Dark Cathedral:
The Quest for Silver City

"Just a moment!" he panted in response, quickly tying his hair back and putting on his helmet. The knocking started again. Ready to leave, Baelisk opened the door and went out quickly. He looked briefly to see that the one who had been knocking was Avaezal, a brawny, flat-faced guardsman.

"Oh," Baelisk puffed, exasperated, "I’m sorry, Avaezal. I’m in a terrible hurry." Then he started trotting briskly down the corridor. Avaezal jogged forward and started trotting alongside the flustered captain of the guard.

"Why are ya in such a terr’ble hurry?" asked Avaezal.

"Well," replied Baelisk, a little breathless and not slackening his pace, "I’m due for a very important meeting. You know me: always trying to be punctual for a meeting! Especially one with the king. I should hope anyone would want to be punctual for that!"

"What?" Avaezal blurted, suddenly stopping and grabbing Baelisk’s arm to stop him, too. "The king? What business have ya got with the king?"

"Really, Avaezal, I’ll tell you when I get back." Baelisk said, braking out of the guardsman’s grasp and starting down the hall again. Avaezal was tempted to pursue some more, but Baelisk was obviously too hurried to discuss. He watched the captain with wonder and annoyance as he disappeared down the corridor.

Baelisk, on the other hand, was not thinking about his talk with Avaezal. Much more important was his meeting with the king. Somewhere over his head, the great-voiced bell of the Hymn to Dammon Cathedral struck the hour.

4’o clock! Baelisk thought with horror. I have less than half an hour to get to the castle!

He was sprinting at top speed now, toward the closest stable. It wasn’t far, and the caretaker was outside brushing a catamog’s fur. Baelisk ran up to the caretaker, wheezing.

"Ineedamount—now!" he panted.

The caretaker looked wide-eyed, but quickly ran into the stable and produced a saddled, wolf-like catamog. As he handed Baelisk the reins, Baelisk likewise produced a small bag of coins, shoved it into the caretaker’s hand, and as soon as his leg swung over the saddle, spurred his new steed forward. The caretaker weighed the bag in one hand and spilled the coins out into the other. His eyes went wide with shock.

"Sir!" he yelled after Baelisk. "This is far too much!" But he was gone. Out of hearing, but even if he had been able to hear he was far too rushed to care. Gold was easy to come by; becoming royalty was a one in a million proposition.

Baelisk rode hard, spurring his catamog through the winding streets of Tataria toward the hard skyline of Stonecastle that constantly loomed over the city. Street merchants and young children looked up in surprise as the captain shot by on his steed. One pottery merchant ran into Baelisk’s path, assuming that he might stop. An instant before the pot-carrying merchant would have been run over, he realize that the guard captain was not about to stop and jumped out of the way, dropping pot.

Baelisk hadn’t even seen the merchant, and probably would have broken more than a pot if the merchant hadn’t moved. His focus was on the castle. At some point he realized that riding so blindly could be a hazard to the people on the streets. Their problem for jumping in the way of a catamog in full sprint! he reasoned breathlessly.

After what seemed to him much longer than half an hour, Baelisk finally crossed the drawbridge to the Stonecastle. He was tired; his armor was twisted around his body with the straps in the wrong places, and his hair was as stiff as straw. He rode to the royal stables and asked the stable boy to watch his catamog, who was deathly exhausted, and then started walking toward the gate, trying to straighten his armor as best he could.

When he got there, two royal guards were standing in front of the rusty portcullis, looking bored but impressive in their silver armor and scarlet surcoats. Baelisk stepped forward and saluted. The guards saluted back.

"I am here to see the king." he said. "He is expecting me."

"And who would you be?" said the guard standing to the right.

"Forgive me. I am Captain Baelisk of the Hymn to Dammon Cathedral."

The guards nodded in approval and motioned to a turret high above. As they did so, the portcullis slowly began to lift. After a moment, the gate clicked to a stop. The guard on the left motioned for Baelisk to follow, then led him into the castle.

The guard led him through many halls and stairways, making him feel confused and certain that they were going in circles. The guard seemed to know where he was going, however, and before too long they were standing before a great iron-wrought door that led into the throne room. Standing to the side was another more impressive looking guard. Without saying anything, the outside guard turned and left Baelisk with the new guard, who took a small horn and blew a short riff. In turn, larger horns played the same tune from inside the throne room. The guard opened the door and led Baelisk in.

The room was huge, with many guards and wise-men and entertainers scattered around on either side of a long, red velvet carpet that led all the way up to Bernin, the king. He was sitting on a jewel-encrusted throne, with Princess Chamina sitting on a more understated throne to his right, and a scholarly looking Tatarian with a scroll standing to his left. There was a breathless atmosphere to the chamber; the people were all staring at the visitor expectantly.

"The captain, your Highness." said the guard. With a nod, the guard turned and went out.

Baelisk was stiff with nervousness. He stepped forward as carefully and with as much dignity as he could. Up at the throne, the king quietly dismissed the scholar. Baelisk finally found himself before the king. He bowed humbly.

"Captain Baelisk Roterra, here as you wished, your Majesty."

The king looked down at him and smiled. "Very good." he said. "Just on time, I think. Now, you were here about herding a flock of sheep down from the mountains, hmm?"

"Er, well," Baelisk stammered, confused, "no, your Highness. I actually came over the matter of your daughter. I believe we arranged to talk about this a few weeks ago, if I am correct. I am here to ask for the hand of Princess Chamina." He bowed again, looking at the princess as he did so. She smiled.

"Ah, yes!" said the king. "I remember. Well, then, if I were to give you my daughter’s hand, what would you give in return?"

Baelisk took a sack of coins off of his belt, stepped up to the throne, and humbly offered it to the king upon one knee. The king took it and gently opened it. He took out a coin. "Is this some sort of joke?" he said loudly. Baelisk felt weak.

"Your Majesty, I bring you the finest and rarest coins in all of Lavithius Valley."

Angered, the king threw down the pouch, and several copper and silver coins flew out of it as it hit the ground.

"Oh! Blast," Baelisk said to himself as he realized what had happened. He had been in such a hurry that when he had paid for his steed he had given his collection or rare gold and starmetal coins to the caretaker, which left the king with nothing but Baelisk’s weekly payment. He crumpled into a very low and respectful bow. "My sincerest apologies, your Highness." he said. "There has been a mix-up."

"I should hope it was a mistake!" replied the king with disdain. "Paying a workman’s wages for the hand of my beloved daughter! Well, then, you have nothing to offer?"

Baelisk sighed with despair. "I have nothing that is equal in value to such a beautiful treasure as your daughter, your Highness. But please! There must be something that I could do; something I could give you that would make you reconsider. I am only a guard captain from a monastery. I am not rich; I have no treasures to give you. All I have is my weekly wages and what the gods gave me! I beg you, give me some chance to win the hand of your daughter. I would travel to every corner of the world—"

"Alright!" the king interrupted. "Thank you! You are a strong speaker, and you certainly have your heart in the right place. There might be something you could do. Hmm," The king paused and considered for a moment. "Have you ever heard of the Silver City?"

"Yes, your Majesty, in tales." Baelisk replied as politely as he dared, trying not to seem rude by chuckling a little. The Silver City was a mythical utopia that was said to exist in some other realm, a magical place where everything was light and good and beautiful. A good setting for a children’s tale; certainly not for a guard to seek out, if he wanted any sort of positive reputation.

"Good." said the King. "Very well then. To win my daughter’s hand, you must bring me the fabled Silver Star of Sanctity, the nexus of magic, that rests in the heart of Silver City."

Baelisk didn’t respond for a moment. "But your Highness, I—"

"I don’t want to hear it." the king interrupted shortly. "That is the price for the hand of the princess. You may go."

Baelisk opened his mouth to say something else, but he thought better of it. It would not be wise to argue with the king. He was lucky to get any chance at marrying the princess whatsoever. No matter how absurd that chance is, Baelisk thought with a flash of annoyance. Picking up a few of the scattered coins and giving a final short bow, Baelisk turned and walked away from the throne.

A little while later, Baelisk rode up to the Hymn to Dammon Cathedral, exhausted and exasperated. Avaezal happened to be one of the guards standing on duty at the main entrance, the other being a short young warrior named Gnyph.

"Lawks!" Avaezal exclaimed as Baelisk wearily slipped out of the saddle. "Ya dinna talk ta the king lookin’ like that, did ya?"

Baelisk snorted and adjusted his helmet. "A lot of good telling me now."

"Well?" Avaezal said expectantly. "What’s goin’ on? What happened?"

Baelisk sighed. "I don’t know. It’s a long story. All I can tell you is that I have to bend reality and somehow get the Silver Star of Sanctity if I’m ever going to win the hand of Princess Chamina."

"Oh ho! Avaezal laughed. "So that whole hurry earlier was over the princess? I shoulda guessed it. You’ve been obsessin’ over that fine woman fer ages. Lawks, she’s goter self a nice—"

"Hold it!" Baelisk snapped. "Did you even hear what I said?"

"Lawks," Avaezal grumbled, "how should I know how your gonna get the Silver Star of Sanctity?"

Baelisk sighed again. "It would help if I actually knew something about it."

"Perhaps I could be a bit of help." replied a female voice behind him. Baelisk and the others turned to see a woman wrapped with multiple plain-looking scarves and shawls. She pulled down her hood to reveal a head of gorgeous golden curls.

"Princess Chamina!" exclaimed Baelisk, bowing. The other guards bowed as well. "What are you doing here, my lady?"

The princess pulled at the reins of her catamog and made a quick bow in response to theirs. "I told my father I was going out for a ride in the countryside." she said a little guiltily. "He doesn’t know I’m here; I’m not supposed to be," she paused and blushed, "but I had to come and thank you for your kind words."

Baelisk blushed. Avaezal rolled his eyes. "Thank you for your kind visit, my lady." the captain replied quietly. "But what help do you have to offer?"

"Well," replied Chamina, gracefully getting down from her steed, then walking up to Baelisk. In a voice that was soft and mystic, she said,

"When I was young, my father hired a royal scholar to teach me; things like how to behave during a feast, how to ride a catamog like a lady, basic knowledge for a princess, I suppose. He was teaching me to be a typical noblewoman.

"But he was no typical scholar. In fact, he wasn’t a scholar. He was a wizard. Not a magician from the city streets, who did tricks with cards and colored smoke, but a real wizard, like the legends speak about…like Culric.

"This is what he taught me of Silver City. He never told me about himself, but he told me that in the far north, there is a temple. A sorcerer’s citadel where the Great Wizard Shu’ri Culric was buried.

"But the scholar said that more than Culric’s body resides in that temple. He told me that there lies a secret—a key—to the whereabouts of Silver City. He told me that he had tried to travel there, but never found the temple. But he also said that he knew it was there; that he had not been destined to find it, but that if he passed the knowledge down to others, that perhaps one day they would find it, and along with it, the secret to the location of the legendary Silver City."

"So to find the Silver City, I must first find this temple?" Baelisk said.

"I believe so." Chamina replied helplessly. "I’m afraid that’s all I know."

Baelisk took her hands in his. "It is enough, and you have helped immensely." He bowed, kissing her hand as he did. "I shall return with the Star."

Chamina smiled sweetly, then remounted her catamog. She looked down at him with a loving, sad expression. "I hope you return to me safely." Then she turned and rode back toward the castle.

Baelisk let out a breath and was silent for long moment. "I don’t have time to waste." he said at length. "I shall pack provisions tonight and leave at dawn."

"Well!" Avaezal exclaimed. "you never were one to waste time, anyway."

Baelisk smiled weakly. "Yes, I suppose that’s so. But the sooner I start this, the sooner I can have it done."

Avaezal laughed. "Ya got the gift of understatement." he chuckled. "But yer not doin’ it all alone, are ya?"

"I suppose not." Baelisk said, not having considered this himself. "I suppose I’ll swing by Catcring and bring Shanju with me, if he’s willing. I would take you, Avaezal, but someone needs to act as guard captain while I’m away. If you would."

"Sure," Avaezal replied, "by all means, don’t worry about leavin’ me behind." He laughed.

"Hmm," Baelisk mused, stroking his catamog’s neck, "do you suppose there’s somewhere I can keep this beast until morning?"

"Don’t ya have ta taker back ta th’ stables?"

Baelisk laughed. "No, with the tip I gave the caretaker, I doubt he’ll even miss her."

Chapter Two: The Beginning of a Long Journey

That night Baelisk packed a few weeks worth of provisions, and the next day he rode out. With not much more than a wave goodbye, he started west toward the Mahnjuan city of Catcring, which was about week’s ride away. I hope he is willing to come, thought Baelisk as he rode, otherwise I’ll be doing all of this by myself.

Baelisk rode across the fields of the sunlit valley without mishap. The days were pleasant, but long, and the nights were cold in the shadow of the Crest Mountains to the north. After a long week of riding through field and forest, Baelisk finally reached the city of Catcring.

Baelisk rode up to the city gates. There, two slender Mahnjuan guards stood watch. Baelisk hailed them, and seeing that the Tatarian was no threat, the guards returned the hail and opened the gates for him to pass.

Baelisk stepped out onto the busy main street of Catcring. All around him, he could hear the familiar bustle of city life. Children running around, chasing each other, trying to steal fruit from the grocer, who always slapped them on the bottom with a stick to drive them away. Couples walking along the sides of the streets, browsing merchants’ booths. Crowds of men gathering together and talking about adventures that they would never really get around to having, or never really had, or weren’t as exciting as they made them sound, while their wives were bragging about how adventurous their husbands were, and exclaiming over the beauty and price of rare Westlandish silks.

It wasn’t very long before Baelisk found what he was looking for. As he turned a corner, he saw an impressive looking citadel, built from white marble and almost seeming to shine with supernatural brilliance in the sunlight. Baelisk dismounted, tied his catamog’s reins to a post, and went inside.

The inside of the citadel was dark and stuffy, and smelled heavily of incense. Windows were few, and those that did exist were stained red and curtained with cobwebs. A few candles were lit here and there, to illuminate statues of Mahnjuan heroes and saints. Baelisk walked along a worn red carpet that led up to the alter. There stood a Mahnjuan priest with a long white robe. His back was to Baelisk, and his low voice chanted in some strange language. This was the High Priest, leader of the Cleric’s guild.

Baelisk took a cautious step forward. "Excuse me,"

The High Priest stopped chanting and turned to look at the visitor.

"I am sorry to have interrupted you, your Eminence," Baelisk said with a bow. "I am here to see Shanju."

"Ah ha." replied the High Priest. "Is he expecting you?"

"No," Baelisk replied, "I’m on rather short notice business. I didn’t have time to contact him before I came here from Tataria."

"I see…and will you need him long?"

"Possibly for many weeks. Perhaps months."

The High Priest started. "Months?" he echoed uncertainly. "Whatever will you need him that long for?"

"It’s a rather long story." Baelisk replied, "One that he must hear himself, with all due respect to you, your Eminence."

"Hmm…"mused the High Priest, "very well. You may speak with him, and he may go with you, if it so interests him to accompany you." The priest walked to the back of the chamber and exited through a large bolted door. "Months!" he muttered to himself as he shut the door behind him.

Baelisk waited patiently. After a moment, a tall Mahnjuan entered the chamber through the bolted door. He had a careworn face, and held a gnarled wooden staff. A long white scarf was draped over his shoulders, mostly obscuring his ringmail adornments. The Mahnjuan immediately recognised the Tatarian.

"Baelisk!" he laughed in surprise, stepping forward and clasping his hand in a strong handshake. "What a pleasant surprise to see you, my friend! What brings you to Catcring?"

"I came here to see you, actually." Baelisk replied. "I suppose I might as well get straight to the point. I’m on a mission, you see."

"Oh really?" Shanju laughed. "What is it this time? Has the king misplaced his daughter again?"

"No," Baelisk replied, "but it does concern the princess. The details are unimportant for now, but if I am to marry her, I must find the Silver Star of Sanctity and bring it to the king."

There was a long pause. Suddenly Shanju began laughing heartily. "Ha! Ha! Very good!" he chuckled. "But really, what is your mission?"

Baelisk wasn’t smiling anymore. "I’m serious."

Shanju stifled a few chuckles as he read Baelisk’s all-too-serious expression. "Well, why come here, then? I don’t have the Star."

"I was hoping you would come with me." Baelisk replied, cautiosly. "This is a great challenge; one that I cannot take on alone."

"Dammon protect us!" Shanju blurted. "You come to me out of the blue and expect me to pick up and join you on a journey to a place that doesn’t even exist?"

"Well, think of it as a vacation from tending to the citadel. Besides, you don’t know for certain that it doesn’t exist."

"Fah!" Shanju snapped, crossing his arms. "Give me one good reason."

"You need to get out more?"

Shanju eyed him like a cat eyeing a parakeet.

Baelisk sighed. "You are the most powerful Cleric I know. Besides, just think what it would mean to actually find the Silver City! Please, Shanju. I need your help!"

Shanju snorted and seemed to think for a moment. He glanced at Baelisk, who matched this gaze intently. Then Shanju sighed. "Oh, very well." he said resignedly. "I suppose it all won’t be that bad. When do we leave, then?"

"As soon as possible." Baelisk replied, smiling with gratitude. "I don’t want to delay; the princess is loyal to me, but she can’t wait forever. The king would be delighted to marry her to any prince who came along before I returned."

"Alright, then." Shanju replied. "I shall gather some provisions today, and we will leave tomorrow."

The next day dawned a beautiful late-spring morning. The two friends, a Tatarian guard and a Mahnjuan cleric, began riding toward the mountain pass that led to the strange and wild lands outside of Lavithius Valley.

Both Shanju and Baelisk were riding sturdy catamogs with about a month's worth of food and provisions strapped to their saddles. Baelisk led the way steadily northeast.

The trip was no more exciting than Baelisk's journey to Catcring had been. They rode steadily, talking occasionally. Shanju would sometimes play his lute as they rode, or perhaps they would simply enjoy the scenery. The forest spread out dramatically before them, rising slowly toward the Crest Mountains, tattering the landscape before rapidly giving way to the craggy foothills.

Before long, their surroundings began gradually to change. The mountains loomed ever closer, and the terrain became more and more rocky and hard to traverse. They continued to ride steadily but carefully, urging their uncertain catamogs forward. Shanju was having a worse time of it than was Baelisk. His catamog was stubborn and ill-tempered, and more than once the creature lay down stubbornly and refused to move again until it's small brain, along with the urgings of it's rider, told it that the time was right. Only many valiant efforts from both Shanju and Baelisk finally got it to stand up again, and even then it took another good while before it decided to start walking.

It took many days to traverse the foothills, but at last the two friends made it to the rocky feet of the Crest Mountains. It took another two days before they found one of the few passes which could be traveled. It was a deep and forbidding canyon which became obscured in mist not far beyond the opening and which snaked it's way deep into the wildest parts of the range. Near it's entrance was a sign on a huge iron stake which read, "BELSHUN PASS".

"Hmm." Shanju grumbled, eyeing the dark and unwelcoming pass with disdain. "Is this the only way through?"

"You know this is the only way." Baelisk replied heavily. "Unless you want to travel hundreds of leagues out of the way and end up on Eastlandish territory."

Shanju snorted with irritation. "Onward through the pass, then."