All right, I finally took a break from WoW long enough to start SoU, and as I suspected, the plot bunnies started jumping (like I really needed another story to work on). I plan on updating this as I go through the game, so it might be a slow process (I'm still a WoW addict, you see); I eventually plan on taking my boy all the way through HotU, but we'll see how it goes. As always, constructive reviews, both positive and negative, are welcomed.

Camden woke quickly, not in his usual fashion: a leisurely ascent from slumber accompanied a by great deal of yawning and lazy stretching. Though instantly alert, he kept his eyes closed and remained motionless, waiting for his remaining senses to confirm what his instincts told him.

Someone was in his room.

The faintest scrape of metal on metal provided all the proof he needed. In one fluid movement, he threw back his blankets and launched himself toward the foot of the bed, where he kept the chest containing most of his possessions. The intruder who knelt in front of the chest was taken completely by surprise, and in the blink of an eye, Camden had them shoved face-first against the wall, right arm twisted behind and up between their shoulder blades.

"Owww!" His opponent squirmed in a futile effort to escape his grasp, a set of lock picks falling from suddenly nerveless fingers to the floor. "Dammit, Cam, let me go!"

Releasing his grip, Camden stepped back as Dorna Trapspringer spun around to glare at him, massaging her right hand to bring the feeling back into it. "How d'ye do that, Cam?" she demanded, bending to retrieve her lockpicks. "I wasn't making noise enough to disturb a mouse!"

Camden shrugged, seating himself on the unopened chest. "Guess I sleep lighter than a mouse, then," he replied with an easy grin.

Dorna snorted as she straightened up, then her eyes widened and she spun around abruptly, her face suddenly flaming. "Cover yerself, man!" she exclaimed.

Puzzled, Cam looked down and suddenly remembered that he had been so tired following yesterday's weapons practice that he had stripped out of his clothes and fallen into bed without even trying to find his pajama bottoms. "Shouldn't be sneaking into people's bedrooms if you can't handle the view," he teased her, but he reached behind him and pulled the top blanket from his bed, wrapping it around his waist. "Better?"

She peered around cautiously and nodded curtly. "Yer not s'posed ta wake up," she groused, the blush fading from her cheeks. "Mischa and Xanos never do; I could've robbed them both blind by now, if I'd a mind to." She gave a shudder. "Ye don't suppose that Xanos sleeps in the altogether, do ye? Yer not bad to look at, but I've no wish t' see a naked half orc."

Camden chuckled. "I've never checked, but if you're worried, I'd stick with Mischa; she sleeps in a nightgown that covers her from neck to toes."

The dwarf eyed him with a wicked grin. "And how would ye know that, Mister Delaine?"

Cam's answering grin was totally unrepentant. "Master Drogan has instructed us to practice our skills whenever the opportunity presents itself," he replied, "and Mischa is a sound sleeper; you could probably rearrange the furniture without waking her. You're not much better, though," he added as an afterthought, "and you snore."

"I do not!" Dorna exclaimed, then gasped. "Ye have not!"

"No?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Then how would I know about your collection of frilly nighties? I'd never have guessed you were so fond of pink."

"Me mother made me bring those!" Dorna protested, her face even redder than it had been earlier. "And if ye tell anyone about them, I'll…I'll…"

"Who would I tell?" Camden replied. "I doubt that Mischa and Xanos would be happy to know that we creep their rooms while they're sleeping, even though we don't take anything." He paused, eying her with mock concern. "You don't take anything, do you?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "D'ye really think I'd risk being expelled for the sake of Mischa's book of prayers or Xanos' preening mirror? I just pick the locks and practice moving quiet, same as you."

Cam nodded, although in truth, he hadn't snuck into any of his classmates' rooms in weeks, since it had become apparent that there was no challenge to it.

"D'ye think that Master Drogan knows about it?" Dorna wondered suddenly, her broad features creasing with concern.

"I doubt that much goes on in this school that Master Drogan doesn't know about," Camden replied. He didn't mention the one time that he had tried sneaking into Drogan's basement laboratory, only to find the old dwarf sitting in a chair by the big fireplace in the main room, waiting for him when he had come back up after discovering that magical wards prevented entry. He had stood before the wizard in silence, cursing his stupid curiosity and certain that he would be sent packing, but Drogan had only smiled knowingly.

"I appreciate your desire to test your skills, Camden," Drogan had told him in his deep, gentle voice, "but I must ask that you leave the basement out of your efforts. There are things secured there that could cause harm – to you and to others – if you stumbled over them unaware."

"Will you show me how to get past wards like those, though?" Cam wanted to know. He had never encountered magical barriers before, and the prospect of defeating them interested him keenly.

Drogan laughed quietly. "Aye, lad; there are ways to bring down or get around all but the strongest of wards, and that will be part of your education here," he paused, regarding the young man seriously, "but only if you promise not to test what I teach you in the basement."

Camden had promised readily, and kept that promise faithfully. He had a talent for getting into mischief, but he also had an instinctive awareness of when he had reached a line that should not be crossed. He respected and admired Drogan, and the dwarven wizard's approval meant almost as much to him as that of his own father. True to his word, Drogan had taught him a variety of methods for dealing with magical wards, but Camden strongly suspected that what protected the lab would require the skills of a powerful mage to bring down.

To Dorna, he only said, "Master Drogan will tell you if you're doing something he doesn't approve of; he's a fair man."

"That he is," Dorna agreed emphatically, then yawned. "Now, if ye will excuse me, I think I'll slip back to me own bed before the others wake up." She snickered. "Her holiness would have a right smart fit if she caught me coming out of yer room at night."

"I doubt she'd be surprised, though," Camden replied with a crooked smile. "She's already convinced that I'm bound for damnation, as it is." Mischa Waymeet, the school's resident paladin-in-waiting, made no secret of her disapproval of Camden's preferred extracurricular activities, which consisted primarily of drinking, gambling and wenching in the nearby town of Hilltop.

"Ah, but I must protect m'own good reputation, then," Dorna shot back with a wink as she slipped out the door.

Chuckling, Camden climbed back into his bed and was sound asleep in minutes.

OOOO

"Xanos, you know nothing of what being a paladin entails!"

Camden rolled over, not needing the faint light filtering through the closed shutters to tell him that morning had arrived. Ever since Mischa had arrived, as surely as the sun rose, the squabbling would begin.

Of course, sometimes he himself was the instigator, but –

It's a wonder that Drogan hasn't muzzled the lot of us, he thought, as he sat up, pulling on trousers, boots and tunic before exiting the room to see what the fuss was about this time.

Mischa stood in the hallway, glaring angrily at Xanos Messarnos, looking almost petite beside the height and massive build of the half-orc, despite the fact that she was nearly as tall as Camden.

"Neither do you as yet, little girl," Xanos replied with a smugly superior air, "nor do you know what should be obvious: when Master Drogan tells you to do something, you do it!"

"He wanted me to save a goblin!" Mischa protested.

"A goblin child," Dorna corrected her from her doorway.

"Goblins are evil," the girl insisted stubbornly, "and it is the duty of a paladin to fight evil."

"But is the evil the result of nature or nurture?" Camden asked, unable to resist needling her. "If you saved a goblin child and gave it to good people to raise, might it not grow up good? And would that not be another way of fighting evil?"

She gave him what she obviously considered a withering glance, but he resisted its effect with no real effort. She was pretty enough: blonde haired, blue-eyed and fair skinned, but her ice princess demeanor had defied his early attempts at charm, and her naïve self-righteousness made her all too easy – and entertaining – to bait. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," she replied scornfully.

"Like me?" Cam affected a wounded expression. "I've – I've disappointed you, haven't I?" Dropping to his knees before her, he raised his clasped hands to her beseechingly. "Please, your holiness, I beg you to give this poor, drunken wretch the chance to regain your favor!"

She stepped away from him, cheeks flushed with anger as Xanos and Dorna howled with laughter at his performance. "You don't take anything seriously, do you – any of you?" she demanded. "We're here to learn to do good, not to act like children!"

"Somebody has to offset you, Mischa," Cam replied with a grin, getting to his feet, "and you're serious enough for all of us."

"Besides, strictly speakin', we're not here to learn to do good," Dorna added with a pragmatic shrug. "I'm here to learn skills that will help my da." Dorna's father was a bounty hunter, and in the absence of any sons was counting on his eldest daughter to continue the family business. "Cam is learning how thieves work so he can help protect his family's merchandise, and Xanos is learning to combine his fighting abilities with his spellcasting."

"And Xanos will surely become the greatest at both," the half orc exclaimed with his customary modesty, "and have adventuring groups clamoring for his skills!" He smirked at Mischa. "And you, little girl, are here to learn to fight, so that if by some miracle you are accepted by some Order desperate enough to take you, you will know which end of a sword to hold!"

"She's actually pretty good with a sword, Xanos," Camden corrected him mildly. In truth, the girl was quickly becoming better with most weapons than any of them, but he wasn't about to admit that in front of her. Besides, she'd be useless in a street brawl; her opponent would kill her while she was saluting them.

Mischa did not seem to have heard his words, however; her blue eyes were fixed on Xanos, flashing indignantly. "If? If?" She spluttered wordlessly for several more seconds, then spun and ran down the stairs.

"Going to cry on Drogan's shoulder, no doubt," the half orc said, rolling his eyes in disgust. "But that reminds me, Camden: Xanos saw Master Drogan this morning, and he asked Xanos to tell you that he would like to speak with you after breakfast." He grinned, showing even more of the tusks that jutted from his lower jaw. "Perhaps he wishes to discuss your final test, yes?"

"Could be," Camden replied, with considerably more enthusiasm than he felt. Completing Drogan's training meant returning home and waiting for his father to decide what he would be allowed to do.

"It's got to be soon, Camden," Dorna exclaimed. "Yer the most senior of the four of us; d'ye think yer ready for it?"

Camden shrugged. While he was certain that he had mastered all that he had been taught, he knew that he had much, much more that he could learn from Drogan; he'd given thought to deliberately failing his final test, but he was not sure if he would be allowed to stay on if he did.

"He said that he would be in his laboratory," Xanos continued, looking at him curiously. The half-orc had come to Drogan's only a few weeks after Camden, and he was bursting with eagerness to take his final test so that he could embark upon his life's goal of becoming a wealthy and famed adventurer. "What could he wish to discuss, if not your final test?"

"Only one way to find out," Cam replied, sauntering down the stairs. "Might as well eat first, though; Mischa's likely to be in there a while."

The other two followed him downstairs, their pace quickening as the scent of ham reached their noses. Nani, the cook, eyed them as they trooped into the kitchen. A tall, slightly portly woman with steel grey hair, twinkling blue eyes and a grandmotherly demeanor that could change in an instant to rival that of the sternest drill sergeant, she had been with the school since Drogan had opened it. The meals that she fed the students were simple, good-tasting and plentiful, providing ample fuel for the sometimes rigorous training that Drogan required of his students,but on holidays and special occasions, she could produce delicacies that would have been welcomed at the tables of royalty.

"Mischa seems upset this morning, " she remarked pointedly. "She just went into see Drogan without even stopping for breakfast."

"The girl needs t' stop takin' herself and everything else so seriously," Dorna told the woman tartly.

"She's young," Nani admonished her, "and she's led a sheltered life until now. She's not used to the verbal horseplay that you three use with each other."

"She doesn't seem to have any trouble dishing it out," Cam observed as he swept two thick ham steaks and a heap of scrambled eggs onto a plate, topping the pile off with several biscuits and pouring a mug of apple cider. "She's told every one of us exactly what she thinks of us, but let one of us so much as look crosswise at her and she goes running to Drogan."

"Pshaw! She's not that bad, Cam! She's no worse than any of you were when you arrived."

"She's been here six months, Nani," Cam pointed out as he headed for the dining room table. "How long do we have to put up with it?"

"As long as Drogan tells you to, young man," the cook shot back, taking a swipe at his backside with a wooden spoon as he passed her, chuckling as he deftly dodged the blow while keeping the precariously stacked food on his plate balanced.

Seating himself at the long table, he grabbed two clay jars and began slathering the hot biscuits with butter and mulberry jam. As Dorna and Xanos joined him, he heard the door to Drogan's lab open, then slam shut, and quick footsteps sounding on the wooden floor in the direction of the stairs to their bedrooms. Sliding his chair back, he stood and leaned out the door to the dining hall.

"Mischa, breakfast is getting cold!"

The girl turned her face from him as she crossed the large main hall, but not before he caught sight of the shining tracks of tears on her cheeks.

Aww, hells. He started across the hall toward her. "Hey, Mischa –"

"Leave me alone!" She spun away from him and ran up the stairs.

Cam stared after her in frustration. Dammit. Crying women were one of his weaknesses, but he didn't figure that following her would do any good. Turning around, he saw Dorna standing in the door to the dining hall, her expression a mixture of irritation and guilt. Giving her a shrug, he returned to the table, where Xanos was shoveling in his breakfast without a hint of concern. Sitting back down, he began to eat. Drogan had said that he wanted to speak to him after breakfast, and since Mischa's tears were almost certain to be included in the conversation, he was not inclined to rush his meal.