“I’m aware of that,” said Dagii bluntly. “Are you trying to ask if I intend to include the rites of the Sovereign Host in my coronation?”
The priest looked relieved. “Yes, lhesh.”
“No.” He rose. “I respect the Host, but Tariic included one aspect in his reign that I will keep. The emperors of Dhakaan did not submit to religion and neither will I. I serve my people, not the gods.” He nodded to the priests. “You are welcome in Darguun and in my court if you wish, but not beside my throne. Saa’atcha, Vassals of the Host.”
“That was nicely done,” said Geth as the priests retreated in some consternation.
“I’m beginning to get a feel for it,” Dagii said, then turned to look at him. “Do you want to duel for a while?”
On the night of 28 Vult, the newly crowned lhesh and lhesh’nu of Darguun swept into the small chamber where Haruuc had once spoken in secret of finding an artifact called the Rod of Kings and where Geth and the others had once spoken of how to defeat it. Geth gave them the best bow that he could as he, Tenquis, Chetiin, and Ashi rose in greeting. “Your majesties,” he said.
“Sit,” said Ekhaas. “Khaavolaar, I wish I could.” She poked at the stiff robes stitched with silver plates, a fanciful approximation of armor, that she wore. “I’d rather wear my real armor than this.”
“Razu may not have been certain how to dress a lhesh’nu, but she knew no one would wear leather to a coronation,” Dagii said. He tilted his head self-consciously, adjusting to the height and weight of the spiked crown of Darguun. “This is going to take getting used to.” Ekhaas wore a smaller version, the rivets on it still bright. Both of them also carried a new addition to the regalia of the rulers of Darguun-two ancient shaari’mal forged of byeshk. With the Rod of Kings destroyed, the magic of the Shield of Nobles was gone-or at least pointless-but the shaari’mal remained potent symbols.
“The coronation ceremony was moving,” said Ashi. Her mouth curved into a grin. “Even if it did lack the excitement of the last one.”
“Where you got hit over your head, and I jumped out of a window,” Geth pointed out.
“I like the formal name you’ve chosen,” said Chetiin. “Lhesh Dagii Muuten’karda. The High Warlord Dagii of the Dutiful Throne.”
Dagii bent his head in acknowledgment but admitted, “Ekhaas suggested it.”
Ekhaas smiled at that, but it seemed to Geth that the smile was forced. “Grandfather Rat,” he said, “get on with it. I told you I hate long good-byes.”
The duur’kala snorted and flicked her ears. “Then it’s just as well we can’t stay long. Razu has us on a schedule tighter than an infantry drill. We just wanted to bring you together because we have gifts for you.”
“I thought Tariic cleaned out the treasury.”
Dagii’s ears went back. “I see it as a chance to find ways of bringing wealth into Darguun other than by selling our warriors to Deneith as mercenaries. But these aren’t those kinds of gifts, even if you deserve them.”
He turned to Chetiin, but the goblin shook his head. “I have my reward,” he said. “Exoneration in the assassination of Lhesh Haruuc and a shaari’mal of my own.”
“I was going to say that the only other thing we can offer is our friendship.” He gave the shaarat’khesh elder a deep nod. “I hope we can remain friends the way that you and Haruuc were. Consider the shaari’mal a bond between my clan and yours.”
Chetiin twitched his ears, then returned the nod. Ekhaas took her turn, producing two items from behind her stiff skirts and holding them out to Ashi. “These are for you.”
“My grandfather’s sword!” Ashi snatched it from her.
“We found it in Tariic’s chambers.”
Ashi drew the blade and inspected it, then looked at the other item in Ekhaas’s hand. A silver horseshoe. Ashi frowned. “That was Midian’s. It summons a pony.”
“I took it to Dannel d’Cannith, and she examined it. It turns out it summons a horse the right size for whoever uses it. Dannel offered to buy it from us, but I told her no. I thought you could use it on your journeys.”
Ashi flushed a bit, and Geth looked at her curiously. “Journeys?”
“I made a decision,” Ashi said. “I’m not going back to House Deneith. At least not for a long while. Dagii cleared things up with Baron Breven, so I’m not under threat of excoriation if I leave Darguun, but I want to see more of Khorvaire. I’m not going to be treated as an asset of Deneith.” She took the horseshoe. “This will be useful. Thank you.”
Ekhaas turned to Tenquis. “We have something important to ask you,” she said. This time it was Dagii who drew something out, presenting Tenquis with a bundle of roughly wrapped leather. The tiefling frowned and opened it.
Inside was a collection of byeshk shards. Tenquis drew a sharp breath. “The remains of the Rod of Kings?”
Ekhaas nodded. “We know you’ll take care of them, and maybe you can learn something more about the daashor.”
“I’m… honored.” He folded the leather back together carefully. “I’ll watch over them. I may not study them right away. If you don’t mind me saying it, I need to leave the lore of Dhakaan behind for a while. Like Ashi is leaving Deneith.”
“I understand,” said Ekhaas. Finally both she and Dagii turned to Geth. He looked at both of them and felt an uncomfortable sense of familiarity with what he saw in their faces. Particularly in Dagii’s. He crossed his arms.
“No,” he said.
Dagii blinked. Ekhaas said, “But you don’t even know what we’re-”
“I do. I saw the same look on Haruuc’s face just before he rewarded me by making me his shava.”
Dagii looked confused. “There’s no greater honor. You wouldn’t have to stay in Darguun. I wouldn’t call on you.”
“Haruuc made me that offer, too, and look where it took me.”
“You’re a hero,” said Ekhaas.
Geth couldn’t help smiling. “Maybe I am,” he said, “but I took a rough road to get here. I’ve had enough of it. I’ve seen more than I wanted, done more than I wanted. I need a rest. I’m going home.”
“Bull Hollow?” asked Ashi. He nodded.
“Where’s that?” asked Tenquis.
“A little hamlet in the forest on the far side of the Eldeen Reaches,” Geth said. He looked at the tiefling. “You should visit.”
Tenquis smiled back. “Maybe I should. It sounds like the kind of place where not much happens.”
“I don’t know,” said Geth. “Sometimes stories start there.” Raat shan gath’kal dor. “The story stops but never ends.” — Traditional closing of hobgoblin legends.