Joseph L. Selby

 

These events take place preceding Dyv5-03 Dining with the Dragon.

 

            The ship slides up to the docks of Caltaran. Settled snuggly between Dyversian merchant vessels, the ship’s Furyondian flag flies in stark contrast to its neighbors. The wind blows briskly, causing the fabric to snap loudly. Merchant traffic from Furyondy is not uncommon and this is not the only foreign standard flying today. But with the recent actions of Enruhl Lord Leardyn allowing the Knights of the Hart to keep a small contingent of soldiers at Westguard, the red and blue standard draws more attention than it used to.

            The gangplank lowers to the pier and the captain makes way for the ship’s only passenger. An older man steps from a carriage below and approaches the gangplank with proud, confident steps. A young man walks with equal confidence across the deck and his footfalls make a loud thumping as he departs the vessel. He thanks the captain as he passes, but his eyes do not leave the gentryman waiting below.

            Reaching the dock, the young man kneels formally. “Lord Grandhearth, I am your humble servant,” Ethane Leardyn says.

            “Welcome home, young man,” Klabert Lord Grandhearth says, beaming with affection. “Now come, cousin. Stand. Stand. I will not make my family suffer formality after returning from abroad.” The gentryman embraces the young man, clutching his shoulders firmly and looking him up and down. “My carriage waits. We will dine at my manor before you return home tomorrow. Your father is left to my wife’s conversation. I am sure he is in need of rescuing.”

            “My father? He’s in Caltaran?” The boy’s shock is clearly displayed on his face.

            “Yes,” Grandhearth replies matter-of-factly. “Since the magister’s disappearance, he travels quite frequently. The Gentry Council believes that it is important we keep a strong, united, and consistent public appearance so that the populous does not fear an eventual collapse of government. After the Winter Riots, there is a sense of underlying unrest. People are waiting for Hunter’s return as a symbol of stability.”

            “So there is still no word? I was asked repeatedly during my trip to Furyondy about the magister’s whereabouts. Rumors are beginning to spread. There are stirrings abroad, fears whispered in shadows.”

            “So it was just like home then, eh lad?” Klabert cracks a wide smile at the wry joke. It quickly falls when Ethane returns a pained look rather than one of amusement.

            “My lord, Dyvers has never had a sterling reputation. We’re regarded as criminals and malcontents.”

            “The concerns of foreign courts are their matter, not ours. The Free Lands are proud of our independence. We would not accept an imposed social role any more than we would foreign rule. Let them whisper. The courts always clamor for the newest gossip. When a magister sits on the throne again, they will find something else to fret over.” Grandhearth’s disposition sours a bit and he turns to stair out the window of his carriage. He received similar reports from his allies abroad. Dyvers’ continued lack of centralized leadership is beginning to affect trade, making the guilds and their satellites upset. “As this is a conversation I have with your father regularly,” he continues, “I say we save this for the dinner table and discuss rather your time in Chendl until we reach Grandhearth Manor. Your trip lasted much longer than I expected. You must fancy life there.”

            “Chendl is an amazing city, cousin, although plagued with its own troubles. If not for Joramy’s unjust punishment of Furyondy, I could wander the streets of Chendl for weeks and not lack for interest. House Maltrus certainly earned their nobility with their efforts in the city’s design. I would be so bold to argue that it surpasses Dyvers in beauty and culture.”

            Lord Grandhearth’s smile falls away a second time, his jaw subtly clenching shut. He stares at the boy for a moment, but Ethane Leardyn’s attention is drawn to a small flock of sheep being herded by Dagby shepherd dogs. The nobleman probes a bit deeper. “Your affection certainly explains your length in stay then.”

            “Please, cousin Klabert, if we’re truly to dispense of formality, then we both know the reason for my extended stay. My father’s disposition seems directly related to my proximity. I’ve only just returned from Furyondy and I find that he’s traveling from the Westlands repeatedly. I would not be surprised to find a bottle of Leardynian Gold in his hand before my second boot has touched the floor of your front hall.”

            A silence falls over the pair that is not broken until Maenda—Lord Grandhearth’s second wife—greats them at the top of the drive. Enruhl Lord Leardyn leans casually in the doorway of Grandhearth manor, watching the half-elf woman welcome her husband and his young cousin home from the docks. Once free of Lady Grandhearth’s embrace, Ethane is taken off-guard when his father follows suit, going so far as to kiss his son on the cheek. The sun breaks the horizon, and the group quickly retreats to the dining hall for a late supper. Once there, Klabert Grandhearth renews the previous conversation where it left off.

            “I was speaking to your son on our journey here regarding his time in Chendl, cousin Enruhl. He seems to have taken quite a fancy to the city.” With years of politics under his belt, only the most seasoned diplomat or rogue could decipher the complete meaning of Grandhearth’s statement.

            “And with good reason, cousin Klabert,” Leardyn responds. “I remember his reaction the first time I took him to Furyondy. It was very similar to mine the first time I saw Chendl. Regardless of any rivalry that may exist between our two countries, no man could contend that it is not an amazing city.” Lady Maenda raises her glass and the four toast the eloquent exchange. Ethane raises an eyebrow when he notices that his father’s glass is not filled with Leardynian Gold, but water.

            “Your disposition seems much improved father, since my departure,” the son says cautiously to his father.

            “A lot has happened since you left, Ethane,” Lord Leardyn replies. “Although he had fought in the defense of the Free Lands many times before, no one would now dare challenge the loyalty of Sir Robil Kelso, who died in the defense of Westguard, regardless of his association with the Knights of the Hart. The magister herself regularly spoke in private of her displeasure of Westguard’s association with Furyondy. I am now relieved of the constant gossip mongering. With Derreg Lord Pengallen seizing the easternmost manors for Maraven, it is more imperative than ever that the Westlands act as a bastion of honor and loyalty when others hope to take advantage of our situation for their own profit.”

            “So you feel the Knights of Furyondy to be a boon to Dyvers?” Ethane asks, still cautiously.

            “Their presence still causes a commotion in Dyvers proper, but the Westlands have benefited from their presence. I think if the citizens were to meet the knights and their men first hand, they might appreciate that they are willing to allow us to live freely and in peace. I wonder how much of their annexationist views have been exaggerated.”

            Neither Enruhl Leardyn nor Klabert Grandhearth miss Ethane’s reaction to this final comment. His eyes quickly dart to his plate and he allows the conversation to die, hoping that Lady Maenda will move the subject in more palatable direction.

            “Ethane was telling me that there are whispers in the foreign courts. That our lack of centralized leadership is causing foreign unrest,” Klabert says, pushing the conversation forward. Ethane knows what they want and does not hesitate to answer openly and honestly.

            “Lord Grandhearth speaks truly, father. There are concerns abroad, rumors of secret naval outposts on foreign shores, of the eastern border of Dyvers collapsing to the underworld element from Greyhawk City, and a new riot coming with each passing season. They fear that if the Gentry Council is not able to keep control of Dyvers, the subversive element of the city might take control. Marginal progress has been made in the war against Old Wicked and none of the Border States would see a second enemy appear behind them.”

            “Ah, the subversive element,” Klabert says sarcastically.

            “Yes cousin,” Ethane says forcefully, offended by Lord Grandhearth’s condescension. “It is well known that the remnants of the Temple of Elemental Evil are hiding in the city. We openly grant property to a temple dedicated to the Reaper, and assassins from Greyhawk are regularly crossing our borders. This element must be dealt with if we are to prosper.” Ethane locks eyes with his father, looking for some type of affirmation. The boy becomes conflicted and his attitude sullen. He sees it in his father’s face, the lord of the western border agrees with him, but does not have the resolve to follow through with what is necessary. What little resolve he had was drowned in wine. Ethane only hopes that his father’s new disposition might finally give him the courage to act.

            “Could I ask, Ethane,” Maenda Grandhearth says, drawing his attention, “how you would identify and remove this element? In a metropolis as large as Dyvers, it would be impossible.”

            “Not so, cousin Maenda,” he replies, his spirits lifting. “The Invincible gives men the means of finding this element. They must only have the resolve to act.” Ethane turns to his father and the two lock eyes again. “Honor, valor, and resolve make a great man. And great men make a great society. My father told me that when I first left for the Furyondian War College. He was right...as long as they have the courage to act.”