"The Corvarran and Petrosian families have a long history, and not all bad.  remember that" the duke had said upon their departure.  They left from the north gate, while the Porthan army rode up to the south gate.  They headed for Petros, but intended to circle round the Porthans quickly and enter the same road they were on and head south.  The Duke had told them that he would be telling Portha that Petros had his royal regalia.  This would hopefully stall them a bit as they went north all the way to Petros to retrieve it.  Naturally, if they ran into Porthan reinforcements on the road south, they might be in trouble.  But he had no choice but to go south.  He had arranged to meet with the five Petrosian volunteers in the forest southwest of the castle and reclaim his royal items that he had left with them when he went in to Corvarras.  All would be lost now if they did not meet as planned.

Thus it was that our heros were surprised by the number of troops near the rendezvous.  At first thinking them Porthan, they were crestfallen that the enemy had found their volunteers.  And if not for a crude flag of Petros held by a crouching standard bearer, they might never have connected.

"We come in peace" Lythe spoke aloud near a startled bowman, who spasmodically let loose an ill-aimed shaft.  "Who goes there?" he blurted. Garthon answered "Your future King."

It was very hard for the gathered forces to contain their excitement, but they realized that they were in between two possible foes and had no time for cheer.  They knew that they now outnumbered those at the castle in the north, but probably not if combined with reinforcements from the south.  Lythe wanted them all with them, but soon realized that they were ill-provisioned for any kind of long journey, and would almost certainly be forced to battle one or the other army, or perhaps both at the same time.  In the end, they decided to go through the forest with just twenty volunteers.  The rest could provide a decoy, but Lythe had warned them "do not confront the Porthans, I will need you later.  Alive."

Guided by Halen Dunn, who was one of the twenty that came with the party, they took the mountain road leading to Kadava as they agreed that the Porthan army would not take that road with a large force.  They then turned north and marched to Dorsine.  They did not stop except to rest and tend to the horses.  They did not contact anyone.  There was no need - Corvarras had already secured the royal items from those families, and now the party had them.  Porthan ships were watching all ports, even Dorsine's.  Securing passage across the narrow strait of Dorsine proved expensive and the "royal coffers" were emptied to a merchant who would tempt the Porthans by crossing.    But the Porthan navy were not expecting that twenty-four men in peasant dress, crossing in a fishing boat would constitute a provincial army.

Next: Corbam Homecoming

It was raining steadily in Corvarras when the armies of Duke Dagoras of Portha finally arrived and formed battle lines.  Duke Corvarras' men prepared to meet them.  From a copse of wood near the field crouched an observer.  It was one of the Petrosian volunteers.  He had been asked by his new and hastily-assigned commander to watch the action.

The battle began during a brief respite from the rain.  Preceded only by a declared demand for royal regalia, the conflict was swift and bloody.  Within an hour it was done and Portha carried the day.  Their army now numbered a mere seventy survivors, but both they and the Corvarrans knew that Porthan reinforcements would be coming at some point.  The Corvarrans had lost, and honor demanded that they now turn over their collected regalia (not already taken to DOM) to the victor of lawful battle.  The Porthan first army accounted for their dead and cared for the wounded and then prepared to approach the castle.

Sanctioned by the innkeeper of the Kings Inn, Halen Dunn had declared himself the "commander" of the five Petrosian volunteers.  He was a popular local who has always been vocal and patriotic to the cause of his ancestors, the people of Petros.  He even claimed a long and winding connection to the Petrosian royal family that may or may not have been real.  In any case, few would doubt that he would be a good leader.  When he managed, within two days, to grow the four other volunteers into fifty volunteers - of Petrosians and expatriate Corvarrans, who in turn then grew it to one hundred and fifty in one day more, he proved that they were correct.  They were a ragtag band to be sure, but their numbers were growing by the hour.  Two days before the arrival of Portha many of them had assembled in front of the King's Inn. "The future King of DOM and Duke of Petros had instructed me before their departure to be ready in case we are needed to transport the royal party out of the province.  It has become apparent that they have been waylaid in the castle.  As you all know, Portha is almost here.  The Corvarran army will be battling them in the field.  We all know who will win.  None of us are prepared to take on Portha or Corvarras, but perhaps we can take on whomever remains.  Our Duke Lythe Petros told me that he was going to challenge Duke Dagoras to honorable contest, so our action would not be subterfuge.  We can position ourselves at the forest road south, there our arrows will help match us.  We shall attempt this only if we outnumber them substantially.  If not, we will stay within the wood.

"All is lost, my liege" said the emissary fighting back emotion.  Duke Methlin Corvarras turned to him.  "Bring in Petros."  Lythe and his party were ushered in.   He had dreaded this moment, but he knew  that he could not give his regalia to Portha if at all possible.  "I cannot know whether you are an opportunist or a contender.  I know that we could have routed Portha today, their numbers were were smaller than expected. But we did not and our army is done.  We cannot now maintain our honor and sneak off to DOM with our items.  The only way that we can honorably keep these items from them, is if we we answer a prior challenge.  As you may have guessed, yours will be that challenge.  You, whomever you are, have a Signet ring and claim to be Lord Petros.  That is enough for me at this point."

Lythe controlled his excitement with difficulty.  "We are not Porthan, sire." "I know" said the Duke, "You travel with a Raylan."

Next: Dangerous Passage

With horses loaned by the innkeeper, Lythe, Garthon, Jared and Tirian made the journey to Corvarras in half a day.  Stopping on a hill near the northwestern gate they could see that the city was braced for a siege.  From their vantage they could see a Corvarran encampment south of the castle. Apparently the Duke had decided to meet Portha in the field after all.

Lythe decided that their quest would either be won or lost here.  There were probably no more easy pickings.  He steered the party on toward the gate and took a deep breath.  To the guard at the gate he shouted "I am the legal heir of the Petrosian family and I beg entrance to this castle.  I possess the Signet Ring of Petros.  I come with no army and no ill intentions and I honorably request an audience with the Duke of Corvarras."

Duke Methlin Petros was dining when word was brought to him that someone claiming to be Lord Petros was at the gate.  "There are three men and a Raylan, my lord.  He claims to have a Signet Ring" the emissary added.  "Impossible" grunted the Duke.  "A Porthan trick. Bring him in and take his weapons."   The party was escorted in, packs removed and stripped down to breeches and tunics.  Lythe wore the Signet Ring.

"Show me your ring" was the first thing the Duke said.  Lythe strode forward and proffered his hand.  "Where did you get this?"  Lythe took his time in answering.  He was playing the role of his career at this point.  "It was reserved for me before my father lost his life.  I am Lythe Petros, son of Nolas Petros.  I come in contest for DOM Triplo." The Duke laughed.  "You are challenging me to a duel for this ring?"  "No my lord.  I come to ask you to give me yours."  The Duke seemed genuinely amused by this answer, but then his demeanor quickly changed.  "You are a fool, yes?  Your timing is poor, fool.  The Porthan army marches toward us.  The Porthan navy is at our harbor.  You have managed to climb into a bear trap with us.  If you want to hand over that ring you will not be the first casualty of this battle."  Lythe proceeded - ignoring the fear he felt.  He willed himself not to sweat.  The others stood steadfast against the gravity of their situation.  "My lord, may I be allowed to speak?"  The Duke sized him up.  This young man did not seem simple.  He was brave then, no doubt.  It could not hurt to hear his tale, if brief.  "I have little time for nonsense - speak quickly and be done."

"Your lordship" began Lythe "I am indeed the heir of the Petrosians.  As a babe I was sent off to DOM because my father suspected that he would be killed by your father.  I never reached DOM as I was taken by bandits and sold.  I bear you no ill will.  Eight provinces stand with me.  I will be frank, with your items I will have twenty royal items and a good chance of winning.  Without them my quest stops here.  I mean no disrespect when I say that you cannot match my count.  Without your help, we both lose."  The Duke eyed him with suspicion.  "Produce these items."  "Sir, I cannot" Lythe replied "they are in DOM."  The Duke laughed derisively.  "By your tongue you are not Porthan, yet you work for them.  Tell your master that I will not play his game."  Lythe sat down in the hall dramatically.  "Take me to your dungeon then.  I am done.  Take my ring but let my people depart."  Tirian alone divined Lythe's apparent madness as a desperate plan.

Next: The Battle of Corvarras.

For as long as he had recollection Dagoras Portha loved the sea.  His father had implanted that in him early on, sending him often to DOM and to other destinations connected by the Porthan Maritime Trades.  Ever since Orsan Fane used ships to conquer the Porthan lands, Porthans appreciated the value of this much speedier method of transport between provinces.  For the south was mountainous and had ready access to waterways.  It is for this reason that Portha quickly became the leader of DOM provincial trade.  The family, now headed by Dagoras, had become extremely wealthy and had translated that wealth into more ships and vast land holdings.  The "Bear of the South", Portha became the dominant force in the southwest of the dominion, as Gandus was in the southeast.

Upon hearing of the DOM Triplo contest, Dagoras' opinion of the DOM leadership went from bad to worse.  At first he vowed not to participate.  But he soon realized that others were not following suit.  The last thing he needed was for Gandus to win.  His trade routes would suffer as Gandus would be negotiating contracts.  And so he reluctantly organized his forces.  He calculated that Gandus and he would be the only true competitors in the south.  And so, he would need to secure as much land to the east as quickly as possible before Gandus got there.  The west would surely be his as soon as he could get there.  But his original hesitation proved a disaster.  Bonilan has decided to avoid Fane by taking their enterprise south, securing Belset province just about the time Portha was mobilizing.  Truly believing he had the far superior force to any in the south, Portha divided his troops, sending half east and the other half west. 

Gandus had started much earlier marching to Goshus shortly after the contest was anounced.  They feared that Isban would quickly traverse the Strait before they could reach Goshus province.  They caught small Goshun army in the field as they were heading for Sidna and bested it.  They took Sidna without a fight.  They then began the trip back - planning to cross over to Jufuras and quest all the way up to DOM hopefully before they met Portha.  But on the very day they crossed from Gandus to Jufuras, the eastern portion of Portha's army was crossing to the same province from Portha.  They met in the field.  Gandus would be no match for Portha under normal circumstances, but Portha had brought only half of his forces.  They were now well matched.  The result was bloody - and pointless because Jufuras had already given up their regalia to Corvarras.  When the day ended Portha had prevailed, but had suffered huge losses.

Commander Geril sent a messenger to the Duke telling him of the missing Zufuran royal items and asking him for reinforcements.  Dagoras knew they had to press on quickly to Corvarras before that province sailed to DOM with their royal collection.  Any reinforcements he had - were in the west.  He ordered a blockade of Corvarras harbor, and ordered Commander Geril to press on.  "Corvarras will not be a problem.  His defenses are weak and his army small.  They will capitulate quickly." And so with what was left of half of the Porthan army Commander Geril marched off to Corvarras.

Next:  Corvarras

The two men in the tavern gaped at Lythe's pronouncement and demand.  Lythe could feel them searching his face for signs that he was telling the truth.  The Innkeeper's brow furrowed.  "A statement like that requires substantial proof, son.  Besides, this idiot is simply drunk.  I have no ring."  Ignoring him, Lythe continued; "Sir, I am the Petrosian heir.  I have come here to find that ring.  With it, I hope to win this contest and re-establish Petros.  No, I do not have an army.  Having an army has proved more of a liability than a help to more than just myself.  One good man has died in this quest, I see no need for more to die.  I have managed to gather royal jewels from six provinces so far, but I am stymied here if I cannot produce the Signet Ring of Petros.  If you have that ring, or know where it is, you can be better than an army to Petros, you can be it's savior."  Lythe looked at Garthon who then opened his pack to reveal it's glittering contents for the tavern to see.  Lythe broke the stunned silence.  "I may not be what you expect of a King.  And indeed I may not win this.  But we have no hope if either Corvarras or Portha gets that ring - or indeed if none of us get it.  This is your choice Innkeeper." 
The old man at the end of the bar finally spoke.  "Give it to him.  This is your chance.  You're a fool if you hold onto it.  Portha will be here in less than a week.  Even if these men are thieves it were better they had it."  But his words were unnecessary.  The innkeeper had already made up his mind.  "I'm a fool if I hold onto it, and a fool if I give it up.  So we take a chance on destiny."  Within the hour they had the Royal Signet Ring of Petros in their possession.

Five men from Petros immediately volunteered to accompany them to Corvarras.  "More will come if they know they are fighting for Petros" said Tonelby, their spokesman.  Lythe explained to him that he could not guarantee success.  If fact, their chances looked dire.  "We will not be welcomed by the Corvarrans."  The father of the current Duke had either killed, banished or incarcerated Lythe's father.  No one in Petros could tell him which. The inkeeper offered; "His estate was burned to the ground one day and he disappeared.  The Duke's men started the blaze.  The Duke never denied it.  He was cruel and unpopular.  Even Corvarrans made overtures to your father.  The Duke did not want a Petrosian uprising, so he squelched it.  His son, the current Duke, is much better but I do not believe that he will hand over his collected regalia, which I believe to be his own items as well as the signet ring of Dorsine, and Kadava and the crown ring and scepter of Kentas."  Jared was impressed at the observations of the innkeeper.  The man obviously did think himself - if not the King of Petros, then it's vanguard.  Doing the math Jared determined that with Corvarras' items in their possession they would have a remarkable 20 items.  If Bonilan, Castan and Blaad held out against Fane there was no way any of them could best them.  If they did not acquire the Corvarran items and Portha got them, then that province would most likely win.  Lythe also knew this.  Their only hope was that Corvarras would see it too.  Would they prefer Petrosian overlords or Porthan ones?  OR would they demand that Petros turn over their items or die? Oh how he wished Tassa was here.  He needed some breezy confidence at the moment.  Lythe turned to his volunteers.  "I will take you up on your offer gentlemen.  And I have a special mission for you."

Next: Duke Dagoras of Portha

After all their trouble, King Ironfist still did not yet want to commit Grimdon to an alliance with humans.  "But if I do, it will begin with you".  He was amused to discover that Lythe was the human child that they had recovered from a Troc-ravaged caravan some twenty years earlier.  They had not recovered a ring  The King was not interested in the contest nor in an explanation.  He summed up all humankind with: "they scurry to and fro like ants.  They live and die quickly, and are only interested in the present." He did agree to help the party to get to Petros.  They were brought to the mouth of the Corbam River where it emptied into the Dorcer Sea.  There the Grimdon provided them with a launch and two adventurous Grimdun ferrymen.  The Dorcer Sea could easily best such a craft but luckily it was calm midsummer.  They did not want to appear ungrateful by insisting on a better mode of transport.  Besides, they liked the idea of going out as they had come in.  From the large send-off they got at the waters edge, they knew that the Grimdun did as well.  The party was dropped off just outside Petros. 

As a homecoming, the hike to Petros was anti-climactic.  Castle Petros which had stood for over ten thousand years was now a collection of ruins.  The city center was a small village.  Even it seemed boarded up. The party stopped at the "King's Inn" - the only Inn left in Petros.  "The royals are all gone or dead.   This not a great time to be a tourist" growled the barkeep.  "No, I suppose not." Lythe returned.  Lythe looked across the tavern.  The empty seats matched the town.  "Where is everyone?"  "Most have run off to Corvarras in fear of the Porthan army" he said looking pontedly at a grisled old local at the end of the bar.  Garthon spoke. "Why would they come here?  Petros is not officially a province, right?  The innkeeper looked offended, but proceeded "well, they might not.  Unless they need more food or supplies that they can rob from Corvarras."  "Or…" added the old man  at the end of the bar "they might come looking for the ring."  The innkeeper shot the man a look.  There was obviously an ongoing argument between them.  "What about the Corvarran Army?" asked Garthon which broke the mood and the two men laughed.  "They are a joke."  The old man was on a roll now "the only reason that Corvarras is not already part of Portha Province is that we live surrounded by water on a rock good for nothing but growing grapes. Now that they have real reasons, they will come."   The innkeeper looked at the man sourly and spat out "they will not come here and spend time searching around."  The old man shouted back - suddenly overcome with anger "they will come here and they will search our houses, they will take our livestock and rape our women!"  The Innkeeper looked fit to burst.  "You are a fool!  You should have gone to Corvarras with the other cowards."  "And you…" leveled the other, "are not the King of Petros despite the name of your Inn.  You are a common peasant merchant.  And yet you hold onto that ring as if you were going to win the contest.  It is a liability and you need to give it up.  Take it to Corvarras before it is too late."

The party stood shocked.  None of them could have imagined that they would find the holder of the ring in this rundown tavern.  After a brief moment to catch his breath, Lythe spoke.  "Sir, I am Lythe Petros, royal heir to the throne of Petros and I demand that you return that ring to me forthwith.  It belonged to my father, and now it belongs to me."

Next: The Politics of Hope

They all felt as if this was the last time they would see daylight.  Entering and lurching downward all was mist and inky blackness.  Jared called out a light spell, but they were moving too fast to see anthing but a blur.  Their craft had sprung a leak near the bottom as it scraped past a ridge of rock.  Pivoting, the boat now travelled backwards.  There was little they could do but hold on.  Light returned as they were spat out of the flume into a raging rapid that propelled them even faster.  Steam vents issuing from the rock walls singed their faces as they hurtled past and they dropped down into the boat seeking protection.  Rounding a sharp corner their boat nearly capsized as they lost both oars.  Heading west, a second tributary rejoined the flume which such force that it pushed the launch against the walls.  The splintering of wood mixed with foam and steam surrounded them as they finally felt themselves in the water.

In the halls and openings above them the Grimdon suddenly grew silent.  They had all hoped to meet such brave (or foolish) travelers that had made it this far.  Now the boatless voyagers were being whipped into steamed and senseless mush.

The four were under no illusion that they would be saved.  But neither would they give up.  Garthon knew from the map that there was a schist in the rock that harbored a small landing, if only they could get to it.  They might die of starvation there, but at least they would die on land.  He knew that the others were near him, so he resolved to get at least one to shore with him.  But he found them all in an eddy close to the entrance of the schist barely clinging on to life.  Together they summoned the last of their strength and forced themselves into the schist and managed a handhold on the small landing.

The Grimdun were gathered at the Glimmer Gate.  They searched for a glimpse of the bodies of the voyagers.  When a hand appeared on the edge of the landing before them they let out a cheer.  Soon more hands appeared, and the Grimdon pulled the soaked and bleeding party out of the water.  Most of the next half hour was a fog of tunnels and dark places, but the group eventually found themselves in an immense cavern lying on stone benches. Their wounds were being attended to.  And after they were fed strong ale, they slipped into a sound sleep. If the party had wished for a grand entrance, they could not have done better.  The story of a Raylan risking his life just to meet with King Ironfist would be told for some time to come.

"We do wish that you had answered our call at the gate" said Tirian sardonically to the King on the following day, but Lythe cut in and took a more somber tone: "Great King, the humans have declared your lands to be theirs."  The chamber was immediately filled with cries of "let them try to take it."  Lythe continued: "but it is not human land, nor should it ever be.  It is Grimdon land.  I am seeking the crown of the human dominion."  More cries, this time; "where is your army?"  Taking a deep breath Lythe went on.  "I do not have an army.  And yet I have eight human provinces that are with me.  And I have the support of the Raylan Groves.  I hope to bring respect for non-humans and respect for the elemental faiths."  "But what if you lose?" voiced an elder official.  Lythe smiled.  The ordeal was finally behind him.  And for the first time he felt as if he could actually perform this role. "Great King, a human and a Raylan stand in the Great Hall of Grimdon.  I believe that we have already won."

Next: To Petros

King Ironfist Grimbrow was first told of the boat entering Grimdon Gorge that morning.  "It is the Raylan and the humans again, sire."  The King had laughed "A Raylan in a boat?  I bet he's really having a good time."  I was but a single boat and obviously not some attempt at intimidation so the King felt no need to have the voyagers destroyed.  "If they can make it here, allow them in."  He enjoyed the prospect of this little vengeance against his countries former foes.  But truth be told, he would not relish their demise.

The Petros party climbed into the launch at the first light of dawn.  They watched the approach of the Grimdon cliffs.  The river was wide and slow, but it narrowed to thrice the width of the boat as it entered the gorge.  They had tied down everything they could.  The boat surged forward as soon as they entered Grimdon and all questioned the soundness of their choice.  They had no time to notice the small openings in the rock above them from where the Grimdon were watching and wagering on exactly which route and which location that they would lose their lives.  When they passed right by the first gate at Northundun and rounded the corner curving north, no gold had exchanged hands as few believed they would be able to get to the meagre landing used mainly for dislodging tree branched brought in by storms.

"There went the landing" cried out Garthon as they sailed past it.  They were shouting now, over the roar of the river as it foamed it's way through the steep walls of the gorge.  High overhead in the thin ribbon of light visible at the top of the walls they they could see the rocs circling.  Suddenly ahead they could see a fork in the river with three tines.  They had been told that the King resides in the southwest portion of Grimdon nearest the Great Gate, so their intention was to keep as close as possible to the inside.  If they could keep to the right, it seemed that there was a beach landing.  "To the right" shouted Lythe "with everything you've got" then, just as quickly "NO! it's a drop."

From the cliffs above they watched as the launch first veered toward the Arkis falls, then desperately attempted to back away.  The falls were a straight drop of some twenty feet onto rocks.  Below that there was a whirlpool followed by a shoot with a diameter just slightly larger than the launch.  They would have been pulverized if they hit it at an angle.

"Left or right" screamed Jared.  But they all knew by the roar that the right was too much.  "Left now, left" cried Lythe.  He knew that they had passed the King and were now simply trying to survive.  They all hoped that the tunnels ahead on the map were accessible, and that they would not have to endure the dotted lines that they knew meant underground water passages.  But after a brief respite of calm as they hurtled eastward, they could see the dark hole up ahead as the waterway disappeared underground.  There was no trace of any landing.  Not that they could have stopped at this point as the speed had suddenly once again picked up.

"They are going into the flume" commented one of the Grimdun.  This sparked a minor stampede across Grimdon as the spectators scampered through tunnels to acquire a better vantage point to watch the destruction of the trespassers. Some arrived in time to see them disappear into the darkness.

Next: To the Halls of the Grimdon King (pt2)

This is the map that was given to Lythe Petros and party as they prepared for their visit to Grimdon in 1199.  Nothing depicted is completely accurate or to scale, but it did give them a basic understanding as they headed in by way of the Corbam River (top left) and to find their way to the Dorcer Sea (bottom right).

Click here for a larger version of this map.

It had been several months since their last boat trip to Giorda.  It was a solemn ride without the incandescent Tassin in their midst. They skirted Buhween to avoid the questions about how it was all going.  They rode around the edge of the Grimdon mountains curving south toward the Great Gate which would lead into the mines and caverns of the Grimdon.  On their journey they were beset on two occasions, first by a band of brigands, then by an encampment of Troc in the Corbam woods.  They managed to best both.  Their  journey ended at the Great Gate of Grimdon.  But hard as they tried, they could get no one to open the gate.  The party decided to head to nearby Corbam.  "We are a traveling troupe of entertainers, let's entertain.  Perhaps we can find out what is happening." 

They did harbor trepidation at the thought of meeting up with the Corbam Army, but they needn't have worried.  The army had recently gone south to try their hand at DOM Triplo.  What they did meet was a local population that were grateful that the party had dispatched two troublesome nuisances, the brigand and troc parties.  They also marveled at the sight of a Raylan, which they rarely saw.  Lythe had stage fright, but not for the show.  He knew that it was now up to him to close any deal with the Duke.  He decided to lie and tell them he had the Petrosian ring.  Their chance of having it was slim.  He would tell them that the royal regalia was already signed in with Alcazar in the capital.  He decided to take his friends with him.

By the time they reached Corbam castle, they had pretty much decided to ask about the Grimdon, and little else.  But Duke Jonas Corbham was a disarming fellow.  Tirian had a good feeling about him and silently communicated that to Lythe.  In the end, Lythe bared all, but did conceal the fact that he had no family ring, and mumbled that the items were safely in DOM.  The Duke was clearly impressed with the band.  He had heard of their exploits in Buhween.  "Between you and Fane, the north is sewn up.  Yet I cannot join you now.  But if we find that we cannot win, we may consider joining you, or perhaps you will join us?.  Lythe  knew that he might no longer be dealing with those wishing to avoid the contest, but that were actively playing but had come to the realization that they could not win.  The Duke was ready to dismiss them with "come back again and we shall talk" when Tirian remembered to ask about the Grimdon.  "They want no part of this contest.  They have closed their gate for the entire year."  Tirian was undeterred.  The Grimdon wanted to be a part of this kingdom, he could feel it.  They were proud.  They had not forgiven the raylan for their treatment of them nearly eight millennia earlier.  And they had not completely forgiven humans for the Fuegonites.  They do not forget anything easily.  And like the raylan, they outlive humans six to one.  "Is there another way in?"  Tirian asked.  The Duke laughed.  "Now I know why you have gotten so far.  Yes, there is.  But I assume that saying that it is dangerous will only encourage you.  You simply take the Corbam River.  It enters Grimdon on it's way to the Dorcer Sea.  Stopping in Grimdon is the hard part, for it's a fierce drop of a few thousand feet.  You cannot count on the Grimdon to come to your aid if you lose your craft.  Swimming it is impossible and the higher elevations are still the nesting domain of rocs since the days of Fuegon.  I will provide you a crude map of Grimdon and a boat.  The rest is up to you."

Next: To the Halls of the Grimdon King

They were alone in the room.  "We have sorely neglected your education I am afraid."  Bella said as she walked over to the hearth to pour more water over her tea.  "I am sorry now that I did not rescue you from that freak."  She was referring to Hatch Bonna, Lythe's adopted father.  Lythe was unmoved.  Hatch had been more an owner than a father.  "He did not want you learning things.  I taught you to read, do you remember?"  Lythe did remember.  Bella was one of the few high points of his young life, which was mostly spent thinking of ways to escape.  "I told Hatch that you would go far.  And apparently you mean to."  "I am going nowhere" he returned.  She stared at him for a full minute before saying very carefully "he never told you did he?"  "Tell me what?"  Bella put down her tea.  "That old bastard.  He deserved his fate.  He told me that he had told you, and that you did not want anyone to know."  "Tell me what?"  "Petros is a province.  Or it was a province.  It's part of Corvarras now.  You are the legal heir of the Petrosian family."

Eventually Tirian was brought in to convince Lythe that Bella was telling the truth.  She allowed Tirian to access her thoughts empathically and he confirmed that she believed what she was saying.  "But that still does not make it true.  It only means that she believes it" said Lythe dejectedly.   Bella looked hurt.  "I am a diviner, Lythe.  I saw it when you were first brought to the troupe."  As if to disprove a conspiracy, Lythe continued.  "Who brought me?" She quickly answered  "We never knew how you exchanged hands from the beginning, but we know that a Porthan trader had gotten hold of you, supposedly from the Grimdon and they sold you to Hatch when we were passing through Corbam."

The entire impact of what Bella had said did not hit Lythe until the following day, when the irony struck him at the same moment.  He was a royal heir, with twelve royal items, but had not a single one of his own.  So he could not sign the Articles of contest.  He could possibly win, but he could not compete.

Finally believing Bella, Lythe asked her, "who might have the original signet ring of Petros?".  "Corvarras probably.  Maybe the Grimdon.  Not the Porthan trader, he would have sold it.  The Grimdon like shiny objects.  If they got it, they would have kept it.  That is, if your father had put it in your possession in the first place.  You were a baby, but he might have wanted to get it out of Petros.   Or, it might be buried in the ruins of Petros castle.  The Corvarrans came down pretty hard on Petros."

Lythe knew that sailing into Corvarras at this point and asking them would be dangerous.  But he would like to go and check it out the ruins. Grimdon too.  If they had him as a baby perhaps they knew something.  Maybe work backwards through his life.

In the end, it was Tirian's ardent desire to speak with the Grimdon that determined their new first step.  Tirian's mission had never changed nor faltered.  The loss of Tassin was only a setback to his goal of reuniting the elemental faiths and gaining back a measure of respect for the non-human classes.

Finally agreed between all of them was that they had a cause again.  They agreed that if they could, they would win this thing for all of the unrepresented Tassins and Petrosians, for the Raylan, for the Grimdon, and also, for Bella.

Next: Corbam

It was not Tassin's plan to have his friends watching the proceedings hidden in the forest.  He would have been outraged.  Only Garthon, as his second, was allowed to attend.  The others were to be back at their camp awaiting word.  This is what Tassin ordered.  But Lythe and Jared were not soldiers, and Tirian did not yet completely understand the human concept of honor.  So they watched quietly from the edge of the forest not sixty feet away.

They were both excellent swordsmen, that was sure.  The solid metal to metal blows could be heard from a great distance.  Several times the hidden group almost gave away their location when a particularly solid blow was nearly landed by Torfait.  When a nasty slice nearly dropped Torfait they almost stood, but immediately dropped to their knees when they saw Torfait's blade hit Tassin in his midsection.  For a second time stopped, then Tassin went down hard.  They knew he was finished.  No one spoke, but without a word to each other they bounded out of the copse as one man.  Torfait and his Second saw them.  The Duke paused with a look of shock.  He obviously did not expect treachery.  His Second guessed what was happening and grabbed the Duke, but Torfait had gathered his senses and shook him off swinging his blade at Garthon, who in turn dodged the blow and pulled his blade in defense.  Lythe called out "stop the Second" who had turned to run.  Tirian let loose an arrow that dropped him.  Meanwhile, the Dukes wound finally got the better of him and he swooned just as Garthon's sword found it's mark.  The Duke fell in a heap.  "Find the jewels" Lythe cried.  Jared discovered them in the Second's pouch.  They grabbed them and ran back to camp.  "Mount up!" shouted Lythe to the twelve men, some of which had joined them in Kalda, some Morban and two from Forbesh. "We ride immediately."

Not sure what they were going to do, nor why they had grabbed the gems they headed south.  They rode hard.  Deep into Blaad territory.  They did not care about danger.  They had lost a dear friend in a nightmare.  They had acted rashly.  They had no honor.  And now, they had no cause.  Would they simply ransom the royal items and live on the profits?  They were not sure if they could live this down.  They told the men that Tassin had died honorably in the battle and lost the royal jewels.  That it was all over.  The men rode with them awhile, not knowing what to do with themselves.  They really could not go home with such news. They ran all the way to DOM and once there sought refuge in the Gaping Maw Inn.  After that day they never saw the twelve men again.

Finally after a week of beer-gazing, they decided to look up Portas Bandreth and Bella.  Lythe knew that they had gone to Fortan to plead with Baldoral's ancient aunt to fund the circus.  But inquiries in Fortan led them back to DOM.  Portas had gone away, with a small stipend from the aunt.  Bella decided that it was time to retire to the big city, and Baldoral's generous old aunt had granted her a small pension. 

Arriving at Bella's door, the four travelers must have looked a sight.  Recognizing Lythe and Garthon she allowed them in, provided board and bed.

They were there several days before Lythe worked up the courage to confide in her.  He looked positively terrified when he stated "We have six signet rings, three crowns and three scepters."

Next: You have everything but what you need…

Lord Tassin was a military man.  He had served as a Captain in the Kaldan Guard.  So he naturally had an ear when he arrived back in that province with the signet ring of Tassa and Buhween.  Kalda knew that Fane would simply pass them by if they had no regalia, and as the Raylan groves were on their lands, they saw aligning with Tirian as a diplomatic coup.  The party had spent several days in the Groves and had the blessing of the Raylan elders.

Going north, the troup won over Morban quickly.   Even though Morban had been conquered by Kalda province years earlier, they were allied with both them and the Rayla as they abutted the two Raylan groves.  Forbesh had the grove of Glamellil on their lands and were keen to listen when Tassin arrived with the agreement of the other royals bordering the groves.  Forbesh was eager to be out of the contest as they knew they could count on a visit by both Fane and Castan, both of which had far superior armies.

Such fortune would have a tendency to go to your head.  Picking up a lean contingent of henchmen along the way, Tassin rode into Torfait with nine royal jewels.  He figured that the most Fane could have at this point was probably eight.  He felt that destiny was shining on him.  But Torfait had no Raylan groves.  Torfait knew that their army would be no match for Blaad or Castan, but they would not give up their regalia without a noble fight.  For the Torfait were the picture of proud nobility.  And they certainly were not going to hand their jewels over to a team of circus performers.

"I thank you great Duke for the honor of your audience." Duke Tonas Torfait stared fixedly on the young man before him.  He agreed to this meeting because he was curious to meet the man who had talked old Forbesh into giving up the goods.  "Forbesh was an old fool" he had thought.  "A cowardly fool that had no honor whatsoever."  Yet, a secret even to himself, he longed for an honorable way to rid himself of this ridiculous contest while still remaining in power.  He too, was a military man.  Trained in arms since youth, he had studied military tactics in Blaad, and had trained his own army, as small as it was.

"Perhaps you have heard why we are here, but please allow me to explain."  The young man continued.  His argument was sound, but he was a foreigner.  Associated with raylan and elementals.  The Duke started drifting off.  Tassin knew that he was losing his client.  He could see that if he had been from Torfait, he might just have pulled it off.  He knew the Duke wanted to be rid of the contest, but he also knew that honorable battle would be the only way.  So he changed tactics.  "We  will fight you in the field for the jewels.  If you win, you get them all.  If we win, we walk away with yours."  The two men looked at each other.  Honorable battle without too much bloodshed thought the duke.  "You will lose" he said.  "Your men cannot compare with my soldiers."  "You are right" admitted Tassin.  "So just the two of us then.  With only one second each."  Both men knew that the other would not allow their honor debased by treachery.  "I agree" said the Duke.  That night they feasted.  Tassin told the others about the plan.  "If I die, then it was not meant to be.  And my famiy's honor will have been served.  You can then return to your lives."  Petros and the others were disappointed.  The plan was to talk them out of their regalia, not fight duels.  But there was no changing Tassin's mind.  So, on a fine early summer morning, Lord Athos Tassin and Duke Tonas Torfait met on the field of battle.

Next: Plan B

This map depicts the routes that the Petrosians took during the historic march for Kingdom during the DOM TRIPLO contest.

Signing on to the contest proved a cloak and dagger affair. Nobles arriving in DOM came under the scrutiny of other nobles as well as any opportunistic thief ready to ransom a ring to the highest bidder.  Low profile was key. 

Our party had decided to hang up their greasepaint for a more foolish path promising greater adventure.  Having signed the documents, Lord Tassin took his new retinue and headed back to Giorda.  He was eager to get started before Fane marched and took every jewel in the kingdom.  Luckily for him, the big boys were slow to start, taking the time to raise armies, both to defend, and to march.  They all knew the King was mad, but they also wanted to win.  And besides, one year of civil war was better that a prolonged struggle for power that must ensue upon the death of Orsan, because no one wanted the cruel and egotistical Jastral Fane to inherit the throne.

Naturally Jastral Fane intended to win, and to do so at the head of a very large army.  He felt that his father was punishing him for his neglect.  He should have inherited the crown, but the mad old man was giving up everything, including him.  Sequestered in Fane, Jastral was livid that he had humiliated him in this way.  He would show everyone that he had inherited the Fane penchant for mastery over men and would ride into DOM a conqueror.  But he had only one year to both plan and move, not the ten years his Uncle Keldrun had.

Lord Tassin had no army to raise.  Without funds nor a loyal Tassin population (the city of Tassin only a memory) this was impossible.  So they chose a different tack.  No one now knows who first suggested it, but legend has attached it to Lythe Petros.  "Why don't we just ask for them?  Why don't we just ride up to the castle of the smaller provinces, tell them that we will represent their interests and ask them for their crown, ring and scepter?"
It was a plan that must have met with skepticism.  Why would they give them up?  Who were we to ask?  Why would they give them to US?  It would take a bit of soul searching to come up with answers that would match Lord Tassin's lofty enthusiasm to win. 

But an answer did come.  First and foremost was fear.  Smaller provinces feared larger provinces and all feared Fane.  They knew that they would eventually turn over their regalia to someone.  Perhaps at the end of a bloody and decimating battle, or worse, a peaceful humiliating handover to the hated hun to avoid bloodshed.  But could they trust their valuables to this small band easily conquered?  The group would definitely need their aid.  But what if Tassin were later swayed by others against the province?  They needed more reason to buy in.  In the end, it would require no only Tassin's immense charm, but the pure Esamic message of Tirian. And if you want to convince, having an Enchanter, Energeticist, and Empath certainly does not hurt.  The troupe finally found their calling.  They became a small peaceful version of Kelrun's march of over 80 years earlier.  They rode into town, set up a stage and performed a mystery play while Tassin would appeal to the royals.  Sometimes this would fail, as in their first attempt in Giorda, but they did not give up.  Their first success was in Buhween, just outside of the Raylan grove of Hammellil.  To a  people sympathetic to the Raylan cause, Tirian's message sealed the deal.  Nothing breeds success like success, so more victories would follow; Kalda, (who feared Fane), Morban (because Kalda had trusted them.)  Forbesh, who had been battered by both Fane and Castan for centuries eventually agreed to the idea.  But in Torfait, their hubris would take a beating.

Next: The Fateful Day