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With a final scathing glance round, Sir Kinsaid unrolled the scroll he had been clutching, and, holding it up formally, began to announce in a booming voice. “People of Ansalon and all the lands of Krynn, citizens of Palanthas, lords, ladies, and gentlemen, let it be known, by order of the Lord of the Night, Sir Morham Targonne, that from this day forward, the noble chivalric order formerly known as the Knights of Takhisis shall be known as the Knights of Neraka.”

His voice echoed around the suddenly quiet plaza. People stared open-mouthed at the stage, awaiting some sort of explanation. None was forthcoming. Sir Kinsaid let the scroll snap shut, lowered his arms, and after gazing once more around the crowd, returned to his seat.

After a few moments’ hesitation, Lord Xavier rose and returned to the front of the stage. He glanced back at the Lord Knight, but Sir Kinsaid simply folded his arms across his chest and set his lips in a grim line. His glacial blue eyes stared straight ahead.

“Thank… thank you, Sir Kinsaid,” Xavier stuttered, then continued, turning back to the crowd. “And thank you citizens of Palanthas for making this the largest and most, uh, enjoyable Spring Dawning Festival in half a century,” the Lord Mayor proclaimed. The crowd applauded politely, quieting expectantly after a few moments.

“Today is perhaps more special than any day in this city’s long and colorful history,” the Lord Mayor continued. “For today, a great artifact has returned to us. Long have we mourned its loss…”

The dwarf snorted in derision.

“…but today it shall see the light of day again, to spread its glory and blessing so that all may wonder and be proud. Today, the heart of Palanthas is returned, the stone that signified that Paladine had indeed blessed this city…”

The Lord Knight shifted uncomfortably, but Xavier continued unabashed “…and that was so rudely stolen from us after it was given to the city by the Hammerfell dwarves.”

“Well, at least he mentioned us,” the old dwarf muttered under his breath. Cael smiled.

“For over two thousand years it lay hidden in the bowels of the ancient and wicked Thieves’ Guild, until four years ago, when the Knights of Takhisis… er, Knights of Neraka, led by Sir Kinsaid, crushed the accursed Guild under its heel, laying waste to their houses and lairs, jailing their members or driving them out of this city forever!”

“Are there no more thieves in Palanthas, Grandfather?” Cael asked. The dwarf loosed a loud guffaw, but said nothing.

“Even so, little did we suspect the significance of the curious stone we found among the thousands of other treasures discovered in Thieves’ House,” Lord Xavier continued. “To even the amateur eye, it was beautiful, and could be reckoned priceless. But its true importance remained unsuspected until one of our most respected citizens, Bertrem of the Great Library, discovered a little-known document describing the history of the Founderstone. It is a long and fascinating history…”

“And largely untrue,” the dwarf muttered.

“…that shall surely be put into verse by one of our talented bards before much longer,” the lord of Palanthas said.

“Show us the stone!” someone in the crowd shouted. This was Xavier’s big speech of the afternoon. The crowd feared he might go on forever.

“Show us the stone! Show us the stone!” Others took up the cry, until Lord Xavier’s voice was lost in the noise. Finally, the lord mayor threw up his hands, smiled and nodded acquiescently. He motioned to the Thorn Knight, Sir Arach Jannon. The shouts of the crowd changed to hurrahs.

The old dwarf gripped Cael’s hand as the Gray Robe came forward, fidgeting with something in his robe. Cael winced but otherwise held tightly to his friend’s knobby old hand.

Sir Arach removed something from the depths of his robes, and with a ceremonial flourish held it out, cupped in his outstretched hands. A glowing, pinkish light welled forth. The crowd fell silent.

With a brilliant flash, a light like a star erupted from the Thorn Knight’s hands. Shimmering cascades of sparks fell about him and spilled across the stage. A gasp of awe and wonder escaped the crowd, and even the skeptics stood spellbound by the sight. There seemed to be a quiet music in the air, like pipes and chimes heard across a sylvan valley.

“It is more beautiful than I ever imagined,” the old dwarf sighed.

The Founderstone pulsed with light, as though in the warmth of the spring sun it felt its life stirring again after a long sleep. People began to laugh without knowing why. joyous singing broke out all over the Great Plaza. The old dwarf broke into a hymn to Reorx, chanting and roaring in the terse language of his people. Tears streamed into his beard. Cael clutched his hand, his own astonished eyes wide with wonder and delight.

The Thorn Knight staggered as though under a great burden, but two of his guards came forward and held his arms aloft No one knew how long they stood so, for the sun itself seemed to stand still. The light of the stone flowed like honey-scented mist down street and alley, through door and open window, and wherever it passed, winter-brown grass turned to lushest green and buds popped out on the naked limbs of late blooming trees.

It was not for long. The light vanished suddenly as the Thorn Knight returned the stone to a secret place in his robes. Sir Arach looked uncommonly weary and pained, staggering as he left the stage. The Nine Axes huddled around him, wary and alert, with their hands on their weapons. The people in the Great Plaza, thrilled beyond belief, cried for more, but Sir Arach and the Founderstone vanished through the doors of the palace.

The people on the stage milled about as though dumbstruck. All plans for a concluding ceremony seemed to have been forgotten. After a while, the crowd began to break up, while the people on the stage looked around at each other and laughed nervously at the sudden breaking of tension. There was much slapping of backs and forced lightheartedness.

The old dwarf refused to check his feelings. “It is my heart, my soul, in the hands of that cursed Thorn Knight,” he cried. “What I wouldn’t give to hold it for a moment.” He clutched the elf’s hand, weeping unashamed.

“I know, Grandfather. I know.” Cael tried to console his friend while the nobles and other dignitaries left the stage. As they passed, they spoke in eager tones of the parties and soirees planned for that evening. A few nodded in passing to the dwarf and his companion, for Master Hammerfell was well known to the denizens of the city.

Slowly, Master Hammerfell gathered control of his emotions. The Great Plaza was beginning to empty as the revelers dispersed to wine shops and taverns to continue the festivities. Nearby, a party of high-ranking Dark Knights preened and strutted around a clutch of bejeweled young noblewomen, while near the center of the stage the elderly Aesthetic Bertrem remained, holding forth, surrounded by a contingent of junior monks and university students. His high, quavering voice carried through the square. He was explaining how he had discovered the Founderstone document quite by accident while searching for information on the background and formation of the Thieves’ Guild.

As Bertrem continued his statement, a strange-looking pair approached Master Hammerfell and Cael. One was a large man in height and girth. Despite his huge size, his movements spoke of hidden energy and unexpected grace. He wore grizzled sideburns on his massive jowls, and an elegant braid of hair lay upon one shoulder, as was once stylish among officers of the fleets of Palanthas. His dress reinforced this impression of a seaman, for he wore a jacket of dark blue, with brass buttons and golden braidwork on the sleeves. His knee-length black boots were polished to a mirror sheen.

On his massive arm dangled a lovely creature draped in sheer silks of palest green. Her skin was dusky, her eyes dark and flashing. Tight ringlets of black hair clung about the perfect oval of her face, and her lips, pursed into a wry smile, were full and moist. Her body was svelte, her limbs lithe and expressive. Pointing to the dwarf and the elf, she whispered something behind her hand to her large companion. The strange pair stopped, and the man bowed slightly at the hips, clicking his heels together in a military fashion.