From the diary of Abudi Ibn-Nasir, Dragon Mountains, 24 Machl 1426.

 

The night was unusually clear, yet nothing could be seen beyond a few meters. The Grand Master's tent was the only higher point on the plain. It was also the most heavily guarded place in the Alden Mountains at the moment. For both sides were guarding their envoys, their sentries and masked men-at-arms nearly colliding with each other.

"No! No! No! I cannot agree to this!" the Grand Master insisted after nearly a quarter of the hour, clearly dissatisfied with the demands presented on several points. They were presented by an old man, the royal astrologer Maver de L'Okullus, accompanied by his beautiful daughter, Ives. She seemed strangely distant, silent and serious. Despite this, her beauty dazzled us during the presentation, especially young Walverde, as evidenced by the glint in his eyes. Even now, he couldn't resist glancing at the woman. Besides these two, Gwillzeth's embassy was completed by Baron de Ravenford and his halfling servant, Melvin, appointed scribe.

"People like Lady Loxley will never! I repeat, never, be safe within the borders of Oxydia. Their misdeeds are remembered to this day!

" "We must reach an agreement," Walverde began in a conciliatory tone. More to appease Master Badulain than the others.

"We can propose the following solution: Recognition of the borders of Alden up to the northern passage, without the fortress of Aldenhorn. Joint management of the port of Sunford. Waiver of territorial claims and opening of the borders. And the withdrawal of wanted posters, except for a prepared list of, say, fifty most wanted criminals.

" "However, the envoy will be untouchable," insisted the one introduced as Baron Ravenford.

Walverde looked at the Grand Master. He nodded reluctantly in agreement. Then he added, frowning, "But not more often than once a year. That will still be perceived as a provocation at court.

" "For your part, you guarantee the free flow of goods, an end to raids on caravans, and a tithe tax on imports and exports for merchants."

Gwillzeth's envoys exchanged glances, and the old man said slowly, "We agree to these terms. The situation is exceptional and tense. Time is not on our side." I trust that your signatures and seals will carry the same weight even after the prisoner is handed over.

"You can rest assured of that. The Order's honor is a sufficient guarantee," Walverde replied.

The old man asked for a break so the scribe could prepare the appropriate documents. We agreed, wishing to confer once more before making a trade offer. We left them alone and left the tent. We were immediately approached by my dear cousin Sahib, who, his face aflame, bombarded us with a torrent of words that didn't necessarily make sense. "They're all around us! Everywhere! They've posted guards... Very close to ours. They have a veritable invisible army here... Sometimes, at the edge of the darkness, you can see their silhouettes. They're elves! You can hear them whispering. We've lit fires...

" "And those inside?" He moved toward the tent. "What did they say, what did they say?

" "By the venerable book. Sahib, don't get excited," I said through gritted teeth. Lenthian Cavalieur also approached us.

"Is it true, what does Mr. Nasir's cousin say?" Walverde asked.

"True, sir. We're practically surrounded. I suspect they're also watching the pass we came through.

" "They're hiding well. We've known that for a while. As long as we reach an agreement, there's nothing to fear," Master Badulain remarked.

We approximated one of the campfires. Nearby, horses neighed nervously and stamped their feet nervously.

"The matter is clear. Tomorrow the Sorcerer will be ours. The trade matter is your domain, dear Nasir. I trust you will manage, so if you allow me..." he turned to Master Badulain, "...then I will depart after signing the papers.

" "And where are you in such a hurry, dear brother?

" "I'd like to check something, if you please. I sense the presence of magic similar to that from the isthmus. It may be nothing, but I prefer to check.

" "Agreed, if you feel something, it's better not to remain in the dark."

They brought us wine, which I drank greedily. My mouth went dry at the thought that I was standing before the chance to sign the biggest trade agreement of my life, one that, with Hebin's help, would ensure prosperity for me and my children until the end of time.

A few moments later, a halfling arrived, informing me that Gwillzeth's envoys were ready to resume talks.

***

If anyone had passed by the cell where the Warlock was imprisoned, they would have heard a soft murmur. And if anyone sensitive to magic had been in the dungeons, they would have sensed the steady pulsation of energy.

In the center of the dank chamber, in the dim light of a torch, the Warlock sat cross-legged. He chanted a mantra that connected him to the staff that rested in the form of a ring on the arm of the beautiful Ives de L'Okollus. This allowed him to witness the conversation taking place far out on the plain, where his fate was at stake. The Warlock interrupted his meditation. The situation was bleak. Tomorrow, when the sun passed its zenith, he was to be handed over to the Paladins at the pass. He had to act. He no longer sensed the castle lord's powerful power. He learned from his servant, Chamberlain Quaquale, that Gwillzeth had gone to personally oversee the negotiations. This gave him the courage to use magic to maintain his bond with Ives through his staff.

The sorcerer summoned the Chamberlain, who was wandering the dungeons with misty eyes.

"You will go to the blacksmith, have him forge identical manacles to these..." he pointed to the chains lying at his feet. "...They are to be made of iron. To obtain the color, you will add this powder." He handed a leather pouch to the servant, which he had retrieved from the things the Chamberlain had brought.

"Hurry is advisable. Pay him handsomely. Also for his silence. Bring me the finished manacles in the morning. Go away."

The unconscious Chamberlain nodded and left to carry out his orders. Xenor refocused his energy and conjured an image of Yves in his mind. The thread once woven between them allowed him to transport himself almost instantly into the girl's mind. He saw the hated Khail Walverde sitting next to the elderly man. There was also a familiar-looking man with a dark complexion, and the clothes he wore were reminiscent of those worn in the Warlock's homeland. Aabudi Ibn-Nasir—the name meant nothing to him, but since he was working with the Knights, he should pay closer attention. It was this man, speaking with a southern accent, who was explaining something to Gwillzeth's envoys. The warlock concentrated on his lips. After a moment, he began to hear the words as well.

"...we therefore propose the following: For twice the initial price, ie, thirtieth of the port's income, we receive the right to build a port on the coast of Alden, which will be under the strict control of the Khaz Trade Guild, as well as space for a fort not far from the port. We will place our customs posts in the port and at Aldenhorn Keep. If I may advise you, I suggest the same. This will greatly simplify the work for both parties.

" "Your attention, please," said the half-elf, rising, the sight of whom ignited a hatred within the Warlock that could barely be controlled.

"I see we have reached a point where my presence is unnecessary. I am extremely pleased that we have reached an agreement in such a short time."

The paladin approached the astrologer, bowed, briefly glancing at Ives, and said, "I thank the gods that your lord has taken my offer seriously. I hope we will meet again, my lord. Perhaps we will have more opportunity to discuss matters further next time." I also greet your daughter Ives, and hope for a quick meeting. I will meet you again tomorrow, Baron. Thank you again. Goodbye. Master..., Lord Nasir...

The paladin saluted the old man they called Rosh Badulain and Xenor's compatriot, and left the tent. After he had left, the old man spoke.

"We too have no choice but to affix our signatures to the scribe's text. I see that my opponent, Gwillzeth...

" "King. King Gwillzeth," Ravenford recalled. The Grand Master of the Order smiled, saying,

"This won't be easy for me for a long time. I see that King Gwillzeth has amassed a wealth of knowledgeable advisors, making them his courtiers. I hope our relations will not be strained now, and that you will honor me with your presence at the meeting with representatives of our common neighbors."

"In the name of friendship and shared interests, we will gladly visit the impregnable fortress of Aldenhorn. If opportunity and time permit," the astrologer replied politely.

This exchange of pleasantries infuriated Xenor. He quickly and carelessly withdrew from Ives's mind, heedless of the potential for such a step to betray him. He stood, opened his eyes, and furiously began kicking at his chains. A scream, laced with anger, echoed through the dark corridors of the dungeons. The scream escalated into hysterical laughter, and the Warlock shouted, heedless of caution:

"Trade me, messenger and bearer of secrets! It's not going to happen! The lands will sooner be covered in desert than I allow myself to be captured and judged by Kharonaey! Wait, I'll prepare something to spoil your mood.

"

Lady Loxley cautiously strolled beyond the reach of the fires lit by the Templars' armed men who had arrived with the embassy. She guessed that the sentries posted by the paladins were aware of their situation. She also knew that, despite being surrounded, they would be no easy opponent even for her select squads. The Templars were among the few possessing excellent training, both tactical and combat. Even in the dire situation the paladins currently found themselves in, Lady Loxley's commandos would pay a bloody price for capturing the camp. She stopped near the sentries guarding the horses, at a distance from which she could hear their voices. From this vantage point, she had a clear view of the tent where a new kingdom was being born, one that could from now on significantly influence the fate of the lands. From a strategic perspective, the Alden Mountains were ideal for defense. They enclosed the interior of the peninsula on all sides, accessible only by two routes. The first is a narrow strip of coastline in the north, the only land access. The second is a narrow strip of coastline to the southeast. Until recently, there was an unknown pirate haven called Minrodhell, used as a base by pirates prowling the Nadir Sea. Over the years, the pirates had massed a considerable amount of valuables there, which were now incorporated into the treasure of Bedernford, the capital of the newly formed kingdom of Alden. The haven and its settlement fell to Nidia Loxley, whom Gwillzeth, as her most trusted figure, bestowed with the title of Baroness of Minrodhell. She was recalling an event from years earlier, when she and her men faced a very difficult task. Gwillzeth wanted to take over the pirates' business, so he sent Lady Loxley's commandos to remove the inconvenient pirate leader, Zinh de Waskez. She remembered clearly how she had sneaked into the pirates' lair and, with the dagger whose ornate hilt she now clutched, ended de Waskez's life. Taking advantage of the situation, when a power struggle had flared among the pirates, Gwillzeth had one of the sides bribed and, after providing military support, took control of the harbor and the pirates' stronghold. Her thoughts were interrupted by movement in the Templar camp. A young man emerged from the tent, his pale face contrasting with his long, raven-black hair, held back with a silver clasp, which greatly intrigued Nidia. She immediately recognized the grace and lightness of the elven gait, but he was taller, almost as tall as a human. Slightly stooped, he exchanged a few words with the commander of the guard. He quickly issued orders, and small five-man squads began to form in the camp, taking positions closer to the four bonfires lit in a square around the tent. The guards who had been extinguishing the fires further from the camp were also withdrawn. The horses were grouped in the middle of the free space created by the Templars.

"What are we doing, Madame?" asked the silently approaching archer. Nidia didn't show any sign of surprise. She replied, staring intently at the camp.

"Order to move the guards closer to the camp. Or no, wait!" she thought better of it. "Something doesn't seem right here..."

She'd been looking for the young man who interested her for some time. He was nowhere to be seen. She cursed under her breath, furious at herself. Taking advantage of the distraction, the paladin slipped out of the camp unnoticed.

"Double the guards too. They've made us look like simpletons. One of them slipped away.

" "What?" the spy blurted out.

"This movement in the camp is just a distraction, you fool!" Nidia glared at him. "Send patrols, let them find him. Don't kill him! I want him alive."

She also decided to go in search of him. She donned a hood of greenish-brown leather, concealing her lush red curls. She checked her dagger and the shortbow she'd found while searching the pirate treasury. She glanced around and headed toward the pass leading into the heart of the Alden Mountains. She had a feeling the fugitive was headed that way.