I'm back writing BG stuff… believe it or not. I sure didn't believe it at first myself…
This is kinda more personal than what I usually write, and I feared that if I don't post it now, I'll lose the feeling and never get the nerve to revise and post it all. Because I think it's good and I might eventually get embarrassed about the personal part of it if I don't go with it right now.
So here it is.
Please, PLEASE, read and review, folks… I live for your reviews! (Alright, not quite, but almost!!!
The Irony of Fate
Chapter I. A fateful departure.
Dawn was just breaking. It would be an overcast day, and the pale light slowly dissolving the night was a sad grey colour. Ilire leaned on the windowsill, watching her new husband ride out the gates of his family's estate. His anghekh full plate-mail and helmet, for all their polishing, failed to glint off as usual in the uncooperative light. His huge warhorse, a northern breed crossed with a smaller Amnish horse, never tired from carrying his rider and his armour even for the long road awaiting him back to Amn.
At the gate, her husband paused and turned on his horse to watch her standing at the window of their room on the third story. It was too far for her to see, but she could imagine the sadness on his face and the grave duty in his eyes. He stayed there, looking up at her across the courtyard, until a second horse arrived a few minutes later.
The second steed was also mounted by a man in full armour, and this one carried a banner emblazoned with the easily identifiable crescent of the Order of the Radiant Heart.
Her new husband turned from the window to face the banner carrier, and with one last look and one last wave at her, he pushed his horse at a slow walk down the street, towards the south, disappearing beyond the estate's gates.
He had left the Ilvastarr estate. Soon he would leave the wealthy district where his parents' house was. He would then exit Waterdeep, and ride down the Trade Way along the Sword Coast to Baldur's Gate. He would go further south on the Coast Way until at last he reached Athkatla and the chapter of his training.
He had been summoned by Sir Keldorn himself to be debriefed regarding the accomplishments of his Wanderings, and to be given a mission as one final test for his knighthood. He was awfully nervous about the whole process, but Ilire knew he had no cause to worry. He was as dedicated to the cause of his god as she was dedicated to the training with her blades.
She was happy for him that he would be soon accepted as a paladin in his own right by the Order, after all those years of training and serving, and this last year of Wanderings. Helm knew he had defeated more horrors than many paladins of the Order in just the last few months.
Still, it seemed rather unfair, even if Sir Keldorn had no way to know, with the slow transmission of messages being what it was, that her husband would be called away the very day following the official ceremony of their wedding. Cancelled, the honeymoon to Neverwinter when they were supposed to forget about fights and death and Bhaal and machinations to take over the world for a few days.
Ilire supposed she should be proud of herself to have put up a brave face when he had left their room that morning. She had smiled and told him to come back soon, because she would be waiting for him. She still wondered how he had convinced her that she should not follow. His arguments about danger along the road hardly seemed reassuring. Yet, she knew as well as he did that the Order would want him to accomplish this last mission alone and besides, there was Dynaheir who wanted to take full advantage of the libraries of Waterdeep, Imoen being too curious as usual and having unearthed worrisome rumours about Undermountain, and Jaheira and Khalid who were grateful for an occasion to spend some time with some of their fellow Harpers who they had not seen in a long time.
When her husband disappeared beyond the gate, Ilire turned and leaned back against the wall besides the window. She felt miserable because she could not quite shake the feeling that such partings were what awaited her for the rest of her days. That there would always be duty to be taken care of somewhere else, rather far from home; duty more important than her or whatever family they could have together.
She berated herself. He was going to be dubbed. What was she complaining about? Besides, what else had they done of the last year than take care of all her problems? It was about time he did something for himself.
She angrily snatched her blades from the weapon stand and stalked the corridors silently until she exited in the backyard by a service door. She let the scabbards down on the ground by the door, and began warming up with stretches and slow thrusts.