The road north from Beregost seemed quiet enough.

Imoen, Kagain, and I traveled once more to the Friendly Arm Inn before continuing our exploration of the surrounding countryside. Hobgoblins prowled the roads in alarming numbers, but what once would have been dangerous encounters had become routine. Several groups attempted to stop us. None succeeded.

It was during these travels that we met Ajantis, a young squire of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. Though inexperienced, he carried himself with conviction and a sincere desire to do good. We welcomed him into the company.

Not long after, we found ourselves drawn into troubles involving Ankhegs. Farmers spoke of attacks, missing cattle, and disappearances. We assisted in culling the creatures and were rewarded for our efforts, but another mystery soon emerged. A farmer named Brun begged us to find his missing son, Nathan.

The search led us into an Ankheg nest.

At first we believed it would be a simple matter. We were wrong.

The tunnels beneath the earth proved far larger and more dangerous than expected. Ankhegs swarmed us repeatedly. Weapons broke. Armor was scarred. More than once we were forced to retreat and recover. I eventually surrendered my remaining blades to Ajantis and Kagain, relying on my longbow while they held the line.

Despite our efforts, we found Nathan too late.

His remains lay among the Ankhegs’ spoils.

Returning him to his father was among the hardest things I have done since leaving Candlekeep.

Along the way we became entangled in another dispute. Local fishermen sought protection from a priestess of Umberlee named Tenya. Yet when we confronted her, the story proved more complicated than we had been told. We recovered a stolen bowl of elemental power and ultimately returned it to her rather than the fishermen. Though I believe we acted correctly, I left the affair with the uncomfortable realization that truth is rarely as simple as people claim.

Our travels eventually brought us to Nashkel.

Before we arrived, another bounty hunter found us. A woman named Neira openly admitted that a price had been placed upon my head. Six hundred and fifty gold pieces, she claimed. We defeated her, but her words lingered long after the battle was over.

Someone continues to spend considerable resources trying to see me dead.

Nashkel itself offered no shortage of distractions. We met the wizard Edwin, whose proposal to murder a woman he called a witch struck me as deeply suspicious. Not long afterward, we encountered a Rashemi ranger named Minsc. Loud, earnest, and possessed of a certainty that bordered on madness, he begged our aid in rescuing his companion, Dynaheir, from the Gnoll Stronghold.

Though we were already searching for Entar Silvershield’s missing son on Kagain’s behalf, both trails led in the same direction. We agreed to help.

The journey to the stronghold proved difficult. Gnolls attacked in large numbers, testing the company at every turn. Yet after fighting our way through their defenses, we found Dynaheir alive and imprisoned. Far from the dangerous witch Edwin had described, she carried herself with intelligence, dignity, and remarkable composure considering her circumstances. We freed her and welcomed both her and Minsc into our company.

The stronghold held another answer as well.

At last we discovered the fate of Entar’s son.

Like Nathan before him, he was already dead.

Kagain finally learned the fate of the noble he had spent so long searching for. Though the truth was grim, the long search was over at last. The dwarf said little about it afterward, but when the time came to part ways, neither of us seemed particularly eager to do so. What began as a business arrangement had become something more. Kagain remained with the company.

With old obligations finally behind us, we turned our attention toward the crisis that had been troubling the Sword Coast since the day I left Candlekeep.

The Nashkel Mines.

Before entering the mines, we encountered another problem. A sculptor named Prism was attempting to finish his masterpiece while being hunted by a bounty hunter named Greywolf. The man asked only for enough time to complete his work. We agreed to protect him.

Greywolf eventually arrived and demanded his quarry.

We refused.

The battle that followed was fierce, but Greywolf fell and Prism lived long enough to finish the work that meant everything to him. I do not know if he deserved such loyalty, but I know no man should be denied the chance to complete the work that gives his life meaning.

The mines themselves proved exhausting.

Kobolds infested every level. Individually they posed little threat, but they attacked in such numbers that every descent became a war of attrition. We fought through wave after wave, stopping only when injuries and exhaustion demanded rest.

Along the way we rescued a gloomy mage named Xan. Though capable, he chose not to join us. By then our company was already growing into something larger than I had ever expected.

Dynaheir, meanwhile, proved her worth many times over. On one memorable occasion she produced a Wand of Fireballs and transformed an entire kobold warband into a cloud of smoke and regret.

Deep within the mines we finally confronted the source of Nashkel’s troubles.

A half-orc named Mulahey.

The battle was fierce, but we prevailed.

Yet victory brought little comfort.

Letters found among Mulahey’s belongings revealed what I had already begun to suspect. He was not acting alone. The iron shortage, the bandit activity, and the troubles spreading across the Sword Coast are part of something larger. Mulahey was merely one piece of a greater scheme.

As if to confirm that fact, another assassin appeared almost immediately after we emerged from the mines. A madman named Nimbul proclaimed himself death incarnate before attempting to collect the bounty on my head.

He failed.

That night, exhausted from battle, we rented rooms at an inn.

Sleep brought no peace.

I dreamed once more.

In the dream I stood before Mulahey, trapped in some twisted state between life and death. A dagger of bone hung before him, offering me the chance to inflict one final cruelty. I turned away.

When morning came, the image remained with me.

The dreams grow stranger with each passing week.

Nathan is dead.

Entar’s son is dead.

The mines are saved.

The conspiracy remains.

And somewhere beyond the horizon, the people responsible continue to move unseen.

For the first time since Gorion’s death, however, I feel as though I am finally following the trail.

The answers are out there.

And I intend to find them.