Katalmach

Introduction

"Mordren!" Mordren jerked in surprise, the letter he was reading falling to the floor. By the gods, he thought with a note of irritation. What is it? "Mordren, I need your help. Something terrible has happened." Mordren looked up from his desk in surprise to see Casavir striding into his office. At his approach, Mordren's initial edge suddenly evaporated. He didn't even bother to knock, he thought clinically. The paladin is normally so polite; it must have been something terrible, indeed, to have him barging in here like this. Carefully, he picked the letter off the floor and took the stack that were on his desk and placed them all in one of his drawers, pushing them all the way to the back. The tall paladin's face was lined with worry, and his clear blue eyes were pleading and desperate.

Mordren stood up. "Casavir? What's wrong?" Just then he noticed the cut on the other man's arm. Fresh blood stained the sleeve all the way to cuff. "By the gods, Casavir! Are you all right? What happened?"

The paladin's eyes darted to his wound and then back to Mordren. "Harcus," he said. His voice was faltering. "He--he attacked me! I--I didn't mean..." he paused, swallowing hard, then taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I didn't mean to kill him."
Mordren allowed the horror to wash onto his face. He went around the desk to stand directly before the paladin.

"He thought I raped Ophala!"

"Did you?"

Casavir blinked, his face suddenly flaring with anger. "No!" What a stupid question, he chided himself. Of course, he wouldn't. But even knowing the answer didn't strip it of the force with which he said it. Mordren flinched involuntarily.

"I'm sorry," he said, not entirely truthful. "But I had to ask." He paused for a moment, allowing the paladin's anger to deflate. He asked softly, "Where is he now?"

"The grove outside the city, where I was when he challenged me to a duel."

Mordren held his breath... "Did anyone see you?"

"I--I don't think so."

...and released it. "Good. Then there is still time."

Casavir's eyebrows furrowed. "Good? Time for what? I don't understand."

Mordren crossed back to his desk. He opened another drawer and pulled out several pieces of parchment. He grabbed his quill and began writing furiously. "It'll be a while before his body is discovered. That should buy me some time to take care of things while you get out of Neverwinter."

Casavir shook his head, his worry replaced with stark confusion. "Get out of Neverwinter? But it was a duel. I didn't murder him!"

Mordren nodded. "And as such, you have nothing to worry about from Neverwinter justice, yes. But it is Lord Pierval I am more worried about. His temper is legendary, and duel or not, he will likely want to see you hang for killing his son." He signed the parchment, then carefully set it aside to dry as he wrote out another. "You need to get out of Neverwinter while I try to smoothen things out with him. And maybe when his rage dies down, I can send for you to come back so you can explain yourself and try to convince him that it was all just an accident."

The paladin was horrified. "But I can't--"

"Casavir!" Mordren cut him off sharply. He looked up from his writing and forced himself to look into those piercing blue eyes. "Casavir, look," he said more softly. "You are my friend. And as my friend, I care a great deal about you. But know that I share a friendship with Lord Pierval as well, and I know what he is capable of." He injected as much force as he could muster into his next word. "I do not want to see you killed over what is, essentially, a misunderstanding."

Uncertainty played on Casavir's face, and Mordren knew that he was sending the other man into uncharted territory. He was asking him to walk away from his post, walk away from his duty; a paladin would never even entertain thoughts of such a thing, much less carry it out. So naturally, he was uncomfortable. But it was necessary. And he could tell by the way his countenance fell that he had won the man over. "Okay, I'll do it. But what will I tell Callum?"

Mordren signed the second parchment and set it aside. "I'll deal with Callum. He won't like it, of course, but you need not worry." Once again, he forced himself to look into Casavir's eyes. "You can trust me on this one, Casavir. You have to trust me."

The paladin swallowed, nodding his head in defeat.

Mordren stood up again, but not before reaching into yet another drawer and pulling out a small money pouch. He tossed it to the paladin, and Casavir caught it in one deft motion. "Here, take this. I have a feeling you'll need it. Gather your things, whatever you can pack on a horse, and get out as quickly as you can. Ride south, and do not delay. Know that when the time is right, I'll send for you. Now go, before Lord Pierval finds out and sends for you himself."

Casavir nodded and started to turn away. Just then, he seemed to catch himself and turned back to meet Mordren's gaze. "Mordren," he said, his voice strangely quiet. "Thank you." And with that, he was gone.

Author's Notes: This story is partially based off content that was cut from the game. (SHAMELESS PLUG: You can find what I'm talking about on the NWN2Fanfic group on Yahoo!) A pity, really, since cutting it also cut off much of Casavir's character. What little we did have, however, fascinated me to no end. A barbarian, a fighter, or even a ranger, I expected to be the katalmach, but a paladin? How does a paladin get to the point where he loses himself to battle? And that is what I hope to explore in this story. I hope you enjoy it.