These events take place before the events of Rise of the Obsidian Legion.
I march from the cave mouth, cutlass drawn and pointing to everyone but Amon. He has already proven that he is genuine in wanting to help people so I have no reason to question him. I scream out in frustration for everyone to show me their left arm all the way to the chest. If I see that brand I will cut them down myself.
Prince Amarth ties to calm my rage but I have come too far for lies, I have to know. I repeat myself to him, not to trust anyone even if that person is myself until he knows who is pledged to his cause.
I focus my anger and paranoia on Balasar first. The bastard copperborn has to have ties to Novak. They are of the same breed. After a few days of being in Red Larch to do work for The Restless Hand he arrives, followed by their leader just days later. He has to be involved, I can feel it.
He takes off his armor, across his chest is a tattoo of three connected dragons, his symbol for his deity. His faith is that of Trithereon, a god of liberty and retribution. I claim not to know about the deities and their ways but it seems to be enough for Amon.
How Balasar came to Waterdeep before he was a hatchling is unknown. The copperborn was raised and trained as a member of the city’s guard. This makes it even harder for me to trust him knowing how some of the guard has been under Novak’s influence long before I was forced into his ranks.
But if the prince trust him I have to learn how to myself as well. Living the life I have makes it difficult to put faith in others. Balasar does not have the mark like myself. For now it is going to have to be enough.
Lithia Muun is quick to show me her wrist to breast, which may have been too much. I see there is no shame on her face, just a small mischievous smile. If she is using this to gain advantage it is quite hard to tell. Knowing that she has Amon around her finger, the show of skin may be her way of gaining me under her influence. It is hard to place trust in this one but her powerful magic has proved enough to be an ally.
Charlotte is the complete opposite of Lithia. She begs me to not reveal herself. I can easily see she is very embarrassed and upset at the whole situation. There is no choice in the matter. She turns to her prince for support but she quickly sees there is none there. Good. Amon is realizing what is at stake.
She ask if we can go behind the wagon so not to show herself to the others which I agree. I feel guilty watching her slide her left arm out of the sleeve to her dress. Watching her cry brings me no pride but I have to know. We all need to know. The innocents of Red Larch is at stake. Her livelihood is at stake.
There is nothing there.
I move around the wagon to see Henry staring at the ground, a look of regret on his face. The expression is all I need to know. As he removes his shirt the brand of The Restless Hand scars his chest.
The rage is released.
With cutlass held high I dash the dwarf. He makes no move to defend himself as his head hangs, staring at his boots. Amon intercepts me, halting my swinging, shouting at me to stop. I try with all my strength to fight him off. I scream to all those watching how he will sell us out, that we cannot trust him.
With the quietest of words Henry silences us all. He tells his young prince to let me go, that he deserves death for his sins. Amon looks at him confused, not catching on.
But I do as I hear the shame in his voice. It is all too familiar because I sounded the same earlier this day telling Amon how Novak took everything from me. My cutlass drops to the ground as I understand the pain of his words.
A tear falls from his eye as he reveals to Amon Amarth that he was responsible for the war that tore his country apart.