A Time of Chaos in Faerûn

Faerûn was in turmoil.

Two Archmages had fallen, and a new city had emerged. No, not just one.

Barely a week after Khelben's fall, Sevriel Militair, leader of the Demon Faeries, and the Elven Crusade that had returned from Evermeet reclaimed Myth Drannor from the Infernal Plague.

The success of Rymansin City had made people hesitate, given the self-sacrifice of two Archmages. But the heavy losses at Myth Drannor only set Faerûn's ambitions ablaze.

Myth Drannor meant too many things to too many people.

The Nether Scrolls in the Tower of Wind Song alone were enough to drive every Mage on the continent wild. Even Hill was tempted.

They were the culmination of Netheril's greatest arcane wisdom.

Of course Hill wanted to see them. His heart leaped at the mere thought of the Nether Scrolls, especially since this set was hidden in a Sorcerer Tower.

But he still had his senses.

Even if Hill reached Myth Drannor, he might not dare approach that Sorcerer Tower.

Anyone who did would draw the eyes of all Toril. Hill had no desire to live unable to leave his home.

He could stay in, but only because he chose to.

Many Mages across Faerûn, however, had already lost their restraint.

Hill had even been forced to raise his Water Mythal above the clouds to stop those frenzied Mages from suddenly descending as they passed.

His Floating Castle seemed to catch their eye, but Hill had no intention of entertaining guests.

In town, Tyr's Holy Knights stepped up their patrols. They did not much like these somewhat unhinged Mages.

Toril's Mages treated commoners—or anyone unable to learn magic—rather poorly.

And the Holy Knights of the Silver Shield had always been proud.

If the Mythal had not made the Mages wary of causing trouble, a fight