The Hand of Fortune had little chance to dwell on their strange visit to the distant past and the world of Areth, original home of the Immortals, once they were returned to their own time and place. With the counter-coup against the rebel Crown Prince Laravad and his Vortex puppet-master still very much balanced on the edge of a blade, they were forced to immediate action.

While Haplo filled them in, as much as he could, on what their bodies had been up to while possessed by the heroes of the Emerald Tower, they took steps to secure the city from any counter-counter-coup, manning the main city gate with men loyal to King Balen, and either arresting or otherwise eliminating those mercenaries who resisted the new order. Vox was introduced in his actual form, and accepted as a provisional member of the group.

Master Vetaris arrived back in the city in the late morning, thrilled both to see the Hand alive and well, and to find that ending Laravad’s foolish war was suddenly a real possibility. Although anxious to hear the whole tale of their strange journey, there was little time for more than a quick summary before he closeted himself with King Balen. Around noon the two emerged and runners were sent about the city to summon the citizenry to gather in Execution Square.

When as many as possible of the wine-sick and hung-over denizens of Zhuran had gathered in the weak winter sunlight, squinting and murmuring in speculation, the King addressed them from the Royal Stand atop the palace’s Great Stairs. He told them that his traitorous son had been defeated and taken alive, the foreigners behind his treason either killed, taken or fled, and that the Crown was returned to the head of the rightful ruler of Tharkia.

It was gratifying to her the real enthusiasm with which most of the crowd cheered this pronouncement – Laravad’s not-brief-enough rule had obviously not been popular with the majority of Tharkia’s subjects. A few people, looking suddenly worried and furtive, began drifting out of the Square as the news sunk in, and Mariala thought it likely that the coming days would see a flurry of accusations of collaboration and treason amongst the general populace… and possibly some reprisal violence as well…

Even as the crowds were cheering the King’s restoration, a blast of horns from the main city gate announced the arrival of the Baron Gevdan and a large contingent of troops from his own demesne. While the majority of the men-at-arms spread out to join the loyalist troops at strategic points around the city and on the walls, the Baron and a core contingent of his men parted the crowd like a ship cresting the waves and entered the castle.

As the crowds dispersed excitedly to spread the news to their fellow citizens who had been too hung-over (or still too drunk) to attend the Royal Announcement, King Balen, Master Vetaris, the Hand and the Hand-adjacent, and the Baron Gevdan met in the Throne Room to discuss their next moves.

“My lord Baron, you have my eternal thanks, and the thanks of my House, for the loyalty you have shown Us during this troubled time.” Balen’s voice was strong, despite the still-frail appearance of his body. His eyes were clear as well, and held a smoldering spark of rage.

“In the days and months ahead, there will be much reordering to do in the kingdom, but rest assured, you shall be richly rewarded for all that you have done for the House of Targahenas. We do not forget.

“But before we can begin any of that, I pray that you might have some word on my daughter… rumors fly like gulls around the docks, and a few of these say that the Princess fled to Kar Gevdan the night of the Crown Prince’s treason.” Devrik noticed that the king hadn’t spoken his son’s name since he’d been freed.

“It brings me great pleasure to be able to assure your Majesty that those rumors, at least, are quite true!” The Baron Gevdan was a large man in his mid-forties, well-muscled and with a great mane of flaming red hair. His slight Olvânaali accent was a surprise, given his title and position in this southern kingdom.

“Princess Relina and her husband, along with a company of the Royal Guard he commanded, arrived at Kar Gevdan just before dawn on that infamous day, sire. I naturally gave them sanctuary, and learning then all that had happened, I took steps to secure my lands against the usurper.

“The Princess and Marshal Masadin were with us for many months, but we thought it wise to keep that as secret as possible – the usurper seemed content to let my refusal to acknowledge him or give him material support go unpunished, at least until he had dealt with more pressing issues; but if he knew his sister was with me… well, it seemed wiser to keep him in the dark. I’m afraid some of those rumors you spoke of were spread by my own agents, to further muddy the waters.”

“You say they “were” with you,” the king leaned forward urgently. “Are they not still at Kar Gevdan then?”

“No, your Majesty,” the Baron shrugged regretfully, “In the last month the usurper managed to get two assassins into my castle.” He growled then, his face darkening in remembered anger. “Both were dealt with, as was the rat in my own walls, when the second assassin was taken alive and… questioned.”

From the glint in the Baron’s eye Devrik rather imagined the would-be killer had not long survived the interrogation. Smiling in grim reflection of the nobleman’s own expression, he suddenly realized there was something oddly familiar about the man. He studied him more closely, but couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was…

“I should have preferred to tell your Majesty this in more privacy,” the nobleman went on, reluctantly, “but… well, the short of it is, the Princess is with child. Some six months along, I’m told by the midwives who attended on her. I’m afraid, after the second attempt on her life, she began to mistrust the safety of my walls.

“I argued with her, indeed I pleaded with her, as did her husband… but you know your daughter, she is never one to be gainsaid once her mind is made up. In the end I provided the ship she requested, and hired another as escort. She and her entourage, including my daughter Nina acting as her lady-in-waiting, set sail two days ago for Lairial, in Serviar.”

The range of emotions on the king’s face was quite something to see – shock and joy at learning he was to be a grandfather, concern that his daughter had taken ship (and to Serviar!), and over it all a great relief to know that she was alive.

“This is wonderful news indeed, my lord,” Balen said, composing himself. “I will dispatch messengers to Lairial at once, to inform her of events and summon her home!

“With that burden taken from my mind, let us now get started on the great work before us, how we shall take back the realm from the evil that has befallen it. Baron Gevdan, let me make known to you these brave souls who have been instrumental in bringing about Our restoration.”

Master Vetaris was introduced first, and he then asked the Hand and company to name themselves, as he’d scarcely had time to learn the new-comers’ names yet himself, beyond Haplo’s. It was all very pro-forma until Devrik stepped forward and announced himself. The king looked startled and Baron Gevdan looked positively pole-axed.

“Devrik Askalan?!” he bellowed in a surprised but pleased roar. “Not Seria’s young whelp, surely?! But yes, I can see it in the eyes… and those ears!” He strode forward and engulfed Devrik in a great bear hug. “Nephew!”

♦  ♦ ♦

Devrik was feeling a little pole-axed himself later that evening, as he and his friends gathered around a table in the small royal dining chamber that King Balen had given over for their use. His uncle and cousin, Wirdon, sat on either side of him, both of them taking turns slapping him on the back as they caught up.

“Actually, it’s Ser Wirdon, as of three years ago,” Tynal Askalan said proudly, looking across at his elder son. “And young Rudir was knighted this past spring, just before… well, all this royal unpleasantness.”

“But, uncle… how did you come to be a nobleman in Tharkia? And a baron, no less?” Devrik asked, deeply curious. “I visited our homeland earlier this year, for the first time since that one visit Mother brought me on when I was nine or so. I asked about you, but no one would tell me anything except vague comments about “moving on” and such. Mother would just get silent and shrug, and even Aunt Kathela was tight-lipped about why you left Olvânaal.”

“Ah, well lad, that’s a dark and unpleasant story, and not one I care to go into just here and now. On the other hand, how I came to be Baron Gevdan… now THAT’S a story worth telling! And worth hearing, eh Wirdon?”

Devrik’s cousin rolled his eyes and took a deep drink from his tankard, but he grinned at his father as he slammed it back down on the table. “Oh, aye old man, I can never hear that one enough!”

Tynal reached around Devrik to cuff his son, who dodged easily, then took a long pull from his own beer before settling in to his tale.

“I arrived in Tharkia, indeed at Gevdan itself, back in ’06. I had the boys with me, of course, and their sister Nina, and 10 loyal men. Oh, and old Besitha, the children’s nurse… she passed on two summers ago…

“Anyway, the Baron Gevdan back then was Lord Usted Tasarin, and he hired me and my men as mercenaries. For five years we served him, and it was an education. The man was a notorious wenching drunkard, and a fool, to boot.

“Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my cup and a good woman as much as any man, and a lively wager can be a thrill… but old Usted had no control over his appetites, he was a mean drunk and, worst of all as far as I’m concerned, had no idea how to run his barony. Gevdan controls Tharkia’s only port, and the man had no idea how to make money off that – not for the realm, and not even for himself!

“On top of it all, he was a gambler… he’d wager on anything, from a horse race to tomorrow’s weather, to the color of a lady’s undergarment. And one day, while deep in his cups, he wagered with me – by then I was the captain of his guard – he wagered me his barony that I could not lift his horse off the ground.

“Well, I did the deed, and held the beast up for ten seconds, just for good measure. The old drunk tried to renege, of course, but there were scores of witnesses, including the king himself. Had it been another noble, no doubt my claim would have been rejected, but his Majesty had long been displeased with old Usted’s mismanagement of his fiefdom… cutting out a cartload of legal oxshit, he upheld my claim!”

“Said he was well-rid of a fool who would wager his own birthright away,” Wirdon added, smiling. “That was nine years ago, and last we heard the man was drinking himself to death somewhere in the Sydoran League.”

The rest of the evening was spent with the company regaling one another with tales of their various adventures. It was very late when they finally retired to the various rooms set aside for them in the royal keep.

♦  ♦  ♦

The next morning, as the king and his new cadre of advisors gathered in the more intimate space of the royal war room, a messenger burst suddenly through the door. Dressed in the livery of Clan Askalan, the youth was clearly exhausted, obviously having traveled at speed from Kar Devdan.

“M’lord, your Majesty!” he gasped, kneeling before the two men and offering up a courier’s case. “An urgent message from Ser Rudir at Kar Gevdan!”

The Baron’s younger son had been left in charge of the skeleton garrison at the castle, and for him to have sent out one of his limited men meant the matter must be urgent indeed. Lord Tynal took the leather cylinder and pulled the parchment from within, tilting it so his liege could read it as he did. Both men turned suddenly very pale.

“Uncle, what is it?” Devrik asked, stepping forward in concern. Mariala caught the king as he sank back, nearly missing his chair, his eyes suddenly blank and bleak.

“Disaster,” the king muttered in a quaver, his head sinking into his hands.

“Disaster,” Tynal agreed grimly. “Report has come to Gevdan that the Princess’ ship has been driven aground on the northern shore of Barasina Island… a storm came up suddenly the night they left, and it drove them off course… the escort ship fared better, saw them run aground, and saw survivors on the beach… but they would not risk their own precious hides, the cowards!

“No, they turned and fled back home to bring this terrible news… for that is a fell and haunted island, and no mariner would willing set foot on it, for none who have done so has ever returned…

“And now our daughters are stranded there, and what hope is there for them?”

“Right” said Devrik. “Hold my beer…”