Among the countless relics left behind by the fallen empire of Netheril, few are spoken of with greater unease than the Scepter of the Sorcerer-Kings. Though unfinished, the artifact became infamous for its ability to interfere with the connection between gods and mortals, earning the hatred of churches across Faerûn and the attention of powers normally unconcerned with mortal affairs. The Scepter's creation is attributed to Glaeros Lhaerimm, a Netherese archwizard who lived during the final centuries of Netheril's supremacy. Contemporary accounts describe him as one of several sorcerer-kings who had come to regard the gods not as patrons but as rivals. Drawing upon knowledge extracted from the Nether Scrolls, Glaeros began work upon an artifact intended to weaken divine influence over the mortal world. The project quickly became notorious among his peers. Apprentices vanished into Glaeros's service and were never seen again. Rumours spread that their lives were being consumed to fuel the enchantments woven into the Scepter. While such stories were common in Netheril, where powerful archwizards often viewed lesser mages as expendable resources, the scale of the disappearances drew attention even among the enclaves. As the work progressed, resistance emerged from unexpected quarters. The oldest surviving accounts claim that servants of the gods descended upon Glaeros's stronghold in an attempt to halt the artifact's completion. The struggle that followed is poorly documented, though later legends describe battles between divine emissaries and Netherese archmages that shook entire regions. Glaeros was ultimately slain before his work could be completed. The artifact itself survived. According to surviving records, another sorcerer-king seized the unfinished Scepter and escaped before the divine servants could destroy it. The identity of this individual has never been established, and from that point onward the artifact disappears from reliable history. For centuries the Scepter passed beyond the reach of chroniclers. Scattered references place it in the hands of tyrants, archmages, and would-be conquerors, but few details survive. The artifact's reputation grew steadily during this period, aided by reports that its use could sever a deity's connection to the mortal world for a tenday. Whether these stories were exaggerated remains uncertain, but they were taken seriously enough that several churches began actively seeking the artifact's destruction. The next confirmed owner was the lich Thavverdasz, remembered in obscure records as the Harper King. Virtually nothing is known of his reign, though surviving references suggest that possession of the Scepter formed a significant part of his power. His eventual downfall is often connected to Elminster, though no complete account of the conflict has ever been published. Following the Harper King's defeat, the artifact eventually came into the possession of Khelben Arunsun. In one of the most controversial decisions of his long career, Khelben later surrendered the Scepter to Fzoul Chembryl during negotiations involving the Zhentarim. The reasoning behind this exchange remains debated among sages and Harpers alike. The artifact's final known chapter occurred under Fzoul's control. Rather than wielding it openly, he shattered the Scepter into five pieces and scattered the fragments across the planes. Whether this act truly destroyed the artifact or merely concealed it remains unknown. No verified recovery of any fragment has ever been recorded. To this day, sages continue to debate the true purpose of Glaeros's creation. The Scepter described in surviving sources was unfinished, leaving unanswered questions regarding its intended final form. Some believe it was meant to sever the bond between gods and worshippers permanently. Others argue it was intended as a weapon capable of imprisoning divine beings. No evidence has ever emerged to confirm either theory. As a result, the Scepter of the Sorcerer-Kings remains one of the great unresolved mysteries of Netherese history—a relic feared not for what it achieved, but for what it might have become.