The+New+Knight

Night falls, dark with the heavy cloud cover and scattered showers. Wroat, Breland's capital, is tense; City Watch patrols are larger and include regular Army soldiers. The neighborhood of Little Droaam is under a strict curfew, and the patrols there are entirely Army; squads of soldiers with magical support.

Sir Cristian Restis, newly-named to the Order of the Brelish Crown, is with Princess Audrina ir'Wynarn in a suite of rooms at Brokenblade Castle. She is glad to be away from both her half-brother, Prince Bortan, and her uncle, Regent Kor. Where is the //Audacity//, the airship Bortan and Audrina used? how does it get to Argonth?

On the downside, they're no longer hearing the news updates from New Cyre. Crest wonders about his friends and battle companions. Audrina assures him that they are well, as she had seem some of them fight weeks before.

She is certain that civil war is coming, especially now that the faction with a chance of overthrowing both Kor and Bortan was reeling from the violence wrought by the Swords of Liberty. Bigotry and xenophobia are one thing: Losing in a straight-up fight to the Cyran refugees was a truly crushing blow to the anti-monarchist cause. Indeed, Lord Ruken ir'Klarn seemed on the verge of quitting the Chamber of Nobles altogether. "His fool sister in Stormreach can take him," Audrina scoffs.

Jump Cut: Now Crest and Audrina are aboard Argonth, having //teleported// there from Wroat at Prince Bortan's request. Argonth is moving steadily northward from Sterngate towards New Cyre, in order to relieve Breland's other floating fortress, Dejarn. The //Audacity// is parked nearby, but guarded. They're in another suite of rooms, directly under the bridge. They see paramilitary troops -- all reporting to the Office of the Royal Steward -- wearing dark red cloaks with the Brelish Bear emblem -- the colors of the Heir Designate, except there isn't one in Breland right now. Audrina and Crest talk some more, about how King Boranel died, and the moment he passed Bortan over and named his brother Regent. It was because Kor promised to implement the grand bargain Boranel had negotiated with Darguun, Zilargo and the leader of the Cyran refugees, Prince Oargev ir'Wynarn. Which Kor has done, even though it has cost him dearly. The skirmishes at Sterngate with the Bugbears before they freed hundreds of ethnic Cyran and Gnome slaves, the loss of PrairieHearth to the Swords of Liberty (meaning the Crown is most likely liable for paying damages to House Vadalis), and the hundreds killed in the Battle of New Cyre. There's even word of an assassination attempt on the Governor.

Prince Bortan comes in. The three speak briefly, before Bortan insists that Crest join him for sparring practice. They go to a nearby practice room, where even the blunted weapons are masterwork quality. They spar with single weapons, and Bortan wins. He remembers that Crest is a specialist in shield fighting, so he tells Crest to get a shield and to not hold back. Crest complies, but is still easily outclassed by the Prince. It's about this time that Crest mentions Nina, or some other trigger, and Bortan tells his war story. How he led Breland's forces in an offensive around Silver Lake to take land from the newly-independent Eldeen Reaches, implying that he and his Aundairian counterpart were working together to crush the Reach. He points to his battle sword, hanging in a place of honor on the wall. "A dozen Druids fell to that blade," he boasts. But the battle turned, the Reachers fought back, and before long Bortan's force had been decimated by repeated gueriilla strikes. He was forced to retreat to the south side of the lake, a humiliating defeat that ended his military career. Now he hates the Reach, and speaks of turning Oalian the //awakened// greatpine -- leader of the Eldeen Reaches, High Druid of the Wardens of the Wood and a source of divine power in its own right -- into kindling. When he becomes King, he and his allies in Aundair will be poised to strike.

Jarvis Black faded into the shadows, throwing an invocation to become invisible and moving silently up the wall to prop himself against the ceiling. Someone was moving stealthily, with purpose, along the narrow passage towards him. They were three decks below street level on Dejarn, above the forges and near the port hangar deck. No one had passed though in more than twelve hours, but now here was a male human, dark-haired, sharp-featured, wearing a Citadel uniform with dark cloak, pausing almost directly beneath where Jarvis lurked. //He senses me//, he thought, //but doesn't see me//. He glanced up and Jarvis' keen eyes saw the man's face. Lucan Stellos, the Dark Lantern who had been tracking Jarvis' movements around New Cyre. Jarvis had shaken Stellos days before at the town's central square, in the distraction when Thomas the Aundairian had ignited the day's debris bonfire with //pyrotechnics//. Once he'd boarded Dejarn and gone to ground, Jarvis hadn't given Stellos a second thought. Now here he was, just a few feet away. //Looks like a Karrn//, he thought. //No, more than that//...

Lucan looked around, sniffed the air silently, then paused. When he softly hissed "I don't have time for this," the sound was almost deafening in the narrow corridor. Stellos stalked on down the corridor to a hatch at the far end, once again silent as a ghost. Only the briefest glimmer of light showed when he opened and closed the hatch. Alone again, Jarvis took a breath and dropped silently back to the floor. //That hatch leads to the prisoners//, he thought. Dangerous mercenaries from the Mror Holds, nearly 40 Orcs and Dwarves who had tried evading capture in the Seawall foothills, only to be brought to heel by some of his erstwhile allies. //Why would a Dark Lantern want to see them?//

As Jarvis moved up the corridor away from the hatch, a more disquieting thought arose: That Stellos __had__ sensed Jarvis, and had spoken to him as he clung to the ceiling, rather than to himself. Somehow, Jarvis didn't think Lucan was reporting to his superiors. //Whatever he's doing, it's not my concern//. His mission to neutralize the excoriate remained paramount.

In the days that Jarvis Black had spent as a stowaway on Dejarn, he'd known from the outset it would be the toughest stealth mission he'd ever attempted. It had been easy to steal bronze and silver keysticks, nearly as easy to figure out how to spoof their magics so he could move freely about the floating fortress. At one point he'd lurked in the shadows of a darkened mess hall, watching a group of six Citadel cadets take a late meal in the light of one //everbright lantern//. He'd been amused by their banter and flirtations, until one suddenly stood up, faced the others (and Jarvis, thirty feet beyond, unseen) and changed her face and body to look like an elf. Ariel Elenwyd, to be exact, another Dark Lantern and ally over several adventures. She'd then said, in Ariel's no-nonsense but pleasant voice: " Let me make this clear to you. This base is the mightiest military force in all Breland. Walking New Cyre's streets are heroes of might and magic, with power equal to the greatest figures of the Last War. So when I tell you Jarvis Black is the most dangerous being within fifty miles of this spot, you will understand my full meaning."

Jarvis had scowled, but the Changeling and the other cadets broke down laughing. One, a Shifter female, pounded the table as she barked with glee. Then a human boy pointed to the Changeling and gasped, "Now do the rest!" She looked at him, arching Ariel's elegant eybrow, and he nodded. She nodded back and told the others in her normal voice -- lower, huskier -- "So I said, 'Your orders, Lantern?' and she says..," clearing her throat and continuing in Ariel's voice: "Tell the Watch Commander to place a round-the-clock King's Shield guard on Qarlo Sivis . When that Gnome goes to the privy, I want a Shield standing by with a bowl of rosewater and a wiping rag." She paused as the group laughed even harder, the human boy almost falling from his chair. She then reverted to her true form -- gray skin, yellow eyes -- and sat back down. //They're on to me//, Jarvis had thought. He'd been about the slink away when the human boy shushed the others and said, "They're dead serious about finding that Gnome, but also his Imp familiar. We had to tell the Captain of Wands to list every caster with // dimensional anchor //, and add one to every sweep of Dejarn. We're supposed to lock down that devilspawn on sight so it can't teleport away, and bring it to Lantern Ariel -- alive if possible."

//Worse, they're on to Druziel//, he'd thought. Now Jarvis shrugged. //If they catch me, at least I can honestly say I have no idea where he's gone or what he's been doing.//

The Gnomish language is perhaps the most subtle and nuanced in all Khorvaire, perhaps the world. Even when a Gnome of Zilargo curses, the words are layered with meanings within meaning, but always spoken politely and with apparent civility.

Jarvis Black was in no mood for nuance. When he opened the door to the communal privy three decks below Cannith Tower on Dejarn, his thoughts went straight to the most vulgar, guttural phrases of the Orcs and Goblins. Outside the middle stall lay a female Dwarf in King's Shields garb and mithral chainmail, face up, staring at the ornate ceiling. Her weapons -- a Dwarven war axe and Dagger -- were not drawn; instead her right hand clutched a white rag, and an overturned silver bowl was by her left side. As he approached silently, the smell of rosewater mingled with the coppery tang of the fresh blood pooling under her head and neck. If he had to guess, a single stab to the back of her neck, poisoned so she wouldn't cry out. //There are poisons able to bring down even the hardiest Dwarf//, he thought, //probably on this very base//.

Inside the stall, still straddling the toilet, was his quarry -- the House Sivis excoriate, Qarlo. The dead Gnome's clothes were scorched, and the exposed skin of his legs, head and neck were covered in bruises and welts. The kind left by Jarvis' own //eldritch blasts//. Which, to be fair, was one method he'd considered for killing Qarlo. "Druziel, you Shavarath bastard, show yourself," Jarvis growled, quickly toggling his eyes to see invisible creatures. Nothing. Even as he stepped back from the murder scene, careful to leave no trace of his presence, he felt a tugging sensation in his mind, as if someone wanted his attention. Thinking it might be the Imp sending a message to gloat, Jarvis opened his mind to the sending spell.

//Jarvis, Sir Crest and I need your help to escape Argonth. Head south, board and rescue us before Prince Bortan has us killed. Audrina ir'Wynarn.//

Without hesitation, Jarvis left the privy and stealthily moved towards one of the many escape routes he'd figured out during his days lurking on the Citadel's floating fortress. He wasn't just leaving Dejarn before his luck ran out and the Dark Lanterns found him. Now he had a mission.