Chapter Text
The moment Elira entered the city, she knew something was wrong with the castle. The whole valley was bathed in Lathander’s cleansing light, but though the castle looked as bright as everything else, it seemed tainted somehow. Like a pear that feels a little too soft because the inside is going rotten.
Now that she’s here in the castle’s courtyard, the building’s dark aura is undeniable, even though the vampire who once owned it was destroyed months ago. The merchants who have set up booths here in the plaza give her a bad feeling too. She’s never seen such pushy vendors, brazenly coaxing every customer to buy fancier things than they need. The customer at a nearby jeweler’s booth requested a copper bracelet to help her arthritis, but the merchant talked her into buying a diamond-studded necklace too, so she could impress all her neighbors.
Elira climbs onto the ledge of an empty, broken fountain at the center of the castle commons. She’s a little short for a half-elf, and she wants to get a clearer view above the crowded market.
Her quest had seemed straightforward enough: enter a portal in the castle and free a celestial trapped by the archdevil Glasya. And since a celestial messenger from Lathander himself gave her this assignment, there must be some way to fulfill it. The bright feather he gave her is tucked safely into her Book of Secrets, ready to be presented to the trapped celestial once Elira locates her. But first she has to find a way inside the castle, and one does not simply walk into a corrupted building without some sort of plan.
Idly fiddling with a lock of her flaxen hair, she considers what to do next. The windows are all boarded up, and she can’t teleport to a place she can’t see. Maybe she could use an invisibility spell to sneak in a back door.
“Are you Elira?” a gruff voice asks. It belongs to an extraordinarily plump dwarf. He looks like an armored sphere with a bushy red beard, bristling with weapons and balanced precariously on the most exhausted pony she’s ever seen.
She drops lightly to the ground and kneels next to the beleaguered animal. “Are you okay?” she asks in Beast Speech, gently laying a hand on its neck.
‘Heavy,’ the pony replies.
“Eh, Brownie’ll be all right,” the dwarf assures her. “So, are you the celestial warlock named Elira, or not?”
“I am,” she replies. “And you are?”
“Boglin the Rotund, of the Order of the Watchers. And this here’s Milo,” he says, nodding at a nervous halfling child with tousled brown hair. Elira had been so distracted by Boglin’s unconventional appearance that she hadn’t even noticed his young companion.
“We’re here to purge whatever evil is corrupting this place,” the dwarven paladin continues. “A stuffy elf priest named Delfin in the temple outside town says if we don’t do it by sundown, Lathander’s going to rain fire from the sky and lay waste to the whole duchy.”
Elira is shocked. The Morninglord is a god of life, not death, and he doesn’t anger easily. She can’t imagine him destroying an entire valley, especially on the Summer Solstice, his most sacred day.
But the priest Boglin mentioned isn’t known for exaggerating. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“How can we prevent that?” she asks.
“Delfin told me to find you and Milo, then he suggested we ask the girl who killed the vampire if she has any leads on what’s wrong. Milo here’s a sorcerer who used to be one of the vampire’s servants. Maybe he can introduce us and show us around.”
Elira agrees that they need to explore the castle, but she doubts its owner will be much help, and the thought of marching straight up to the looming edifice’s front door makes her uneasy. Milo doesn’t seem too keen on it either. She notices that he’s careful to keep Boglin and Brownie between him and the vampire’s old haunt.
“Milo, do you know of any way into the castle other than the main entrance?” she asks. “Maybe a secret way in?”
“There are some vines growing up the south wall,” the halfling timidly volunteers. “I might be able to climb them. Not sure about you,” he says to Boglin, eyeing the dwarf’s prodigious girth.
“Worth a try, I guess,” the paladin says, turning his longsuffering steed toward the southern end of the castle.
‘Heavy,’ the pony mumbles.
Elira pats his neck. “You can do it, Brownie.”
‘Heavy,’ the pony laments.
As they make their way toward the south side of the castle, a vendor calls out to them from her booth. “Did I hear you’re looking to purge some evil?”
Her question brings their little group to an abrupt halt.
Seeing that she has their attention, the merchant lifts an ancient-looking pewter box from under her table. “I have just the thing for you,” she says, opening the box and pulling out a cube made of jet-black metal, with panes of orange glass on each side.
“I don’t show this little gem to just anybody, but I can tell it will be in good hands with you,” she says in a low, conspiratorial tone.
“What is it?” Milo asks, his anxiety about the castle briefly eclipsed by curiosity.
“It’s a powerful artifact for banishing fiends. Takes care of ’em just like that!” she says, snapping her fingers. “You’ll have to attune to it, but you can do that in less than a minute. After that, banishing baddies is easier than falling off a horse.” She snorts like she’s just made some clever joke.
‘Heavy,’ the pony moans.
Boglin sizes up the merchant. Apparently reaching some satisfactory conclusion, he asks, “How much?”
“Obviously, a device of this power and importance is very valuable, but don’t worry. I’ll put you on an extended payment plan. You’ll only pay 80 gold pieces up front.”
“The Order will cover it,” Boglin says. “Greater good, and all.”
“Perfect. Sign here,” the merchant says, handing him a quill and pointing to a signature line on a large receipt. The dwarf signs his name and the name of his order without bothering to look at the total. Elira glances down at the price and her eyes go wide—the Watchers must have very deep coffers.
The moment he hands the pen back, his signature glows orange and the parchment erupts in infernal flames. The merchant grins, revealing pointed teeth—far more than any human should have. “Thank you so much for your patronage,” she smirks, then disappears in a cloud of sulfur-scented smoke.
“Fiend,” the paladin grunts, pulling out a large handkerchief and wrapping up his purchase before stashing it in one of his bulging saddlebags.
“Should we even use that thing?” Milo asks, edging away from the bag.
“I’m sure it does what she says,” Boglin replies. “Don’t know why a devil would want to sell us a fiend-banisher, but then, I don’t get why devils do most of the things they do.”
It’s well past noon, but Lathander’s blessed light is still shining straight down on them. “I thought the heavenly light was supposed to purge evil beings from this valley,” Elira says. “That devil shouldn’t have even been here.”
“She stayed under her awning the whole time,” Boglin recalls. “Clever, really.” He casts a dark look around the bustling marketplace. There are scores of shady booths where more devils could be selling who-knows-what to their unsuspecting customers.
The dwarf casts a divine sensing spell, then shakes his head in disgust. “There are at least three more of ’em nearby.”
“Should we use the banisher to get rid of them?” Milo asks. He seems a little unnerved by the idea, but Elira is proud of him for at least suggesting it.
Boglin squints up at the afternoon sky. “We’re running out of daylight,” he says. “Something tells me we’d better deal with the bigger problem first.” He taps Brownie’s sides with his heels and steers him back toward the castle.
‘Heavy,’ the pony sighs.