces were waiting in the gloomy passage outside. The steward never slowed, but muttered as he brushed past, "Strike soon, or Storm Vale will be part of the Golden Marches before summer's done." The Master of the Hunt arched a knowing eyebrow, but the Master of the Dungeons and the Sword of the Gates kept their faces as still as stone. The Sword casually turned aside his cloak to reveal a long dagger gleaming ready in his hand. Ah. It seemed that summer might end this very day in Stormsword Castle, and thus it was time for a certain Steward -- seen as the Throne Lord's friend, confidant, and eager instrument, despite a far different truth -- to disappear from the Vale forever. Before someone decided stewards might have ambitions best served with the blade of a handy dagger. Braegrel whirled, but the Sword of the Gates hadn't moved a boot. The wry smile on the guardcaptain's face told Braegrel he knew exactly what had been going through the steward's mind. The Master of the Hunt was striding into the council chamber, saying something Braegrel was too far away to hear. The steward hurried to the swiftest stair down, hurrying now -- and froze. There were voices below, where there should have been only silence. The door at the foot of this stair was kept locked, and . . . "The duke has been apprised of Her Majesty's will in this matter and stands in full agreement, My Lords Most Holy. The ducal forces await your signal." The steward drew back. He knew those unhurried, cultured tones: Rhaurabbyn, the envoy of Tethyr. Which meant . . . "The Lord Herald here has perused our agreement. You confirm the royal seal, gallant Summerthorn?" "Lord Speaker, I do. The bond between you is clear. I accompany you now to bear stern witness to Throne Lord Aviatharr's response." "Good, good," two voices murmured -- the very high priests Braegrel had been sent to fetch. Ascending toward him swiftly: the herald, the envoy, and the two holy lords. Braegrel ducked back out into the passage, hastening toward a certain tapestry. A bright, soundless flash of magic burst from the council chamber, and a body -- or rather, various pieces of what had been a body -- bounced and thudded out the council chamber doorway. Braegrel winced and ducked behind the tapestry. It took but a moment to open the secret door and step through. Whatever magic Aviatharr had used to slay the three courtiers, his doom was sealed. The priests had made a pact with Tethyr -- and neither the Duke of the Golden Marches nor those priests needed the snarling tirades of a throneless ex-lord. Or his servile steward. The coins, the clothes, the ring of spells -- all had been prepared long ago. He must move quickly, and spend an unpleasant night fleeing this life, but at least Braegrel still had a neck to call his own. He dressed hastily, thrusting his robes into the stone-weighted sack that would soon greet the moat. The heavy purse jingled, but . . . no, that sound was coming from someone else! He clawed for his dagger. "Who's there?" "Steward, d'you think you're the only one who prepared for this day?" Aviatharr's rough whisper was right by his ear. "If I unhood my lantern, will you put away that silly knife and help me with this wig?" What You Need to Play To use this supplement, you need the Dungeons & DragonsPlayer's Handbook, Dungeon Master's Guide, and Monster Manual, plus the Forgotten RealmsCampaign Setting. Finally, several other D&D and Forgotten Realms supplements are referenced herein. In many cases, this reference is in the form of a superscript abbreviation of the book's title, which is tacked onto the end of the name of a spell, prestige class, or some other game element. The books and their abbreviations are as follows: Book of Exalted Deeds (BE), Book of Vile Darkness (BV), Champions of Ruin (CR), City of Splendors: Waterdeep (CS), Champions of Valor (CV), Complete Adventurer (CA), Complete Arcane (CAr), Complete Divine (CD), Complete Warrior (CW), Dungeon Master's Guide II (DM2), Draconomicon (Dra), Epic Level Handbook (EL), Faiths and Pantheons (FP), Heroes of Battle (HB), Lords of Darkness (LD), Lost Empires of Faerūn (LE), Libris Mortis (LM), Magic of Faerūn (Mag), Miniatures Handbook (MH), Monstrous Compendium: Monsters of Faerūn (Mon), Manual of the Planes (MP), Player's Guide to Faerūn (PG), Planar Handbook (Pla), Races of Faerūn (Rac), Races of the Wild (RW), Shining South (SS), Unapproachable East (Una), and Underdark (Und).
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