Our family had fallen

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

As a Cleric of the Lady of Silver, Eleanor had to report to the Church of the Silver Mother in Suzail. She said she had a mission to carry out.

Aaron suspected that her mission was almost certainly to watch and assist him. But since Miss Cleric did not intend to say so outright, Aaron, as a gentleman wielding Slaanesh's Power, naturally spared her the embarrassment of being found out.

Many temples in the city also served as inns, and for their own worshippers, they charged far less than other inns.

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

Naturally, they were expensive.

Other temple inns offered little more than shelter from the weather. Ilmater's temple inn, for instance, had a roof and somewhere to sleep, but that was about it: a dozen or more people shared a room and slept on straw.

Ilmater was genuinely generous to mortals, though. His temples always provided free healing with Divine Magic of the first circle or lower, as well as food and shelter for the poor. If travelers truly had no money, the temple would not turn them away.

No, the accommodations at an inn wouldn't be good enough.

I ought to find a way to have Miss Cleric stay at my house!

How can she keep watch on me if she isn't close by?

Aaron considered Miss Cleric's needs with a heart full of righteousness and empathy.

That could wait until evening. They had already agreed to have dinner together at the Sallyan Residence.

Aaron had business of his own to attend to.

After leaving the cemetery, he went first to the Purple Dragons' fortress.

The Purple Dragons' fortress in Suzail was easy to find. It was a large, independent 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 Royal Palace held out.

For now, the Purple Dragons Fortress gates were shut tight. Aaron did not know what had happened.

"What's going on?"

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

Aaron rolled his eyes.

The guards at the fortress gates were veteran knightly squires who had retired without quite making the grade. Some had lacked strength, some luck, and perhaps some had simply lacked someone willing to speak for them. Most hovered around the bare minimum for Elite rank. They were not exceptional among professionals, but they had experience.

In a fight, these guards could hold their own against some younger Knights for the first five to ten rounds.

To a fortress guard, then, young meant immature. Young meant naive. Young meant being in the wrong.

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 fire larger than a bull exploded before the guard, and the blast knocked him off his feet.

It did not stop there. The pink cloud swiftly took shape as several fire demons. Laughing wildly, they lunged at him, opened their mouths, bared their teeth, and bit straight into his face.

"Don't kill me! Don't!" The guard fell onto his backside, drenched in sweat. As he tried to struggle free, he realized something.

There was nothing there.

No fire. No demons. No teeth.

There was only the young nobleman, backlit and smiling at him after snapping his fingers.

Illusion magic! The well-traveled guard went pale and hurried to his feet to apologize.

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

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

"They're conducting shooting drills inside, my lord Mage!" The guard put on an ingratiating smile. "The main gate's closed to prevent anyone from being hit by accident. If you'd like 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 gate stood ahead of him, bearing a portrait of a Deity.

She was a human woman in sumptuous robes, noble and graceful, with a simple gold crown atop her long platinum-blond hair.

She was Tymora, the goddess also known as Lady Luck. She held immense influence in Suzail. The largest temple in the city was hers, and it rivaled the Purple Dragons Fortress in size.

No one disliked good fortune, so naturally no one disrespected Lady Luck.

Tymora's influence in Cormyr had grown steadily 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 Arabel City's Lady's House, where she chatted and laughed with mortals. Anyone who offered enough gold coins could meet the goddess, shake her hand, enjoy fine food and wine with her, tell her an amusing story, or gather by the fire to hear tales of her adventures across the Outer Planes.

Now and then, a particularly appealing man even won the goddess's favor and shared her bed.

When a goddess appeared before people in the flesh, it was only natural that Lady Luck's influence in Cormyr would grow.

Arabel City, however, was now a ruin. During the Goblin Wars a few months earlier, Tugin, the Great Ork Khan under the Great Wyrm Red Dragon, had led a host of orc tribes to seize it. They had burned every Deity's temple there to the ground.

The Great Wyrm Red Dragon and Azoun IV, Cormyr's former king, had killed each other. Cormyr had suffered such heavy losses that it could not retake Arabel City, and Princess Regent Alusair had ordered the city's refugees to be received and housed temporarily in Suzail.

The small gate had a guard too. Aaron cast Charm Person on him without breaking stride.

Casting the spell was as easy as breathing to him now.

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

A fully armed Knight approached. He wore the standard full plate of a Purple Dragon Knight, with three irises fastened to his helmet. A ragged purple cloak lay over his gleaming, well-polished breastplate. His long handlebar mustache and thick beard showed off his masculine charm, though the hair on his shiny forehead had grown thin.

His cheeks were so gaunt they seemed to cave in. He had deep-set eyes and a long, prominent nose. Aaron felt uncomfortable every time he saw him.

This was Ian Hutson, Grand Master and Grand Inspector of the Purple Dragons, a master-level professional. Besides being a formidable instructor to the Purple Dragon Knights, he oversaw the order's finances, logistics, and discipline.

"Well, well. Who do we have here? Isn't it the Sallyan family's little fledgling?" Ian looked Aaron up and down out of the corner of his eye, smiling without warmth. "Why did you come back alone? What happened to the mission?"

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

"You came back alone and still have the nerve to write a mission report?" Ian stared at him, his small, deep-set eyes searching for any change. He sneered. "Then again, I suppose you'll have to get used to living alone from now on!"

"Aw, poor thing. Should I give you some time to cry by yourself in the lounge? Boo-hoo... Daddy... Mommy..." Ian studied 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 report the truth to Her Highness Alusair. Now, Grand Inspector, will you let me in?" Aaron's face was expressionless.

The man was always this insufferable. After more than ten years overseeing finances, logistics, and inspections, Ian had forgotten how to talk to people normally.

"So you really won't tell me what happened between you and Irina? I saw her getting awfully cozy with Sir Bradley the other day." Ian clapped his hands and laughed. "Did she dump you? Oh, no! I really ought to call everyone over to see our little fledgling. His mission failed, but he came back looking so handsome!"

"Well said. And what about that Mage apprentice of yours? Didn't you say her delicate little hands had you wrapped around her finger? 'Oh, my darling, the light of my life, the fire of my soul...'" Aaron mimicked Ian's expression and gestures. "Come to think of it, she was the twenty-sixth woman someone tried to set you up with, wasn't she? Tell me, Ian, did the priestess at the Church of Lady Firehair tell the guards not to let that lovesick wretch back in? That if he came again, they'd have to find him a female Ogre to court?"

Ian's face darkened with every word. The Purple Dragons' Grand Master glared viciously at the junior Knight, who seemed very different now. He looked ready to speak, but could find no retort.

"Oh, let me think. How was your journey supposed to go, Grand Master? 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 royal court to divide the property, then fight at a temple over visitation rights... Which step has our dear Grand Master reached?" Aaron counted them off on his fingers, then covered his mouth in feigned surprise. "Oh dear! It seems you haven't even managed the first!"

"Tell me, dear Grand Master, do you plan to go straight to a retirement home?" the young Viscount asked with the kindest of intentions.

With every word Aaron spoke, the muscles in Ian's gaunt, dark face twitched.

The guard beside them was nearly fainting from holding back his laughter.

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

After a long pause, Ian Hutson, whose face was darker than the Lady of the Night's Holy Symbol, forced out a smile.

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

"Welcome back to Suzail alive, little fledgling."

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

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

"Yes, sir!"

In the library, Aaron wrote a brief mission report, accounting for the failure, the enemies they had encountered, the intelligence they had gathered, and their losses and dead.

Under losses, Aaron listed a warhorse, a complete set of arms and armor, and a carriage. After a moment's thought, he decided there was no chance of being reimbursed for the Ninth-Circle Miracle, so he added its cost as well.

When the report was finished, Aaron sealed it with wax, stamped it with Red Conrad's Ring, and placed it in a box.

This was called "filing the record."

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

Once the record was filed, Aaron had to return home and await word. Until either the Supreme Grand Lord or the Princess Regent read his report, he could not leave Suzail.

Normally, if a mission had gone smoothly, the Supreme Grand Lord or the Princess Regent would write a brief reply authorizing a reward. Once it was approved, Aaron would be free to go about his business.

That was the usual procedure.

But Aaron expected something else.

He was Viscount Sallyan, had suddenly awakened a talent for spellcasting and Extraordinary Charisma, and had returned from a failed mission in which every one of his companions had died. Add the appearance of the Queen's Blade and the matter involving the Lady of Silver, and his report could only be sent to the Royal Palace for the Princess Regent to read personally. Then Alusair would very likely summon him to explain.

There would probably be a few days between filing the report and being summoned. He needed to prepare carefully. Aaron also had to settle one question.

What did the Princess Regent think of him? Was this still a country where he could stay?

The summons afterward would likely give him his answer.

Aaron left the Purple Dragons Fortress and took the clean, tidy avenue home beneath the weak light of the late afternoon sun.

The Sallyan Residence stood in Suzail's wealthy Three Crowns District, home to the powerful and well-to-do. It was a reminder that the Sallyan family had once been wealthy too. The house occupied a modest plot of about 230 square meters, with a back garden. Its three stories contained fourteen rooms, including two servants' rooms, an underground storeroom, a wine cellar, a separate bakehouse, a kitchen, a study, and five bedrooms.

Ever since Aaron's grandfather, Earl Sallyan, had suffered a crushing defeat in the Tuigan Invasion and been routed by the nomads as thoroughly as a father thrashing his son, the mansion had belonged to Aaron's father. Azoun IV, furious at the disaster, had stripped the family of its title and confiscated all its lands. Everyone bearing the Sallyan name had been stripped of that name and exiled to the Great Swamp in the east.

Manuel, Aaron's father and a captain of the Purple Dragon Knights, was the only one who had not taken part in that disastrous defeat. An outstanding Knight who had campaigned at King Azoun IV's side, he escaped the purge. He was allowed to retain his Viscount title, the Sallyan name, and the family mansion near the Royal Palace.

Aaron's father had been tight-lipped about just how badly his grandfather and the rest of the family had lost, and what mistakes they had made. But since not one of the kingdom's nobles had spoken up for them, the defeat must have destroyed centuries of honor and reputation.

Some might wonder: if a Viscount title was subordinate to an Earl title and could not be inherited, and the Sallyan family's earldom and lands had all been confiscated, how had Manuel's title of Viscount Sallyan passed to Aaron?

The answer was simple. Manuel and his wife had died for Cormyr during the Time of Troubles two years earlier. They had fallen outside the northern city of Tifantom, reportedly killed by several Drow in the chaos of battle.

In recognition of his loyalty and 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 the family and its Viscount title had survived so much and reached Aaron. There seemed no chance they would pass on again.

A family nine hundred years old, one that had revered Selûne, the Lady of Silver, for more than seven hundred years, seemed to have reached its end.

Our family had fallen!

Our family had fallen yet again~

Do you remember our ancient, solemn mansion,

So wealthy and grand?

It stood proud and unmoving around the Royal Palace... I've forgotten the rest.