All of our men love her, too, and grow likewise more devoted to her with each passing day. She is beautiful.
I have agreed to guard her borders. Make no more attempts to rescue me or the men under my command (even those who were yours). We all serve our new mistress willingly, and will do so to our dying day.
If, on the other hand, you change your mind, you would be honored guests here. Please, do visit us. The Hag’s Domain has vast game lands where we could hunt together as we did in the days of my youth.
You ask of Tuan Reisser. Do not think to send more men like him to “rescue” me. He died shortly after he arrived, and, undead, he penned his letters to you. We have since laid him to rest. Poor loyal servant, nothing the Hag could do would persuade him to love her, like I love her.
Your devoted son,
Appendix B
Your Majesty,
I am saddened to report the loss of the wizard Ythril Candabraxis, whom as you may recall from my last letter had taken up residence in the east tower of Castle Graben. I find I do not blame him, for he was sorely treated here, attacked first by Parniel Bowspear while at sea on a ship bound for Müden, then nearly murdered by an assassin sent by (I suspect) Haltengabben, then almost drained of blood by an undead creature under the Hag’s control.
I have continued my inquiries into obtaining the services of another wizard. Perhaps word of Candabraxis’s reception will not spread quickly.
Candabraxis, who remained helpful and receptive until the very moment of his departure, gave me the name of his old master in Suiriene, Razlev, and suggested I contact him with an eye toward placing one of his journeymen in your employ. Doubtless such an endeavor will prove expensive. Nevertheless, with Parniel Bowspear gone—and hopefully dead—my attentions can once more turn to the future of your kingdom. If nothing else, spoils are good this season.
Have faith, my lord and king. You will live to see the open skies of Grabentod over your head once more.
Your servant, Lan Harlmut,
Your Majesty,
I must regretfully report the survival of Parniel Bowspear. He staged a less-than-impressive return this morning, trundled (as he was) into Alber aboard an ox cart. It seems a farmer near the Drachenaur Mountains found him wandering, filthy and near death, and nursed him back to health. He meant well.
All the men whom Bowspear took with him are dead. Eaten by goblins, it seems. Bowspear seems to be winning some public sympathy for his ordeal, but little actual support. Most generally accept his story of leading a secret mission to help Captain Evann, but of course his spectacular failure is quite plain.
Evann remains hero of the hour. Despite his ultimate lack of success, he did manage to lead his men safely back, which is more than Bowspear can say.
For now, we seem to have an uneasy truce among all the political factions in Alber. I suspect Bowspear will soon try to build up support again, and his ambitions will surely drive him toward your throne. However, that time still lies far in the future. Bowspear will need to rebuild his alliances, gather new men, and bide his time— which will take years.
You will be on your throne again well before then, Sire.
Your servant,
Appendix C
Greeting, Razlev, whom I once called Master—
You had requested periodic letters concerning my travels as I sought a place in the world for myself. I realize this will be only my second such update, and that it follows close upon the last, but I feel obliged to write you at once because I feel I owe my life to your teachings.
I had not realized it at the time, but your philosophy of forcing the individual to take responsibility toward defeating evil, in whatever form it takes, is correct. I encountered an undead creature in Grabentod which attempted to kill me in order to feed on my blood. It was only through calm rational thought that I managed to thwart its plans.
Its defeat forced my thoughts toward a greater picture of the world, one in which good and evil are more than mere abstractions, but equal and opposite forces constantly at war, pushing at each other. I doubt if either can completely conquer the other, for there is a balance in such things, but I now see the need to work tirelessly toward maintaining that balance.
Evil could have overwhelmed Grabentod. It was only through my chance presence that good (if it is possible to categorize pirates and their culture as good) managed to win out.
So, my old Master, I thank you yet again.
I remain,
Greeting, Razlev, whom I once called Master—
I find myself in Müden, which is an amazing, bustling city like none I have ever seen before. So many ships are docked here I could not count :hem all. The port bustles at all hours of the day, and ten thousand warehouses hold the goods of a hundred-score merchant princes. I have never seen such wealth in my life.
Nor have I ever seen such poverty.
Just as I last wrote you saying that good and evil mirror one another, so too do wealth and poverty. The rich here continue to prosper, and the poor barely have enough to eat. I have dined with several rich merchants and their families, and the leftovers from their smallest meal would feed a family of ten for a week. Such scraps, however, are given to pets.
I followed up on my promise to Harlmut, Regent of Grabentod, to visit King Graben. He is an enormously fat man living in a prison such as you or I would call a palace. He is surrounded by the finest of everything—silks, furs, jewels, women—and wants for nothing. He dines nightly with merchants and their noble-born visitors. If chains he has, they are silken.
I feel no doubt that he could escape, and easily, if he so chose. However, life here is so comfortable, why should he? He lives better than he did in his own castle. Poor Harlmut—I grieve for him and his people. Perhaps they would be better with someone like Parniel Bowspear as their king.
I have decided to write none of this to Harlmut, however. It might serve to discourage him. He is a good man, and very loyal to his king. Alas, he no longer has a king worthy of such loyalty.
I have decided to press on from here. I have found a merchant willing to take me as a passenger to Anuire, where he plans to trade for wines. (His cargo will be furs and silks.) As soon as I arrive, I will write you again.
The pull of adventure calls me, and I feel my destiny may, in fact, lie in Anuire. As I listen to the way the name rolls from my tongue, my mind conjures images of decadent ports, ancient cities, and mysteries to be unraveled. I long to explore the unknown.
I remain,
Threescore generations have passed since that impossible day when six gods sacrificed themselves to destroy one of their own and the bloodlines were born.
Mount Deismaar
Cerilia, Year Zero
The human tribes—my ancestors—moved up into the wilderness of Cerilia from the southern continent of Aduria, dragging their gods with them. Crossing a land bridge now hidden deep under the waves of the Straits of Aerele, they found seemingly limitless land in which to grow and prosper. So, too, did they find desperate enemies and the evil agents of the very god from whom they fled—the Shadow, Azrai.