9. City Streets

The air outside is already warming up, promising a hot day indeed in Baldur's Gate. The Silvershields' groundskeepers are already at work trimming and hedging the pristine garden.

The group has tasks to perform, Grand Dukes to vet. Where are they off to first, to Duke Liia Jannath or the oddly-named Duke 'Belt'? Jannath's estate is nearby, just a few blocks away, while Belt is most likely to be found at the Temple of Lathander.

As the group walks away from the estate they hear some yelling break from around the side of the mansion. A moment later Dieter's blink-mutt rounds the bend running flat out, a big stupid grin on his face. A couple of Silvershield servants quickly follow, one holding an empty leash and collar, the other dragging Dieter's other big pup.

At the sight of Dieter, the blink-mutt veers in his direction, teleporting through a hedge and into Dieter's arms. Then the big pup takes off suddenly, spinning his handler about and yanking the leash from his hands. This massive dog tramples straight through a dozen rows of neatly-arranged flowers to put his oversized paws up on Dieters chest and lick his face.

The handlers arrive shortly later, huffing and puffing from exertion. One of them has mud all down his front. "Master Dieter! We thought to give your dogs some exercise with a morning walk, but..." He gasps for breath. "Well. You can see how that's turned out."

The two servants look relieved. "Of course, Master Dieter!

The two dogs wander about a bit sniffing here and there, but don't stray far from Dieter.

The Jannath estate looks like what it is: a wizard's tower. There's a broad bottom floor no doubt for entertaining company and putting up guests, but what draws the eye is the graceful spire that climbs into the sky.

It's not long before the party is waiting in an elegant sitting room. A pair of invisible servants offer chilled drinks. Precisely ten minutes later, judging by the intricate clock on the wall, Duke Liia Jannath enters the room.

This Temple of Lathander has motifs of the dawn patterned on walls and columns. There isn't much time to admire the artistry, however, because a booming voice fills the main hall.

"DEAD?! What do you MEAN, DEAD?!" the voice snarls. "FOOL boy, what have you DONE?!"

At the far end of the hall, a massive gold dragonborn dressed in ornate armor practically quivers with rage. Before him is a half-elven boy, perhaps ten years old. The boy's head is down, shoulders slumped, as he mumbles a reply. He flinches as the dragonborn continues his tirade.

"And she WON'T EVEN...!!!" The dragonborn whirls about in anger, stomping scaled feet across the marble floor, then seizes an enormous flanged mace from a nearby altar. "I'm going to TEAR HER APART!!!"

A white-robed woman clears her throat calmly. "My Duke, your ire is well-placed, but surely the Wavemother expects you to-" She's cut off by a rattling roar from the dragonborn - who is no doubt Duke Belt. She folds her arms across her chest and rolls her eyes. "Yes, exactly. She's baiting you, my Duke... not that you're even listening..."

Then the woman notices the party and starts toward them shaking her head. "Well met, and welcome to the Temple of the Morninglord. I'm afraid now is not a good time." Behind her, Duke Belt has returned to berating the young boy.

The spider skitters into Skie's bag and out of sight. Cloth... cloth... more cloth... a brush... handmirror... a leather pouch jingling faintly with coin, a fair amount of it... cloth...

Having accepted the task to retrieve poor Arthatax's body from the vile priestesses of Umberlee, the party leaves the Temple of Lathander and makes there way towards the Docks District.

There's no sign of Skie Silvershield in the busy thoroughfares, but honestly, who can keep track of that girl?

The smell of salt grows heavier in the air as the group gets closer to the ocean. After close to an hour of trekking through the Gate's crowded streets, they see the masts and sails of great ships poking up over the tops of buildings. And the buildings and crowds seem to be getting seedier and smellier. It's a far cry from the well-to-do Upper City.

At one point they pass an entire ship squeezed between buildings, dredged up onto solid land and built into the city's streets. A sign hanging from the hull reads The Blushing Mermaid, and patrons file in and out of the structure like any other tavern.

Eventually they reach the piers and are able to look out onto the ocean. Waves lap up against the wood of docks and ships, creating a relaxed rhythm intermingled with the occasional creak of wooden beams and the cries of seagulls. From there, it doesn't take long to locate the Temple of Umberlee.