Ferrara's Adventuring Party

Aaron and Eleanor reacted very differently to the scream.

Years of training drove Aaron into a guard stance in an instant.

He stood upright with his feet apart, left foot forward and right foot back. He raised his longsword toward the threat, concentrating his strength in his wrist. His right hand gripped the hilt, thumb braced against the guard, ready to respond at any moment.

But instead of gripping the lower half of the longsword as a Purple Dragon Knight normally would, Aaron pressed his left hand against the point where his right wrist met the hilt, his palm slightly open.

This was no standard knight's guard stance.

A proper guard stance called for the left hand to grip the rear portion of the longsword while both arms controlled the blade.

Generally, a longsword's blade had two sections. The front half was the "weak side," used mainly for thrusting and cutting. The rear half was the "strong side," handled much like a two-handed blunt weapon such as a staff or hammer. Many knights did not even sharpen that part of the blade.

What Aaron was doing with his left hand was strange.

The young priestess, a few steps away, reacted even faster than Aaron. The instant she heard the roar, she raised her warhammer in one hand and swept the other to the heavy holy book at her waist. Its pages fell open, and the silver moon depicted on them glowed as she completed a divine spell.

Twilight Flame!

Moonlight arced through the air and struck the carriage in a dazzling burst. Twilight also enveloped Aaron, forming a dusky ring of protection around his body.

Aaron's eyes widened.

Eleanor Dinefur was a priestess of the extraordinarily rare Twilight Domain!

But he had no time to dwell on it. The curtain flew aside, and a Bugbear nearly two meters tall lunged straight at him!

A familiar face sprang to Aaron's mind.

The Bugbear looked a little like a basketball star he had seen in his previous life.

The one nicknamed the Brow.

Bugbears were goblinoids of chaotic evil alignment. Unlike their hobgoblin cousins, they had little sense and hunted and plundered on instinct. Unlike their goblin cousins, they were towering and powerful, fond of clubs and morningstars and always ready to beat an enemy senseless.

They might be called Bugbears, but they had almost nothing in common with bears. Their ears were pointed, their fangs huge enough to bite through a human leg. Muscle bulged beneath thick fur, and the yellow eyes under their heavy brows were always hungry for fresh food and worthy opponents.

And that was not even the deadliest thing about them.

Unlike hobgoblins, who prized order, military discipline, and defeating opponents through tactics, Bugbears were none too bright but exceedingly cunning. They loved ambushes.

A Bugbear's surprise attack could drive an unsuspecting, fully armored knight into the dirt with one blow. Then it could crack open the tin can with its morningstar and enjoy the rare treat inside!

Many novice adventurers had lost their lives that way.

Flashy tricks, long-practiced swordsmanship, and all the little techniques of noble dueling meant nothing against a Bugbear's club.

This Bugbear had plainly been hungry for a long time. It burst through the carriage curtain and swung at Aaron's face, its club arriving in an instant with a rush of wind and a shriek of friction.

What strength! Aaron's pupils contracted. He slid backward at once, avoiding the blow by a hair.

Purple magic had already taken shape in his palm.

Lash of Slaanesh!

Three barbed whips lashed out from Aaron's left hand and swept across the Bugbear's face. In an instant, they tore it open. Blood sprayed over Aaron.

Bugbears did not fear pain much, but the agony plain on this one's face stunned both the approaching Eleanor and the watchers in the forest.

That moment's hesitation cost it its best chance to attack Aaron. He retreated beyond its reach and even carved a strip of flesh from its face with his longsword.

The whips vanished, but the magic in his left hand continued. Pink fire gathered in his palm.

Tzeentch's Pink Fire!

The strange pink flame traced a twisting path through the air and struck the Bugbear head-on. The hulking creature rolled across the grass in pain.

No one knew what the pink fire was, but everyone could see something sinister about it. The Bugbear had barely been touched and showed no burns, yet it writhed as if enduring unimaginable pain.

A closer look revealed that it was no longer fire at all. It had become little sprite-like creatures, clinging to the Bugbear, clawing and biting until it tore them off and crushed them underfoot.

At last, there was movement in the forest.

Several cloaked figures stepped out from behind the trees, and arrows whistled through the air.

But their attack came too late.

"By the Silver Mother!" The priestess had closed the distance. She held her open book in one hand, twilight fire burning around the Silver Mother's holy symbol on its pages. In the other, she raised her warhammer, its head saturated with moonlight.

She took two running steps and leaped three meters into the air. Her warhammer came down squarely on the Bugbear's skull.

Crack!

Yellow, white, and red matter flew. The clang of metal echoed through the trees. The Bugbear, more than two meters tall, let out a wretched cry and shuddered. It rolled across the ground in a cloud of dust, then lay still.

"Beautifully done, Miss Eleanor." Aaron looked at the enormous hole in the Bugbear's skull and swallowed. He got up, brushed the dirt and grass seeds from his clothes, and gave the priestess a thumbs-up. "Do you always hammer your point home like that?"

The priestess brushed the assorted splatter from her robes with visible disgust. There was no delight on her face. Instead, she fixed Aaron with a piercing stare. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Aaron played dumb.

"That purple whip. What was it, Aaron? I don't recall you ever worshipping the Lady of Torment!" Eleanor pressed.

"A gift from the Silver Mother!" Aaron said at once.

The priestess's words caught in her throat.

How was she supposed to respond to that?

"...And the pink fire? The Silver Mother's sacred flames are silver, blue, or white!" She refused to let it go.

"A blessing from the Silver Mother!" Aaron said with utter sincerity.

"You..." The priestess went pale with anger. Her gauntleted hand tightened around Moonhand, her warhammer.

The Silver Mother's power? Like hell it was!

Anyone could see it was nothing of the sort. The Silver Mother's power was always gentle and pure. How could it produce something as sinister as what Aaron had cast?

But Aaron was "touched." He had visited Selûne's divine realm and met the goddess herself.

A truly devout believer did not question a deity's decisions. If Aaron said the power was hers, the priestess had to accept it unless Selûne herself denied it.

That was how the clergy reasoned. Even knowing something was wrong with the source of Aaron's power, Eleanor's faith would not let her press him further.

Aaron had anticipated that. Watching the priestess struggle with her doubts, he let the corner of his mouth rise.

She isn't just your goddess. She's mine too!

"Friends in the forest, would you come out?" Aaron gestured to the priestess that they would settle their disagreement later, then addressed the figures emerging from the trees.

"Greetings, my lord. I'm sorry we startled you. We're Ferrara's adventuring party. I'm Ferrara, and this is my second, Montero." A tall, lean mercenary leader in battered leather armor stepped out of the forest with several equally shabby companions. His bearded face and dark eyes were wary. He first studied Aaron's worn cloak, whose Purple Dragon emblem was still unmistakable, and thought, What a handsome young man. Then his gaze shifted to the Silver Mother's holy symbol embroidered on the priestess's veil.

His eyes flickered. He gestured to a shorter man behind him, also wearing filthy leather armor. "This is Montero, my partner."

"Hello, Mr. Ferrara, Mr. Montero. Were you attacked in the forest?" Aaron noticed that both long-haired Ferrara and short-haired Montero had hair as dry and tangled as weeds. "Goblins?"

"Yes, exactly." The lanky mercenary leader nodded repeatedly and pointed to a bite mark on his armor. "Look, my lord. A goblin did this. By mighty Tempus, my lord, we're a group of merchants from Zambia, carrying sausages and beer. Unfortunately, we ran into a warband led by Bugbears. As you can see, they attacked us."

"Attacked?" Aaron looked over the group. There were at least a dozen of them, with seven or eight swords and three powerful crossbows.

"Indeed, my lord! Good thing you came along, or I don't know how we'd have dealt with that Bugbear!" Ferrara approached warmly and pulled a salve from his coat. "Are you hurt, my lord? I have ointment!"

"Aaron Salian. I'm Viscount Salian, and this is Eleanor, a priestess of the Silver Mother." Aaron waved away the salve. With a casual snap of his fingers, sparks of pink fire sprang from his fingertips. "As you can see, I'm a sorcerer."

At the sight of the pink fire, most of the mercenaries looked startled. Their loose semicircle quietly shifted backward.

"We don't see many sorcerers in Cormyr. I thought you were a war wizard." Ferrara exchanged a glance with Montero. "It's unusual to meet a nobleman traveling alone in the wilderness."

"I'm traveling on the orders of Her Highness Regent Alusair. My mission is complete, and she should be waiting in Suzail for my report." Aaron gave Ferrara and Montero a radiant smile. "How fortunate to meet you out here. I'm sure it's Tymora's blessing."

As the viscount smiled, Ferrara and Montero felt as though bright sunlight had reached into their hearts and dispelled the gloom of recent days. The mercenary leader, in particular, could hardly help giving his men a discreet signal behind his back.

This nobleman is a good sort. Don't worry.

"As it happens, we're headed back to Suzail," Aaron said with a bright smile. "The road's a little dangerous for just the two of us, and you've clearly run into trouble too. Why don't we travel together? It would benefit us both."

"You'd travel with us?" Ferrara exclaimed in delight. The lanky leader clenched a fist excitedly. "You're a spellcaster. Of course we'd be glad to travel with you! We're going to Suzail too. To tell you the truth, Lord Viscount, we aren't merchants. We're mercenaries, hoping to find work there. We've heard the regent has been recruiting adventurers lately. Looks like we've made the right connection."

"No, you're merchants. Genuine merchants." Aaron smiled and wagged a finger before Ferrara. "Everything must be done by the rules. But I can promise you I'll take care of the rest."

The mercenary leader went from bewilderment to shock, then sighed. Finally, he nodded in relief. "Of course, Lord Viscount. You have my deepest thanks!"

"If everything goes as smoothly as you say, we'll give you twenty percent of our goods!"

"Then we have a deal?"

"We have a deal!"

The rest of the journey became much simpler.

Ferrara's group numbered eighteen: sixteen fighters, one barbarian, and one rogue. They did not even have a ranger.

A party like that plainly wanted a spellcaster. Ferrara sent the rogue, the barbarian, and three fighters ahead to scout, then prepared their sole remaining mule cart and invited Aaron and Eleanor to ride.

Aaron declined. The mercenaries thought nothing of it. They loaded their remaining sausages and two barrels of barley beer onto the cart and set off.

Cormyr's mountains were dangerous. Goblin and kobold tribes roamed the forests, while ancient horrors and mysterious cults operated in secret. Rumor had it that the Zhentarim were gathering an orc army in the north, and the Cult of the Dragon was active in the King's Forest.

The wilderness of the realms was always full of danger, but also opportunity.

Compared with other parts of the realms, however, Cormyr was quite safe. Its mountain and forest roads were rough, but patrols were frequent. Large roadside inns appeared every few hours' travel, making shelter easy to find.

Nothing else went wrong. Ferrara's group was fairly well armed, and whenever a few hyenas appeared, the fighters dispatched them easily. They did not even bother using arrows.

After all, arrows were not cheap.

Aaron vividly remembered a film he had seen in his previous life, Braveheart. One battle involving King Edward had left a deep impression on him.

Two armies faced each other: the elite knights of England against those foolish Highland goats of Scotland.

A lieutenant asked the king whether they should put the longbowmen in front to shoot the enemy.

King Edward flatly refused. "Arrows are expensive. Don't waste them. Send in the Irish first!"

Thus the equation: an Irish life < a longbowman's arrow.

Eleanor noticed it too. She moved quietly closer to Aaron and whispered in his ear, "These people don't seem much like merchants."

"No, they're merchants." Aaron smiled mysteriously and whispered back, "I'll explain when we reach the inn. This isn't the place."

"...I see." As Aaron leaned close, a faint blush crossed the priestess's face beneath her veil.

He always smelled pleasant, a blend of citrus, lemon, and rosemary that made her want to keep breathing it in.

At least... at least I won't have to endure a stench while watching him. The priestess pushed Aaron away to show she understood, but kept a wary eye on Ferrara and his "merchants."

She still distrusted them. If Aaron had not insisted, she would never have agreed to travel with them.

Yet Aaron always had an answer.

"It's the Silver Mother's will!"

I'll expose you sooner or later! The priestess gritted her teeth.

Aaron quietly observed her expression. Playing the Selûne card really works on her.

Still, he needed to find a way to deal with her. With her watching him, many things he planned to do would become difficult.

So how could he bring the priestess over to his side?

We'll start by getting to know each other more intimately! Having made up his mind, Aaron turned away from her and asked Ferrara's men to leave two hyenas behind. Then he spoke a string of words that came from no mortal realm.

He did not need to understand them. He only had to activate the power flowing through his blood and let it act on its own.

Three multicolored darts of magical force shot from Aaron's palm, bursting the two hyenas' skulls in an instant.

Yes, Aaron's magic always had strange colors, far removed from the usual hue of magic missiles.

"Impressive, Lord Viscount!" the mercenary leader called out at once.

Ferrara naturally assumed the noble sorcerer was showing off his magic. But when he looked at the viscount's face, he found his expression frighteningly dark.

At last, the mercenary leader stopped underestimating him.

Ferrara had met plenty of nobles—from Moonsea, Zambia, Cormyr, the Dalelands, Amn, and Waterdeep. Most of the capable ones had one thing in common: their moods could change without warning. They were impossible to predict or control.

Be careful dealing with nobles like that! Especially one whose powers as a sorcerer are unknown!

"Is something wrong, my lord?" the mercenary leader asked cautiously.

The clouds had already cleared from Aaron's face, and he smiled radiantly again. "Nothing. Let's keep moving."

"We should hurry and reach the Kalan Inn before dark."

"I can hardly wait to try their lamb stew and buttered cheese."

"Yes, my lord."

An early update today! Plenty of sincerity to go around!