A few months later…

Borgu Bladesong played a plaintive elven melody on his lute. After his own semi-retirement from adventuring, Dinaden had persuaded Borgu to come to the Jade Tiger and perform every once in a while. The patrons that were not too drunk or tin-eared to appreciate music were treated to the sweet music of a master musician more fitting to a throne room than a common tavern. Borgu’s deft fingers danced with long practiced ease over the strings. Dinaden lifted a mug in salute to his friend’s skill, caught Borgu’s eye, nodded his appreciation.

Borgu was on this particular evening surveying a round of the more popular local folk balads:

“You can’t…always get…what you waaant
But if you try sometimes…
You might find…
You get what you neeeeed,”

warbled the great bard. Walking back to the bar area, Dinaden was accosted by two well dressed, stocky middle aged men.

One of the men, clad all in red silks, spoke with a obsequious smile: “Ahhh! Mr. Gahalantine! I am SO pleased to have found you! I have the great pleasure of informing you of a most excellent business opportunity in the new lands of Velious…” Dinaden knew the type. Since his retirement, he had grown uncomfortably familiar with the merchants of the north Freeport business district that frequented the Jade Tiger. They were as friendly as the next chap, usually, yet Dinaden could not help but be disgusted by their obsession with coin. Dinaden’s beloved Jade Tiger had expanded greatly, and he had been forced to hire many new servants. Sometimes Dinaden felt ashamed, in spite of himself. Servants, piles of silver…ah, it was not the Halasian way. Merchants had a knack for divining the whereabouts of wealth. They saw the workingmen taking in loads of carpets from Odus, expensive gnomish light fixtures, and of course there was Dinaden's mithril armor, magical artifacts with mysterious runes, not to mention the many bejeweled weapons and pieces of armor, on the odd occasions Din was pursuaded to take them out for the locals to admire. Sometimes the merchants even had the temerity to interrupt him while he was eating the evening meal. That was a big mistake.

The salesman was still rattling on: “…and an expeditious application of your holdings towards the new shipping routes being established would no doubt be highly…” With a snort, the other man pushed the first aside, and spoke:

“Bah, Meritrus, do not bother master Gahalantine with your prattling. He is one that deserves better company, and only the finest things that Freeport has to offer. And such have I for you, Dinaden.” He produced a small leather pouch. “Go ahead, open it!” Dinaden opened the pouch to find a fancy black eyepatch, made of the softest hand-tooled leather, and encrusted with a ring of sparkling diamonds around the outer rim. “A gift, from his lordship the Duke of Freeport, Sir Edmund Lucan.” At the name, Dinaden’s back involuntarily went ridid, his lip curled. “What need do I have of such things?” Dinaden asked curtly. The messenger put up his hands defensively, continued his patter. “It is a simple matter of reconciliation, m’lord. The Duke wishes to bury the hatchet over past…misunderstandings between himself and Scarab, and you…are the most settled member of Scarab in Freeport,” spoke the messenger. Dinaden fingered the eyepatch briefly, appraisingly. The gems alone were worth more than a suit of armor…but…no, he could not accept it. Dinaden was reminded of a halfling saying Jayfoot was fond of: “Ye can’t shake Innoruuk’s hand and say your only kidding.”

And Sir Edmund Lucan of Delrey was an evil man. A proud, selfish knight and politician, Dinaden and his brothers in Scarab had sadly watched his rise to power throw a shadow of oppression and base morality over what was once the most free and prosperous city in all of Antonica. Since his return to Freeport, Dinaden has been disgusted to see the slow but inexorable degeneration of local culture under the rule of Sir Lucan. It had been a long time since Dinaden had been to Freeport, and what he found upon his return had greatly saddened him. The previously honest and friendly Freeport citizens now lied and stole as a matter of habit, and would as soon spit on you as hail a stranger just into town from the long road.

Thinking back, Dinaden remembered how, in earlier days, Scarab had tried political and then more direct measures to keep Lucan from gaining control of West Freeport. All of those measures had failed. A month after Dinaden’s retirement, and with Scarab and their allies occupied in the lands of Kunark, Lucan had consolidated his power by declaring the North Freeport city council dissolved, and declared himself Mayor and Lord Protector of the City of Freeport. With his loyal horde of militia thugs discouraging all complaints at this manuever, no one had dared oppose him.

“The Duke would be honored to enjoy the pleasure of your company as well, Mr. Gahalantine,” the messenger’s voice broke Dinaden’s reverie. “A banquet is scheduled for this Saturday, in the Hall of the High Priests at the Temple of Marr, to commemorate the installment of the newly appointed Bishiop of Freeport.” The messenger looked out of the corner of his eye, spoke conspiritorially: “All of Freeport’s…leading citizens…will be there, including I'm told, Miss Antonia. It is not a great secret among Sir Lucan's court how you feel about her," he finished with a wink.

Din dropped the eyepatch back into the pouch. “I really cant…” “Accept the gift, or attend the banquet?!” snapped the messenger, suddenly less solicitous. “Neither. I have matters aplenty to attend to here. Give my regrets to the Duke.” The messenger regained his composure; a mask of pleasantness fell over his features. “Well, I do hope you will reconsider. Jendl does put on a most excellent banquet.” Dinaden’s face blanched.

“What…did…you say? Jendl? Who is Jendl to be interfering in matters of the church?” demanded Din. William Jendl was the captain of Lucan’s raggedy militia, a man more famous for his skill at lying and womanizing than for keeping the peace. “Why, bite your tongue, rogue, his Grace Jendl has just been named the new Bishop by his lordship the Duke!” replied the messenger.

Dinaden sat down quickly. He felt as though he was going to be physically ill. One such as Jendl could NOT be allowed to rule the church. It was…an abomination. Din was thankful that Cloud and Peabodi no longer came much to Freeport. Seeing Jendl sitting on the throne of Marr would have broken their hearts. Still, Dinaden knew what he must do. He gathered his composure, forced his voice not to quaver with the disgust he felt. Clapping his hand congenially on the messenger's shoulder, Dinaden appeared to reconsider. “Well, Jendl and I go way back, way back indeed. Why don’t you tell them then that I will be attending afterall...”