9. City Streets

The door opens and Xan calmly enters the room, holding his sheathed Moonblade by the scabbard. He gives Aiwe the slightest of smiles. "It seems dawn now smiles on at least one more of our meetings, before the end."

He slowly raises his hands and unsheathes the Moonblade, blue flames flickering along its revealed length. "You know my sword, my companion, would never let an imposter wield it. But..." He gently slices his palm with the blade. Indeed, though his skin reflects a pale blue from the sword's light, it certainly isn't the pasty gray of the doppelgangers'.

A trickle of blue flame passes over Xan's hand, and the wound heals.

The slender elf turns the Moonblade and lays it across his palms, offering it to Aiwe. "If doubt still casts its somber shadow, ask it yourself."

"Cousin Xan!" Aiwë brightens. When he extends the sword, she frowns. "It doesn't want to talk to me," she says in orc-accented Elvish, but she extends her hand and lays it gently on the sword anyway.

Upon touching the sentient sword, Aiwe feels its consciousness ready to meet her. Where once she had felt it wash over her, searching every part of her being without invitation, she now senses the equivalent of a hand extended in respect, if not yet acceptance. Accompanying the greeting is a swelling of confidence in its current wielder, Xan. There's no doubt that this is the real Xan, acting under his own will.

As Aiwe's about to lift her hand away, she feels a slight emotional tug from the Moonblade. The sword shares a... warning of sorts. This quest she has been on with her friends, it will have an end.

And... that's it, really. A sense of impending... finality.

And then the Moonblade's consciousness, openly conflicted in its feelings toward Aiwe, makes a decision. The swords' blade flares subtly with blue fire, which makes its way to Aiwe's hand and into her body. There's a vague sense of empowerment, which quickly fades. A gift, the sword assures her. One that may help her to influence the course of things in these tumultuous days.

Xan's slight smile expands in satisfaction. "Even a heart made of mithril and magic can be changed, it would seem."

He returns the Moonblade to its sheathe, then embraces Aiwe in a simple, tender hug.

Duke Jannath claps her hands lightly together a single time, obviously pleased at the proceedings. "Xan Blacksheaf and I have been friends for many years, and lately we have been coordinating efforts to collect information on this Iron Crisis." She spreads both hands towards the party. "You have been more fortunate in this than we, it would seem, but we may still have some information that will be useful to you."

She shrugs slightly. "But while the Iron Throne is often openly brutal in its tactics, it's also capable of clever deceits. Thus, we needed to be sure you haven't been compromised. You responded to my questions as Xan assured me you would, and I am satisfied."

The Duke apparently has more to say, but she pauses to allow the group to speak their minds if they wish.

Aiwë looks openly shocked at the proceedings with the Moonblade, and a little teary. She clenches the fist that was gifted with fire, then accepts Xan's hug with warmth. "Thank you to you both," she murmurs into his shoulder, her Elvish accent perfect.

Stepping back Aiwë clears her throat, a sound that also wipes any wayward tears from her face.

"I'm glad. I didn't think Xan knew is so well." She waits patiently for the Duke to continue.

Dieter shifts his weight and folds his arms intent on hearing what the duke has to say

Duke Jannath's tone, so warm to this point, turns to steel as she discusses the Iron Throne. "We know that you have done much to cripple Rieltar Anchev's machinations. The Iron Crisis is still possibly the greatest threat Baldur's Gate has known, but Rieltar's superiors in Sembia are no doubt learning of his botched operations. It's hard to know how much of this plot is his, and how much the rest of the Iron Throne's." She makes a slicing motion with her hand. "But either way they are going to come down hard on him if he doesn't regain control of the situation."

Her smile begins to return and her eyes twinkle with mischief. "He is in desperate need of allies. And I have a plan to present him with some."

Jannath holds up a hand to forestall questions. "I'll not share the details now; I need the support of my fellow Grand Dukes." She gestures to Aiwe. "Which brings us to that second sealed scroll of yours. You need to go see Duke Belt."

"Yes, my lady. Anything else before we go?"

Rieltar has superiors? How far up does the hierarchy go? Stella wondered.

This had gone very smoothly. She couldn't help but feel Duke Belt wouldn't be quite so easy.

Lady Jannath nods in satisfaction. "The City of Baldur's Gate is putting great trust in you all. But I have a feeling you are up to the task. Duke Belt is a man of great faith. We will need his support to put an end to the Iron Throne's plans and avert this war. Farewell, friends! May we meet again soon, and in safety."

Xan blinks. "Well, safety may be too much to hope for in these trying times, Liia. But you are right to trust this group." The wave he gives the party is solemn, but there is a telling twinkle in his eye. "Farewell, Aiwe! May Corellon and the Seldarine guide you."

The group departs Duke Jannath's home, and Skie exhales. "Duke Jannath is so regal. And poised! I wonder what she was like at my age." She giggles. "Well! On to see Duke Belt at the Temple of the Morninglord!"

She leads the group through the streets of the Upper City, until they come to the Temple District. The young Silvershield stops and points across an ornate bridge of white marble. "That's Lathander's temple, right there, the big one! I... see a friend I need to speak with, I'll catch up with you later!" Clutching her oversized bag of clothes, she darts across a thoroughfare crowded with the District's morning petitioners.

Dieter didn’t like that

Dieter watches Skie run off with "his" change of clothes.

"we shouldn’t let her use us like this."

Dieter murmurs

"Something could happen"

"Do you want to go with her? Stella and I can handle the Duke."

"she doesn’t want me to. Following her could be easily mistaken aswell.

Besides I’d rather be here for Stella and you if I had to choose"

Aiwë smiles at him. "Then let's go." She leads the way into the temple. "What's with you and Lathander, by the way?"

"I don’t know, sometimes I feel him but he never responds to me. either he doesn’t care, he’s doing my family a favour, or he’s using me.

I don’t think he is using me. If he is a god he has no use for me, Tulfgyr even said so himself" Dieter shrugs as they walk up the steps together.

"Your family killed its god, I don’t think he was a real god but to be as a god…." Dieter shudders at the prospect of that great and terrible day.

Aiwë's gaze darkens. "He was very real, and he owned us, but he was not ours. Torm is my family's god, and we owe him and the Triad forever. It was they that really slew Gruumsh."

"Maybe Lythander will speak to me today, maybe we will have to continue alone through this vale of tears" Dieter ponders.

"Your family freed themselves. Your blood gives you great strength Aiwë, it’s an honour to serve your family… and to be your friend."