An Extinguished Fire at the Crossroads

The water stilled by the coming winter's cold, there was little in the way of beauty to be had in the Crossroads. The lone source of warmth along that stretch of road was a figure dressed in greens and browns, standing on a small dock along the river. He seemed deep in thought, staring out across the water.

A dark, armored figure - blade already drawn - stood some paces behind him, watching. The figure on the dock twirled a red gem between his fingers before skipping it across the water. It bounced across the glassy surface with near-inaudible plinks, before slipping under the surface. If he noticed the dark figure behind him, it was not until words were spoken did he acknowledge it.

"This is a bad spot for fishing."

A comment made before by the dark armored figure, asked time and time again to every person he saw standing on the dock. Very few ever gave the response he was looking for.

Former Zhentarim and former Akh'Velahr stood face to face on that dock, an arm and a blade's reach away, and spoke for a time. It was not a friendly chat, nor was it threatening, laced with the immediacy of one about to attack. Instead, it sounded more like two worn-out men, and all they had left was to compare notes on life. It was hard to say which one of them was more successful at this point.

"The only thing I ask, is the honor of cremating my corpse."

Ardylan Tyrn'athiem, the dark armored figure, raised his blade first. The large, gleaming adamantine scimitar dripped a viscous liquid onto the creaky wooden dock, sizzling as it made contact. Aerys Ebonhawke - the figure on the dock - followed suit with his own blades.

"Flame guide your path..."

The fight itself was brief. A few swings, a few parries, both men clearly trained to be efficient killers. The only difference seemed to be luck - just pure, dumb luck. Eventually Ardylan struck the blow that sent Aerys to the ground in defeat.

Ardylan stood above Aerys for awhile, looking down at him and watching him bleed out and go limp. Showing more mercy than he'd ever shown a Zhent, he knelt at the man's side, whispered something to him, and slit his throat - finally ending his life. After a quick search of belongings, and a few items taken from Aerys, the body was dragged off the docks and to the grass. With a bit of magic, his body went up in flames - just as Aerys had requested.

Ardylan reached into his pocket and tossed out a small metal object, throwing it into the burning pyre and letting it melt with the corpse. When asked why he stood there for so long, talking to the Zhent before killing him, Ardylan simply replied:

"I have enough respect for life to hear a man out before he dies."

Whatever words were whispered to Aerys before his death are now known only to Ardylan, Aerys, and the wind.

~*~

A short time later, at the Royal Oak, Ardylan sat in a booth surrounded by his friends. The necklace he took from Aerys hung around his neck, tucked safely under his armor - after a brief inspection that it was not cursed, of course. The former Vanguard's journal and piece of parchment lay on the table on front of Ardylan. The parchment had been silently read, but Ardylan had only read the first page of the journal, containing only the man's name.

"Aerys Ebonhawke" Ardylan read outloud, slowly, as if exploring the sound as he said it. All this time he'd never known the man's first name - a name that a mother, somewhere, had once picked out with great pride and joy.

At what point the man stopped being "Aerys" and became "Vanguard Ebonhawke", not in formality of title but in spirit and mind, will remain a mystery.