"Working!", Phylis shouts as Aodhan knocks on her room. He is about to open the door, but then remembers and thinks better of it.

"How can you be working in there? This isn't your lab, it's our guest quarters!"

"Just some minor modifications. It's safe to come in."

Aodhan opens the door, takes a step into the room and stops abruptly as a green flame shoots out of some contraption on a nearby table, stopping just a few inches in front of him.

"You said it was safe to come in!"

"It was. I have the field containment runes tuned correctly. Finally. It stopped short of you, didn't it?"

"Er, yes. By a hand's width."

"Yep. All good, then."

"Are you sure the librarians will see it the same way? Playing with fire here in Candle Keep?"

"First, I'm not playing. I'm adjusting arcane equipment. Second, this is not fire. Well, it is in practice, but not technically. Third, as you just saw, it's under control. Oh, and fourth - I kept the door closed."

"I see. Fifth, I guess, I of all people should know better than assume you're just playing around with dangerous experiments."

"Yep. Got a whole clan running around with that prejudice. No need for my father to do the same. So, what is it?"

"The lord asked for you."

"Ah, he finally got around to reading my report to the lord, then."

"... if you need to report something to the Lord, why not do it in person?"

"Different Lord, same report. This one is headed for Neverwinter."

"Wait. You wrote a report to Neverwinter and gave it to Alasdair?"

"Yep. As a sign of trust. If I were in his shoes, they would be far too big for me. Also, I would like to know what that faction agent is reporting home."

"I see you're in a good mood.", Aodhan says as they leave the room and head for Alasdair's. "So what's in the report?"

"Mostly a brief summary of what we discovered about the Aboleth. In particular it's presumed weaknesses and modus operandi."

"That all?"

"Well, and a brief paragraph on how things stand here. The group being more motivated now that we know what we're up against. The fact that it will likely require considerable resources - and manpower - to face down the Aboleth. Neither of which the Rabenzwists currently possess."

"Hmm. That's no secret, either."

"Then a short summary of the estimated threat. From the history book, it seems the Aboleth operates on a local level. It will likely remain constrained to Rabenzinne for quite some time, and even mid-term spread no further than Yartar. It's unlikely that Neverwinter itself is threatened in the foreseeable future."

"Erm ..."

"Plus, the potential resources won for the Lord's Alliance should Rabenzinne join in repayment for aid are likely to be outweighed by the cost of an attack on the Aboleth. It seems a very formidable foe.", Phylis continues jovially.

"Erm ... Phylis?", Aodhan stops. "You have become scarily good at these kinds of joke. What's really in there?"

"That wasn't a joke. The Lord of Neverwinter likes jokes, but more the practical kind, and certainly not in his agent's reports. He also expects us to give a straightforward assessment of the situation. Which I am doing."

"And you gave this to Alasdair?", Aodhan asks in disbelief.

"As a sign of trust. It finishes with the statement that I will continue to support this effort - you are, after all, my father. Plus a personal opinion that while ignoring this threat is a mid-term plus at the resources level, I at least would be very uncomfortable with a threat like this sitting right on our border."

"You are giving personal opinions to the Lord of Neverwinter?"

"He always expects us to put personal opinions at the end of a report. I don't think it influences his decision making. To be honest, I think it's more to get a picture of how his agents think."

"... clever. By the way, does he know Alasdair will have read the report?"

"Well, seeing as I put a postscript stating exactly that, I guess he will know."

They reach the door to Alasdair's chambers. Aodhan is about to knock, but Phylis holds him back.

"I think I should go in alone. If there is an issue, having you waver between father and great-great-grandfather is not going to help either side."

"... fair enough. I'll be waiting down the hall."

And with that, Phylis knocks and quickly enters as Alasdair barks "Come in!".

=====

Alasdair's head glows dark red. With a forced smile he utters, "Ah, the Pebble is finally here."

"Excuse me?"

"What have we done to you?", he asks. He clenches the table and the knuckles on his hand are white. He starts shouting, "Why are you ruining my family?! Why this crusade against my people? My country?"

Phylis looks a bit puzzled. "I do not understand what you mean, my Lord. Also, please refrain from calling me..."

"This report spells doom for me and for everybody I care for! And you rub it in my face as a kind of insult?"

The gnome lifts a finger and explains with a smile, "Oh no, on the contrary, my Lord. I gave it to you as a sign of trust."

The oak wood table starts to creak under Alasdair's hands and static electricity starts to crackle around the old man. "You single-handedly ruined our chance of support from Neverwinter. You basically stripped us naked and threw us into the Aboleth'es throat as a snack!" After a few heavy breaths, Alasdair collected himself a bit and the crackling stops. "Phylis. Give me one good reason, only _one_ reason why I should not crush you into a million pieces."

"Hm.", she says and taps her chin. "It would be quite the challenge, even for you. If you don't manage, it will leave you severely weakened. And if you do, it would leave you stripped of resources. As I wrote in the report, I fully intend to follow this quest of yours. And you need every help you can get, especially if Neverwinter really should decide not to support you."

Alasdair's jaw drops. He grabs his ink pot, about to throw it at Phylis, but he crushes it in his fist instead. The glass shatters and blue and red and purple streams run down his arm.

Phylis raises an eyebrow. That was unexpected.

The Lord of Rabenzwist then continues to pound the massive oak table with his fists. A barely visible shock wave accumulates around it until a hollow sonic boom finally shatters the massive oak table. Alasdair grabs one piece and hurls it against the stone wall, it's pieces crumble to the floor. Then, apart from Alasdair's heavy breathing, silence.

"My Lord. Are you feeling better now?", Phylis asks.

Alasdair lifts his hand, hesitates and then wipes his face with the other unstained hand. "Yes. A bit." Alasdair leans against the somewhat intact half of the table for support. "Look, Phylis. I know you are only doing your job. But that report of yours did irreparable damage to our cause. Do you understand that?"

Phylis hesitates a bit. "I cannot and will not bend the truth. If I did not write that report, someone else would have. I am but a vessel for the facts out there."

Alasdair tries to wipe clean his stained hand on his pants, but all it achieves is smutting the fabric, scarlet and violet. "I'm not asking you to lie. But I could come up with a dozen ways to describe the current situation accurately that does not leave us crippled. I will ask two things of you. One: talk to me before writing the next report. Again, I'm not asking you to alter facts. Just to minimize the considerable damage. Two: Find ways to fix the fucking mess you caused. Also, sent a carpenter and my son. I could use one of his healing spells right now."

"That's actually more than two ..."

"DO IT! Dismissed."

Phylis bites her tongue, opens the door and slips out. Aodhan looks at her from across the hall with concerned eyes. "Oh my! You are ok. I heard horrible noises from inside. How did it go in there?"

=====

"Well, he's under a lot more pressure than I expected. He took it pretty badly."

Aodhan frowns. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No. For all his anger and bluster, Alasdair has remarkable self-control. Come to think of it - he wasn't the lord before this all happened, right?"

"No, he wasn't. Wasn't marked for succession, either. His brother was."

"So he won't be used to the responsibility. Hell, that's a lot, suddenly getting all of this dumped on you."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Well, you could magically fix his desk. And get Alasdair's son ... he means Glenn, right? I thought he was your son?"

"Probably better not to remind him right now."

Phylis grins. "Probably. Listen, Alasdair thinks that with my report I've ruined his chances for support from Neverwinter and the Lord's Alliance. I don't believe that at all - even if Neverwinter wasn't threatened, Yartar certainly is, and they are Lord's Alliance as well. And either way, I don't think Neverwinter will ignore an Aboleth coming to power so close to home."

"You put them in a hell of a bargaining position, though."

"I'd say that's my job, but honestly, I don't think the Lord of Neverwinter needed me for that. He's more than smart enough to figure that out himself."

"Hmm. Likely. So you want to do something to get back in his good grace?"

"Nah, I can handle anger directed my way. Been there more than often enough. Trying to be overly pleasing will only make me look suspicious right now. Weak as well."

"Oh, ok. I hope you don't mind me asking this directly, but ... should we be suspicious?"

Phylis looks at him with a smirk. "Always. But probably not that much of me. I meant what I said, if I see a confrontation coming our way you'll all know long before it arrives."

Aodhan studies his daughter for a while. "Well, I believe you. So will Alasdair, I think, given time."

"Yep. Until then, though, I think there is one thing we can do."

"And that would be?"

"Look out for Gwenn. She and Alasdair are the last of the Rabenzwists for all we know, and Alasdair isn't exactly young for a human. So, since you know Gwenn and I know her way too little - what would she consider a good setup for a girl's night?"