Chapter Eleven: A Grave Concern.

25th Mirtul, Year of Three Ships Sailing (1492 D.R.) – six bells after highsun.

Six Bells strikes as we leave the Blackstaff’s Tower behind us. The Halls of Justice are nearby. This part of the Deep is still bathed in golden light. But, as the sun approaches the restless sea- horizon, the shadow of Mount Waterdeep starts to spread over the eastern wards. The wind off the ocean grows cool. It is briny and refreshing. My breath catches in admiration as I look south. The Lady Dreaming, limned in sunset glow, rises as a gently curving silhouette from the nearby slopes. Forlorn and frightening as are all the giant statues, tonight at least she seems to sleep in quiet peace.

It is an enchanting scene. And so soothing after the chaotic events of these last hours. Vaikner and I both walk in silence, still agitated and a little stunned by our experiences within the Blackstaff Tower. And outside of it. Even Eliana appears subdued. Fighting the urge to lay down alongside the Lady, joining her in dreamy contemplation of the play of light on water, I instead walk more swiftly. Cutting across Lore’s Walk to reach the temple of Tyr.

The Halls of Justice are very large and fronted by a paved court. The central temple building is extended by additional smaller structures meandering off to either side and to the back of the complex. I study the resulting sprawling compound critically. I decide that, what the Halls of Justice lose in elegance, they gain in generous size, functionality, and defensibility. Passing through the empty fore-court we climb up a short flight of wide stone steps to reach the temple doors. They are formed of an interesting amalgamation of very dark wood decoratively worked with a much lighter substance. Bone, perhaps, or the horn of some rare beast? They stand open. The entry hallway beyond is empty and very quiet. Despite the warm afternoon light streaming in through doors and windows, there is an austere quality to this place. Perhaps because floors, walls, and columns are all finished in fine marble. There is nothing to soften the cool gleam of stone; no extraneous decoration that I can see. Our footsteps echo even as we step lightly down the length of the hall. I find the simple elegance of this place calming. And I feel relief in the security of its solid stone walls. Happily devoid of endlessly spiraling stairways and mysterious ghostly figures…

Instead, as we walk further into the temple, I see a Human woman seated behind a stone barrier at the distant end of the large entry hall. This curving counter forms a generous work surface, as well marking off a sort of reception area occupied by this temple guardian. There are more chairs and a small wooden table behind the counter, as well as numerous bookshelves lining the walls behind the woman. There is also a door, much smaller than the grand portal to the Halls of Justice but formed of the same contrasting materials, to one side of the shelves.

 I turn from my examination of the bookshelves to find that the Human is watching us. Her eyes are a beautiful pale green. Bright and keenly watchful, they remind me of slightly frosted pieces of glass after they have been in the embrace of the sea for many years. She is of advanced middle years and strongly built. Her skin is fair, suggesting Illuskan heritage, and her hair, light blonde generously intermixed with grey, is shorn carelessly short. The cloth of her shirt and surcoat is rich but the cut of her garments is plain. She nods in brief greeting when she sees that I am looking at her. This gesture does not interrupt her own assessment of our company. There is nothing belligerent or challenging in her gaze but it is also very open and steady. She makes no effort to conceal the fact that she is watching us attentively.

“Good day to you.” I greet the guardian with a polite smile. “We are looking for a Knight of Samular and one who, I believe, may be quartered at this temple. Do you know Ushien Stormbringer? Is she here? And, if so, may we speak to her?”

The woman blinks and looks, for a moment, as if she were uncertain which expression to adopt in response to my smiling questions. She finally settles on her own smile, small and rather incredulous.

“Yes. I know Lady Ushien Stormbringer. You will find it difficult to find any that do not know her here.” She answers. “You may not realize this but you are seeking the Knight General Stormbringer. She is credited with the great victories that the knights achieved over the Cults of the Elemental Eye in the Desarin Valley. Indeed, her feats were so mighty and the need for her continued guidance so great, that Saer Stormbringer took on the role of leader of the Knights of Samular. She is now based at their primary head-quarters. At Summit Hall, in the Sumber Hills. I am afraid that if you desire to speak to her you have easily a tenday’s travel before you.”

A spasm of strong emotion flickers over the temple guardian’s face as she speaks of Ushien Stormbringer. I am not sure how to interpret this change of expression: grief, fear, relief, or a combination of all of these? And I am too preoccupied with the information she shares with us to dwell long on the odd reaction of the guardian as she tells her story. It seems that the passage of time has wrought many changes, both within the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors, and within the Knights of Samular. Ushien, as well as any wisdom that she may have to share about defeating the Hag, is out of our reach. Bitterly disappointed, I glance at my companions. They too look troubled by this unwelcome news.

“Perhaps, Guardian of Tyr, you may still help us.” I turn back to the woman behind the counter, straining to keep my tone light. “Is there a library in this temple? Do the knights here keep records? Surely, having attained honored status as leader of the Samular, there are many tales of Ushien and her achievements. If preserved here, they may provide useful information to help our company in its present task. May we be permitted within to review any such records of past deeds?” 

The guardian’s level gaze sweeps over us once again. She marks Eliana’s hooded cloak and bow, and Vaikner’s staff. She stares for a moment at my blades, and then pauses again, looking intently at the mark of the Seldarine on my amulet. Her focus narrowing in on my eager face, she speaks directly to me.

“We do keep detailed records, naturally. But our collection, our library, is open only to the faithful of Tyr. And, as a gesture of courtesy and support, to members of the Order of the Gauntlet. Are you a member of the Order?” She asks.

A straightforward question. But, my hair swirling cautiously, I sense that there is more that is being asked. As the woman continues her calm evaluation of me, I realize that she expects my answer will reveal where my allegiances lie. It is clear that this guardian holds herself to an uncompromising, resolute standard of belief and behavior. And that she is testing me to discover whether I share her convictions. It is just…I am not yet entirely certain what her beliefs are.

It is an unfamiliar feeling, being judged in this way. At home, my mark of the Seldarine, my Grandmatron’s blades, and my snow eagle feather all signaled my identity as Raptor of Aerdrie Faenya and Sky Warden of the Aerie in good standing. These symbols elevated me beyond anyone’s questions; quietly proud confirmation of my faith, honor, and courage.

During my journey to the Sword Coast, I had, with only a few exceptions, little cause to interact with those whom I met on the way. Most travelers fell into one of two groups: those volubly generous with information about themselves, anxious to relieve the boredom of the long road through the telling of many tales, and those tight-lipped and clearly eager to avoid personal chatter. It was difficult, at times, to remain a silent part of the latter contingent. But it was by far the safer and simpler course.

And here, in the Deep…well, I acknowledge ruefully, here I have found myself doing most of the judging. Revealing my name and goals to those whom I deemed trustworthy or important to my quest. And, when not choosing to be immediately open about my identity, counting on my general bearing and actions to confirm my good character.

The woman at the Halls of Justice seems to be asking more from me. And, strangely, I find myself desiring to rise to her challenge. To prove my worth.

“No. I am not.” I admit regretfully. “In fact…well, I do not actually know what the Order of the Gauntlet is. But, and as one serving in the Halls of Justice you may be interested in this, I can tell you that I too am a justice-bringer. I serve as Warden to my own People. Providing protection and aid. I follow the path of my Lady, Aerdrie Faenya. My friends and I are newly arrived here in Waterdeep. I am currently quartered at the Temple of the Seldarine.”

My effusive attempts to convince the temple guardian that I stand for good are successful. Or, perhaps, she just prefers that I stop talking. The slightly crooked smile returns to her face.

“What is your name, please? And when did you come to the Deep?” She asks.

“Oh. I am Elodie, Elodie Skyshard. And I arrived on the 22nd of Mirtul.” I reply, looking back to my friends and shrugging.

The woman turns to the shelves lining the wall behind her. She sighs softly as she stands up. And moves stiffly, as if pained by an injury. Her soreness does not slow her in her search. Swiftly rifling through cubby holes of impressively organized files, she removes a ledger. Sitting back and looking over ink-stained pages, she nods.

“Yes. I have your name, right here.” She announces.

“You do? Why would you have that?” I crane curiously over the stone barrier.

“Yes.” She laughs at my contortions. “My temple keeps a close watch on all knights in godly service who come through the gates of the Deep. Even if they are adherents of different faiths than Tyr’s. We still have a strong interest in such individuals. At times we may provide them with aid and counsel. On other occasions we may instead ask for their assistance.”

“That…that is interesting.” I say politely.

It is interesting. And useful, I suppose. Still, mostly I am struck by what an overwhelming task gathering such information in a city as large and busy as Waterdeep must be! I am impressed by the diligence of Tyr’s faithful. And I think curiously about my friends. I am certain that the Blackstaff’s letter, deputizing us to the Gray Hands, will suffice to prove his legitimate standing. But I still hope that the temple guardian does not attempt to verify Vaikner’s credentials. I imagine that she would find Eliana Cooper somewhere in her ledger! Listed as an adherent of Mielikki. Breathless with inquisitiveness, I look back at Eliana. She seems content to hang back, however. She simply smiles noncommittally as listens. Deflating a little, I follow her example and do not ask the guardian to check for Eliana’s name.

The woman before us seems to reach a decision. She stands up slowly.

“I am Saer Savra Belabronte. Welcome to the Halls of Justice.” She bows with stiff formality.

“Eliana Cooper.” Eliana says quietly.

“Vaikner Bootsman.” Vaikner introduces himself.

Saer Belabronte nods to all of us and then turns back to me.

“The Order of the Gauntlet is an alliance of noble warriors of good heart.” She explains. “We come from many backgrounds and serve many deities. But we are all united in our faith in godly good and in our adherence to law and to fairness. We work together to protect those weaker than ourselves, to take action against those who harm others, and to bring peace and justice to every community. Our ultimate purpose is to eradicate evil from these Realms.”

I gaze at the knight, eyes shining as my air whirls in excitement around me. What she speaks of is a stalwart alliance for good; just like the Sky Wardens that I have pledged my loyalty to! I can set aside the stinging disappointment that I felt to encounter distracted, brothel-seeking constables and petty, power-hungry bullies of the City Watch. Here are the true defenders of the North!

“The Order is happy to welcome new members to its ranks.” Saer Belabronte smiles. “To be considered, an applicant must perform a courageous act in aid of another. An act of selfless service. Or they must have a member in good standing of the Order vouch for their application.

“Or both? I expect that both will do?” I ask breathlessly.

Saer Belabronte laughs. Hoarse, as if from long disuse, it sounds like the harsh call of a bird.

“Indeed, both would do very well.” She replies.

I rein in my soaring enthusiasm. We are here to collect information to help us defeat Gristlegums. A worthy task. Now that we have read of Mathilda Graegrimes’ foul deeds, and have met Lif, Bekhir, and Saer Ederick’s orphans, the Hag’s destruction has become an increasingly urgent goal.  And even that important quest must be only a brief detour from my greater mission to collect Tears for the Avariel.

Yet I cannot entirely suppress my surge of excitement at the idea of joining an alliance of noble warriors who have pledged themselves to the cause of bringing peace to our Realms. Of fighting together against the forces of destruction and chaos. Of bravely venturing forth to confront evil and, well, smiting it! 

“Well, thank you for that useful information, Saer Belabronte. Regrettably, I know none in the Order who may vouch for me. My friends and I are here on another matter…” I trail off morosely.

“Ah, yes. Why is it that you need to speak to Saer Stormbringer?” Saer Belabronte asks.

“Have you every heard of the Hag, Gristlegums?” I return to the questions that we came here with. “The tale is an ugly one and dates back several decades, but perhaps you were here, perhaps you are familiar with the Hag’s depredations?”

Saer Belabronte leans forward, frowning and shaking her head. Once again, we quickly share the distressing story of Trollskull Manor and, in particular, of Ushien Stormbringer’s courageous role in apprehending the monstrous Mathilda Graegrimes.

“I was not in the Deep then, not when this Hag made your manor into her hideous lair.” Saer Belabronte is still frowning. “I regret that I cannot help you with your questions.”

Then, reaching down for one of the many papers on the crowded desk before her, she beams.

“Still, Tyr must be smiling on your endeavor.” She says, pleased. “I received a letter this day from one of my Order. A Saer Ambrosius Everrest. He is a Doomguide of the Klemverite Faith, appointed with the oversight and protection of the City of the Dead. He calls for aid because some of his charges – the dead interred in the City – have gone missing.”

She looks around at our surprised faces.

“The Order, as are all who would stem the rising tides of Chaos in these trying times, is stretched thin.” She sighs. “If you would go to the City, help Saer Everrest discover the truth of what is happening, and assist in laying his charges to rest, he would surely speak for you. Enabling you to join the Order of the Gauntlet.”

And, I silently complete Saer Belabronte’s unstated message, I would then have access to the Halls of Justice library. And any records therein that pertain to Ushien Stormbringer.

The knight has grown quiet, staring down at the letter before her. When she speaks again, there is a tense note in her voice that I have not heard there before.

“I will not speculate on what the Doomguide may be facing. But I do know this: Saer Ambrosius is genuinely troubled. His letter appears most…untidy. Very different from his characteristically neat hand.” She sniffs in disapproval. “He writes as if in extreme haste. Or, perhaps, in distressed exhaustion.

Noticing my wondering look, Saer Belabronte’s tone strains for cheeriness.

“Of course, Saer Ambrosius is a young knight. With the typical enthusiasm of one of his age. Inexperienced warriors do have the tendency to imagine trouble where there is none.” She scoffs gently.

Or to be more alert to threats than their weary and cynical counterparts, I think.

It is only later that I come to understand that Saer Belabronte may have been concealing true concern beneath her mildly dismissive tone. Warding off her fear of a genuine threat to a friend with the cavalier denial of its existence. At the present moment, however, my feelings are stormy.

I realize that I have only the same superficial knowledge of Kelemvor, the Human god of Death, as I do of the rest of the Non-Elven pantheon. And I am unfamiliar with Human rituals marking their transition to death and the afterlife. But I find even the slightest hint that Unstill Dead are trying to reverse natural barriers between Worlds, to return to some form of life, terrifying. My air congeals in cold fear and anger about me.

Beyond my discomfort at the suggestion of Necromancy, I also scowl at Saer Belabronte’s humor-tinged words. She is clearly devout in her faith to Tyr and noble in her dedication to service. I long to admire her without question. But I instinctively bristle at a senior knight devaluing the passion of a more youthful warrior. It is so upsettingly familiar.

“But Elodie,” I seem to hear again “Are you sure you would not prefer to patrol within the calmer confines of the Aerie? Away from the cold winds and sharp cliff edges? Surely that would be safer for you, walking on the surface as you do?”

“Oh Elodie!” rings again in my memory “How can you be certain that there is anything of value in this legend of the Seldarine’s Tears – more a tale for fledglings than recognized history – to trouble the Elders with? Even you must know how many demands on their time they now have”…

My hair straightens nearly to its full length, rising out in angry, whipping disorder at these painful recollections.

“I cannot say. I know little of such things.” I mutter an unasked-for reply to Saer Belabronte’s conjecture.

More grumpily than is proper, as I can tell from her blinking response. 

“I would be happy to seek out Saer Everrest and ensure that all is made right at the City of the Dead.” I add hurriedly. 

Saer Belabronte accepts my offer with obvious pleasure and, after assuring her that I will return to provide her with a full report of whatever may occur, my companions and I leave the Halls of Justice. 

‘I like Saer Savra Belabronte very much!” I announce buoyantly as soon as we are outside the temple to Tyr. “And I feel that her request calls for urgent attention. I understand that you are in a hurry to leave the Deep for Undercliff, Eliana. Will you be very offended if I join you there after I investigate this matter of missing Dead at the City? Or we could all go and see Saer Everrest first! We could join the Order of the Gauntlet together. That would be splendid!”

Strangely, neither Eliana nor Vaikner are particularly intrigued by the prospect of joining the Order. 

“Hmm. I am a follower of Mielikki, Elodie.” Eliana demurs. “I don’t think that I’m the kind of holy fighter that this Order is interested in recruiting.”

I glance at her, surprised. I find her statement odd. Mielikki’s charge to protect Nature from harm is, as I understand it, very much aligned with the goal of protecting the Realms and those who live in them from destruction and chaos. But I suppose that we can debate the finer points of our different faiths at another time. For now, listening eagerly as Eliana and Vaikner respond to my emphatically approving outburst, I am most grateful to find that my companions also recognize Saer Belabronte’s assignment as an urgent one. They are willing to make a visit to the City of the Dead our shared priority.

“After we take evening feast, of course.” Eliana says quickly. “As Saer Savra said, we do not know what we will be facing. Best to be prepared and at full strength.”

While it has been Eliana who has unfailingly kept us on a regular mealtime schedule, I must admit that the succulent roast lamb and toasty flat breads we purchase for evening feast are both nourishing and delicious. And, as Hidden Mephit’s Meat and Cheese, purveyor of fine filled breads, is directly on our path east, we can nibble and walk without losing much time.

We arrive at the City of the Dead with the last of the daylight. Approaching the Ward from the south-west, we enter through a different gate than the one that Flune previously led us to. The paths here are wider and they wind around gently rolling hills. There are many ancient trees drowsing through the dimming of the day. Enlivened by splashes of jewel-bright color from a profusion of blooms that burst joyously from lush beds. 

There are also many monuments; fountains and statues that appear to commemorate important events in Waterdhavian history. And there are more of the small house-like structures, presumably tiny temples, scattered throughout. Some are simple in design while others are ornate; crowned with domed roofs or miniature towers. Many are decorated with flowers. The last golden glints of sunlight dance over multi-hued petals. The sun’s fading glow ignites granite and marble with brief fire before twilight spreads its dreamy purple haze over the park.

We did not encounter many people during our first visit to the City of the Dead. Its northern reaches were quiet and empty. Now we are caught up in a steady stream of foot traffic. Not quite enough to be a crowd. But sufficient for me to see that there is little of melancholy about those visiting here. There are families carrying picnic baskets and lovers walking with arms twined about each other. There are solitary individuals too, many of advanced age, but even they, walking alone, look more wistful and pensive than truly sad. All are headed in the opposite direction from our company. Towards the entry gate. The City empties rapidly. I conclude that the park must close to visitors during the night-time hours.

We reach an immense statue built atop a low hill. Perusing an inscription in carved stone, Vaikner is quickly able to tell us that the structure is a memorial to an ancient battle that took place in Waterdeep. The slopes surrounding the monument are planted with flowers. Kneeling next to one of the beds, weeding as grimly as if she herself were still fighting the Deep’s age-old foes, is an extremely aged Human woman. 

“Good Evening.” Eliana boldly risks the tiny woman’s ire by interrupting her at her task.

Fortunately, the small gardener seems quite pleasantly disposed towards all but encroaching plants.

“Good Evening to you!” She calls in reply.

“Please forgive us for intruding on your work.” Despite her friendly greeting, I decide that cautious politeness is safest. “We are here to meet with Saer Ambrosius Everrest. I am Elodie, Elodie Skyshard. And these are my friends Eliana Cooper and Vaikner Bootsman. We are here to offer our help to the Doomguide. Do you perhaps know where we can find him?”

The woman bounds up with creaking energy. Her face, already deeply wrinkled and seamed, folds into new and happy creases.

“Why, certainly, certainly my Dears!” She cries. “I am Aundra Blackcloak. And you are here for Saer Ambrosius? How lovely! He is such a special young man! Always so helpful and considerate!”

Aundra continues in this manner for some time, providing us with a wealth of extraneous information about all of the kind and attentive acts that Saer Everrest performs for her. Apparently, she likes him very much. I look uncertainly to my companions. Vaikner is gazing with admiration at the shimmer of the first starlight on the flowers. Eliana catches my look and grins. I widen my eyes at her beseechingly.

“Mistress Aundra, it sounds as though you are blessed with a good and helpful companion in Saer Everrest.” She ventures, still smiling jauntily. “We have heard that he may need a little help this evening. Is he here?”

“Oh. Oh yes. He has remained here, patrolling late every one of these last evenings.” Aundra shakes her head. “He has even had to forego his usual habit of walking me safely to my home when I complete my own tasks! I fear that he is working overly hard. It cannot be be good for him! He will exhaust himself.”

With many a distressed “tsk” and frown, Aundra continues to bemoan Saer Everrest’s increasingly burdensome schedule of late. Gently and skillfully interweaving her questions between the elderly Human’s complaints, Eliana probes for more information about the Doomguide’s current location. With admirable patience, she extracts the following facts: Saer Everrest passed by Aundra’s flowery battle-field very recently. And he was headed south.

Bidding a briskly relieved goodbye to his extremely faithful and helpful gardener friend, Eliana, Vaikner, and I continue our search for the Doomguide. We climb another of the gently sloping hills. From this elevated vantage point, I observe that very few people remain in the City. And those that are still here are moving swiftly towards one or another of the gates that lead back out to the Deep. There is one lone figure not approaching the gates but, instead, pacing steadily along a south-easterly path. This must be our knight. I point him out to my friends and hurry forwards to catch up to Saer Everrest.

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I hope that you enjoyed this chronicle of our party’s visit to the Halls of Justice and Elodie’s eager embrace of new and exciting work for the Order of the Gauntlet (Side quest? What side quest?… 

I have several songs that play along in my mind for this chapter:

For Tyr:

God’s Gonna Cut You Down, Johnny Cash

For the Halls of Justice:

Clocks, 2Cellos, Lang Lang

For Saer Savra Belabronte:

Ordinary World, Duran Duran

Running Up That Hill, Kate Bush.

Please also visit my playlist on Spotify. I will be populating this with all of our campaign tunes as we adventure onwards: