Six of Evermeet’s councilors waited on Seiveril’s approach. Closest to him, at the left-hand foot of the horseshoe-shaped table, sat the old scribe Zaltarish, one of the queen’s most valued advisors. Beside Zaltarish sat the High Admiral Emardin Elsydar, master of Evermeet’s navy, and on the other side of the admiral-past Seiveril’s own former seat, apparently still vacant-was the High Marshal Keryth Blackhelm, leader of Evermeet’s army.
On the right-hand wing of the table sat two of Seiveril’s most determined opponents: Lady Selsharra Durothil, matron of the powerful sun elf Durothil clan, and Lady Ammisyll Veldann, another sun elf noble who governed the southern city of Nimlith. Both highborn sun elves stared daggers at him as he came near. To Veldann’s left sat Grand Mage Breithel Olithir, another sun elf. Seiveril had always thought well of Olithir, even if the fellow did not trust his own wisdom.
At the head of the table sat Queen Amlaruil herself, dressed in a resplendent gown of pearl-white that was set with countless gleaming diadems. Her raven-dark hair was bound by a simple silver fillet, and she held a thin scepter of shining mithral across her lap.
“You are welcome here, Seiveril Miritar,” Amlaruil said in a warm voice, and she smiled graciously. “So little time has passed since you left, and yet we have so much to speak of.”
Seiveril looked up into Amlaruil’s eyes, and felt his heart flutter at the sad wisdom and perfect beauty of her face. To look on Amlaruil as she sat in state was to catch a glimpse of Sehanine Moonbow’s throne in Arvandor, or so it was said. For his own part, Seiveril knew of no son or daughter of Evermeet who could stand before Amlaruil unmoved.
“I thank you, Queen Amlaruil,” he replied, and he bowed deeply.
When he straightened again, Amlaruil looked left and right to her advisors. “I asked Lord Seiveril here today, in the hope that we might hear from his own mouth the tale of his battles to defend Evereska and the High Forest from the daemonfey army. Few events in Faerun within the last few years have portended so much for the People, and we would only be wise to inform ourselves as best we can about Lord Seiveril’s campaigns.” Amlaruil looked back to Seiveril, and said, “Will you speak, old friend?”
“Of course, Your Highness. Where should I begin?”
“Begin with your mustering at Elion,” Keryth Blackhelm said. “We were all here for your call to arms when you spoke of returning to Faerun, and we remember the arguments that led to your oratory. Tell us what happened after you left this chamber.”
“Very well,” Seiveril agreed, and he began his tale.
He recounted the gathering of companies and volunteers in Elion, and the efforts to organize useful military units from the horde of individuals who had answered his call. He described their quick transit to Evereska by means of the ancient elfgates when it became clear that the city was in imminent peril, and the victory of the Battle of the Cwm, in which Seiveril’s Crusade had stopped the daemonfey horde from laying siege to Evereska. Then he went on to the pursuit of Sarya Dlardrageth’s army through the wild lands north of Evereska, to the climactic battle at the Lonely Moor.
“That was a terrible fight,” Seiveril said. He could see it before his eyes even then, remembering the onslaught of demons and the furious battle as the Crusade found itself surrounded on all sides by Sarya’s forces. “We fell on the ranks of orcs, ogres, and such, and decimated them. But Sarya and her demons teleported to our flank, and attacked fiercely, while her fey’ri took to the air and fell on our rearmost ranks. It seemed desperate indeed, but then Sarya’s demons all vanished at once-each one of them banished back to its native hell as the spells holding the demons in our world failed. That turned the tide. The fey’ri warriors abandoned their orcs and ogres and fled the field soon thereafter.”
“The demons vanished-that was Araevin Teshurr’s work at Myth Glaurach?” asked the grand mage.
“It was.”
“What has happened since?” Zaltarish the scribe asked.
“Well, we have searched all of the North, or so it seems, for any sign of where Sarya and her surviving fey’ri warriors might be hiding. The spellcasters among our army have cast divination after divination, hoping to uncover some sign that our scouts might have missed. We have also helped the wood elves to hunt down the last of the orc warbands and ogre gangs that accompanied the fey’ri in their assault against the High Forest.”
“You have won a great victory,” Selsharra Durothil said. Seiveril fixed his eyes on her, instantly suspicious. Lady Durothil had not spared many kind words for him over the past few months. Selsharra ignored his dark look and continued, “The daemonfey attack against Evereska and the High Forest has failed. Events have vindicated you, Lord Miritar. I do not think I was wrong to argue for caution when we debated this question a few short months ago, but I certainly cannot argue today that your impetuousness did not accomplish a great good.”
Seiveril carefully kept his face neutral, merely inclining his head in response to Durothil’s concession.
What is she up to? he wondered.
“So,” Keryth Blackhelm said, “When can we expect the return of your army?”
“When I am certain that the threat of the daemonfey has truly passed, and that no other enemies will try Evereska’s strength as soon as I leave. Some companies I could send home within a month or two, I think. Others I may ask to remain longer.”
“How will you judge when the daemonfey have been finally defeated?” the high admiral asked. “What if you simply cannot find them again?”
“I am prepared to wait.”
“A few months is one thing,” Ammisyll Veldann observed. “What if you find no sign of the daemonfey for a year? Two years? They are evidently well hidden, after all. Is Evermeet to be left shorn of its defenders for as long as you see fit to be stubborn?”
“The daemonfey are not the sole standard by which I shall judge my errand in Faerun completed,” Seiveril replied. “The daemonfey were tempted to strike against Evereska because the People withdrew so much of their power from Faerun. I mean to find a way to set that right before I say I am done.”
“That will be hard on your warriors, will it not?” Veldann asked. “They joined you to defend Evereska, and Evereska has been defended. They did not answer your call in order to garrison gloomy old ruins in the middle of the wilderness for years.”
“I require none to remain who are not willing,” Seiveril said.
Ammisyll Veldann threw up her hands, and leaned back in her seat. “Nothing has changed,” she muttered.
Selsharra Durothil looked around the Council table, and let her gaze linger on Amlaruil. “I would like to put forward a proposal,” she said.
If Queen Amlaruil anticipated more argument from the conservative sun elf, her face did not show it. She graciously nodded. “Of course, Lady Durothil.”
“While I do not necessarily agree that Lord Seiveril requires an army quite as large as he now has at his command,” Selsharra Durothil began, “I think we have all seen the wisdom of his arguments about maintaining a presence in Faerun. In fact, it seems to me that this task may be important enough to justify a lasting amendment to Evermeet’s defenses. Instead of relying on the zeal and good intentions of those who happen to take interest in affairs in Faerun, we should shoulder this responsibility ourselves, and formally recognize and support Lord Seiveril’s actions so far. Let us name him the East Marshal of the Realm, admit him again to the High Council, and designate his standing army in Faerun as the East Guard.