Crusade

1

King Azoun IV of Cormyr paced back and forth before a window in his castle's highest tower. After two or three steps in the circular room, the king paused and threw open the wooden shutters. Restlessly clasping his hands behind his back, he looked out on Suzail, the capital of his rich and expansive kingdom. What the monarch saw of the city from that vantage troubled him greatly.

Suzail sprawled contentedly in the bright, early spring sunshine. As on most mornings in good weather, crowds filled the narrow streets, heading toward or returning from the capital's bustling marketplace, doing what people in most of western Faerun's larger cities did each day. Servants ran from their masters' homes to shops, then returned with goods purchased. Watchmen, dressed in the livery of their office, settled disputes and kept the peace. Wealthy merchants argued among themselves about the price of ivory or cloth or wheat. Freebooters and sailors wandered through the various inns and taverns, searching for a new adventure or just a good barroom brawl. In all, Suzail looked that morning much like it had for all of King Azoun's twenty-five-year reign-peaceful and prosperous.

Unclasping his hands, Azoun ran his fingers through his silver-shot brown beard. "Why hasn't it affected them, Vangy?" the king asked without turning around.

"Eh?" a voice sighed. "What did you say?"

Azoun turned slowly to face Vangerdahast, royal magician of Cormyr, chairman emperius of the College of War Wizards. The paunchy mage was hunched over a chessboard, staring intently at the finely carved ivory pieces. In the bright cold light from the window, Vangerdahast looked to be the veteran of fifty winters or so. Azoun knew better. Despite the color in his wrinkled cheeks, his steady gaze and steady hands, the royal magician was well over eighty. His magic had helped him stave off old age for many years now.

"Why hasn't the Tuigan invasion affected my subjects?" the king repeated. "Do they think the war won't touch them at all? They're going about their lives as if nothing is wrong."

Straightening his back with a short groan, Vangerdahast cast a quick glance at his opponent in the chess match-a short, stout man with gray hair and sparkling blue eyes-then turned to Azoun. The mage recognized the puzzled tone in his king's voice, which told him that Azoun was genuinely bothered by the subject he'd broached. Vangerdahast had heard that inflection many times since he had been hired by King Rhigaerd II, Azoun's father, to tutor the young prince in heraldry and ethics. However, the tone had never been so prevalent in Azoun's voice as it had been since the Tuigan horsemen interrupted trade between Faerun and the eastern lands of Kara-Tur a little over a year ago.

"Actually, Your Highness," Vangerdahast began, "you've already answered your own question, though calling the Tuigan incursion a 'war' might be a bit premature." When Azoun didn't object, the wizard continued. "The barbarians have done little so far that really touches the lives of the average Cormyrian. Since they charged through Rashemen into Ashanath last fall, they've not moved west. Must I remind you that the nearest Tuigan is well over one thousand miles to our east, on the other end of the Inner Sea? Having barbarians camped there is hardly a direct threat to Cormyr."

Vangerdahast's opponent in the chess game moved his queen and smiled. "What about lost revenue? Haven't the attacks on Thesk and the countries around it slowed trade?" the stout man asked. "Surely the guilds care about the money."

"The guilds, especially the trappers, are the biggest opponents of any military action against the Tuigan," Azoun noted. He shook his head. "They feel we should wait until the barbarians threaten Cormyr directly before spending money to fight them."

"For once, the guilds are correct," Vangerdahast said a bit peevishly. "The Tuigan are not an immediate problem." The wizard looked at the chessboard, noticed that his opponent wore a grin, and cursed softly. "You're supposed to announce your move, Dimswart. Now, what did you-ah, the queen."

"And I believe that's checkmate," Dimswart stated flatly. "Your chess game really hasn't improved in all the time I've known you, Vangy." The gray-haired man, also called the Sage of Suzail, knitted his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the room's whitewashed wall.

Snorting in irritation, Vangerdahast stood up. "We've more important things to do in the castle than play games all day. Now that you're retired and all your daughters are married, I suppose you do little else but pore through obscure texts and hover over chessboards. Why, even the supposed 'Sage' of Shadowdale, Elminster, does more important work than you."

Dimswart's smile faded, and he opened his mouth to reply to the royal wizard's insult. It was common knowledge that Vangerdahast held a longstanding grudge against the legendary sage and wizard, Elminster-though the origin of the feud was long forgotten. So to have Vangerdahast compare one unfavorably to him was quite a barb. The stout sage never had a chance to reply, though, as Azoun cleared his throat noisily, signaling an end to any further digressions.

"My esteemed royal wizard is correct," the king said as he placed a hand on Vangerdahast's shoulder. A slight smile crossed Azoun's lips, but its warmth didn't quite reach his dark eyes. "There are important matters to consider at the moment, the most pressing of which is the crusade."

Vangerdahast frowned at the use of the word "crusade." Azoun noted the expression on his friend's face, then turned back to the window. "I know you object to my plan. However, I've considered the matter carefully, and I believe that it will be better for Cormyr and the rest of Faerun if I follow my own best judgment. . despite opposition from the trappers. After the discussions I've had with the leaders of the Dales and Sembia, our own lords, and a few others, I believe I can recruit a large number of allies. If they agree to support this venture, I will lead it."

Slowly Azoun rested one hand on the edge of the window and bowed his head. "The Tuigan are hurting the entire continent of Faerun," he said, anger in his voice. "Including Cormyr. And if these barbarians, these 'horsewarriors,' are harming my people, I must challenge them. A crusade is the only way."

Vangerdahast's frown deepened. He stalked to Azoun's side, his heavy brown robe hissing along the ground as he walked. "Look there," the wizard said, pointing out the open window. "The nearest Tuigan raider is in Ashanath, half a continent from here. You can't possibly think they'll invade us soon. And can you really tell me that the horsewarriors have put a serious crimp in our economy?"

Raising his head, the king looked out at the city once again. In the direction Vangerdahast pointed lay Suzail's docks. The port was busy, as was usual for that time of year. Ships bearing the colors of countries and free cities from all over the Inner Sea dotted the piers, and Cormyrian traders bound for those places and more filled the rest of the harbor. Hundreds of sailors and longshoremen swarmed over the docks, loading and unloading cargo. Cloth and livestock, gold and ivory, art treasures and other, more precious things poured into the city by the hour.

Azoun slowly traced a path with his eyes from the dock to the foot of his tower. Closer to the piers, the king saw dozens of inns and businesses, all bustling with trade from the harbor. Moving his eyes over the slate or wooden roofs of these establishments, the king saw the wide, dusty thoroughfare called "the Promenade." This street, like the docks, was filled with traders from throughout Faerun and other parts of Cormyr. As Azoun watched, wagon after wagon of goods rolled past, not to mention the mob of merchants and citizens who trod the Promenade as they went about their business. The noise of the people in the streets mixed with the shrill cries of the seabirds that lofted over the harbor, creating the backdrop of sound Azoun had grown accustomed to in his years in Suzail.

The king's eyes crossed the Promenade and lit upon the sprawling, interconnected buildings that made up the royal court, the seat of Cormyr's bureaucracy. Just the day before, he'd received a report that the royal tax collectors expected a rise in income this year from tariffs levied on merchants.

"No, Vangy," the monarch said firmly. "I can't tell you the invasion has ruined our economy. In fact, the Tuigan have had little direct effect upon our trade."

The paunchy wizard nodded, as if prompting a student to develop a single correct answer into a more complex conclusion-as if Azoun were still a young prince in his tutelage. When the king only continued to gaze out at the city, Vangerdahast sighed.

"Come now, Vangy," Dimswart said as he leaned forward. "You know as well as I that trade with Ashanath, Thesk, and Shou Lung is only a small part of Cormyr's shipping industry."

Vangerdahast moved away from Azoun, toward one of the two large tapestries that hung on the circular room's cold, white walls. The finely crafted hanging depicted a joust, complete with heavily armored knights wielding ornamented lances. One cloth warrior, his silver thread armor looking faded with age, leaned forward on his mount and pressed his lance against the splintering shield of his adversary. The other, a gold-clad warrior, seemed to be slipping off his horse, frozen eternally on the brink of defeat.

"We don't have strong ties with the Shou people," the wizard noted absently as he stood between the knights and his king. "Not yet, anyway. That was the reason Azoun and I attended that trade conference in Semphar last year, the one that was supposed to solve the problems the Tuigan were creating for commerce."

"It could have been a very productive conference, too," the king added. "Representatives from Shou Lung and many of the western nations interested in trading with them showed up. The whole thing was pointless though; a barbarian general-I believe his name was Chanar-took the city hostage, surrounding it with armed troops."

Azoun laughed bitterly. "General Chanar wanted to deliver an ultimatum from the Tuigan leader, their khahan. We were supposed to recognize this barbarian, Yamun Khahan, as emperor of all the world."

"What an unwashed brute that general was," Vangerdahast said with a chuckle, tracing the figure of the golden knight in the tapestry with his finger. "You could almost see the fleas hopping around on him."

Smiling at his friend's sarcasm, Azoun walked to the wizard's side. "I'm sure General Chanar had just ridden for days, Vangy. He was a warrior, not-" The king paused, then waved his hands in front of himself, motioning toward his silk tunic, fine, purple surcoat, and expensive, perfectly crafted dragonskin boots. "He wasn't a politician."

"Speaking of politicians, Your Highness, do you think one of your enemies is stirring up the guild masters?" Dimswart asked. The sage leaned over the chessboard and started to rearrange the pieces, setting up for a new game.

The paunchy wizard dropped his hands to his sides and slapped his thighs. "Perhaps the Zhentarim are baiting the guild masters. That doesn't mean their objections to the crusade are unfounded. The trappers will gain little revenue from the venture. In fact, they'll end up paying for the crusade in higher taxes on the furs they bring to the city for sale." He scowled and shook his head. "Your Highness, I can only imagine the damage that you'll do to yourself politically by running off to the other side of the Inner Sea to look for a war."

Vangerdahast's shoulders sagged then, as if his anger had fled suddenly. "I've heard your arguments, Azoun, and I can see that they have some merit. However, I still don't understand why you need to rush off."

"Have you forgotten my duty?" Azoun asked, a touch of pride in his voice.

Vangerdahast shook his head. "Your duty is to Cormyr, not Thesk or Rashemen. I've told you a thousand times before, you-"

Laughing, Dimswart cut in, "Vangy, you miss the point completely."

The king's eyes grew dark again. "We've had this argument before. Cormyr is more than the lands that lay between lines on a map. We are only one country, one power amongst a dozen in Faerun. If one of our neighbors falls, then we fall, too. My duty to Cormyr demands that I help avert a crisis that could threaten any part of the continent."

The wizard turned away from Azoun. "As I've I told you every other time you've wanted to help the Dales or Tantras or Ravens Bluff, you shouldn't go looking for trouble."

After reaching into his pockets, Vangerdahast dug out the components to a spell and muttered an incantation. "Look," the wizard cried as a glowing map of Faerun appeared, superimposed on the tapestry he had been studying only moments before. Rivers and mountains, deserts and glaciers, cities and countries all appeared faintly in the air, the armored warriors from the hanging showing vaguely through them all.

The kingdom of Cormyr lay on the northwest end of the Inner Sea, also known as the Sea of Fallen Stars. To Cormyr's north were mountains, then the arid, inhospitable Stonelands and the vast expanse of the great desert, Anauroch. The merchant kingdom of Sembia, equal in size to Azoun's domain, was located directly to Cormyr's east. The Dales, to the northeast, were a loose confederation of small farming communities. Unlike Cormyr, with its hereditary monarchy, and Sembia, with its merchant oligarchy, the Dales were strongly democratic. Together, Cormyr, Sembia, and the Dales made up much of the "Heartlands" of Faerun.

With their varied political outlooks, it wasn't surprising that the three core countries in the Heartlands often suffered long disputes. The multitude of independent city-states-places like Tantras and Hillsfar-that were located close to the larger nations often found themselves caught between bickering giants. Still, Cormyr, Sembia, and the Dales were lands where peace flourished; their disputes were never serious enough to create permanent rifts.

And they always agreed when it came to matters involving Zhentil Keep. Though only a walled city just to the north of the Dales, Zhentil Keep was the focus for much of the evil in the Heartlands. Only out of necessity did Azoun and the other lawful rulers deal with the dark priests who controlled the Keep.

But it was not to Cormyr or the Dales or even Zhentil Keep that Vangerdahast pointed when the magical map came into focus. The wizard's finger drifted east of the Heartlands, across the land of Impiltur, to the eastern end of the Inner Sea.

"For the horsewarriors to get from where they are now," the wizard began, directing their attention to a spot hundreds of miles beyond even the end of the Inner Sea, "to our forests, they'd have to go through Thesk, Damara, Impiltur.. "

With each new nation or free city he mentioned, Vangerdahast unfurled another of his pudgy, large-knuckled fingers. Azoun and Dimswart merely waited for the royal wizard to finish his tirade.

"And depending upon the route they take," Vangerdahast concluded, turning sharply to face his king, "it's conceivable that Yamun Khahan, 'emperor of all the world,' could lead his barbarians through Zhentil Keep before he came south to the Dales." The map disappeared, and the wizard stood in front of a plain tapestry once again.

"That's a fine hope," Dimswart noted after a few moments. "It would be nice to see the Tuigan try to storm the black walls of that wretched, evil place. However, it's more likely the Zhents would join the Tuigan-or at least guide them toward the Dales and us. For all we know, the Keep might have struck a deal with this khahan already, like the Red Wizards of Thay did last fall."

Azoun considered that possibility for a moment, then shuddered and dismissed it. He could only hope that the leaders in Zhentil Keep had more sense than to believe the Tuigan would leave them alone if they appeared to offer no resistance. The messages he'd received lately from Lord Chess, the nominal ruler of the Keep, all indicated that the Zhentish would support any sane plan against the raiders. Azoun knew that Chess could be lying just to keep the Dales and Cormyr off balance, but he had to hope otherwise. Even a rumor that Zhentil Keep planned to cooperate with the Tuigan, like Thay had done a few months earlier, would give the guild masters who opposed the crusade a stronger argument.

"We'll never have the opportunity to see what Zhentil Keep would do in that situation for we cannot-no, will not-wait for the Tuigan to arrive on our doorstep," King Azoun stated firmly. "If I have the support of the rest of Faerun's leaders, I'm going to stop Yamun Khahan long before he reaches us."

"And the guilds?" Dimswart asked.

Without pause, Vangerdahast replied, "We could toss the leaders of the Trappers' Guild into the tower until the crusade is over."

Azoun shook his head. "And make martyrs of them? Hardly." He glanced out of the open window again and added, "The guilds will simply have to follow my commands in this. There really is nothing they can do to stop me."

Dimswart and Vangerdahast knew from Azoun's voice that the discussion was over as far as the king was concerned. The tower room fell silent. Abruptly a sharp breeze from the open window carried the noise from the street to the tower and made the tapestries flutter on the wall. The air in the room, a little thick with the smell of the musty old books piled neatly near the window and the oiled wooden chess set over which Dimswart still fussed, lightened for an instant with a breath of sea air. If only for that moment, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate-until a loud rapping sounded at the lone entrance to the tower, a heavy, iron-braced trapdoor.

"Ah, that will be Winefiddle," Dimswart noted as he stood and moved quickly to unlock the entrance. The sage slid the bolt back noisily, then said, "Speak the password and enter," his foot planted firmly on the door.

"Don't be ridiculous," came the muffled response, followed by another loud thump on the oaken door. After a barely suppressed chuckle, the unseen man added, "I have a message for the king, Dimswart, so stop this nonsense and let me up. You'd think you were Vangerdahast, asking for a password."

The wizard cocked an eyebrow as Dimswart pulled open the door. Winefiddle, a rotund man with thinning brown hair and puffy red cheeks, shuffled up the stairs into the room. "You'd think I was-," he huffed as he climbed into the room. Then the fat man saw the royal wizard standing before him, his arms crossed, tapping his foot.

"Both you and Dimswart have succeeded in annoying Vangy this morning, Curate Winefiddle," Azoun noted as the priest faced the fuming mage. The quiet, happy cleric usually had a soothing effect upon the king, and that day was no exception. He forgot about the Tuigan and the crusade for a moment and smiled. "This is just like old times."

Vangerdahast snorted. "Yes, Your Highness, this rather is like the times you 'went adventuring' with these oafs. It's a wonder you all weren't killed any number of times."

"That we survived some of those adventures is due partly to you, Vangerdahast," Winefiddle said sincerely. He shifted the sack he carried to his left hand and wiped the sweat from his brow. "If you hadn't been so conscientious about following Azoun around, the King's Men would have perished any number of times." Noting the astounded look on the wizard's face, the cleric straightened his light blue tunic and headed for a comfortable chair on the other side of the room.

"You see, Vangy, someone appreciates you," Dimswart said, sitting back at the chessboard. "Even I admit that you saved our lives once or twice when we were tearing up the countryside as the King's Men."

The room was silent again for a moment as all four of them dusted off memories of the King's Men. Dimswart, then a mage of little renown, and Winefiddle, a novice in the temple of Tymora, the Goddess of Good Fortune, had formed the group, eager as they were to seek fame and fortune in the wilder parts of Cormyr. They were soon joined by other Cormyrian adventurers, including a highly skilled swordsman who called himself Balin. In reality, this noble cavalier was young Prince Azoun.

The prince had no trouble keeping Balin's true identity a secret from the world at large. Few people knew what Azoun looked like, and even fewer expected him to be roaming the countryside with a troupe of minor adventurers. After two or three months, though, the young cavalier revealed his identity to the group. Dimswart had uncovered the prince's secret after their first adventure together, proving himself to be a noteworthy sleuth even then. Winefiddle and the others were astounded at the revelation. This information changed little, however, as the King's Men were more interested in saving damsels from ogres than getting mixed up in Cormyrian politics.

And that went double for Azoun himself. Riding with Dimswart, Winefiddle, and the three other members of the group gave the prince a chance to escape the pressures of life in the castle. Vangerdahast covered for Azoun whenever possible, telling King Rhigaerd that his son was on an expedition to a distant shrine or library. Frequently the royal tutor would furnish an excuse to the king, then go hunting for the boy himself. He often found the would-be heroes in dire straits.

"Remember the time we stumbled upon that goblin camp in the mountains near High Horn," Azoun said with a chuckle. "They were sure we were spies-"

"And then they decided that Winefiddle was a cleric of some terrible, evil elemental god," Dimswart added, smirking at the rotund curate. "Just because a rock tumbled off a cliff and hit one of them as it tried to grab him."

Winefiddle frowned weakly. "You're both lucky they thought that, too. The beasts made short work of both of you before they tried to grab me. Those horrible little things were ready to kill us all." He rubbed his stomach. "I still have a scar where one of them prodded me with a spear."

The cleric paused, toying with the plain silver disk that hung around his neck. Talking about danger or even discomfort made Winefiddle nervous. He, for one, did not miss his life as an adventurer. "And if Vangerdahast hadn't come along when he did," the curate added, "they might have killed us anyway. I was getting tired of acting like an elemental lord."

The royal wizard nodded slowly as a reply, then sat down at the chessboard, across from the gray-haired sage. "The curate's right, you know. You're all very lucky not to have been eaten by any one of those monsters you pestered."

The comment stung Azoun like the flick of a whip. "We did far more than 'pester' creatures, Vangy," he said hotly. "The King's Men did some good in the short time they were around."

The king paused, as if daring someone to disagree. He knew that none of his friends would think of it, however. "What about that caravan we saved from the hill giants in the mountains west of here? Or the children we rescued from the zombies that raided that farm outside of Tyrluk?"

"They were fine adventures, Azoun, weren't they?" the royal magician stated more than asked.

King Azoun recognized the wizard's bait and responded to Vangerdahast's real question. "They were, Vangy… but I don't think the crusade will be an adventure at all, and that's certainly not why I'm organizing it."

"Are you so sure of that?" the wizard asked softly.

Azoun did not answer, and resumed pacing instead. Vangerdahast sat, drumming his fingers on the chessboard, while Dimswart and Winefiddle exchanged concerned glances.

Then the curate's eyes grew wide, and he leaped out of his seat. "The message!" he cried. "I almost forgot about it!"

Winefiddle noisily dug through his sack. "One of the pages gave it to me when he saw that I was coming to see you up in the tower." Wine bottles clinked together, papers and scrolls rustled, and loose coins clattered against everything else in the rough brown bag. "Here it is!" he exclaimed at last.

The parchment Winefiddle held aloft was crumpled slightly, but Azoun could see that it was an important message even from across the room. Bold black and red ribbons, secured by a thick wax seal, dangled from the paper. Vangerdahast abruptly snatched the letter from the curate's hands and gave it to Azoun.

The king looked at the wax. A phoenix clutching a hammer in its claws was imbedded there. That imprint told him that the message was from Torg mac Cei, a dwarven king from the Earthfast Mountains. After closing his eyes and whispering a short prayer to Torm, the God of Duty, Azoun snapped the seal and read the missive.

As his eyes raced down the page, Azoun sighed. A slight smile bloomed on his face, then disappeared. The king handed the parchment to Vangerdahast and headed toward the trapdoor. "Excuse me, my friends, I have some important people to contact right away."

As he started down the stairs, the king turned and added, "We'll talk again soon, Dimswart, Winefiddle." He smiled again briefly and looked at his stunned royal wizard. "We should confer, Vangy. I need your advice on obtaining the use of a large number of ships."

The wizard, sage, and cleric stood dumbfounded as Azoun rushed down the tower stairs. After the footfalls on the stone steps grew distant, Vangerdahast pulled open the letter. "It's from King Torg of Earthfast," he told the others as they moved to his side.

"A message about the crusade, I assume," Dimswart noted. "I can probably guess what it says."

"Well, I can't," Winefiddle said, turning his holy symbol over and over in his hands. "Please read it aloud, Vangerdahast."

"No," the wizard muttered, handing the letter to the priest. "It's short. You might as well read it yourself."

Winefiddle glanced at the dwarven runes at the top of the page, then read over the lengthy listing of Torg's titles and genealogy. Vangerdahast was correct about the body of the missive: it was brief. The text was also written in perfect rows of neat letters.

I have consulted our war council about the barbarian horsewarriors, the letter began. You are absolutely correct in your assessment of the situation. Therefore, I pledge, as ironlord of Earthfast, to lead two thousand dwarven troops under your banner against the Tuigan. I also have a brilliant human general in my city at this time who will join the conflict. We await your arrival to begin this crusade.

Winefiddle stopped reading, then a shudder wracked his heavy frame as he saw the final lines of the message: My troops and I will gladly lay down our lives to the last warrior to stop the invasion. I know that you and your troops will certainly pledge the same.

The cleric held the parchment out to Dimswart, who had returned to his seat at the chessboard. The sage waved the letter away. "Torg has offered troops to support the crusade. You could see it in Azoun's face as he read the note." Dimswart picked up the white king from the chessboard and looked at it intently. "Those of us who think the crusade is a good idea can only hope now that the other kings and lords will follow Torg's lead."

Vangerdahast sighed. "Azoun is a very, very persuasive man. The leaders of Faerun will do as he suggests."

As one, Dimswart and Winefiddle looked to the royal magician. Vangerdahast stood at the window Azoun had occupied earlier, looking out over Suzail. "The question is no longer 'will Azoun lead the crusade against the Tuigan?'" The mage turned to face the king's two friends, who both saw the sadness in his eyes.

"Suzail will pay dearly for this. Azoun simply doesn't know what a real war takes out of a people." The mage breathed another ragged sigh and turned back to the window. "And he's underestimating the opposition of the trappers.

"No," he stated after a moment, "the crusade will go on. The question to be asked now is, can Azoun pay the price for fighting this war?"