New Morning, New Oaths — Trollskull Manor at dawn
The morning after the sewers was quieter than it had any right to be. Trollskull Manor smelled of woodsmoke and damp stone, the kind of smell that had started to feel like home whether any of them had intended it to. Lif kept the fire going without being asked.
The three of them settled into their new selves without ceremony. Caelith's Oath of Devotion had not arrived in a flash of divine light in the tunnels beneath the city — it had been taking shape since long before, in the way he stood between people and harm without stopping to wonder whether he should. What was new was the formal architecture of it: the Channel Divinity locking into place, the oath spells sitting in his mind like promises already made. *Sanctuary. Protection from Evil and Good.* Words that named what he had already been doing.
Lylnyler sat apart, the Book of Shadows open in his lap. The Pact of the Tome had arrived as a logical extension of a relationship he had not entered into lightly and could not leave. Three new cantrips — Guidance, Message, Resistance — written in ink that was not quite the right shade of black. He read them over, closed the book, and did not explain what any of it cost him.
Corrin had gone to the market early and come back with a rapier on his hip, the transaction mentioned once and not discussed further. He also had Lylnyler's light crossbow over his shoulder, passed across the table without fanfare. Forty years in this city had taught him that new tools mattered less than the hands holding them.
Caelith withdrew the identification fee from the renovation fund and he and Lylnyler walked to the Temple of Mystra in the Castle Ward. The temple was cool inside and smelled of old stone and candle tallow. An older human priest in blue robes with silver runes at the cuffs received them without ceremony — another pair of adventurers with another object they didn't fully understand.
"Hello, good priest — we got our hands on this dubious artifact and we want it identified, please. Be careful with it."
The Stone Eye Answers — Temple of Mystra identification ritual
He set a pearl in a brass dish and began the ritual. The ritual took long enough that Caelith found himself counting candles. The priest said nothing for a long time. When he spoke, he was still looking at the stone eye.
"This is a portal key. Press it into a circular indentation — specifically the pillar you'll find at its destination — and it opens a one-way magical doorway. The portal leads somewhere, but I cannot tell you where from the stone alone. Whatever is on the other side of that door, whoever made this key did not want it to be easily found."
One hundred and ten gold pieces. Caelith paid it without argument. On the walk back he returned the remaining forty to Lif's fund — clean accounting.
Lylnyler walked beside him and said nothing. He was already nodding before the priest finished speaking. He had felt the wrongness in the portal alcove during the fight, had stood near the pillar without knowing exactly what it was. He knew now. He also suspected that the three of them were not the intended users of this key, and that whoever was would want it back.
Renaer was at the manor when they returned, sitting across from Corrin at the common room table with a cup he had not touched. He had come as requested — the note to the Yawning Portal the night before had worked. He was the kind of man who showed up.
Caelith told him everything. The sewers in the proper order: the approach through Fillet Lane, the guard post at the first chamber, the portal alcove with its waiting pillar, Corrin's hand moving faster than thought while everyone else was occupied. The main chamber — the dominated paladin attacking his own companions, twice, both times finding nothing but air. Lylnyler's blasts breaking Nihiloor's concentration and turning the tide. The final accounting. The stone eye, passed out under the city and up into daylight.
Then: what the priest had just told them.
"A one-way portal into Xanathar's lair. You killed Nihiloor and walked out with its key. That's — either the bravest thing I've heard this month or the most dangerous."
He didn't look like a man reassuring anyone. He looked like a man doing math.
"Xanathar will know Nihiloor is missing by now — if he doesn't already. The mind flayer reported directly to him. When he finds out what happened in those sewers, he'll want answers. And the key."
"Nihiloor was one of Xanathar's most valuable assets. The mind flayer ran his network of intellect devourers — creatures that have been taking over key figures throughout the city. Guards. Merchants. Guild members. Xanathar has been building influence through them for months."
He looked at the stone eye on the table between them.
"You've done the city a significant service. Whether you intended to or not."
They asked about going to the City Watch. Renaer took it seriously enough to explain why it wouldn't work.
"That's not a bad instinct. The City Watch would certainly want to know about a portal into a major criminal operation. The problem is that Xanathar has eyes inside the Watch. Has for years. The moment the wrong person hears about this key, it finds its way back to him — and you with it."
"If you want to go to the authorities, the Gray Hands or the Blackstaff would be safer than the Watch. Vajra Safahr — the Blackstaff — has the resources and the discretion to act on something like this without it leaking. She also has no love for Xanathar."
Corrin said, without much preamble, that someone had already suggested Blackstaff Tower.
Renaer looked at him. The next thing he said was not a question.
"She contacted one of you, didn't she."
The Sending spell had arrived for Corrin while the others were still talking — a voice directly inside his head, clinical and certain. He had gone still for a moment, then stated they needed to go to Blackstaff Tower without explaining why. Renaer had put it together quickly.
"Tell her the truth. All of it — the sewers, Nihiloor, the portal key, what the priest told you. Vajra doesn't respond well to half-truths and she has ways of knowing when she's not getting the full picture."
He stood.
"I'll come with you."
Blackstaff Tower in the Castle Ward pulled at the light around it rather than catching it, a dark spire that suggested depth rather than height. A guard at the door recognized Renaer and stepped aside without a word. The four of them — Caelith, Lylnyler, Corrin, Renaer — were brought to a circular room that smelled of old parchment and something metallic, like the air before a thunderstorm.
The Blackstaff's Terms — Vajra Safahr at Blackstaff Tower
Vajra Safahr was already waiting. Small, dark-haired, sharp-eyed, with a black staff she held the way experienced fighters hold weapons — as though it had opinions. She looked them over the way a magistrate reviews evidence.
"Good. You came quickly. I know you rescued Renaer. I know you've been poking around the Xanathar Guild's operations. And I know something significant happened in those sewers yesterday. Tell me everything."
"Why are you spying on us?"
"I'm not spying on you. Renaer's rescue made noise. Killing a mind flayer in Xanathar's own sewers made more noise. When things make noise in this city, it's my job to listen."
Caelith gave her the account, the same way he had given it to Renaer. She confirmed what the priest had said about the portal key, then added what the priest couldn't have known.
"A direct portal into Xanathar's lair. And you walked out of those sewers with it. You've done the city a significant service. Whether you intended to or not."
The offer that followed was clear, specific, and neither warm nor cold.
"Protection. Information. Resources. You would work for me — assignments when I need them, discretion always. In return, you have the Blackstaff's backing. That means doors open that wouldn't otherwise, the Watch looks the other way when it should, and if something goes badly wrong — and in this city, it does — you have somewhere to turn."
"I'm open for a partnership, but I would not break any laws for them."
"Good. I don't need people who break laws. I need people who uphold them when the City Watch can't or won't. The Gray Hands operate within the law. Sometimes in the shadows of it — but within it. If I ever ask you to cross a line you won't cross, you tell me, and we find another way. That's a conversation I'm willing to have."
Lylnyler agreed without reservation.
Corrin did not look away from her when he spoke.
"I'll work with you, but not for you. And no more getting in my head business."
A pause. She looked at him the way someone looks at a lock they have found interesting.
"Next time I'll knock."
She outlined three options for the stone eye: leave it at the Tower, destroy it, or keep it themselves and move often. She recommended the first. Caelith checked with the others — brief, direct, no ceremony — and placed the stone eye in her hands. Renaer vouched for the decision.
Vajra locked it in a case that required three separate arcane keys, kept on different parts of her person, and showed them to the door.
"Wise. I'll be in touch. Through more conventional means."
She glanced at Corrin.
"Watch yourselves on the way home. Xanathar's people are already looking."
The walk back from Blackstaff Tower went through Trollskull Alley, and they stopped at the manor long enough to check on progress. Gwynda Hammerstone was halfway through the roof tiles — expected to finish tomorrow — but she had found something worth reporting. Two roof beams, significant rot, not safe to leave. Another thirty gold.
Caelith approved it on the spot.
They walked on to Tally Fellbranch at Trollskull Curiosities. Tally had been thinking about the interior. They told her: the tavern floor first. Start generating income before touching the upstairs rooms. Bar, tables, kitchen basics, flooring, lighting, signage. Done right, not done cheaply.
"Now that's what I like to hear. Three hundred and fifty gold, tavern floor, done right. I'll do a walkthrough with Gwynda this week so we can coordinate."
Contracted. Work to begin after the structural phase completed. Standing outside the shop with the sun overhead and a manor that was slowly becoming a thing worth having, it was — briefly — an ordinary morning.
None of them heard it coming.
The crack came through the stones of the manor — not a sound so much as a pressure, the building flinching. Then the light, orange-white and wrong for noon, flooding the windows from outside. They were through the door before the echo finished.
The Fireball — Trollskull Alley scorched and smoking
Trollskull Alley. Thirty feet away. The cobblestones scorched black and cracked and still smoking. People down — three, four, scattered from the center of the blast like discarded things. Bystanders running in every direction, colliding, falling. In the middle of the burn radius, a gnome in an elaborate coat lay exactly where the fireball had found him, hands still outstretched mid-run.
A large man in dark leather armor was crouching over the body, moving fast through the gnome's coat pockets. He looked up. Saw them. Bolted south.
Renaer drew Corrin aside briefly at the alley mouth before the sergeant came through the gate. Whatever they said between them was quiet and quick.
Caelith was still with the wounded when the Watch arrived. The first sergeant took in the glowing hands and the holy symbol and adjusted accordingly. Caelith's account was minimal and truthful: the explosion, the people down, a figure fleeing. He had been with the injured since. He described the fleeing man in terms that could fit half the city — large, dark clothes — and left it at that.
Corrin glanced at Renaer before giving his own description. Renaer gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Corrin described a big man, possibly leather armor, possibly a hood. He had chased but couldn't catch him.
"Oh, and he also had shoes!"
"...Noted. Stay close. Investigators are on their way."
The Boy and the Trail — rooftop witness with the necklace
While Caelith continued with the wounded and the sergeant moved off to question bystanders, Caelith and Lylnyler went up to the manor's turret to scan the rooftops. Caelith spotted a boy — approximately ten years old, crouched against a chimney stack on a nearby roof, holding something with the careful stillness of someone who had decided they were not holding anything at all.
Lylnyler whispered a Message across the rooftops.
"We're your friendly neighbors — we're up here on the tower. Can you come over for a little chat? It might get you a few copper for your effort."
The boy startled, looked around, found the turret, and crossed four rooftops with the efficiency of someone who had long since decided streets were for other people. There had been a person up there, he said — but not a person. It moved wrong. Too fast, too jerky, like a puppet but nobody was holding the strings. It threw something, a little bead off a necklace. Then the big boom happened and it ran south.
The necklace had fallen into the rain barrel below. The boy had fished it out.
"How many is a few?"
One silver changed hands. The broken necklace went to Caelith. Lylnyler examined it, Arcana sense reading the residual charge with the ease of practice.
"These are explosive beads — a necklace of fireballs. Each bead detonates on impact. Two remaining. This is not something a street thug carries. Expensive, purpose-made magic. Whoever sent that construct knew exactly what they were doing. Don't drop it."
Caelith took possession.
Meanwhile, Corrin had returned to the blast site before the Watch could fully cordon it. The scorch pattern told a story to anyone who knew how to read it: the fireball had come from above, the angle pointing to the roofline two buildings north. Fresh scrape marks on the parapet — not boot marks, something clawed or mechanical. A rain barrel at the base of the north building, faintly discolored, faintly metallic where the boy had been. And on the cobblestones near the barrel, a trail of dark droplets heading south — the smell of machine oil, not blood, already fading fast.
Caelith and Lylnyler came down from the turret. Corrin gave his report. All three headed south.
The trail held through back streets, thinned on busier thoroughfares where foot traffic had broken it up. Lylnyler caught scrape marks on a roofline and pointed. The construct had gone up. Corrin and Lylnyler scaled the drainpipe cleanly — Caelith read the sergeant's instruction to stay close as applying to him and walked back to the manor. From the rooftops, the oil trail was clear again: dark smears heading southwest, rooftop to rooftop, three more buildings. The trail went cold at an edge overlooking a wide, well-kept street. Grand townhouses. Walled estates.
Saerdoun Street. The trail ended there.
Corrin and Lylnyler came down and returned.
Investigators — Blastwind and Cromley question the party
Barnibus Blastwind arrived roughly twenty minutes after the explosion, with Sergeant Cromley at their shoulder. Blastwind introduced themselves — half-elf, sharp and professional, Watchful Order of Magists — and produced a small notebook. Cromley said nothing and watched everything.
Corrin and Lylnyler had just come back from the rooftops. Blastwind had noticed their absence.
"I am Barnibus Blastwind of the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors. This is Sergeant Cromley. We have some questions for you."
He looked at Corrin and Lylnyler.
"Where have you been?"
"A walk. We were shaken. Didn't go far."
"A walk. In the cordoned area."
He wrote it down.
"You are aware the sergeant asked you to stay close."
Their descriptions of the fleeing man were consistent with what they had told the first sergeant. Large, dark clothes, possibly leather armor. Caelith had seen very little. Corrin had chased and lost him.
Lylnyler had the last word.
"Oh, and he also had shoes!"
Blastwind asked whether any of them had picked up anything at the scene. All three said no — technically accurate: the necklace had changed hands on the turret, not at the blast site.
Blastwind and Cromley exchanged a glance.
"You've been helpful. Stay in the city. We may have further questions."
They moved on. Cromley looked back once, with the expression of a man filing things away under a heading he hadn't decided on yet.
Inside with the door closed, Renaer addressed the whole party. He had stayed.
"That was Urstul Floxin. I'd know that tattoo anywhere — he's the man who had Floon and me kidnapped."
He looked at Corrin.
"You got close enough to touch him. What was he carrying? What did he take off the gnome?"
He was thinking out loud before the answer came.
"That gnome — I think I recognize him. My father used gnomish agents. If that was Dalakhar, he's been in Waterdeep for weeks. Why he was in this alley specifically — I don't know. Could be coincidence. Could be something else."
"What I do know is that Urstul Floxin was waiting for that fireball. He moved the moment it went off. That wasn't opportunistic — it was planned. Someone set it off to create the chaos, and Urstul was already in position to move on the gnome the second it happened."
"The question is — who cast the fireball? Because that wasn't Urstul. He was on the ground, waiting. Someone else triggered it. From above, or at a distance."
Corrin gave his report: the oil drops, the scrape marks on the parapet, three rooftops southwest, the trail going cold at a rooftop edge above Saerdoun Street.
Gralhund Villa — Renaer finds it on the map
Renaer had a map of the North Ward open on the common room table. He found the street with one finger.
"Saerdoun Street. That's — Gralhund Villa is on Saerdoun Street."
He looked at the map.
"The Gralhunds are a noble family. North Ward. They have Zhentarim ties — rumors, nothing proven."
"If whatever threw that fireball ran back to Gralhund Villa — and Urstul fled south as well — they may be in the same place. The stone, Urstul, whatever threw that bead — all of it could be at Gralhund Villa right now."
They pressed him on his certainty. He spread his hands.
"I'm not certain at all. Saerdoun Street has a dozen properties on it. But the Gralhunds and the Zhentarim in the same neighborhood, on the same day Urstul Floxin shows up — that's not nothing. I could be wrong. But it's the best lead we have right now."
Caelith looked at the map.
"We go to Gralhund Villa."