Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights 2 was developed by Obsidian and I'm just borrowing the characters. I like evil characters who aren't completely evil, so here's a short story from Torio's point of view. But I really don't like Garius. The Harborman that Torio refers to is my beautiful rogue/shadowdancer who will star in a longer fic once I find time to write more of it. I have a couple of chapters ready, but I want to develop the story a bit more before posting anything. Oh, and I'm not a native English speaker/writer, so there be errors here! Some fractured sentence structures are intentional, since Torio's mind is not a very peaceful place…
The Prize of Power
"Garius wants to see you," Lorne says, with a hint of amusement in his voice. Oh yes, you stupid oaf, laugh while you can. Pretty soon you will fail yet again and I doubt our master is willing to give you another chance. He can find another goon, someone with strong muscles and little brain, to do his bidding. You are replaceable, Lorne. Never forget that. I never forget that I'm replaceable too.
"It's not polite to keep your lover waiting," Lorne says, apparently unable to know when to stay silent. I'm not sure how much of the anger that burns inside me when I hear the word 'lover' is showing in my eyes, but he actually takes a step away from me. Good boy. Back away and I may put in a good word for you when our master tries to think of how to kill you. The gift of less pain, that's what I'm willing to offer. I stare at him until he leaves and then I get up. I can't keep Garius waiting.
Even thinking about his name makes shivers run through my body, makes me feel like I'll never be warm again. I have vague memories of warmth, of innocence, of joy, but they are so far away now that sometimes I think I've imagined them. I know that I lost the last shreds of my innocence when I was thrown out to the streets at the age of eleven, joy fleeing at the same time like a startled bird. All those feelings are weaknesses that don't help you when you must struggle daily, fight for every piece of stale bread, place to sleep, right to live. I fought and lived, every day, every hour, every minute. Everything I have, I have fought for.
Life is a battle, I learnt that myself, but with Garius, there have been other lessons. Painful but useful. Before I met him, I sometimes stopped on my way home after a good night and slipped some small coins to a beggar child. I sometimes stayed up late, ink on my fingers and sheets of paper in front of me, trying to capture the music playing in my mind. Life was a battle, but there were moments of rest, moments to be someone else. Garius taught me to forget those thoughts, to see that I am who I am, and there is no point in the weakness of pretending otherwise.
I walk down the corridor, realizing that I'm taking very short and slow steps. Why delay the inevitable, pick up your pace, it'll be over sooner. Yes, that's a good lie, one that I can almost believe. It's time to think of new ones, now that the old classics like "it doesn't really hurt" and "this is what I want" only make me laugh. It's not what I want and it hurts, but caring about pain is weakness as well. And what is little pain compared to all I have? I had nothing before, even though I thought that having a roof over my head and eating a hot meal every day would count. I had my music, the songs that… That were nothing, simple tunes that no one was interested in hearing. The only good thing about my music was that they brought Garius to me. I was performing in some sad little tavern, playing to an audience that cared more about my cleavage than my music. Maybe it was my cleavage that first interested him as well, that brought him to speak to me. That doesn't really matter. What matters is that he came to me, spoke with me and said he needed someone like me. It changed my life.
"Torio, come in," he replies before I even knock on his door. He is sitting by his table, with a shadow guard standing behind him. He likes to conjure them up and send them patrolling around the Keep. Dark creatures completely in his control; gives us mere humans something to think about. I wonder whether he'll send all those shadows on Lorne the next time he fails. Shadow after shadow, tearing flesh and hissing, I saw it happen to Helren when he failed, and to the dark-haired man, and to… I really don't want to see that again.
"I trust you are prepared for the trial," he says. Oh, business first, then his pleasure.
"The Harborman is not a problem. She may have beaten some of the shadow priests in battle, but I doubt that someone brought up in a swamp knows the ways of the courtroom." I hope I sound convincing; there is something about that woman that makes me nervous, makes me doubt myself. Weakness again, something I must overcome in the next days.
"But she has an advocate?" Garius asks, looking straight at me, seeing every doubt and fear, seeing why I'm worthless.
"That traitorous Sand." I manage to gain control of my racing mind again. "He is no match for me, and besides, his connection with the Hosttower is his weakness. I doubt his companions know of his past."
"The problem with our Harborman friend seems to be that she is willing to give people another chance. Out of the goodness of her heart, expecting nothing in return," Garius says. His voice is flat, no emotion, nothing that would give away his feelings. Nothing I could use to my advantage. "But I trust you to use your knowledge the best way you can. And if the situation comes to Trial by Combat, you'll have Lorne with you."
"It may come to that, since I doubt Sand will be a gracious loser," I say, thinking about the elf and his ridiculous desire to see justice win. Doesn't he realize that the justice of Neverwinter he so feverishly tries to uphold is as corrupted as Luskan justice? Justice is always dictated by the strong and the weak always suffer. That is why those who see the truth must make their own rules and forget the childish dreams of good prevailing. It's never good that prevails, it's always the strongest person, the one who can then call himself good and just, the liberator and the saviour. There is no salvation for the weak and the helpless. That's why you can't be one of them.
"Then everything is in order." It's not a question. He expects everything to be in order, everything to work out fine. Otherwise there will be pain. Well, more pain.
"Of course, lord Garius." Was that a lie? Hopefully not. I shouldn't lie to him. He always finds out. He gets up and the shadow behind him moves silently across the room, past me, to the door and out of the room. The door closes with a thud that makes dust float down from the rafters that have seen better days. This whole place is breaking down. Maybe it would be better if it collapsed, buried us all. Garius opens the door to the next room and I'm so tired, I don't want to go in, I can't take it anymore.
"Torio." Once again, not a question, not really even a command. Just my name. And I obey. I walk past him and his hand touches my neck, a light touch that has nothing to do with affection. I walk into the room, not towards the bed, but the table in the corner. He closes the door and I begin to undress. He walks to the table and picks something up, I don't want to look, there's no point in looking because I'll know soon enough. The last piece of clothing falls to the floor and I close my eyes and try to remember that it's important to forget all the weaknesses and to learn to control yourself and then the cold steel cuts my skin and I have to scream.
Back in my room again, if you can call that dark hole a room. Spider webs on the walls, bed hard as rock, one small chair that holds a candle. I undress and take pile of bandages from my bag. Hell, if this thing fails and I manage to get out alive, I'm quite competent for a career of nursing the wounded at some temple. Although which temple would take me in? There isn't much pain. See, weaknesses can be overcome. There really isn't much pain, everything is fine and I have survived yet another day. I was singing in a tavern and now I'm an ambassador. Everything is fine. I put the rest of the bandages into the bag and curl up on the bed, under a thin blanket that doesn't keep the cold away. I remember when I stayed up all night and wrote my music until I was out of ink and paper and left dark fingerprints all over my clothes. Now I have power and I'm never hungry and I can walk into the court in Neverwinter and make demands to Nasher. I have power. I can't hear the music in my mind anymore. The Harborman is willing to give people another chance.