Remant: Pre-Dawn Preparations

It was still dark, but things were stirring on the western edge of the city walls. This area was mostly thornwoods, which was why it still remained wild aside from the dueling grounds. Thornwood trees were covered in inches-long spikes, nearly too tough to saw, and too knotted to be any use for woodworking. A light mist hovered just above the ground, and Remant's eyes picked out figures waiting near the trees: one, two, three, four, five, six. 

Sir Reville falls back on his favored tactics. He wondered just how much of the man's fame and fortune had been built on such methods. The knight himself wasn't here yet; he would need to make an entrance closer to dawn, so as not to arouse suspicion. 

Remant sighed, and slipped between the trees. There were times when he wished... but no, that would have been too much, even for him. He was swift and silent enough to do this as he'd been taught, direct and personal and with as much honor as his would-be ambushers would offer him. 

The first man died silently, and Remant eased the body down so that it lay in the leaves, behind the nearest of the thornwoods. 

The second man died with an arrow through the throat, and Remant brought himself forward in time to catch him and make sure he hit the ground gently as well. 

The third man was looking everywhere around him, and Remant would have thought that he'd heard something except that he hadn't called out a warning. After a long moment of observation, Remant concluded that the man was simply scared. He certainly was when Remant pushed the point of his dagger against the small of the man's back. "Say anything and you're dead. Make a noise and you're dead. You have one chance to slip away and go home, and this is it. Nod if you want to live." 

There was a brief pause, and then the man nodded. 

Remant tugged him gently around until they were facing each other, then nodded back towards the city. "Go silent. Go slow. And thank your gods for this blessing."

The man nodded, swallowed, then unbuckled his sword-belt and handed it to Remant. When he started away through the woods, well... it wasn't silent, but he chose his steps with care and it wasn't loud, either. Good enough.  

The remaining three were waiting silently, and died equally silently. Remant looked around but didn't see a sign of any more. He circled back around to the far side of the field, opposite the narrow cart-track that led from the city to the dueling grounds -- duels were still legal here, it seemed, and sometimes they had an audience -- to wait. 

RoH: Mansions and Masters

There were servants waiting when the carriage pulled up, and the nearest stepped up to hand Lariza Sundarin down from the carriage. 

"Thank you, Guillame," she said as she stepped onto the cobbled drive.  

"Will you be requiring your luggage, m'lady?" asked another servant. 

"Not this time, Auren." She smiled, and he flushed and ducked his head. The servants were, Remant observed, as pleased and familiar with her as they were with the former Viscount... who had appeared at the door, beside his butler. "I'm here to talk to my father, and say goodbye to you and the rest of the servants. I won't be staying overnight."

Remant didn't know any of the servants' names, but it was obvious he'd have to learn them. That would take time that -- thanks to his deal with king -- he wouldn't have for a while, but fortunately he'd have the former Viscount to keep things in order while he was gone.  

She turned towards the main door and approached, then rushed up and hugged her father.

"My daughter," Dirimant Acklin said. 

"I'm so sorry for letting Valeria throw killers at you. My husband and I need to leave town, and I didn't know what else to do." 

He pulled her close. "The young man has reminded me that I should not have put you in that position. I do apologize."

Remant turned away as she burst into tears. He wasn't, and couldn't be, a part of this. The... footman? ...strolled over to him stopped a few respectful feet and asked, "Will you permit me to speak above my station? I'm sure there will be an announcement, but we're all desperate to hear how it went."

"I'm sure," Remant chuckled. "It's only your livelihoods, after all. So yes, there will be an announcement, but in the meantime you may reassure the entire staff that your jobs are secure. I am now the Viscount Durzen, and I am immediately appointing your former lord as my Steward. Nobody needs depart unless they wish it, and if they do then I will see them off with a letter of recommendation and a gratuity for their work." He hesitated, then added. "I have a rendezvous with Sir Reville scheduled for dawn tomorrow, and then I'll need to make sure everything is arranged fairly quickly -- I have business out of town that may keep me away for several months."

"I see, m'lord," Guillame said smoothly. "That is... most fortunate."

RoH: Moving Forward

"May I come back with you?" asked Lariza. 

They were standing outside the solicitor's office. Remant was reasonably confident that Valeria would file the paperwork for the purchase correctly; he'd informed her that he'd check on it before she received her fee, and she was going to need that fee. "Of course," he said. "I'm sure your father would be glad to see you before you depart."

She nodded. "That," she said, "and I'd like to say goodbye to the estate -- and the servants. I grew up there, after all. So you're essentially leaving everything in place, but taking a few rooms for yourself?"

Remant nodded. "I don't need anything more, but I've been appointed the Viscount Durzen and I can appoint your father as my Steward, since he can't be Viscount himself. That will settle income for the estate, and he can represent me when I'm away -- probably better than I can represent myself."

Lariza laughed. "That is... not a solution that Valeria and I ever considered."

Remant shrugged. "And it frees you up to move to... Foringelt, was it?"

"Yes indeed. Like everywhere else, it's still recovering from the war, but this will leave me with a comfortable fortune and get me out of the way of the politics shaping up here in Capital. I wish I'd known the true state of affairs before now, but... how did you get my father to talk to you? I was told he'd murdered a dozen or so hired mercenaries who tried to pry him out."

"Same way I dealt with Sir Reville," Remant shrugged. "I didn't die."

She laughed again, more gently. "You seem very good at that." She nodded at her carriage. "Shall we?"

RoH: A Simple Purchase of Property

Valeria A'Maris went pale when Remant entered the room. Her secretary had tried to keep him out, and was currently sitting paralyzed at his desk. The stairs hadn't been guarded, which was just as well. He had resisted the urge to kick the door open, and come in quietly instead. 

The tableau before him was revealing. Valeria was behind her desk, and the two seats in front of it were occupied by a Vanil woman in her mid-thirties in a lovely silk dress and a Vanil man in his late forties or early fifties, wearing a very respectable outfit which included a long coat and a dress sword. 

Remant dropped the four swords he'd taken from his attackers beside the man's chair, then leaned down and slapped him across the cheek. "Is the old dueling ground at the edge of the city still open?" he asked. "West, just beyond the walls?"

The man glared up at him. "Yes."

"Good. Then I'll see you there at dawn."

"You have no right--" 

Remant shrugged. "We could pursue this in a court of law if you prefer. The witnesses were very clear with the Watch about who started the fight and who tried to avoid it. And your men were very clear about who sent them."

The knight's face turned red. "What have you done with my men?" 

"Get out of my chair, and go find out."

"Valeria?" asked the woman. "What is happening? You told me..."

Valeria shook her head just as Remant straightened. "And you," he said, "were the only one who knew I'd be visiting that particular temple. So we're going to complete this sale, and then you're going to be looking for another career. When word of this gets out at court, nobody will trust you with their dealings."

"Valeria?"

Remant paused, gathered himself, and then turned to look at her. "You must be Lariza... Acklin?" 

She shook her head. "No longer. Lariza Sundarin, as of... well, quite a few years ago. May I ask who you are?"

Remant nodded, and watched as Sir Dominic Reville rose from his chair and moved hesitantly out of the room. "I go by Remant," he said. 

"Ah," she said. "Like the legendary hero."

He sniffed, amused. "I'm not so legendary," he said. "But I worked out a deal with your father and brought it to your solicitor yesterday. It's more money than Sir Reville would have paid, and doesn't require me to kill your father, regardless of what he's become."

"Oh?" she asked. She sounded... well, more interested than anything else.

He nodded. "Unfortunately, I mentioned where I would be retrieving the funds to Valeria, and she sent word to Sir Reville, who set four of his armsmen to assault me and take the letter of credit, essentially allowing him to purchase the property without drawing on his own funds."

Lariza considered that for the better part of a minute. "And what happened to his men?"

Remant dropped into the chair and glanced down at the swords on the floor. "Nothing good."

She shook her head. "I should have known, when he increased his offer. He was my father's friend, and kind to me when I was a child, but..." she looked at Valeria A'Maris. "And you. I trusted you." She sighed. "Get the contract out -- and there had better be nothing amiss. I assure you I will be reading the whole thing." 

RoH: Another Ambush

Remant was well outside of the Temple of Rilique and the square in front of it, and heading down the street towards Solicitor A'Maris's office when two men stepped out of an alley in front of him. Their coats were heavier than they should be -- likely brigandine -- and they wore swords and had scarves covering the lower halves of their faces. 

He stopped and glanced back, seeing two more men coming up behind him. With a sigh, he spoke a Word and removed himself to the far end of the street. He almost managed to melt into the crowd, but someone behind him was exceptionally observant; there were shouts, and the rapid pounding of feet. Here at mid-morning, the street was only lightly crowded; still, there were a few shouts of protest as the men raced after him. 

It would be simple enough to remove himself further, but Remant was starting to get irritated. This couldn't be an accident; they were too persistent, and too sure of their target. No, these four had been sent. 

So he stood and waited, not even drawing his sword until they came closer. All four had blades out now, and Remant extended his empty left hand as he targeted the closest one. The bolt of magical force took him in the right kneecap and sent him face first into the cobbled street, causing the man behind him to stumble and forcing the other two to maneuver around him. 

Remant voided a clumsy stroke from the stumbling man, and stabbed him the bicep, twisting his blade before he pulled it back out and kicked the man into one of his companions. The man's sword hit the ground with a clatter, and the armored plates of his brigandine coat did nothing to prevent Remant's point from doing its work. 

The next man came in more carefully, and Remant smiled. No mere ruffians, these; they were armsmen, and well-trained. People were beginning to shout as Remant slid in past the man's attack, caught his sword-arm at the wrist, and punched him in the face -- once, twice, a third time -- with the abbreviated basket hilt on his sword. The armsman dropped like a rock. 

The first one was just starting to stir; the second had sunk down against the wall of a cobbler's shop, clutching at his arm in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. The last one had started forward, eyes blazing with visible hatred even with the lower half of his face covered by his scarf. 

"Are you sure?" asked Remant. "I haven't killed any of you yet, and I'd hate for you to be the first."

The man didn't answer; he just stalked closer, moving from angle to angle with his blade. 

"You're going to lose a hand," Remant warned him. 

He came in anyway, and Remant dropped back, keeping him at a distance and feeling him out. The man was good, trained and experienced both, doing his best to close in without over-extending himself. If all four of them had come at him at once, Remant might have been in trouble. 

There we go. This was someone who customarily fought with a shield, but hadn't brought one along because it would be too obvious on the street. A side-sword was one thing, and a coat of brigandine was close enough to a leather coat not to attract too much attention, but a shield would have been another matter altogether. 

Remant shifted to attacking his right side, forcing him to shift his stance and parry cross-body, then came in and twisted, cutting down. 

The man's blade hit the ground, his hand still attached to it. He screamed, clutching at his stump, and Remant sighed, reached into a belt pouch, and pulled out a bit of cord. "Stay still," he said, as he looped it tight around the forearm, then used a moment of conjured flame to cauterize the wound. 

The man passed out.

The first man had come to his feet and was trying to flee, but his knee wouldn't support him and all he could do was hop while dragging it behind him. Remant cleaned his blade on the unconscious man's shirt, stood, and strode after him. 

RoH: Business with the Temple

"Your pardon, good sir," said the priest -- or possibly priestess; with the shorn hair, he couldn't be entirely sure. "Only those with business in the Temple may bypass the line."

"Good morning," Remant said, forcing himself to smile. "As it happens, I do have business with the Temple. Some years ago, I deposited some valuables with the Temple of Rilique in distant Sandovar, and I need to pull a letter of credit against that deposit."

The priest(ess) nodded. "Ah, I see. Very well, come with me." 

She led him into the Temple, making an almost immediate left out of the antechamber, and led him over to a row of desks, where another, older priest looked up. "Ah, Lesh. And a bit of new business, I see." 

She nodded. "He says he needs to make a withdrawal."

"I see. And your name, sir?"

"Remant." 

"And have you a token for your deposit?"

Remant nodded and fished the small coin out of his pouch.  

"A moment then, goodman Remant." The older priest rose from his desk and disappeared back into a sort of library, its walls lined with shelf upon shelf of identical books. He returned after a couple of minutes, carrying one of them, then opened it and began flipping through it. "Ah," he said after a moment. "Here you are. Yes, a deposit -- just at the end of the war. And in a rather large amount, at that. Very well. We can provide a letter of credit, or with a few days we could pull the sum together in coins. How much would you care to withdraw?"

"Six thousand," Remant told him, "as a letter of credit."

"Easily done," said the priest. He pulled a sheet of parchment out of the desk, filled in the critical sections but left the line for who the credit was to be issued to blank. He had Remant sign it as well, then made a notation in the book, and then on a scroll on his desk. 

"I thank you," Remant said, taking the letter of credit and rising from his chair. "A good day to you both."

"Likewise," said the older man, sliding the token back over to him. Remant bent down, took it, and followed the young priest(ess) out of the Temple. 

RoH: A Bargain

When Remant left the palace, he had a signet ring and a scroll proclaiming him the new Viscount Durzen -- which would likely anger Sir Dominic Reville, but that was a problem he could address later. He had what he needed for tonight, and could visit the temple in the morning; it shouldn't take long to collect the letter of credit. 

He'd taken a room in a rather squalid inn that charged either by the hour or by the week, and then used a variety of Expulsion spells to make sure the room was fit for habitation. He'd leave them in place when he departed; anybody staying there henceforth could count on being cured of most diseases, rid of pests and parasites, and  incidentally free of hauntings and other visitations. The bed wasn't comfortable, but he'd spent enough time sleeping on a thin mat laid atop stone or worse that he barely noticed. He sealed the door, laid himself down, and fell into the contemplative replacement for sleep that he'd learned from his Santu. 

The night passed uneventfully, and he rose in the morning, dressed himself, and paid the innkeeper another week's rent. He left his pack behind, and went to visit the temple. 

The Church of Rilique was a sprawling stone complex of connected buildings, with a line of petitioners in front of the main door. As the god of money and success, Rilique had become very popular among those rebuilding -- or profiteering -- in the wake of the war. The success of its priesthood had grown in no small part from their role as bankers, creating reliable ways to store money and providers of loans and investments with reasonable risks. 

Remant had opened an account with them when the weight of his captured treasures had surpassed the capacity of his magical storage. He should have found better things to do with them, he thought, but by the end of the war he wasn't even sure what money was worth anymore. You couldn't eat it; you couldn't fight with it.  In the twelve years since, it had returned to being a way of exchanging things and measuring how much was available of what, but... No, he still didn't really understand it. 

That wouldn't keep him from using it.

He bypassed the line and came up the temple steps, only to be stopped at the entrance by a priest.   

RoH: Quid Pro Quo

"So," asked the king. "What sort of favor did you have in mind?" They were all four sitting at the table, and the servants -- who, in Remant's experience, always knew more than they should -- had appeared with two additional plates and goblets, the plates containing a spicy noodle dish and the goblets a very good white wine. 

Remant sipped the wine, then swallowed. "I need you to appoint me Viscount Durzen."

"Oh?" asked Dorrin. "I was aware of the Viscount's incomplete demise, and the struggle over his estate and title, but since nobody had brought it to my attention formally I was waiting to see how the family handled it."

"So far as I can tell, they made a few demands and then started hiring mercenaries to go and kill the dead man. That was where I got involved; I was looking for work."

Queen Lorraine frowned. "You know you needn't do that, yes? You could live here, and we would keep you..." 

"I know," Remant said gently. "It keeps me occupied, and my mind off my memories. In any case, I was able to meet with the former Viscount -- without being killed -- and I noted several interesting things. First, the servants still worked the estate. Nobody had fled, nobody seemed concerned that their employer was no longer among the living. Second, Dirimant himself seemed primarily interested in being left alone to continue his work, pay his people, and generally go about his business. So instead of killing him, I decided to buy the estate from his daughter -- who, I'm told, wishes to leave the city for more favorable climes -- claim a wing for myself, and leave the rest of it to the former Viscount and his servants"

"Ah," said the king. "At which point you'd... what? Appoint Dirimant as your Steward, and leave him in charge of making decisions, watching the finances, and representing you at Court when you were traveling elsewhere?"

"Pretty much," Remant admitted. "The man clearly knows what he's doing, the servants adore him, and he's both magically adept and extremely knowledgeable. I'd hate to lose a resource like that."

"As would I," remarked Isabelle, studying Remant more closely. 

"...Very well," said King Dorrin, after exchanging a long look with his wife. "I have a few misgivings, but... as it happens, I have a favor I need to ask of you as well."

RoH: An Audience With The King

The dining room was small, meant for private meals, and tucked away well back within the palace. It contained only two occupants, sitting side by side at a table that likely wouldn't have seated more the four people comfortably. The painting on the far wall showed the former queen, Raquel the Just, who had courted scandal and very nearly been deposed for dissolving the high courts and turning even noble disputes over to the commons. 

"Your majesties?" asked Isabelle. "I beg your pardon, but I believe you know this man."

The King rose immediately. "Indeed I do." He came around the table, and the Queen was close behind him. "He was introduced to me as a young squire, and then returned to assist the kingdom with a... small problem, while you were still an apprentice."

Isabelle hesitated as the king came forward and hugged Remant; then the queen came forward and kissed him twice, once on each cheek. 

Remant flushed. The last few years had aged them both -- hair streaked with silver, lines around the eyes and at the corners of their mouths -- but Dorrin still looked to be in fighting trim, and Lorraine was still slender and beautiful. He was out of practice with any sort of intimacy these days, even between old friends. And those are the only kind I have left. 

"You haven't aged a bit," the king observed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by that."

Remant shrugged. "I don't know whether to call it a blessing or a curse." 

Queen Lorraine smiled at that. "Both those things can be true," she said gently. 

Remant found himself smiling -- genuinely smiling -- for the first time in a very long while. 

"Isabelle, it's up to you whether to stay or go. I assume you know who this is?"

"He is Remant, then," she said. "I didn't think he could be much of anyone else."

King Dorrin nodded. "Keep that to yourself, if you would." He turned back to Remant. "And you! What brings you to our table? I assume this isn't a social visit -- you were never much for those, even before you disappeared into the wilderness." 

"It should be," he admitted. "It should have been the first thing I did. But you're correct. I'm here because I need a favor." 

RoH: Inside the Palace

The Watch Leader's name was Elaine Daschelle, and she brought him to the King's Magus -- a very sensible decision, he thought. "May I leave him with you?" she asked. "I have duties I should return to."

The Magus looked up from amulet, distracted. "It's genuine," she said. "Yes, leave him." She was a tall, willowy woman, raven-haired and dark-skinned, dressed in a simple dress of light blue that set off her eyes. It had the look of a favorite piece of clothing, something well and often worn. She had not yet given her name, but that hardly came as a surprise.

The Watch Leader  bowed and departed. 

"The wands are good work," Remant observed. "The ones the Guard are carrying."

"Thank you," she said, and handed the amulet back. Remant tucked it back into his pouch. Her eyes went cloudy as she looked him over. "You are positively layered in magics, and if it weren't for that amulet I wouldn't let you anywhere near the King. Who are you, really?"

Remant sniffed. "This is not to be shared unless the King permits it, but... Remant. Remant Ferrand."

"That... that explains some things," she said quietly. "I am Isabelle Binoche. I was first first among Aeristes' disciples, and the King selected me to carry on his work. I have striven, among other work, to pass as much of his knowledge and practice to the others as I can."

"I was hoping he would still be around." 

She shook her head. "The weight of the war, the weight of the years. He passed in his sleep some four years -- five years -- back."

Remant hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "I knew him, too. Not so well as you did, but I admired him."

Isa sighed, then swayed with old grief as he drew his hand back. "Let's go see if the King is occupied." 

RoH: An Evening Meeting

The walls around the palace were old and worn, with gates of heavy wooden timbers at the top of the short causeway. The whole thing was set near the old center of the city, and a pair of bored-looking City Guards were standing outside. Gone were the days when the King's Own had held the duty; Alich al'Mera itself had been lucky in avoiding the worst of the war, but a great deal of its territory had been devastated, most of its army annihilated, and its resources were entirely turned towards supporting the survivors and rebuilding a nation for them to live in. 

The guards straightened as Remant approached and dismounted. "You've made a wrong turn, friend."

Remant frowned. "Is this not still the palace?"

"It is," said that same guard, "which is why you need to move along."

Remant sighed, feeling suddenly tired. Tired, and tempted to do something horrible. He bit down hard on the urge, as he always did. "Does Captain Tillard still command the Guard?"

The guard on the left frowned, but this time the guard on the right spoke up. "Did. Retired about two years ago."

Well, so much for that approach... Remant considered alternatives for a long moment, before deciding that he'd rather be admitted properly. "Could you send for your Watch Leader?"

The guard on the left shrugged and pulled on a rope. Overhead, a bell sounded -- muffled behind stone, but audible through the arrow-slits that were once meant to help defend this place.

A half-dozen guards spilled into the courtyard behind the gate, pulling on buff coats or coats of brigandine, juggling halberds as they did. They wore wands at their belts as well; the King's Magus, whoever held the position now, had been busy.  It was nearing dinner-time; likely they'd been eating, or preparing to. The Watch Leader was easy to spot: she was the one with ink on her hands.

"Stranger to speak with you, Lieutenant," said the guard on the left. 

The woman studied Remant just as intently as he studied her. "State your business, stranger," she said after a moment. 

"I seek entry, stabling, and an audience with the King."

She laughed, but it was more surprised than scornful. "Are you mad, or do you have some grounds for this?"

"Arguably both," Remant admitted, then unclipped a pouch on his belt and reached slowly inside, coming out with an amulet he'd been given many years ago. "I'm going to toss this to you," he said. 

She nodded, and he did. 

She caught it easily, studied it, frowned, studied it harder. Then she looked up at him. "Who are you?"

Remant sighed. "It's probably best if you don't know."

RoH: A Simple Purchase

The solicitor's name was Valeria A'Maris, and she regarded Remant's return with some surprise. "I take it our problem is resolved?" 

"After a fashion," Remant told her. "The former Viscount Durzen is still walking around, but we have come to an agreement."

"An agreement?" asked Valeria. "I didn't hire you to make an agreement, I hired you to either kill him or drive him out."

"Be that as it may," said Remant, "this agreement doesn't require me to put down a man who appears beloved of his servants, is doing valuable research, and simply hasn't quite come to terms with the fact that he is dead. It also provides your client with a guaranteed sale, at which point the presence or absence of the undead former Viscount is no longer your concern."

"I see," said Valeria. "Who, exactly, would be purchasing the estate, then? Surely not yourself."

Remant sighed. "A reasonable concern, I suppose. As it happens, I would be the one purchasing the estate."

Valeria laughed in disbelief. "You--? You own a horse, a sword, a bow, and some arrows. You do mercenary work..." 

Remant nodded. "Yes. Years ago, I came into some money. Until now, I hadn't seen fit to use it, and it has been sitting in an account with the Church of Rilique -- which has a branch here in Alich al'Mera. I could provide a letter of credit this time tomorrow."

He waited a moment, as the solicitor gaped at him. "I happen to know, because my client mentioned it, that she had discussed the matter with local friends and family, and Sir Dominic Reville had offered to purchase the estate from her for the rather generous sum of five thousand gold... I believe, and I'll thank you not to repeat this, because he wishes to improve his station with the title of Viscount."

"...I can see where that would complicate matters," Remant admitted. "I'd be willing to offer six thousand,  to smooth the waters and give your client an excuse for making a new agreement."

"I will contact her immediately," Valeria said. "If you would have the letter of credit here tomorrow afternoon, we can very likely conclude your deal -- and if my client refuses, well, you can always take it back to the church and disavow it."

Remant nodded. "It will be done, and I will see you tomorrow."

RoH: Dinner in the Darkness

Remant stepped into the palace cautiously, though with Kalla and her family leading the way he didn't think he was in danger. The place was all high walls and stalagmite towers from the outside, dim light spilling out from the open doors. Everything here was stone and metal, or else an unfamiliar sort of cloth or leather. Limestone had been smoothed and shaped, ceilings carved into arches and set. There were no guards in evidence, which could mean any of several things. He hoped the Presbyterium realized that he came peacefully among them this time.

The light came from soft flames, set atop metal cones; similar to and different from the light-crystals the upper world had once produced. He would have loved to stop and examine their magics -- there were thing here that would be invaluable if he could reproduce them -- but this was not the time. Still, if he survived this gathering then he needed to return at some point simply for this. 

The scene inside was chaos struggling to become order: a double-dozen Undergray spreading out to find their seat at the carefully-arranged tables. 

"Honored Elders," Kalla said, her voice filling the space. "I present Remant of the Sunlit Lands, who is heir to our former master Huoron and also our savior from that mastery. We welcome him to Shadowguard, and give thanks for his company."

Remant was fairly certain that he'd never seen a room settle down so quickly. "I'm honored to be here," he said, forcing the words out but making them sound natural. "I regret that we were once enemies, and hope that we can be friends." 

One of the Elders raised his voice and lifted his glass. "Likewise," he said loudly. "We welcome you, and offer you hospitality."

That was binding, and with that reassurance Remant came forward into the room. "It is my honor and pleasure to accept," he said, raising his voice to make sure it carried. That was binding, too. It meant that he would be equally bound by the laws of hospitality. Any violation on either side was likely to be punished by the gods, even down here. Until very recently, Shadowguard had been hidden away from the eyes of the gods, but that was no longer entirely true.

"Then come and dine with us," said another Elder, and Kalla led him forward. 

RoH: Introductions

Remant had never been below the Grand Hall. When he'd come in here with the heroes, he hadn't needed to. Now, with Kalla leading the way, he found himself looking out into a sprawling underground city, scattered around the bottom -- and top -- of a massive underground cavern. A river rushed down the center of it, wide and shallow as it washed over the limestone floor. A few lights flickered here and there, some glowing faintly like distant stars, but mostly it was dark.

The structure she led him to was not far away, and he could see faint light within it -- not as bright as flame, let alone the sun, but some small glow to ease the way. Zara followed along, and as they walked another of the Undergray fell in beside them. "Durken," the man said, and offered a hand. "Kalla's husband, and Zara's father."

Remant nodded and clasped his hand. "I'm glad you're both happy." 

Durken grinned, squeezed firmly, and then released him. "I'm glad I finally get to meet you. I always wondered what sort of man you were."

"At the time? Desperate. I don't know how much your people knew of it, but up on the surface we were losing the war. Huoron's armies had wiped out most of the cities, burned out smaller settlements wherever they passed, and were laying siege to the last real source of organized opposition. The Gray weren't in much better shape, but my people had reached the point where even if we did defeat them, we'd have nothing left. Or if they won, neither would they."

"Ah," said Durken. "So they sent their greatest warriors away from the siege, to come here and slay Huoron himself."

Remant nodded again. "Exactly. Five champions, and the squires they accidentally acquired along the way. Two of the champions made it into Shadowguard; the rest of us were squires, replacements for the other champions: rich in magical blessings, but inexperienced, only partly trained, and utterly terrified."

"And only you lived," observed Kalla, sadly. 

Walking beside her, Zara gave a startled squeak.

Remant huffed. "Even so, I was much changed." He swallowed, then changed the topic. "What can I expect inside?"

Kalla hesitated, then said, "Reactions will be mixed, but not actively violent. Your intervention freed our people, but some of the Presbyterium still lost family -- close family -- to you and your friends." 

RoH: A Dinner Invitation

"I'd hoped to have you join us for a quiet family dinner," Kalla said. "Instead, I need to offer you an apology. As soon as word went out of your return, the entire Prebyterium began lobbying for a chance to host our savior."

"They're probably going to be disappointed," Remant predicted. "Still, I'm grateful for their hospitality -- and yours." 

"You'll do it, then?" She frowned. "You could just turn away. With a little effort, you could travel through this darkness like we do. Nobody would stop you."

"No, I..." he sighed, because to the left he really didn't want to do this, but to the right he was genuinely curious. "I'd like to meet your people."

"Don't sound so enthused," Kalla answered, gently ironic. "But okay, if you're still willing, come with me. They've been preparing for over an hour now."

Remant followed, making an effort to hide his reluctance. Zara followed them, holding on to a corner Remant's cloak.

RoH: Childhood Wisdom, and Wisdom Grown

Zara studied him closely. After a moment she said, "You look funny, not scary. Why is your skin like that?"

"Pale, you mean?" asked Remant. 

The girl nodded.

He shrugged. "Born this way. Among my people, it's pretty normal. Among yours, it may be funny-looking."

"Oh." The child looked thoughtful. 

Kalla knelt down as well. "Go and find your father, Little Curiosity. We need to finish talking about grownup things."

Zara considered that. "I can be quiet."

Kalla looked at Remant. He shrugged, rose. "All right. Walk with us, then."

Kalla said, "Back here," and led him in a wide circle around the altar. It was good to see that it was smashed, but what waited beyond was... wholly unexpected. 

The Undergray had emptied the niches of Huoron's visages, and used them to create shrines to each of the fallen heroes instead. Here lay the bones of the Aesil mage Elendor, surrounded by his robe, staff, and sword. The niche beside it held the last remains of Darik, the Vanil champion, the bones still encased in his gleaming golden armor, mace and shield set to either side. Next was Lisla, the Vanil squire who had taken on Winstala's blessing and equipment in a desperate bid to help win their battle; she was set between her daggers, and still wore her cloak. Her bow and quiver of arrows was set behind her. Last was Shima, who had boldly taken up the blessings and weapons of her Santu, the Mordil champion Gairlos. 

Remant found that he was on his knees. He could feel his eyes prickling.

"It pleases you?" Kalla asked. "None may touch the sacred weapons save the Presbyterium, and none may take them up save yourself. It is... taboo."

Remant swallowed, and forced the grief back. "It... Yes. It pleases me, that you honor them."

RoH: The Temple Revised

"I only came here to retrieve some gold from Huoron's vault," Remant said quietly. 

"I understand," Kalla said. "We haven't touched that. We bargain with the Cobalts by offering late-night help with traders and would-be conquerors, in exchange for the food that helps sustain us more... naturally. So far, it's been enough."

Remant nodded. "If you need it, though..." 

"I'll keep that to myself," Kalla said. "Otherwise, my fellow Elders will find reasons to need it. But while you're here..."

She stepped back through the doorway to the temple, and a voice called, "Mama!" and soft footsteps rushed forward. 

Remant followed her through the doorway and stopped. The Great Hall had changed subtly. The Temple had changed dramatically. It was lit, for one thing, though the flickering light of the flames didn't pass outside the doorway to the hall. The sacrificial altar at the far end was broken, and a slow trickle of blood was seeping out of it. The dagger lay atop the shattered altar. 

Shocked, Remant came to a full stop as a small Undergray threw herself at Kalla's leg. She clung there, looking for a long moment, then looked up at Remant. "You didn't come back here to kill us?"

Remant smiled and knelt. "No. No, I did not. I'm actually glad to see that your people have survived."

"There were some concerns," Kalla admitted. "Mine were not among them, which is why I was the one who went out to meet you."

"Well you did," Remant admitted in return. "I'd have listened and dealt fairly with another, but it helps that I remember how you dealt with me when I was still wounded and far more vulnerable."

"Still dangerous, though," Kalla pointed out. She gestured towards the altar. "And that thing was still on the floor at your feet." 

Remant scowled. "It was. How did you get it onto the altar?"

Kalla's face went flat, then sorrowful. "A dozen sacrifices. They lifted it, moved it, and they died. After the first one, they were throwing it, even knowing what it meant to touch it."

Remant paused. "I'm so sorry. It should have been caged where it was."

Kalla shook her head. "No, the risk there was even worse. Here, with the altar broken, the dagger calls out the blood and lets us feed. Their sacrifice was needed so that we could survive in this." She paused, then motioned to the child at her side. "This is Zara."

Remant nodded. "Your daughter."

"Some time after you departed, I married Lorran -- whom you don't know -- and gave birth to Zara, who is the center of my world."

"I still want a sister," said the girl. "I know you have politics to do, but I haven't forgotten."

"How old?" asked Remant. 

"Four."

Remant rose, came forward, and knelt again. "Hello, Zara. I'm honored to meet you." 

RoH: Old Allies, New Negotiations

The woman nodded. Originally, she had been one of the Gray: the secondborn of the races that the dark god Huoron had created, strong and savage and completely under His control. But she, among others, had been chosen to serve in and help protect Shadowguard, and their time here had changed them. Unlike Remant and his companions, they had already adjust to the deeper darkness and could see perfectly well, their eyes shining like lamps. They had grown slender, even gaunt, skin and hair adjusting to a pale gray that vanished into the stone -- and likewise the darkness. Here, they would be all but invisible -- even to those who could ordinarily see in the dark. 

Unlike the Vanil, the Gray had been created to serve Huoron unquestioningly. Their wills were utterly subservient to his own. But when the god had fallen, they had also been among the first to feel the shock and find themselves freed. Kalla had been the first to approach Remant in the wake of his disastrous victory, when he was still in the process of trying to repair his damaged body and control his strange new powers. She had promised to leave him unmolested, and only asked that he do the same for her kin in return. 

Remant had agreed, out of what his own sense of caution suggested was necessity, and departed. He had no idea what might have occurred down here since then. "You've returned," she said quietly. "Do you mean to lead us?"

"No." Remant shook his head, disgusted with the very idea. "No, if you've managed to survive down here..." He hesitated. "How have you managed to survive down here?"

"Theophagy," she admitted. "We have water, and we trade with the Cobalts and others for surface food, but mainly we survive by draining tiny bits of the blood of the fallen god. It's transforming us, but it's slow and the Presbyterium believes we can keep it under control this way."

Remant cocked his head. "You're a member of this Presbyterium?" he asked.

She smiled. "I'm it's leader." She paused for a moment to let him absorb that, then motioned him forward. "Come, let me show you something, and then come and dine with us -- ordinary food this time, cooked over ordinary fires." 

RoH: The Second Descent

Remant wasn't as familiar with this area as he was with some others, so once he was safely outside the gates he paused to invest a marker. Then he teleported back to... that place. 

The entrance was just as he'd left it, dark and seemingly empty. He entered and began the descent, retracing the way he'd taken just a few years before. He'd been younger then -- centuries younger, it felt like -- and armed and armored very differently. This outer area was composed of simple, natural caves, water-carved, damp, and dripping. He smelled the traces of Cobalts around him, silver-miners who'd retreated here and allowed themselves to be transformed, but they could see in the dark as well as he could. He had to pause briefly while they filled one particular cavern with song; but afterwards they retreated unseen, and he continued unbothered. 

It was beyond those natural caves where he found the opening to the deeper darkness, perpetual and impenetrable, and began his descent into Shadowguard. He'd only come this way once, but the way was burned into his memories. The shadow elementals waited, and when they thought he was unaware one of them attacked. He cut it in half with his blade, then called for a burst of light that sent them cowering back. He could have extended his own darkness, commanded them, but... no. He might have absorbed a portion of the fallen god's power, but he had no desire to use it. Especially not here, where the remainder of that divine power and blood had soaked into the stone below. 

The spirits drew back, and he continued his descent. 

At last he reached the Grand Hall, which was the central nexus of Shadowguard. All thing dark came together here. He remembered having only the vaguest impression of sight, when he and the others had first arrived. Now he could admire the full majesty of the place: the arched ceilings, the ornate columns with their carved masks looking down, the twin openings to the throne room and the temple. Huoron had made sacrifices only to himself, to increase his own power, but he considered that every bit as important as his throne, and at the height of the war the stream of victims who died screaming in the dark had been constant.

He hesitated. Something here had changed. As he watched, a figure emerged from the temple, paused to make sure it was seen, and then approached him carefully, hands raised and palms out. A good spellcaster could still attack from that posture, but Remant wasn't particularly worried. "Kalla," he said quietly. "You yet live." 

RoH: The Deal

"I do most of my work in my laboratory in the basement, or else out there in the gazebo," Dirimant Acklin, the former Viscount Durzen said quietly, "and of course we aren't looking to provide housing for our descendants if Lariza plans on moving to Foringelt. I could cede the entire north wing to you, if it would let me hold the manor."

Remant nodded. "I doubt I need more than a single floor," he said. "A bedroom, perhaps a study and a library. I travel a lot, but it would be nice to have a base of operations to come back to."

"Ah," said the dead man. "You fought in the war."

Remant nodded, and patted the sword at his side. "Now that you're dead, you can no longer be the viscount... but it's possible that I could, and simply direct that income to you to dispense as you see fit. Steward isn't as prestigious as Viscount, but as a practical matter it would probably amount to the same thing. And being dead doesn't disallow you from stewardship, so long as the property has a living owner."

Dirimant swallowed. "Why are you doing this?"

Remant shrugged. "I'd like a place to settle, or at least some place I know I could come back to. And I like it here. Your servants seem happy to serve you even now that you're dead, which suggests that you've treated them well, and..." He sighed. "I've already done enough killing to last me a lifetime and more. Probably more."

"Very well. You have yourself a deal. Purchase the house, leave us be, and take the north wing of the house; the servants will acknowledge you as their master, but me as the steward in day-to-day matters. I will see them paid and maintained. I take it you aren't looking to profit from this?"

"Not particularly," answered Remant. "I just want a place to settle."

"Done," said Dirimant Acklin, and put out his hand. "See if you can become the Viscount Dirzen; that would help. But even if you cannot, I believe we can manage."