Necromancy. Jhessail felt a chill travel down her spine, and could not suppress a shudder as the queen explained her father’s sins. A school of magic she had been forbidden to learn, along with every other arcanist in the Cloakwood. The ring on her finger suddenly felt cold and unwelcome. She brought her left hand to cover it, and perhaps even to remove it.<br/><br/>But she could not quite bring herself to condemn her father’s actions. Perhaps he’d been right. What had millennia of tradition and stubborn resistance to change brought to their people? Why had the elves diminished, while other peoples prospered? There might be merit in her father’s approach, even if the way he’d gone about it had been reckless and irresponsible. His transgressions did demand exile; but Jhessail wished she’d had a chance to speak with him before he was banished. What if there were extenuating circumstances? She might never discover them now.<br/><br/>Still as conflicted as when she had sat by her window this morning, Jhessail closed her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking. “Thank you, grandmother. Thank you for trusting us with his deeds. You have given us a great deal to consider. It may be that our father’s recklessness has cost our kingdom dearly. But, it may also be that these recent tragedies have nothing to do with him. As I see it, we cannot profit from further speculation. Only by following the trail left by the assassin can we hope to learn who is responsible. I suggest we do not delay. We must leave at once.”<br/><br/>It was certainly a formidable collection of enemies. The Red Wizards. The Gith. Drow. The Zhentarim. Enough to give even the greatest of heroes pause. But now was not a time to be intimidated or disheartened. Now was a time for resolute action.