The next instant, everything was different, noticeably so. The first thing I noticed was the heat, followed quickly by the humidity. It was oppressive enough to cut through the icy air surrounding my ship, though the ship blunted the effects somewhat.

Looking out over the deck, I could see the shore, just over a mile away. There was a thriving city there, sticking up out of the forests that were not quite jungles and a little too dry to be swamps. A heat haze hung over the water, making it difficult to see too much detail on the shore. Not exactly a welcome landscape for a creature of the cold such as myself.

Siora and Fartooth quickly deployed their ships, which caused literal waves in the lake. Not a tsunami, of course, but a quite noticeable wave pushed out from where the island suddenly displaced all that water, to be sure. We’d already decided that there was no point in hiding, since we’d be marked as soon as anyone saw us. So, announcing ourselves was the most prudent action, in our minds.

Because of that, we moved to the sisters’ island, and had the two ships stand watch. We could have gone to the nearby city, but I just had to mention what my initial reaction would be if our collection of ships suddenly appeared out of nowhere in my territory, and then people immediately made for my city. It would not be wrong to consider that the start of an attack, under most circumstances. Or, at the very least, a raid.

Of course, the reason I did not want to appear as a raider was simply politics. The two archons were messing about, trying to raise an army of the faithful to strike back against the wicked wyrm that stole a princess from a far-off land. Since the princess wasn’t stolen from this land, that was going to be a tough sell. I had no desire to add to their propaganda by acting like some kind of deranged goblin warlord, attacking the first thing I saw. That simply was not my style.

No, I would conduct this like I would the running of my kingdom. Not hiding or apologizing for what I am, but not playing to the stereotypes of ‘evil’, as these peasants would have heard them. I would seed doubt, and doubt would cause people to hold their hand, at least momentarily. In this case, letting the other side make the first move was the prudent course of action.

I already knew what that course would be. Someone in the city would look at the two strange ships in the lake, standing guard over what looked like a sudden mist or bit of cloud brought down to the water on an otherwise clear day. That someone would either get the courage to come out and investigate themselves, or they would order someone else to do it for them. Most likely the latter, in my opinion, though not necessarily from fear. Cowardly rulers did not tend to last long in this world, unless they had ample cunning to make up for it.

The five of us were sharing a drink in the courtyard (with Ebonheart resting nearby) when someone in the city finally made their decision. “Mistress Siora!” A cry came up from one of the projections on the wall of the little fortress, just barely an hour after our arrival. “Boat approaching from the city!”

The beguiler nodded, and called back, “Open the gate, dear, and let them in when they arrive, but stand ready. We wish to talk to these people, but that is no reason to allow them to do as they please if they wish us harm.”

Vestele chuckled, and looked at me. “So, do you think they actually have the mayor, or whoever is in charge over there? Or will it be some kind of functionary?”

Fartooth chirped. “Could even be some ambitious merchant. After all, this whole setup screams that we have money, and go to exotic places. That alone would cause merchants to be interested in us.”

We did not have to wait long for our answer. Through the castle gate walked three humans, darker-skinned than we commonly saw in the northlands. And these were no merchants, by the looks of them.

In the center was a man, wearing a wizard’s robes and a tabard with the symbol of Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, upon it. In one hand, he carried a staff of ebony wood, yet runes of power could be seen in the air, orbiting the staff and making clear its magical nature. A silver helm rested upon his head, bearing the mark of Helorad as a country.

To his left was a woman clad in silks, but she was no dancer, or entertainer. The way her body moved was like a wild tiger ready to pounce, yet restrained by rigid discipline. She bore no symbol or badge of office, and was, seemingly, unarmed, but I knew better. She bore all the hallmarks of a monk, which meant that she was as dangerous unarmed as she was with a weapon in her hand, perhaps more so.

The third member of the party was another man, this time wearing a chain shirt underneath a simple tunic, and a cloak. His gear was all in greens and browns, and as carefully nondescript as one could get. Yet, from this close, I could see that his gear was well-made. The twin short swords at his waist, and the bow he held in one hand (though there was no arrow on the string) gave the impression that he was a ranger of some sort.

“Definitely not merchants,” I muttered softly enough that only my companions could hear, causing a few chuckles as the three approached. Siora smiled as she rose, just as we had discussed while waiting for the delegation. This expedition was mine, but the island was theirs, and so the sisters deserved to speak first to outsiders.

She nodded politely to the three, and said, “Welcome to Castle Faydark, guests. I am Siora Faydark, and, along with my sister, Vestele,” she motioned to her sister, “Mistress of this island. The kobold is our friend and companion, Szel Fartooth of the Mukblood Clan. As for the rest, they are our dear friend, Queen Melinda Rimedancer of Frostreach, and her sworn companions, Ebonheart and Sanvi Chaosborn.”

The polite introductions brought the group up short, as that was definitely not what they had been expecting. Which, of course, was the entire point. Still, the mage’s brain quickly re-engaged, and he offered a formal bow to Siora, and then myself, as one might do when visiting foreign nobility. He had at least some diplomatic training, then.

“I am Magus Jehanel Fargleam, Magelord of Galdar, one of the City-States of Helorad. With me are Captain Sarre Whisperwind, of the Enlightened Temple, and captain of the City Guard, and Huntmaster Wymon Wyvernsting, leader of the Adventurers’ Guild in the city. Together, we speak for the city and people of Galdar, and we would know your intentions for coming so suddenly to the realm of Helorad.”

Siora nodded, pleasantly, and said, “Of course. Please, have a seat, so we might talk like civilized people. Would you care for refreshments while we speak?” She clapped her hands twice, and from the door of the keep came several spectral servants, carrying chairs for the guests, as well as platters of food and drink.

Clearly thrown off by the offer of hospitality, the three sat when the chairs were set. None of them refused their drink, or the refreshments offered, but the men hesitated to eat or drink until after the monk sampled the food, and nodded. It made sense. A high-level monk was all but immune to poisons, and were strong-willed enough to throw off many curses or enchantments, so she made the perfect choice as a food-tester.

After they had all had a bit of food, I spoke for the first time. “We expect that you have questions. Before you ask them, let Us say that We have no designs upon your peoples, or your lands. We are not here to start a conflict, but rather We have come because word has reached Our ears of those operating in this land, seeking to stir up trouble, in hopes of drawing Us out.”

The Magelord stiffened slightly, and said, “Then, it is as I suspected. You are the rumored Twice-born of Auril. The one who caused Tormfall, if the stories we’ve heard from afar are true? We heard that it caused great devastation, though it did not touch our lands, for the worship of gods other than Mystra, Azuth, Savras, and Velsharoon are not permitted within Helorad.”

I chuckled softly. “I would ask where you got such information, but I would guess that a Magelord would have no trouble hearing the tales a pair of archons tell, when they are flapping about your lands. But, since we are being honest with each other, it is true that the events of Tormfall were in part due to my actions. Though the destruction across the realms was not part of my design, but due to magic run amok as we sealed the portal connecting the material plane to Torm’s own realm. Unfortunately, the portal was being held open on the other side of the gate, and the backlash of its destruction struck an altar consecrated by Torm himself, in the center of his realm.”

Fargleam nodded slowly. “And the city of the Magekings? Was it destroyed in the explosion, as the tales say?”

“No, though the mage-kings had been forced out of the city by the invading archons and the army of Torm, the legacy of their works remained behind. In the moments before the portal exploded, ancient runes put down in Magika’s earliest days were activated, dragging the city down into the Nine Hells, along with all those trapped inside it. What fate awaited them there, I cannot say, for we used magic to escape the devastation before the city could be fully dragged down and sealed away.”

“So, then, what are your intentions here in Helorad? You said that you were here to seek out individuals, yes? The two archons that have been trying to raise an army?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “The information I have says that they intend to strike the Wyrm in the Aurilsblood Jungle. And I doubt that they intend to take the wyrm on themselves, or they could have done so already. My guess is that they are trying to provoke a war, and force Helorad to choose sides in it. And, since Torm has no true following here, the casualties would all fall on the servants of other gods, while anyone the archons save would look on Torm in a new light.”

The Magelord spat on the ground. “Then, you and I think alike, at least on this matter. But some of the Magelords of the other city-states are more foolish than you or I, or they are more easily swayed by thoughts of a dragon’s hoard. Several of the city-states have ‘answered the call’, and pledged support to the archons’ cause. Not Heloraan, our capital, thank Mystra, but enough of the smaller city-states have joined that they can press for a vote in the council.”

I leaned back in my chair. “And while you see the dangers of this road, you are hesitant to work openly against your fellow Magelords, whether due to kinship or pragmatism, yes?” I took a breath as Fargleam nodded, and said, “And, if I had to guess, then the archons are too strong for you to push them out of the realm, and whilst they remain, flaunting the rules against servants of foreign gods, things continue to get worse.”

“It is as you say, yes.”

“Then, Magelord Fargleam, perhaps we can come to an agreement. We would see the threat these archons pose put down, before it can spread to distant lands, since their end goal, as far as I am aware, is to send forces to attack my own realm in the far north. The archons may be powerful, but that does not mean they cannot be made to bleed. Even archons of their strength can be killed.”

The Magelord inhaled deeply. “Something like this, I could not do openly, as Lord of the City. It would cause far too many problems. However, it is known that the Archons met in secret with the magelords they turned to their side, outside their cities. If the archons could be lured to a meeting, and then outside forces attacked…”

I smiled, knowingly. “Then it would be no fault of your own. You simply went to hear what they had to say, perhaps spurred on by the strange ships that appeared near your city? And then, the archons met their end. Without the head, the ‘disruption’ in your lands would die down, especially since we would then depart, and trouble your land no more.”

“It seems that we have an understanding, Queen Rimedancer.”