Our Family Has Fallen

After setting up a gravestone for the War Wizard, Aaron and Eleanor parted for the time being.

As a cleric of the Lady of Silver, Eleanor had to report to her church in Suzail. She said she had a mission to carry out.

Aaron suspected that mission was almost certainly to watch over and assist him. But since the cleric had no intention of saying so, he would not expose her. As a gentleman who wielded Slaanesh's power, he could at least spare her that embarrassment.

Many temples in the city also served as inns, and their rooms were considerably cheaper for the faithful than rooms elsewhere.

Some temple inns rivaled luxury hotels. The temples of the Lady of Wealth and Lady Firehair were prime examples.

Naturally, they charged accordingly.

Other temple inns offered little more than shelter from the elements. At Ilmater's temple, that meant a roof and somewhere to sleep, with a dozen or more people crowded into one room on beds of straw.

But Ilmater was truly generous to mortals. His temples always provided divine healing of the first circle or below for free, along with food and shelter for the poor. If travelers genuinely had no money, the temple would not turn them away.

That would not do. The inn's accommodations were no good.

He ought to find a way to have the cleric stay at his house instead!

How could she keep watch on him if she did not stay close?

Aaron considered the cleric's needs with a heart full of righteousness and empathy.

He could bring it up that evening. The two had already agreed to have dinner at the Salian residence.

Aaron had business of his own to attend to first.

After leaving the cemetery, he went straight to the Purple Dragons.

The Purple Dragons' fortress in Suzail was easy to find. It was a large, freestanding castle with its own walls and defenses. Even if the city walls fell, an attacker would still face a long war so long as the Purple Dragons and the palace held out.

The fortress gates were shut. Aaron had no idea what was going on inside.

"What happened?"

The older guard spread his hands with a cheeky grin. "Who knows?"

Aaron rolled his eyes.

The fortress gate guards were mostly veteran knightly squires who had retired without becoming knights. They had lacked a little strength or a little luck—perhaps even someone willing to speak up for them. Most hovered just at the threshold of elite rank. They were not outstanding among adventurers, but they had experience on their side.

In a fight, they could hold their own against some young knights for the first five to ten rounds.

To fortress guards, then, youth meant immaturity. Youth meant naïveté. Youth was a fault in itself.

Aaron was far too young.

Despite the guard's rudeness, Aaron did not answer with words. He merely smiled and snapped his fingers right in front of the grinning man.

Snap!

Boom!

A mass of pink flaming vapor larger than a bull burst before the guard. The blast knocked him flat.

It did not end there. The pink mist swiftly took shape as several fire demons. Laughing wildly, they lunged at him, opened their mouths, and sank their teeth into his face.

"Don't kill me! Please!" The guard fell back onto his rear, drenched in sweat. Only when he tried to struggle free did he realize—

There was nothing there.

No flames. No fire demons. No teeth.

There was only the young nobleman standing with his back to the light, smiling at him after snapping his fingers.

Illusion magic! The well-traveled guard went pale and scrambled up to apologize.

An ordinary Purple Dragon Knight recruit was one thing. A spellcaster who could use magic was quite another!

Why else did so many warriors long to become Eldritch Knights? Even a few low-circle spells could greatly improve their flexibility in battle.

"They're conducting shooting drills inside, Lord Mage!" The guard plastered on an ingratiating smile. "We closed the main gate to prevent accidents. If you want to go in, keep walking to your right. There's a small gate you can use."

Aaron thanked the guard and walked on.

A small white door appeared ahead of him, bearing a portrait of a goddess.

She was depicted as a human woman in sumptuous robes, noble and gentle in bearing. A simple gold crown rested on her long platinum-blond hair.

She was Tymora, the goddess of luck, also known as the Lady of Luck. She wielded enormous influence in Suzail. The city's largest temple was hers, and it rivaled the Purple Dragons' fortress in size.

No one disliked good luck, so no one showed the Lady of Luck disrespect.

Tymora's influence in Cormyr had continued to grow in recent years. During the Time of Troubles two years earlier, she had descended in avatar form upon Arabel, the largest city in northern Cormyr. She stayed at the city's House of the Lady and mingled freely with mortals there. Anyone who offered enough gold could meet the goddess, shake her hand, share fine food and wine, tell her an entertaining story, or gather by the fire to hear tales of her explorations in the Outer Planes.

An occasional exceptional man even won her favor and an invitation to her bedchamber.

With the goddess herself appearing before them, it was only natural that the Lady of Luck's influence in Cormyr grew.

Arabel, however, now lay in ruins. During the Goblin war several months earlier, the Ork Great Khan Tujin, who served the Great Wyrm Red Dragon, had led a host of Ork tribes to seize it. They had burned every god's temple to the ground.

The Great Wyrm Red Dragon and Cormyr's former king, Azoun IV, had died together. Cormyr had suffered such heavy losses that it could not retake Arabel. The current Lord Regent, Princess Alusair, had ordered Arabel's refugees to be taken in and housed temporarily in Suzail.

The small gate had a guard too. Aaron cast Charm Person on him as a matter of course.

Casting that spell now came as easily to him as breathing.

"Please wait, Lord Salian. Someone's coming," the guard called, trying to make himself heard over the nearby clamor.

A fully armed knight approached. He wore standard Purple Dragon Knight full plate, with three irises pinned to his helmet. A tattered purple cloak draped over his brightly polished breastplate. His long handlebar mustache and thick beard showed off his masculine charm, though the gleaming crown of his head had grown thin.

His cheeks were so gaunt they looked hollow, his eyes sat deep in their sockets, and his nose was long and prominent. Every time Aaron saw him, he felt uncomfortable.

This was Ian Hudson, Grand Master and Chief Inspector of the Purple Dragons. A master-rank adventurer, he was not only a formidable Purple Dragon Knight instructor but also oversaw the order's finances, logistics, and discipline.

"Well, well. Who's this? Isn't it the Salian family's little fledgling?" Ian swept a sidelong glance over Aaron, his smile never reaching his eyes. "Why have you come back alone? What about your mission?"

"I'm here to write my mission report, Grand Master," Aaron said evenly.

"You have the nerve to write a mission report after coming back alone?" Ian stared at him, studying the changes in Aaron with his small, deep-set eyes. He sneered. "Then again, I suppose you'll have to get used to living alone from now on."

"Aw, do you need some time to cry by yourself in the break room? Boo-hoo... Daddy... Mommy!" The Purple Dragons' Grand Master inspected Aaron's state of mind. Finding no trace of misery or grief despite his solitary return, he lost interest. "I'm only telling you the truth."

"And I'd like to tell Princess Alusair the truth, Chief Inspector. Will you let me in?" Aaron's face remained expressionless.

That was simply how insufferable the man was. After more than a decade overseeing finances, logistics, and inspections, he had forgotten how to speak to people normally.

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened between you and Irina? I saw her getting awfully close to Sir Bradley the other day." Ian clapped his hands and laughed. "So she really dumped you? Oh, come on. I should call everyone over to see the little fledgling who failed his mission but somehow came back looking so handsome!"

"Good point. So what happened to that female mage apprentice of yours? Didn't you say she had you wrapped around those delicate little fingers of hers? 'Oh, my sweetheart, the light of my life, the fire of my soul...'" Aaron mimicked Ian's manner and gestures. "Come to think of it, wasn't she the twenty-sixth woman you were introduced to? Tell me, Ian, did the priest at the Church of Lady Firehair tell the guards not to let this drowned rat back in? Because next time, they'd have to set him up with an ogress!"

With every sentence Aaron spoke, Ian's face darkened. The Purple Dragons' Grand Master glared at the junior knight before him, who had changed so much. He looked ready to speak, yet unable to think of a retort.

"Oh, let me see. How does the Grand Master's journey go? Fall in love, settle down, get engaged, marry, buy a house, have a child, have an affair, have another child, divorce, end up alone, go to the kingdom's courts over the property, then fight at the temple over visitation rights..." Aaron counted on his fingers, then covered his mouth in feigned surprise. "How far have our dear Grand Master's plans progressed? Oh, dear! It seems he hasn't even managed the first step!"

"Tell me, dear Grand Master, are you planning to go straight to a retirement home?" the young viscount asked with the utmost kindness.

Every sentence made the muscles in Ian's lean, dark face twitch.

The guard beside them was so close to laughing that he nearly passed out.

"Hmph. Looks like the little fledgling is all right after all."

At length, Ian Hudson forced a smile onto a face darker than the Lady of the Night's Holy Symbol.

For an instant, Aaron caught a flicker of relief in Ian's eyes. Before he could make sense of it, the faint emotion vanished.

"Welcome back to Suzail alive, little fledgling."

"Someone take him to the library. Our little fledgling needs to write a report about his failed mission."

"Let's hope he doesn't misspell anything."

"Yes, sir!"

In the library, Aaron wrote a brief mission report. He covered why the mission had failed, the enemies they had encountered, the intelligence they had gathered, and their losses and casualties.

In the losses section, Aaron listed one warhorse, a full set of weapons and equipment, and a carriage. After a moment's thought, he decided there was no chance anyone would reimburse him for a ninth-circle Miracle, so he listed that too.

Once he finished, Aaron sealed the report with wax, stamped it with the red seal of the Ring of Konrad, and placed it in a box.

This was called "filing the record."

The Purple Dragons' archivist would deliver it either to the order's Supreme Grand Lord Stavalar, a near-legendary powerhouse, or to Princess Alusair, Cormyr's Lord Regent. This was called "submitting the file."

After filing the record, Aaron had to go home and wait for word. Until either the Supreme Grand Lord or the Lord Regent had read his report, he could not leave Suzail.

Normally, if a mission had gone smoothly, one of them would write a brief approval and award a reward. Once that was confirmed, Aaron would be free to go about his business.

That was the usual procedure.

But Aaron suspected he would face the other possibility.

He was Viscount Salian. He had suddenly awakened a talent for spellcasting and developed supernatural charisma. All his companions had died, and the mission had failed. The Queen's Blade had appeared, and the matter involved the Lady of Silver. His report could only be sent to the palace for the Lord Regent to read personally. In all likelihood, Princess Alusair would then summon him to explain himself.

There should be a few days between filing the report and receiving the summons. He needed to prepare. Aaron also had to settle one question.

What did the Lord Regent think of him? Was this country still a place where he should stay?

The audience that followed would likely give him his answer.

Leaving the Purple Dragons' fortress, Aaron followed a clean, orderly avenue home beneath the faint sunlight of late afternoon.

The Salian residence stood in Suzail's wealthy Three Crowns District, home to the powerful and prominent. It was also a reminder that the Salian family had once been prosperous. The property occupied roughly 230 square meters and included a rear garden. Its three-story house contained fourteen rooms, among them two servants' rooms, a basement storeroom, a wine cellar, a separate bakery, a kitchen, a study, and five bedrooms.

The mansion had passed to Aaron's father after his grandfather, Earl Salian, suffered a crushing defeat during the Tuigan Invasion. The nomads had slaughtered his forces as easily as a father thrashing his son. A furious Azoun IV had stripped him of his title, confiscated all the family's fiefs, and deprived everyone named Salian of the family name before exiling them east to the Great Swamp.

Purple Dragon Knight Captain Manuel, Aaron's father, was the only one who had not taken part in that disastrous defeat. An outstanding knight who had accompanied King Azoun IV on campaigns north and south, he escaped the punishment. He was allowed to keep his viscount title, the Salian name, and the family mansion near the palace.

His father had never spoken freely about just how badly his grandfather's family had lost or what mistakes they had made. But since not a single noble in the kingdom had spoken up for them, the defeat must have destroyed centuries of honor and reputation.

There was an obvious question: if the viscount title was subordinate to the earldom and could not be inherited, and the Salian family's earldom and fiefs had all been confiscated, how had Manuel's title of Viscount Salian passed to Aaron?

The answer was simple. Manuel and his wife had died in service to the kingdom during the Time of Troubles two years earlier, falling outside the northern city of Tifantom. According to reports, several Drow had killed them in the chaos of battle.

In recognition of Manuel's loyal courage, Azoun IV had issued a royal decree allowing the viscount title to pass down one more generation.

That was why everyone called Aaron "the last Salian."

It was already a miracle that this family name and this viscount title had survived so much to reach Aaron. There seemed no chance they would pass on again.

The family had endured for nine hundred years and worshiped Selûne, the Lady of Silver, for more than seven hundred. Now it seemed to end here.

Our family had fallen!

Our family had fallen yet again~

Did you still remember our ancient, solemn mansion,

So rich and dignified?

It stood proud and unmoving, towering beside the palace... I forgot what came next.