When the party climbed out of the crypts, they found crowds gathered outside the cathedral, peering through the windows. Rather than face the mob, they explored the cathedral further. Dravencoles used the golden feather to unseal another hidden chamber, where they found the Hands of Elandria—sacred offering basins meant for coins and prayers—filled with bones. Dravencoles detected necromantic energy radiating from them. Ferinthria carefully extracted the bones with mage hand, and the party felt a palpable release as the last fragment was removed, as though something foul had been unbound from the sacred space.
Two elite guards entered the cathedral and demanded the party surrender their weapons. Ferinthria convinced them to stand down and demanded an audience with the King instead. The guards led them outside, where King Aldric sat beneath a canopy, flanked by Castellan and a broad-shouldered Kingsguard.
Dravencoles cast Zone of Truth. The Kingsguard smiled approvingly; Castellan chose his words with care. The King repeated Castellan’s accusations—that the party had been summoning undead into the cathedral. They denied it, but the King remained unconvinced. Dravencoles stepped forward and offered the Hammer of Elandria as proof of his devotion. Castellan warned the King that a corrupted hammer could be dangerous to touch—technically true, but a lie by omission. Momeline suggested the Kingsguard test it first. He volunteered, laid his hand upon it, and confirmed to the King that it was truly the Hammer of Elandria.
The King reached out to touch it. In that instant, Castellan drew a dagger and lunged. The Kingsguard reacted faster, running Castellan through with his own blade before the dagger could fall. Castellan only smiled. Darkness erupted from him in a spell meant to do something terrible—but nothing happened. Surprise flickered across his face, and Momeline seized the moment, cutting his throat before he could recover. Castellan Verin fell dead on holy ground.
The effect was immediate. King Aldric gasped, color rushing back to his face. He looked stronger, sharper—decades younger than the frail man who had sat beneath the canopy moments before. Confused and disoriented, he listened as his Kingsguard explained what had just happened.
The party wasted no time. They asked the Kingsguard—a man called Brandon—to accompany them to the Gilded Dragon Tavern to confront Jorin, telling him about the secret entrance that opens with the Vaelaen language. Brandon, who despised Vaelith worship, agreed without hesitation. At the tavern, Jorin gave in. He admitted he had bought the place as it was and that most people in the underground were ordinary folk—even the Vaelith worshippers weren’t all dangerous. Brandon arrested him regardless.
From there, the party went to Cassira’s shop. She made no effort to deny her faith. Instead, she studied Dravencoles and said, “You have attuned to the Bitch God’s hammer. Interesting that your fate would be so intertwined with one touched by Vaelith.” Her gaze fell on Momeline. She showed them a book about the gods, and the party remembered Lord Kael’s words from the phoenix ash: “Unite the gods.”