Entry 18: peace in our time

Dear Diary,
 
I jot this down as I sit in the basement of The Dull Blade, the tavern that serves as the headquarters of the Hedge Knights of the Long Table, awaiting my initiation into their ranks. As you might guess, our mission was a resounding success.
 
The night on the riverbank passed quietly, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. As the first light of dawn broke, I sent Fiachna to scout the camp from above. The bird's-eye view revealed two crucial details: the entire army was made up of draconians and kobolds—no humans in sight—and they weren’t preparing for a siege or any kind of conflict. Their camp lacked the telltale signs of aggression, which hinted that they were not here to fight.
 
Given our distinct appearances, blending into the camp was out of the question. I proposed a direct approach—simply walking up to the camp and asking for information. I cautioned my companions to be judicious with their words, as they had a tendency to overshare. Alistan looked somewhat offended by my remark, but the flush in his cheeks confirmed that he knew I was right.
 
As we approached the camp, a small delegation of kobolds and a lone draconian emerged to meet us. The draconian introduced himself as Rachnar Ergoll, the leader of the army. Without missing a beat, Gael launched into a series of questions about their presence. Rachnar, in turn, demanded to know our identities and whether we were official emissaries from the city.
 
Sensing the conversation was stalling and realizing Rachnar would only speak to an official delegation, I decided to twist the truth slightly. I assured him we were indeed sent by the city. It wasn’t exactly a lie—we were sent by the city, just not as official emissaries but as spies. No need to delve into specifics.
 
The talk with Rachnar was surprisingly brief, though overcoming cultural differences required some effort. In essence, Velora Morenthene, the Fenhunter, sought to establish a better relationship with Keralon. She wanted to set fixed borders and end the ongoing hostilities between their factions. When I inquired how their army had managed to approach the city undetected, Rachnar openly shared that his queen had used powerful magic to open a gate for their passage. This revelation suggested their intentions for peace were genuine; with such magic at their disposal, they could have easily transported the army directly into the city if they had wished to wage war.
 
Luke’s suggestion that Rachnar write a letter detailing their intentions was met with confusion. After a brief consultation with his officers, Rachnar returned with a new plan: he wanted to send an emissary into the city to speak directly with the king. We agreed to this proposal, but as we were to be part of his delegation, we needed to be initiated into the horde. The initiation required non-lethal ritual combat against their champion, Drann.
 
I had heard of Drann before—a fearsome warrior renowned for wielding a greatsword in one hand with effortless might. We accepted the terms and were led outside for the fight. As we waited, another draconian joined us, standing out with his black scales in contrast to the camp’s predominant emerald green.
 
Shortly after, Drann made his entrance, a sight that sent shivers down the spines of many of my companions. He was enormous, even for a draconian, with wings that marked him as exceptional. The massive sword he carried seemed almost weightless in his grasp. Rachnar explained the duel’s terms to him in draconic, a language that, to my surprise, Alistan appeared to understand.
 
The tension in the air was palpable as we prepared for the combat. Drann’s formidable presence loomed over us, but we stood ready, determined to prove our worth. The gathered draconians and kobolds formed a tight circle around us, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
 
Drann quipped that if any of us fragile humans died in the fight, it wouldn't be his fault. Liliana, not missing a beat, retorted that if he were to be accidentally killed, we wouldn't be to blame either. Her sharp reply, though made in jest, reinforced my growing worry about her. The gentle soul I once knew before she entered the feywild would never have said such a thing.
 
The fight itself was brutally short. Drann lived up to his fearsome reputation, knocking down Alistan and nearly scorching me to a crisp when he transformed into a fiery tornado. But in the end, our numbers and teamwork overwhelmed him with ease. The lesson I took from this was clear: I desperately needed to invest in some protective magic.
 
With the fight over, Rachnar offered us food and drink while we rested. He introduced the black-scaled draconian as his adopted son, Norgar Laar. Norgar would be the emissary for the army, accompanying us to speak with the king. While Alistan talked to Norgar, I penned a letter to Vern Skald, informing him that we would be returning as a delegation and requesting that he open the gates for us.
 
As I wrote, I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The success of our mission so far had bolstered my confidence. The draconian army's intent for peace seemed genuine, and I hoped that our efforts would help pave the way for a lasting alliance between our peoples.
 
As we waited for the reply, Alistan and Liliana whipped out their instruments and began to play. Why on earth they decided to carry them along on this mission is beyond me, but their impromptu performance was met with enthusiasm. The kobolds and draconians joined in with drums and horns, transforming the camp into a lively celebration.
 
Now that we were welcomed members of the horde, I took the opportunity to explore the camp and see if I could spot any familiar faces. At a campfire in one of the smaller sections, I found exactly what I was looking for: three kobolds I had helped heal after the battle years ago. They greeted me warmly, but I couldn't help but notice an undercurrent of unease, as if everyone was eager to wrap this up and return home.
 
Expressing my concern, I gently pressed the matter, and the kobolds exchanged worried glances. They revealed that their eggs and children were being stolen back home, a mystery that had left their community in turmoil. They had no idea how it was happening or who was responsible, but the urgency to solve this problem and return home was palpable. Queen Velora had sent Rachnar to negotiate aid from Keralon, hoping to secure the help they desperately needed.
 
Hearing this, my heart went out to them. Their plight added a new layer of urgency to our mission. Ensuring peace was not just about diplomacy; it was about safeguarding their future. The stolen eggs and missing children represented a dire threat to their survival, and now more than ever, I felt the weight of our responsibility.
 
I said my goodbyes to the kobolds and headed back to rejoin the others. As we walked, I pulled Luke aside and shared what I had learned about the stolen eggs and children. I told him that, regardless of Keralon's decision, I intended to help Queen Velora and her people. The rules of being a witch: Even if it's not your fault, it's your responsibility. Luke, bless his heart, nodded without hesitation and promised to join me.
 
Our conversation was abruptly cut short by a cry of alarm from Dadroz. He pointed to the sky where three creatures were rapidly approaching. Thanks to his keen eyes, we had a moment to brace ourselves before they dove down upon us.
 
The fight was short and brutal. The larger creature seemed impervious to non-magical attacks, but Liliana's enchanted sword made short work of it. Before long, all three were on the ground. The two smaller ones were clearly skeletal dragons, but the third, larger one was a disturbing construct—a grotesque blend of dragon and metal. Norgar cried out in dismay, recognizing the dragon parts as belonging to his kind. It was clear now: whoever was stealing the eggs and children was sending these abominations after us.
 
Seeing the anguish in Norgar's eyes only strengthened my resolve. We were not just dealing with a potential war; we were up against a sinister force willing to desecrate and weaponize the bodies of their victims. The urgency of our mission hit me with renewed force. We had to get back to Keralon, secure their help, and put an end to this threat.
 
The rest of the trek to the city was uneventful. As we approached the gates, they swung open for us, revealing a row of horses ready to take us to Palace Hill. It seemed Vern Skald had done his job well, preparing for our arrival.
 
However, things took a strange turn when we reached Palace Hill. There was no delegation waiting for us, and the guard I approached seemed completely unaware of our arrival. This struck me as odd, and suspicion of foul play began to gnaw at me. The guard led us into the dining hall of the guard station, promising to fetch his superiors.
 
I left Fiachna outside to keep watch, observing through her eyes. When I saw three guards rushing toward the building, I quickly shifted back to my own body to alert the others. But before I could say anything, chaos erupted. We were ambushed by several guards, all wearing red sashes.
 
A fierce battle ensued. These weren't ordinary guards; they were cultists. Despite the initial surprise, we fought back fiercely. In the end, we managed to take down the cultists and two of the other three guards. The last guard was swayed to our side by Gael’s charm, his fear melting into loyalty under Gael's influence.
 
As the final echoes of battle died down, the sound of heavy boots approached from outside. A moment later, a group of knights burst into the room, their armor gleaming and weapons at the ready.
 
Their leader, Ser Donovan, seemed perplexed to find a group of unconscious guards sprawled across the floor, but it didn’t take much effort to convince him that we were the delegation and that we had been ambushed by cultists. He looked troubled when he learned of the cult’s infiltration, mentioning that his knights had been sent to meet us at the gate. This indicated that the cult’s influence, marked by the dragon emblem, reached disturbingly high within the court.
 
The knights secured the prisoners, while Ser Donovan led us towards the court. He informed us that the king was not in the city, but a council of nobles and knights would receive Norgar. As we walked through the grand halls, the weight of the mission bore down on me. Norgar needed to convince these nobles of the sincerity of the draconian envoy, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.
 
Upon entering the council chamber, the atmosphere shifted. Ornate tapestries lined the walls, and a long table stretched across the room, occupied by stern-faced nobles and armored knights. Norgar stepped forward with a dignified air, despite the tension.
 
What followed was a lengthy, pomp-filled discussion that, to be honest, was rather dull. Norgar spoke eloquently about the proposed peace treaty and the establishment of an official border, all delivered with the necessary grandeur that nobles seem to relish. Each word was carefully chosen, each gesture meticulously executed, as if every moment was choreographed.
 
When the meeting concluded, we made our way out of the grand halls of Palace Hill and back towards Foregate to report our progress to Vern Skald. As we entered The Dull Blade, the familiar sights and sounds of the tavern enveloped us, and I settled into my seat with a sense of accomplishment tinged with anticipation.
 
As I recounted our encounters and revelations to Vern Skald, I noticed a glint of knowing in his eyes. It was evident that he possessed information of what had transpired, gathered from observation from afar. The lack of details pointed to this, rather than having spies nearby.
 
Upon hearing my account of the kobolds’ plight and Queen Velora’s desire for peace, Vern Skald nodded thoughtfully. It seemed that our mission had uncovered layers of intrigue and complexity that extended beyond the surface. Velora’s quest for peace now held greater significance, intertwined with the desperate plight of her people.
 
Vern Skald commended our efforts, acknowledging the risks we had faced and the valuable insights we had gained. With a gesture, he presented Dadroz, Alistan and me with a large silver coin, a symbol of recognition for our contributions. These coins, he explained, would serve as tokens for our initiation into our respective orders.
 
For Alistan and me, this meant descending into the depths of The Dull Blade, while Dadroz was tasked with a journey to the Mausoleum of the Gods. As I sit here now, awaiting the initiation ceremony, a mix of excitement and apprehension courses through me.
 
2nd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree