2023-07-24 Elementary, My Dear Henri

As dusk from the horizon crawls towards Port Ffirst and Henri is getting ready to pay his tab in Gossamer Threads, a drow gentleman suddenly sits down in the empty chair at his table.

"Henri Fitzroy, yes? Jaezred Vandree." He puts a hand on his chest and smiles, rose-scented smoke puffing through his nostrils from the pipe in his mouth. "We met briefly at the winter faire."

"Ah, yes. Lord Vandree." Henri leans back into his seat slowly, casting his eyes about the room quickly at the sudden arrival of his guest. Content that the only eyes are on Jaezred, he settles down, folding one leg up on his knee. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, I'm late to the party but I heard that you've been asking around about Primordials, Mister…" Jaezred pauses for a quarter of a second and looks for Henri's reaction, wondering if a superior title like sir or lord would be more appropriate. "…Fitzroy. Hmm, Fitz-roy…" He relaxes in his chair, feeling the name in his mouth, and the smile quirks into a smirk. "Are you indeed the son of a king, Mr. Fitzroy?"

Henri's own lip curls into a smirk at the small jab, and a spark of intrigue flashes in his grey eyes. "Not myself, no. Waterdeep has no king, just many exhausting, dreary nobles." Henri looks down at his teacup, swirling the last few dregs amongst the leaves. "You may find royalty somewhere in my line. But mister will suffice - Lord Fitzroy is my beloved father."

"Very good, Mr. Fitzroy. As I was saying, I heard you were asking around about Primoridials. I happen to know a little something about one of them."

Jaezred's gaze shifts around at the loquacious patrons seated around them, stealing curious, furtive glances at him and Henri. Calmly, he mutters, "A little privacy, please."

In that instant, the heads of the patrons simulatenously turn to face their companions at their respective tables, and they resume chattering about other topics du jour. Their attentions completely enraptured by anything other than Jaezred and Henri.

Jaezred turns his gaze back to Henri. "And I'm curious to know why you're so interested in them…"

Henri sits up a little straighter, smoothing the wrinkles of his coat. "As I recall, you're familiar with my patrons, yes?" At the question, Henri pulls back the front of his jacket to reveal the glint of shining silver fabric within.

"These Primordials have taken an interest in the Stairs. They wish to walk them uninvited." Through a small smile, Henri's teeth grit in frustration. "And I desired only to learn a bit more about why."

The silver of the scarf glints for the briefest of seconds in Jaezred's crimson eyes. He nods in understanding. "Yes, your friend Gerhard introduced to me to the concept of the Staircase, though I've never had the pleasure of walking them myself. That is…concerning news. Which Primordials are these?"

"Just the one so far. Magdara, the First Eruption. But she mentioned her cousins, too, which I can only assume reside in the other elemental planes. Though I have met Astaros, the First Flame, and they seemed to be an ally." An eyebrow raises in question, and Henri meets Jaezred's eye. "And I can only presume that you've met a third?"

"Not met, but I have very reliable information that Glastor, the First Smoke, has been trying to sap magic from the Court of Sorcery in the Feywild. He's looking for something. The ruler of the Court of Sorcery is Farleth, the Sovereign of Secrets and Sorceries, you see. It's as if Glastor is looking for a secret kind of magic…"

"Hmm." Henri withdraws a small notebook from his breast pocket, flipping through a number of pages before landing on one titled Primodials Incarnate. "Gerhard mentioned that the Primordials were attempting to access the Staircase with magic. Old magic, meant to be lost to mortals..."

From his pocket, a small vial of ink floats onto the top of the table. A quill rises to join it, dabbing twice in the ink before scratching a quick note onto the paper.

The smoke from Jaezred's pipe clumps and darkens to form the shape of a broad-chested humanoid with glowing eyes.

"The First Smoke. Hmm..." Henri cocks his head to the side, willing the pieces of the puzzle to join and reveal themselves.

"Do you believe these Primordials to be in league with each other, Mr. Fitzroy? The First Eruption is sure to have created the First Smoke, no?"

"It's a good question, and one that I feel you've made clearer. Magdara, and... Glastor, was it? Glastor, they're from the Para-Elemental planes, yes? And appear to be allied. Whereas Astaros, from the Plane of Fire, seemed to be... well, if not on our side, ambivalent to their cousins' struggle."

Henri returns to his notebook, flipping through once more as he mutters to himself. "Which would leave Ice, and... Ooze. Huh." He stops at a page, this one detailing notes from a journey with Lucky to that very plane. A wide grin breaks across his lips, his excitement bubbling over. "I need to confirm something, but we could have our fifth Primordial."

Jaezred laces his fingers together on the table, smiling, apparently pleased that Henri managed to put the pieces together. "Excellent. I think you know where to go next, then… But humour me. The Staircase can lead to anywhere in the universe. Where do you think they're aiming to go?"

Henri's notebook snaps shut, and he plucks it from midair to place it back in his breast pocket.

"That's what makes this... interesting. I think they wish to go beyond. To the Void of Nothingness, outside of Creation. And it's not where they want to go, but what they wish to retrieve. It seems there are four Primordial Behemoths, creations from the Dawn War, long since dead and imprisoned there. And if they were able to reach them, to absorb some of that primordial energy..." Henri shrugs, resuming his laissez-faire position. "I imagine it would cause us no small amount of distress."

The amusement dissipates from Jaezred's handsome face. This revelation has got him in a serious mood. He thinks for a moment. "No doubt. And what do you think they wish to do with this power? Overthrow their more famous elemental siblings?"

"Possibly. They also seem to hold a grudge for these... Archwyrms. The first dragons, I'm led to believe. Nine creations of the gods. Which, speaking of, they may want to usurp as well."

"Goodness me." Jaezred sighs and takes the pipe out of his mouth. "These godlings sure are troublesome, aren't they? They vie for more power than they've been afforded, and they are soon to learn that power is a burden." His eyes flick to the sliver of the silver scarf showing under Henri's jacket.

"Glastor's adventures may very well impact the magic of the Feywild. And that would be inconvenient for the notion of stability across the planes. Clearly, these Primordials do not care about what they may topple and knock over in their quest for power."

He points a finger to Henri and casts message.

Henri grins, raising his brow briefly as though to say "what do you think?"

A wide grin spreads across Jaezred's face.

"Excellent."

"The next time you come here, Mr. Fitzroy, please feel free to make use of the private rooms. They are guaranteed to provide absolute privacy. And that offer extends to your associates Gerhard, Orianna, and Calla as well."

Henri inclines his head in thanks. "And if you ever wish to have the pleasure of walking the Stairs, you only need ask."

Jaezred falls quiet for moment. Thinking. "I would like to try it once, I think. But just once. As I've said, power if a burden. Mr. Fitzroy."

He looks around the patrons around him once more. "They're not listening to a thing we're saying."

Henri follows his gaze. "So they are. I must ask The Navigator to teach me that one, if he ever decides I'm worth it."

"The Navigator, eh? I've not heard of that one. Just your illustrious Mister."

"Oh yes. The Infinite Family lives up to its name." Henri holds his hand out, counting off on his fingers as he recites off a list. "The Navigator, The Scriber, The Watcher. The Matriarch, who seems to sit above them all. And you've maybe heard of Andromeda? She was reduced to just her beating heart by Magdara, but she'll heal."

From the now closed fist, he points a finger out in exclamation. "And you can count dear Gerhard amongst their ranks, too. 'The Herald'."

Jaezred chuckles "‘Herald'. That suits him. But what about yourself? What's your title?"

"Ah." Henri deflates a bit, his shoulders slouching forward briefly - clearly, a sore point for him, and not one that he is adept at hiding. "I've not been blessed with one. My patron is not... excited, at the idea of guiding me. So it's been 'The Errand Boy', 'The Burden'. You get the idea."

The Jester
Henri hears the voice again.

Jaezred raises a brow. "Well, that is no way to treat a loyal warlock. Absolute nonsense, I say."

"You're telling me."

"Say, Henri — may I call you that? — I'm going to game at the Flourished Hook tonight. Poker. I reckon you'd be good at that. Would you care to join me? Meet even more dreary nobles and cheat them out of their money?"

"And…" Jaezred casts a glance over his shoulder at the dwarven manager of the tea rooms, standing behind the counter. "Your tab is on me."

"I would be honored, Jaezred. Though I must get back to Daring Heights before long and speak to the others about what I've learned this week, so I'm afraid it will need to be a quick game. Though I am sure a single hand will be enough." A wolfish grin punctuates the sentence, and Henri chuckles a moment. "And you have my thanks. For that, and for your information, and your company. I do not accept them lightly."

"Quick it shall be. You may be surprised what these bigwigs are willing to spend to cover for their ego." Jaezred grins. "And I need not say that I would love to learn of any further developments on this affair, yes?"

With that, Jaezred stands up, taking up a crystal-topped cane, and beckons for Henri to follow him out of the establishment.

"I'll see to it that a letter makes its way to you once I know more." Henri collects his few things, and with a deep nod in thanks towards the proprietors, follows Jaezred out into the evening.

The spell on the patrons wears off. Their faces appear dazed as if coming out of stupor, and they look in puzzlement at the empty table that Henri and Jaezred had just occupied. But by then, the doors have closed, leaving almost no trace of the two young noblemen.

Featuring the immense talents of...

🕸️ Jaz as Jaezred Vandree 🕸️

☕️ Alex as Henri Fitzroy ☕️

with snide interjections courtesy of...

🧭 Charlie (DM) as Pantos, The Navigator 🧭