I do not own Neverwinter Nights or anything from the forgotten realms. If I did I would've made it possible to have more than one or two henchmen.
Elven-cat2: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you found it interesting. Truth be told I don't know yet where this fic is heading, I'll see were inspiration takes me. I hope that this chapter is satisfactory.
II
The river parted before the prow of the flat-bottomed riverboat. It was not a small craft, twelve men on either side were ready to assist it should the rivers current turn to be too weak to push it to it's destination. Between prow and stern several other men milled about, attending their tasks. Those with none slept, following the old military rule of "Sleep when you can, wake when they force you". For they were soldiers. Crossbowmen bearing the red and white of the Raque family.
One of the men stood at the prow, a gloved hand rested on its peak. The man was younger than most on the vessel, the hair on his upper lip was little more than a shadow as was the rest of his facial hair. He looked like most men of the north, pale, blue eyed and blond. Wide in shoulders though thin. The rest of his body was concealed in a suit of half-plate that was kept rough from the hammer to eliminate shine. Over it was a red surcoat. His head was bare save a fur-lined cap. The southern stereotype of a northerner, haughty, proud and little more than a savage. Though if you'd ask one of the "savages" he apparently resembled, they would say that these were the closest thing to a man that the south produced.
The man himself would say that he was neither as decadent as those south nor as barbaric as those north.
- 'My lord.'
Zyv de Raque turned to face his retainer. Yaros was a bear of a man, both in size and looks. He seemed almost uncomfortable in the red livery of the family he served. Though those from the south claimed that northern nobility looked little different from peasants, they still allowed themselves more colourful clothing than those that served them. Zyv originally found it hard to get used to the sight of his scout in the families red. Though he could have well seen a different scout. All noble families of the north wore red, amidst the grey's, browns and greens of the northern forests, red marked out friend from foe.
- 'Yes.'
- 'The shipmaster says that it will still be a day before we see the city.'
The nobleman shrugged but at the same time of his first reaction his bred reaction came in. His eyes narrowed and they took a cold look.
- 'Are you implying that I am doing something unnecessary, retainer?'
The older man bowed his head.
- 'No, my lord. I am merely interested in what is it that your lordship is looking for.'
The nobleman lost his cold stare and waved past the horse skull mounted on the prow towards the dark woods on either side of the river.
- 'I'm trying to see something in that damned darkness.'
In reality he had indulged himslef in self pity at being the one chosen by his father for this task, who knows wat his siblings would do with his influence in his absence. The ranger, however, seemed to accept his explanation,
- 'Commendable. This area officially belongs to Neverwinter but the Teuton frequently go here, mostly young men.'
Zyv nodded.
- 'Head-hunters.'
It was one of the few things of the barbarian's culture that was known, and the primary reason why peace was impossible. A youth could not start a family until he killed an enemy and brought the head as proof. Fending off such annual raids had become the main occupation of the frontier noble families. It was also the reason why so few peasants from the south wanted to settle here despite favourable terms.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the darkness of the pine trees a group of twenty young men looked at the boat going down stream. One looked towards the leader and indicated their own boats with a nod. The leader shook his head. The southerlings were too well armed. If they were at least some weaklings come looking for "adventure" than maybe. But against these it would be too costly.
- 'We have to take heads, not lose them.'
The other Teutons nodded in agreement, there would be easier prey.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On the boat one of the men looked out from under his dark hood. A humourless smile appeared. Zbigniev couldn't see them but he could feel the killer intent. As his paymaster did not say he wanted to hunt barbarians he did not tell anyone. Yaros saw the barbarians, but seeing as they were not making any aggressive moves he decided to ignore him. The senior of the Raque family ordered him to deliver Zyv to Neverwinter, fighting against barbarian headhunters could endanger that mission.
Zyv seemed not to notice either as he again took to looking in the distance.
Natasha de Raque, the only female on board, turned from the conversation between her cousin and Yaros and asked Zbigniev.
- 'You've been to Neverwinter. What's it like?'
Several heads turned. Despite officially belonging to the city few ever saw it, or wanted to. That didn't mean that they weren't interested in what it was like.
The dark haired one chuckled humourlessly,
- 'What's it like? Imagine a pigsty that is never cleaned and with no access of fresh air. Add to that a band of complex driven inbred idiots who try to be more southern than the south, southern idiots looking for "adventure" and all this run by a stinking peasant who demands to be called "Lord" with his right hand "man" being a female elf demanding to be called "de Tylmerande".'
The silence that followed the statement was broken only by Zyv as he snorted,
- 'Come Zbigniev! It can't be that bad!'
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The goblin screeched holding on to what was left of its arm. Its mewling was ended sharply as the sword slit it's throat. Zyv de Raque snarled as he bashed another aside. The two were replaced by more, all trying to hold the nobleman down. Bits of his armor had been torn off by the creatures attacks, several other dangled from straps. Zyv kicked one aside before turning sharply, his weapon smashed deep into the targeted creatures skull, too deeply.
Before he could pull it out three of the creatures ran into him. He lost his grip on his weapon and was sent back under the strength of the attack. He would have lost his balance if it weren't for the wall. A punch sent one of the creatures off, mewling and clinging to it's broken nose. He grabbed another by the throat, the creature stopped it's attempt to bite through the mans arm and began desperate attempts to pry the noblemans fingers of it's neck.
The third goblin slammed its dagger through the weakened mail, padded akneton and into flesh.
Zyv snarled, threw away the goblin he was strangling and punched the one that had wounded him, grabbed him with his free hand and punched it again and again until he heard a crack as the creatures neck snapped under the strain.
Breathing heavily the nobleman pulled out the goblins dagger and looked to the others. A half dozen stood there, eyeing the bodies of their comrades and the human that had defied them. He had killed nearly a dozen, but he was defenceless, alone and bleeding from a dozen wounds. It was all a matter of getting the nerve to attack him once more. They didn't.
An arrow took one through it's head, the second died with a blade rammed through it's chest. The remaining three fell almost simultaneously as a shadow passed amongst them, throats opening in a fountain of red at its passage.
- 'It took you idiots long enough.'
His voice came out sounding strange, hardly surprising, as one of the goblins had succeeded in tearing his cheek to the extent that you could see his teeth.
- 'Forgive us, my lord. We had to fight our way here from the servant quarters. The academy is crawling with these things.'
- 'And a few mages as well.'
Zbigniev added as he slit the throats of the wounded. Natasha wiped the blood off of her weapon before going to Zyv, producing a cloth that she placed against his cheek.
- 'You alright?'
- 'Fine.'
He answered taking the cloth from her, ignoring further interrogation on his state.
- 'Any other survivors?'
- 'None that we saw.'
Yaros answered. Natasha shook her head and Zbigniev shrugged. Zyv swore and yanked his weapon out of the goblins head. 'So much for safety in numbers' he thought.
- 'Orders, my lord?'
- 'We make for the exit.'
The two men nodded.
- 'Shouldn't we look for survivors?'
Natasha asked. Zyv looked at her,
-'What for?'
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They actually left the academy with a few students and a professor coming with them. They had met a few more groups of goblins and mages along the way; Zbigniev seemed to have fun slitting their throats and those that saw them did not seem so keen to attempt to kill them.
Zyv gracefully accepted the professor's and students thanks and glared at the students who simply fell down panting, one even began to sob. 'Southern Weaklings.' Was all that crossed through his mind at the sight.
He and his retainers moved towards a large group, most of which were the city watch though a fare number were of Alagondars personal guard. At their front stood the woman whose name was on the lips of every resident of the city.
Lady Aribeth de Tylmerande turned from the academy towards the group. Zyv still managed to catch the frown on her face before it was replaced with a political smile. He answered with a political smile of his own, though he really wanted to inform her of her incompetence in keeping those under her care safe. His retainers' expressions also changed.
Yaros smiled broadly with the faintest hint of a blush visible under his beard. Zbigniev smiled cheekily and openly eyed her figure. Nobody paid attention to Natasha who first looked at the paladins face, frowned and looked away.
- 'Zyv de Raque.'- Zyv marvelled at the females ability to remember anybodies name, - 'It is good to see that you survived. When you were late for the ceremony I thought that you were merely making a political statement. But with this…' – Aribeth indicated the academy, - 'I feared that the reason of your lateness was more sinister.'
Zyv bowed his head slightly.
- 'I have defeated barbarian tribes in battle; goblins had no chance of killing me, though admittedly they did try. And I apologize for being late; it was no political statement merely the effect of my pages' incompetence in getting the required garments ready.'
Aribeth proved that she had been properly brought up and smiled at the assurance. Natasha rolled her eyes. The half-elf's smile disappeared and to everyone's, especially Zyv's, surprise she stepped closer to the man than it was accepted for such an acquaintance and placed her fingers on his wounded cheek. She muttered something and removed her fingers. The nobleman felt a pleasant tingling and realized that his wounds had closed up leaving nothing more than a thin scar.
- 'Thank you, my lady.'
The paladin smiled. Natasha turned from the scene muttering,
- 'Of-course she can't just be a pretty face.'
If anybody heard that they did not show. The half-elf's smile vanished.
- 'Zyv. After this Neverwinter needs good men more than ever. Will you assist me in saving it.'
Outwardly Zyv showed no reaction. Inwardly he cursed. Seeing as she was the city lords right hand charged with fighting the plague, a noblewoman and someone who had just now assisted him and taking into account that he was a nobleman; he could not give any political answer save for one.
- 'Of course, my lady.'