The parchment Winefiddle held aloft was crumpled slightly, but Azoun could see that it was an important message even from across the room. Bold black and red ribbons, secured by a thick wax seal, dangled from the paper. Vangerdahast abruptly snatched the letter from the curate's hands and gave it to Azoun.
The king looked at the wax. A phoenix clutching a hammer in its claws was imbedded there. That imprint told him that the message was from Torg mac Cei, a dwarven king from the Earthfast Mountains. After closing his eyes and whispering a short prayer to Torm, the God of Duty, Azoun snapped the seal and read the missive.
As his eyes raced down the page, Azoun sighed. A slight smile bloomed on his face, then disappeared. The king handed the parchment to Vangerdahast and headed toward the trapdoor. "Excuse me, my friends, I have some important people to contact right away."
As he started down the stairs, the king turned and added, "We'll talk again soon, Dimswart, Winefiddle." He smiled again briefly and looked at his stunned royal wizard. "We should confer, Vangy. I need your advice on obtaining the use of a large number of ships."
The wizard, sage, and cleric stood dumbfounded as Azoun rushed down the tower stairs. After the footfalls on the stone steps grew distant, Vangerdahast pulled open the letter. "It's from King Torg of Earthfast," he told the others as they moved to his side.
"A message about the crusade, I assume," Dimswart noted. "I can probably guess what it says."
"Well, I can't," Winefiddle said, turning his holy symbol over and over in his hands. "Please read it aloud, Vangerdahast."
"No," the wizard muttered, handing the letter to the priest. "It's short. You might as well read it yourself."
Winefiddle glanced at the dwarven runes at the top of the page, then read over the lengthy listing of Torg's titles and genealogy. Vangerdahast was correct about the body of the missive: it was brief. The text was also written in perfect rows of neat letters.
I have consulted our war council about the barbarian horsewarriors, the letter began. You are absolutely correct in your assessment of the situation. Therefore, I pledge, as ironlord of Earthfast, to lead two thousand dwarven troops under your banner against the Tuigan. I also have a brilliant human general in my city at this time who will join the conflict. We await your arrival to begin this crusade.
Winefiddle stopped reading, then a shudder wracked his heavy frame as he saw the final lines of the message: My troops and I will gladly lay down our lives to the last warrior to stop the invasion. I know that you and your troops will certainly pledge the same.
The cleric held the parchment out to Dimswart, who had returned to his seat at the chessboard. The sage waved the letter away. "Torg has offered troops to support the crusade. You could see it in Azoun's face as he read the note." Dimswart picked up the white king from the chessboard and looked at it intently. "Those of us who think the crusade is a good idea can only hope now that the other kings and lords will follow Torg's lead."
Vangerdahast sighed. "Azoun is a very, very persuasive man. The leaders of Faerun will do as he suggests."
As one, Dimswart and Winefiddle looked to the royal magician. Vangerdahast stood at the window Azoun had occupied earlier, looking out over Suzail. "The question is no longer 'will Azoun lead the crusade against the Tuigan?'" The mage turned to face the king's two friends, who both saw the sadness in his eyes.
"Suzail will pay dearly for this. Azoun simply doesn't know what a real war takes out of a people." The mage breathed another ragged sigh and turned back to the window. "And he's underestimating the opposition of the trappers.
"No," he stated after a moment, "the crusade will go on. The question to be asked now is, can Azoun pay the price for fighting this war?"
2
Initially at least, King Azoun had far more trouble recruiting support for the crusade than Vangerdahast had predicted in the tower on that day. It wasn't that the monarch's persuasive powers were less than the royal wizard claimed. In fact, Azoun and his wife, Queen Filfaeril, had spent much of the winter speaking to their nobles and their neighbors; most of the rulers considered a preemptive attack on the Tuigan vital to preserving their countries, their cultures, and, most importantly, their treasuries.
In politics, however, rhetorical support and actual support sometimes have little in common. As the time for action grew near, few of the statesmen who seemed eager to lend troops to Azoun followed through on their promises. The source of this change of heart could be traced to a simple fear of popular unrest.
As in Cormyr, certain guilds throughout the Heartlands opposed any proposed crusade. Guilds were an important part of commerce and even everyday life in Faerun. Each trade, whether it be thieving, forestry, or smithing, had its own guild, and to become a lawful, certified member in any profession meant joining the appropriate organization. In this way, guilds insured that standards be met in the production of crafts and prices remained reasonable. The guilds also represented their members before governments, provided retirement funds, and even took care of members' widows and orphans.
Not all guilds stood against the proposed crusade. The armorers, fletchers, bowyers, and swordsmiths all stood to gain from the war. Even the teamsters and shipwrights knew that they would see an immediate profit from the expedition against the Tuigan. The merchants who stood to garner little from the conflict-the trappers who worked the Heartlands' wildernesses; the tanners who made leather from animal hides; even the butchers, who would lose business since the army would kill and dress its own meat knew only that higher taxes would come their way.
To counter the fear of guild opposition to the crusade, Azoun held conferences with those lords he could visit personally and dealt through messengers and magical communications with those located farther away. He encouraged the leaders to put the Tuigan matter before their people, allowing them to comment on the proposed crusade outside the restrictions of guild politics. Surprisingly, it was only a vocal minority that opposed the venture; most of the people supported a peremptory strike against the barbarians.
By weakening the nobles' fear of popular unrest, Azoun won back most of the troops committed to him during the winter. With the promise of strong dwarven support, the king won a few more tentative troop commitments. His charisma won still others. Finally, after a seemingly endless parade of small conferences, King Azoun called together all the leaders who he felt might support his cause.
"If I can persuade the Dales and Sembia to give me troops," the king said as he straightened his ornate ceremonial tunic, "I will stop the khahan before he breaks out of Thesk." He paused. "I do wish the queen could attend the meeting today. But… other matters of state demand at least one of us be present in the royal court."
Vangerdahast, sitting at a table covered with various parchment notes, nodded absently. "Don't forget to remind them of the dwarven support Ironlord Torg promised." The wizard rubbed his eyes slowly and put down the letter he was reading. "The Lords of Waterdeep send their regards."
Azoun froze. "They're not dispatching a representative to the meeting?" His sharp tone was muffled by the carpets and tapestries that covered the cold stone walls of the study.
"Far too busy running the 'City of Splendors.' " Vangerdahast shook his head. "No. That's not quite fair. They note here-" He picked up the parchment again." 'Though we recognize the importance of quelling the Tuigan incursion, we do not feel that it would be prudent for us to commit any of our forces at this time.'"
"I don't really blame them," the king sighed. "They lost a sizable part of their city guard during the Godswar."