Honor and Bravery - a Forgotten Realms story

**Flinn** · November 13, 2020, 09:32 AM

Short author's intro

The background

First things first; the title is actually not definitive. Originally this story was titled as "The Way of the Warrior", since I wrote it in part (in Italian) for a long background story of a character I played on an online NWN server quite a few years ago... since then, the story and the life of the protagonist kept growing in my thoughts, to the point that I could not simply spite him and not tell it to someone else. The original title is one of those who has been abused very much (we even have one completed story here with the same title, published long ago by Katsumoto), so I though on many others possible alternatives (such as "The Honorable Servant" or "The Warrior Path") but all the most evocative ones were already taken, so eventually I went for a very straight and easy title, "Honor and Bravery", since this is what the story will be talking about.

I also decided to specify in the title that the story is set in the FR, because that will make easy for everyone to understand what kind of story this could be. I'm honestly concerned about writing anything related to D&D, if there's something very hard to depict in a written story, then those are some (most actually) of the mechanics of the table game.. movie industry certainly failed in making good D&D movies, so you will pardon me if I won't be inventing a new language for Mages to use while casting arcane spells, or for Clerics to evoke visions of their Gods. I personally always found a worthy challenge to try to "translate" the game figures and guidelines (such as the characters' skills or talents, the moral alignment, etc) into a "real word" mechanic without doing metagaming but focusing into role playing.. I think I was good at that during my times as a DM, I hope I'll be good at that as a writer too.

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The Forgotten Realms is the setting used in all the various NWN games and previous titles such as Baldur's Gate or Icewind Dale, and is probably the most developed and used set ever (also including tons of far art, books, etc); because of this the actual lore is, simply put, huge, and honestly I never really tried to integrate my stories in it, while using the setting as a general background to develop them. The same is true for this piece of writing. The story takes place sometimes around early 15th Century DR, during the Era of Upheaval and develops itself in the West of Faerun and along the famous Sword Coast. Since the character (and the background from which this work takes inspiration) was originally intended for an online RPG server, you'll pardon me if a part of my story won't comply with the canon lore (i.e. characters' names and family names); after all, this is just a story created by a fan with no other goal than that of entertaining the writer himself and his readers.

The FR is a world were magic is heavily used and it's part of everyday's life, where Gods fight each other in search of more power by means of increasing the numbers of their worshipers, a world in which the Gods themselves walked in mortal form during the Time of Troubles, were Lichs, Vampires, Demons, Monstrous humanoids, Dragons, you name it!, lurk everywhere, pursuing their own goals.. a word so complex that it's cosmology has three different interpretations, all of them somewhat valid, also depending to the period to which they refer to. Truly the definitive fantasy world.

Sources and Links

**Flinn** · November 13, 2020, 09:34 AM

Reserved for listing posted chapters and for posting some art, paired with some extra lore (mostly outsourced).

Chapters Chapter 1 - part 1
Chapter 1 - part 2
Chapter 1 - part 3
Chapter 1 - part 4
Chapter 1 - part 5

Art & Lore

Places
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Cormyr

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Daggerford

Gods
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Tempus - Greater deity

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Lathander - Greater deity

**Flinn** · November 13, 2020, 10:54 AM

Chapter 1 - An uncertain path
Part 1

"What's this?" The young man asked, turning the small black book on his hands. "Is it a spellbook?"
"Damn, boy!" Answered the older man half amused and half annoyed. "Can't you even recognize our family crest?" He knocked the boy's head with his knuckles, strong enough to make it bounce. "You have taken everything from your father, sure as the Nine Hells!"
"Is this our family crest? really?" Asked the boy in return, rubbing his sore head. "Who did carve it, an Ogre?"
"I'm not a artist, boy" Answered the man. He leaned on the sunny wall, sitting with his back against it. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm sun; his hands crossed behind his neck, a curious smile on his face.
He remained there for while in silence, while the boy looked at him. He was no artist indeed, the boy thought. Few man had such a physical prowess, his hands were big and strong, his limbs long and well carved, his black beard was firm and thick, his hairs long and luminous and not yet strained by any grey. He wore a full chainmail painted in black, and a short black and yellow tunic over it, with black steel greaves. The only distinctive sign of his social position was the Holy Symbol of Tempus, a flaming sword on a red and silver shield, hanging from a gold chain and resting on his chest. The gold chain was the only evident sign of anything precious on his figure.
"So what?" The boy asked after a while. "What is this, then?" He looked down again at the small book, with nothing on it other than the badly carved crest, an anvil with a flail and a spike of wheat crossing over it.
"Open it, Wilf." Said the man, without changing position or even opening a eye. "It's my story, my diary."
"Excuse me? I didn't even know you were able to write at all!" Said Wilfred in jest, mocking the older man.
"I can write a poem on your butt with the tip of my knife, you rascal! Blindfolded!" Sad him in return. Both laughed with confidence.
"Is this really your story, uncle?" Now that he knew what that was, Wilfred was reluctant to open it... yet. "When did you write it?"
"I started just after you arrived here, one year ago. I felt like your coming was a sign and that my time was drawing near, so I convinced myself into writing it. Damn, the pen is heavier on my hand than the sword. Much like the carving tool, honestly!" They both laughed again.
"Your time is... drawing near?" Wilfred's tone was vaguely uneasy.
"No worries, lad" Said the man, opening his eyes. "No worries for you, at the least!" He laughed and then continued. "There are many crossroads on the life of mortals, and each comes at its own moment. It is wise to see them coming, so when they finally approach you, you'll be ready to take the right path."
Wilfred looked at him rather puzzled, that part of his uncle's character was still obscure to him. Despite having lived with him for months now, he still struggled to cope with this triple attitude of him, the warrior, the joker and the wise man.
"Don't worry lad" the man said, noticing Wilfred's confusion. "Time will teach you.. hopefully" He winked at him. "Come on, read it in loud voice for me!" This was an order, not a request, much in the man's style with his nephew.
Wilfred opened it. The first few pages were blank, then they begun to be filled with strong and yet thin writing. He quickly skimmed the pages to get an idea of how many of them there were. It took him a while.
He sighed and said "Is that offer of carving a poem on my butt still valid? Because I might pick it after all. I'll never finish this before lunch!"
"Don't be silly, lad" The man answered him back, smiling "Goblins like you do not have lunch, they are served for lunch!" He laughed, amused at his own weak joke and then continued. "Now stop this nonsense and start reading!" He leaned back again against the wall and closed his eyes.
Wilfred sat on the half shadow of the great oak tree, took a long, resigned, breath and started to read.

**Alwyn** · November 15, 2020, 12:41 PM

I enjoyed NWN too and I'm looking forward to find out what's in the old man's diary.

**Turkafinwë** · November 22, 2020, 06:49 AM

My oh my this looks mighty interesting. Everyone needs a mighty/joker/wise Uncle in their lives. I aspire to be at least two of those things.

**Flinn** · November 24, 2020, 11:22 AM

Chapter 1 - An uncertain path
Part 2

Wolfgang Von Smith, Direhar of Daggerford

My name is Wolfgang, and I was born sometime around 39 or 40 years ago in Arabel, Cormyr. My family, the Von Smiths, are part of the small aristocracy of the Cormyrian Kingdom, having achieved the honor to display a noble crest about 100 years before my birth, during the reign of King Rhigaerd Obarskyr II. You might think that I'm a scholar or that I'm fond of my heritage, but it's not so, really not. Fact is, there were always many copies of our family's history around the mansion where I was born, and later grew up as a boy, and if there was something my mentor was using to teach me to read (and later write), it was indeed that hated book. My father, Joseph, was particularly concerned with giving the image that our family was part of the consolidated Cormyrian aristocracy, this because during all his life he desperately tried to advance on the social ladder and have our family to be considered among the major Cormyrian Houses. Unfortunately, money won't buy you everything, at the least not in Cormyr.

But let's go by steps. The truth is, the first news about our family only dates back to a couple of hundreds years before, when a talented blacksmith known as Ulfrida the Scowl arrived in Arabel from an unknown location. Cormyr is a nation of warriors, surrounded by enemies, and founded on war, therefore skilled armorers are valued and could amass a great wealth; such was the faith of my ancestor, who might not have been a nice woman (you know, hammering steel all the day long make your arms look like trunks) and who certainly didn't have a good character (hence her surname), but who managed none the less to get pregnant at some point (someone said it was an Ogre Magi in disguise, the only creature who could find her attractive) and to give birth to our Arabellan dynasty. Her elder son later took the family name of Smith (in clear reference to the activity that was making the fortune of his family) and was the one who actually bought a shop inside the city and started a full scale business with crafting armors and weapons for the local aristocracy. It was Ulfrida's great grandchild, Wholard, who eventually achieved to get rich enough to buy himself a patent of nobility: to be honest, at the time the need for weapons and armors was very great, and Wholard was manufacturing more than half of the needed stuff for Arabellan nobles; add to that that he was founding the Duke's war with his wealth, and it's easy to understand what happened. Wholard was assigned with the property of a hundred acres of land just north of the city and was allowed to add the "Von" to his family name as a sign of distinction and integration within the local Lords.

Since then, our family was focused on getting the most of the possible wealth from both the fields and the blacksmithing activity, this because the permanence of our family within the local aristocracy was depending on our ability to pour money into the Arabellan chests. Such is Cormyr, a land were war is as common as farming or fishing, and war needs warriors and money to feed and equip them, so either you supply the former or the latter; my family has focused mostly on the latter, which is not really honorable, but safer for sure. Because of this, opportunities to advance in the aristocracy ladder were few if none at all, since in Cormyr if you really want to seize a position of true power, you have to do that by means of war (either against an external enemy or a neighboring House, it really doesn't matter). None the less, some members of my family served as members of the Purple Dragon Knights, mainly younger male children, who in any case are not meant to inherit the title. Such was my fate too, since I am the third male born from Joseph and his wife, Clolinda the Prosperous. My elder brother, Alfred, spent all his life with my father, being taught in the ways of aristocracy; honestly, I don't envy him, trapped in a loop of responsibilities and twisted hopes, with really no freedom or opportunity to choose. My second brother, Julius, was born with a serious handicap on his left leg, which was shorter and twisted; my father brought the newborn to the Clerics of Ilmater, the Broken God, for advice and cure, but they told him that he was meant to be born like that and that trying to cure his condition would have been an offence to the Gods. My father did not really insist as he already had Alfred, and in any case he needed someone to run the forges in Arabel, hence my brother's fate was decided. Surprisingly, later on during his life, Julius became a fervent worshiper of Ilmater, and he has been known since then as a generous and merciful man, helping those most at need with charity (much to the displeasure of our elder brother). Soon after Julius, my parents had two heterozygous twins, me and Rosamunde. When we were born, the High Cleric of Tyr, with whom my father was in close relations at the time due to a supply of armors for the Paladins of the Even-Handed, foretold that the main souls of Cormyr would be represented in the two of us, and so it was indeed, but this became evident only many years after said prediction. However, my sister twin grew as a beautiful and brave woman, and early in her puberty she became attracted with the cult of Chauntea and later turned into one of Her Priestesses. After that, my parents had a long break (I suspect that my father at the time had a lover within one of the other mayor Houses, still trying to win himself a step upward on the social ladder). After I left home, they had other 3 girls and a boy that was a stillborn.

What about my youth? I was a rascal, nothing more, nothing less. Since when I could walk independently I preferred to wander the fields and the woods of my family than the city or the family forges, and Rosamunde always accompanied me on my journeys (I think that it was at the time that she developed her love for the farming life). My father never really paid me attention, if not to complain with my mother after I did something stupid like stoning our chickens or beating myself up with the son of one of our land-holders (both things happened quite often, honestly); I was undisciplined, unconcerned and provocative, and even if my mother was a good soul and my sister often protected me with her own very body, my mentor, an old half-elf from the King's Forest who served various families during the years, was a though and grim man, and often had to beat me hard to calm me down. I did have a happy youth because I was a free soul and because of the love of my sister, but I didn't feel loved to be honest, since I saw her more as a companion and I somewhat felt the missing attention of my father and of my elder brothers. One could say that I had a roof over my head, warm clothes and food every time I wanted it, which was more than most of the people in Arabel could have, so after all I can't really complain about my youth, there's worse in life (and later I experimented that myself, you can bet on this!). As I approached puberty my mentor started to teach me about reading, writing and hunting (which is a typical activity for nobles, you know), and while the formers weren't much interesting to me (though later proved useful), the latter seemed to be more appealing, even if honestly I was never much excited to hunt, unless the prey somewhat had the chance to battle me back (something which my mentor tried to avoid anytime and at any cost). However, time ran fast, and at the age of 12 I was eventually told that my time of laziness was over and that the Lord of the Vaylan House, mighty among the Houses in Arabel, was waiting for his new Squire to take service at his home...

**Alwyn** · November 29, 2020, 10:41 AM

I like the way that this part ends with a new begnning, as young Wolfgang acquires a new status - this makes me want to read on. His family history is told well and this gives us useful hints about the culture of Cormyr as well as the character of Wolfgang.

**Flinn** · January 15, 2021, 05:09 AM

Thanks to everybody who read and commented, much appreciated!

I'm a bit stuck at the moment here, most of the story is already in my mind, but honestly I have to find the right motivation right now .. I will be back soon

**Turkafinwë** · January 17, 2021, 04:42 AM

It is a sign of a great writer(or at least that's what I keep telling myself

) Look at GRRM. That man takes almost three decades (and perhaps even more) to write his books.

**Flinn** · March 02, 2021, 11:04 AM

Chapter 1 - An uncertain path
Part 3

Wilfred paused the reading, lifted his eyes from the book and stared at the bright blue sky from below the shadows of the great tree. He couldn't help to think about her mother. Since when he arrived in Daggerford, around a year before, he only sent one letter to her mother few weeks after he safely arrived in the small river town and got her response a couple of months after: she said she was content to know that he found his uncle and she also reminded him the oath he took, and to keep it secret as promised. Wilfred was still wondering why he had to keep something so trivial secret, but well he took an oath after all and certainly his mother wasn't really the kind of person that would take it well, if he was going to break it.
He loved her mother, everybody loved Rosamunde, because she was both kind and stern, a hard worker and a support to her community, perfectly embodying the supportive nature of Chauntea, the Earthmother. Despite being a very beautiful woman, she was rarely seen smiling, or laughing at all. Wilfred believed that to be due to her balancing the nature of the men that were part of her life: Uncle Wolfgang was a rascal who needed to be looked upon to avoid him harming himself during one of his crazy endeavors; his father, Drillik the Bard, was a crook who seduced his mother when she was still young and fled to no one knows where, when Wilfred was still a newborn; the average male farmer, who's entitled to talk on behalf of his family, as it is used in Cormyr, was a as dumb as a donkey...
He realized he got lost in his thoughts and quickly lowered his glance on his uncle, but Wolfgang hadn't moved at all, and was still leaning back on the wall, his eyes closed; a soft and warm smile was on his mouth. Wilfred sighed, but before he could start again to read, his uncle spoke.
"She is a great woman, isn't she?" He said, easily reading Wilfred's thoughts as usual.
"Mom, you mean? She is indeed.. I was thinking of her, but how did you..?"
"I was thinking of her as well" Wolfgang said "I still thank the Gods for having sent me such a wonderful companion, she did not only saved my life many times, but she is still keeping an eye on me, even from that far" He opened his eyes and he sent down to his nephew a piercing gaze. "She's a manipulator, too. By sending you to me she achieved to both have you looking on me and me looking on you!" He laughed, sincerely amused. "She didn't tell much in the letter she gave you before sending you here, but I'm sure there's even more behind this story, isn't it?" Once more, he tried to penetrate his nephew's thoughts with his gaze.
Wilfred, though feeling uneasy, shrugged. He would get to know that one day, but not from him. He tried to change the topic, though, because his uncle could read much of his thoughts even without asking, and he didn't want to betray himself. So he asked:
"You do really hate nobles, don't you?"
Wolfgang had a sad smile "I don't hate anyone anymore since a long long time, lad". He looked away over the upper branches of the oak tree, towards the towering mountains and sighed. "But yes, there was a time during which I hated every form of nobility very much. I associated it with everything that was wrong in my life: my father and elder brother being so cold and uninterested in me, for instance... my mother and all the other adults of my youth only concerned to keep me alive long enough to send me away at someone else's service.. not to talk about the abuses I had to tolerate as a squire and later as a Knight. Nobles think they are free, but they aren't: they are locked in that loop of responsibilities and rights which consumes them and their lives.. they have needs that no one else has, created on purpose to size their souls: there's only one free nobleman, the King. But this is just an empty belief my lad: we are all servants of the Gods, one way or another, and those who believe they can have anything in life without the blessing of Gods, will lose everything, included their souls ... the Wall of the Faithless awaits them!"
He paused, and gave his nephew a meaningful look. "That's why I gladly joined the ranks of those who serve Tempus, because there's no higher or most... noble... task, than that of serving the Gods that give immortality to our souls!". His face was grim as seldom before, he leaned forward from the wall, with a tense body: he was deadly serious.
Wilfred knew only a little bit of his uncle's story, but he dared not to ask, because he knew everything was going to be told on that very diary he was holding on his lap. He quickly lowered his look on the book, and turned the page.
"Shall I continue?" He asked.
Wolfgang nodded and leaned back to the wall, and closed his eyes again.
Wilfred took his breath, but before he could even read the first letter, a clear, silvery bell rang out loud three times, and from across the internal hall of the Temple, a pressing yell reached them.

**Flinn** · March 05, 2021, 10:46 AM

Chapter 1 - An uncertain path
Part 4

"Wolfgang! Wolfgaaaaaaang!" The yell was distorted by the echo of the Temple hall. "Were are you hiding, you scum?" Rushing footsteps where heard, and after a second a light blue, bulky figure, sprang out of the hall's back door and into the backyard, soon followed by a smaller one. The taller man paused for a second, his eyes adapting to the bright light in the backyard; the smaller figure, a relatively young Half-Elf, took his chance and stepped forward, putting his hand on the man's left arm.
"Please hold!" The Half-elf said. "Direhar Von Smith requested not to be disturbed at this time! He expressly asked me..." He could not finish the sentence. The taller man turned around and incinerated him with his glance.
"Hands off, you rat!" He freed his arm and walked towards the corner were Wilfred and Wolfgang were sitting, face to face. He was tall, not as tall as Wolfgang, but taller than many; he was fat though, quite fat indeed, as someone who's not done much physical activity in his whole life, and his face was red for the recent effort, and he was sweating. Well dressed, with a fine cowl of light blue and gold; a magnificent medallion hung on his round belly, a golden representation of the sun rising over a field, encrusted with gems, the Holy Symbol of Lathander the Morninglord. He was older than Wolfgang, certainly in his fifties, and his oily hairs were almost completely grey.
Wilfred stoop up, smiled and bowed to the man. "Good morning, Dawnmaster Neodred". The older man looked down upon him, and smiled. For a moment he was again the old, good and kind Cleric of Lathander, loved and respected by everybody. His round, fatty face brightened up as he said:
"Ah! Good morning to you, young Wilf!" Then he turned again towards Wolfgang, who on his side didn't moved at all; he only opened one eye and was cunningly smiling, waiting for the rest to come.
Neodred's expression became increasingly harsh, and while he tried to desperately remain calm, the apparent indifference of Wolfgang clearly made him crazy, to the point that he could not refrain more and exploded: "You sick fool!" he finally yelled "How did you dare not to tell me something of such an importance?".
Wolfgang did not reply immediately, he leaned forward from the wall and then stood up in front of the other man. His expression was neutral, almost puzzled.
"I don't know what you are talking about, Master Neodred". He winked at the Half-elf who was still standing and waiting, with a very concerned expression on his face.
"You can go, Hilaf!" He said to him "I'll take care of this, now". Hilaf sighed in relief, turned around a run again into the Temple.
"You scared my Acolyte, my friend" He smiled innocently to Neodred, something that clearly made the other man even more mad.
"Stop playing with me, Wolf!" Neodred was barely able to refrain himself, and this evidently amused Wolfgang, knowing well how his friend was usually calm and pacific. He turned towards Wilfred "Do you have any idea of what might be that is tormenting our noble guest, Wilf?"
Wilfred, who was not less of a rascal than his uncle, when coming to fool and joke with friends, replied: "Not at all, uncle! Maybe Dawnmaster Neodred can enlighten us?" He bowed again at the older man.
"Sure I can!" Neodred exploded "This.. this.." He seemed not to be able to find the words "This... traitor... has recently received a full crate of the finest salted Szorp trout and did not tell me!" His expression became dreamy, and he continued, as he stared up: "Can you imagine? A crate full of salted Szorp, one of the finest delicacies in the whole Delimbiyr.. I had it only once when I was in Waterdeep, and it was long long .. loooong ago!" He looked down at his belly, and sadly sighed.
Wolfgang could not keep it anymore, and bursted to loudly laugh. "How did you know, eh? That was supposed to be a secret!" He asked.
"I'm literally sitting at the feet of the Duke, do you really think that there's anything that happens in this town that he doesn't know?" Neoded replied with a great, satisfied smile.
"Well in any case that's a present that the Order of the Broken Blade sent to me, and only to me, as a sign of gratitude for the help I gave them long ago. Let me tell you again: to me! it is clearly written on the bill you know? By the Brothers of the Order of the Broken Blade, to Direhar Wolfgang Von Smith, for his pleasure and his alone, he who serves the Lord of The Battles! In all due honesty, I cannot go against such a holy order, can I?"
Neodred painfully looked at him, tormenting his fat hands. Wolfgang then continued: "Unless of course I could trade some of them for a debt of honor I might have..." He looked again at his friend. "Which makes me think of that little matter we had pending.. Do you think we can.."
"Deal!" Neodred did not even let him finish his request "I would trade the Duchess' dogs souls for a plate of Szorp!" He rubbed his hands, and was again the cheerful and benevolent man everybody loved. "How do we organize, then?" A big, big grin was on his face.
"I might have asked the cook to prepare some for today's lunch, you know?" Said Wolfgang. "Let's see if she accomplished with my request, eh?"
"Hooray!" the other man shouted "Blessed be the kitchen of Tempus and the generosity of his Direhar, Wolfgang the Munificent! Might the Light of Lathander shine of his sword, every time he draws it in battle!" He took the other man's arm and started to walk toward the back entrance of the Temple. Wolfgang then said "Come Wilf, you have read enough for today! Let's have some earned refreshment" And the two started singing, as they walked into the great hall.
Wilfred smiled and shook his head, amused. Master Neodred was one of the dearest friends of his Uncle, and a notorious foodie... but he was as well the most important religious figure at the Morningglow Tower, the great temple of Lathander, greatest of all temples in Daggerford, built on the same hill as where the Duke palace also stood. Master Neodred might have looked as a fatty, silly man, and while not powerful in battle, his skills as a healer were unmatched for miles around, and the power of his Light was said to be able to annihilate even the most powerful among undeads, as many of them discovered to their own demise.
Together with Sghignifiss Rednek, know as Fiz the Fairvoice, the owner of the Redberry Tavern, and Rustinidiel Berentius the Unthinking, Master Enchanter of Duke Maldwyn, they were the sole true friends of his uncle, and together they formed a group that everybody knew on Daggerford and on the lands around, revered by many and honored by the Duke himself.
The meal was long, abundant and cheerful, and Master Neodred gave his best, and was so happy and in such a good mood that he entertained everybody at the table with many funny stories and silly jokes. It was a good day for everybody, in particular the poor Hilaf, who was still shaken, and also for the other Acolytes and Stalwarts (who were not used to such a meal, frugality was the norm!). Late in the afternoon, when Neodred was finally content, he bowed low to his hosts and showered them in blessings, promising to come back soon to ensure that everything was fine and in order.
Wilfred and Wolfgang then walked back in the backyard, and having picked up dull swords from the armory, they engaged in their daily training, both enjoying their time much more than that at the table.

**Alwyn** · March 06, 2021, 03:27 AM

Wolfgang's upbringing and his observations about noblemen thinking they are free provide interesting insights. I enjoyed the encounter with Master Neodred, he's a great character!

**Turkafinwë** · March 07, 2021, 04:35 AM

Truly it's a hero's destiny to be brought up by his Uncle. I agree with Alwyn. Master Neodred is a striking figure. Everyone knows a Neodred or someone like him. Slow and steady we learn more about the world in which our heroes live. Very enjoyable indeed!

PS: the holy symbol of Tempus really reminds me of the Templars from Dragon Age.

**Twilight Esker** · March 07, 2021, 06:40 AM

Originally Posted by Flinn

Short author's intro

Brief encouragement thing

**Flinn** · March 08, 2021, 11:39 AM

@ everybody, thanks for reading and commenting, much appreciated! I have to say that this last part 4 came out pretty well

@ Turka; I don't know much about Dragon Age, but I'm pretty sure that the FR are older than DA

**Morticia Iunia Bruti** · March 12, 2021, 08:50 PM

I enjoy the development of the story so far.

**Flinn** · March 17, 2021, 06:34 AM

Thanks for reading Querida!

There's sooo much I want to write about this, and so little time

**Flinn** · September 08, 2022, 10:31 AM

Good Dude, it's a year an a half... just posting here to say that I'm gonna work on this in the next weeks, hopefully

**Alwyn** · September 08, 2022, 12:33 PM

Cool, I'm looking forward to the return of Wilfred, Neodred and Wolfgang!

**Flinn** · September 29, 2022, 10:45 AM

Chapter 1 - An uncertain path
Part 5

The day after, Wilf's body was aching like seldom before, since the training session with his uncle was long and harsh. He did like having those ferocious exchanges with Wolfgang, the experienced warrior was letting him land some blows here and there and at the same time he was hitting him proportionally stronger, depending on how bad his defensive mistakes were, and every day more he was learning the art of fencing and was becoming better at dueling and fighting in general. His body was getting stronger and sturdier, and he was confident with both the sword and the knife, but that particular day both his arms were stiff and painful and he had a lovely large lump on his forehead, where his uncle hit him with the knob of his sword, when he poorly missed a lunge that would have almost certainly caused his death it they were in a real fight.

It was raining outside, the typical heavy and persistent rain of early Autumn on the Sword Coast and he felt depressed and sad. He took a light breakfast as usual, and walked through the main hall of the temple towards the exit to the backyard, looking around at the early morning activity. Like for any other house of Tempus, the one in Daggerford was build more like a barrack than a typical temple: there was no altar or any other evident place of worship, but instead the main hall was filled with supplies, weapons and armors. On the walls there were a series of small doors, each leading to a bedroom: those on the right side were smaller and could house two or three people, and were assigned to low ranked members, usually Acolytes and Stalwarts. Those on the left side were a bit larger, and normally housed two beds each: they were meant to be assigned to intermediate ranks, or reserved as spare rooms for the occasional visitors, likely any Cleric or Paladin of the Red Knight or the rare traveling members of the Broken Blade that would decide to remain and become guards of the temple.

The latest two members of the Broken Blade left around the time Wilf arrived at Daggerford, and while he didn't know exactly what happened, he knew that they had their life saved by his uncle and wanted to go back to Waterdeep (where the largest of the Tempus' houses on the Sword Coast was) to talk to the Warylon of their Order about what happened. The gift of salted Szorp was quite certainly a sing of gratitude for that. Although he did spend only a couple of weeks with the two battle-scarred Tempurans before they left, he felt a heck of respect for both of them: The Order of the Broken Blade only admitted warriors and other former servants who had proven themselves worthy to the point that their bodies were no longer capable of sustaining a regular fight, because of mutilations (sometimes even horrible ones) and old age. They gained in life what most of the worshipers of Tempus could only gain in death, and for that very reason they were honored and revered and trusted to be the best guards at any of the Houses or shrines of the Foehammer. There weren't many of them around anyways, because a death in battle was considered desirable for any real worshiper, and Clerics of Tempus were mostly focused on combat spells and skills rather than on healing and curing ones, but at times some warriors proven themselves so sturdy that they could survive even the most brutal wounds, so to get to see an old age and basically what was the retirement for people like them.

While he walked slowly down the hall and was busy with these thoughts, he looked around: there wasn't much of activity, the temple was still relatively new and not many had joined its ranks, the more because Daggerford was considered to be a frontier, since the Dragonspear Castle, with its portals to the Nine Hells and tunnels to the Underdark, was not far at all. In total no more than a dozen of people lived there, included himself, and he was busy thinking of how he could help increase the number, when a figure approached him from behind the shadows of a column: Valum the Arahar, the second highest ranked servant in the temple after his uncle. Wilfred immediately liked Valum when he first met him: a solid middle-aged man from Neverwinter, and the only surviving companion of Wolfgang from the Black Company. He had a daughter, Valenia, and she was the nicest and fairest creature he ever met in his life. She was working at the Blueberry tavern and Wilf had a desperate crush on her, a good reason to go visit the tavern every time he had a chance.

Valum smiled to him and bowed: “Good Morning, Wilfred” he was always very formal and followed a rigid etiquette, much in contrast with his uncle Wolfgang. “I hope you had a comfortable rest the past night” he continued and bowed again. “Very much so, Arahar” answered Wilf, calling the man by his rank, knowing that that would have pleased him. Valum replied back with another smile, then went on with “I wish you a fruitful day, Wilfred”. He bowed again, turned around and went back to his duties. Wilf was honestly puzzled by the constantly interested and yet detached behavior of the man, even though he could not focus on it very much, since his thoughts would quickly drift towards the object of his desires, Valenia.

As he reached the farther end of the hall, he saw his uncle sitting close to the open door: that’s the place where he used to sleep, on a simple blanket and by a tiny stove which was seldom used. He raised his glance and looked at him deeply into his eyes, almost scaring Wilf in that unique way he could not get used to: he was once again looking into his thoughts. But then Wolf smiled and patted on a small chair, with sewn off legs, close to where he was lying. “Come lad” he said “it’s raining today and we’ll take a rest”. As Wilf sat on the small chair Wolf laughed and said “Ah blessed be the hot blood of the young ones!” and handed over his diary to his nephew. “Time to continue the reading, lad”. Wilf blushed but did not reply, and immediately started reading from where he was interrupted the day before.

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