"You know, at times like this, I feel like your squire," Shandra said offhandedly, looking out across the tourney grounds before turning back to help Marcus with his armour.
Marcus grinned. "I didn't know a squire could have a squire of their own. What would Sir Nevalle say?" he asked, amused.
Shandra smiled at that. "You sure about this?" she asked. The farm girl knew how much stress this whole ordeal had put the harbourman and everyone else, especially Neeshka, under. "It's not too late to choose someone else to fight for you. Not like I don't have faith in you, or anything." Somehow her last sentence didn't seem that convincing.
Bishop smiled evilly. "So you changed your mind, eh, farm girl? After all that terrible crying last night and that phrase you kept saying, what was, it now... 'I don't see how he can possibly'..." he said sarcastically.
"Bishop!" Shandra growled at the ranger.
"Sorry. Did I say that?" Bishop replied innocently, not looking innocent at all.
Casavir shook his head, as he had arrived just in time to hear Bishop being his usually charming self. The paladin had been at the Hall of Justice the previous night, praying to Tyr that all would go well for Marcus. He had fully intended to visit the harbourman afterward but Casavir had seen Neeshka arrive, so instead he had returned to the Flagon. This had proved to be the right thing to have done, as he had seen the tiefling arrive at the Flagon early this morning looking somewhat rumpled. It wasn't hard to work out where Neeshka had spent the night.
Marcus blinked. He wasn't sure what he found the more worrying, Shandra getting all emotional or Bishop revealing the fact. "Were you that worried about me?" the harbourman asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, but I wasn't crying. I haven't cried since I was a girl, and even then only when peeling onions," Shandra replied, trying to deny most of what Bishop had said.
Marcus smiled reassuringly. "I swore an oath to serve Neverwinter, Shandra. Now I will to honour it," he said, matter of fact. Bishop just snorted at that and muttered something about a paladin in training which earned him a glare from Casavir.
"Gods, you're frustrating. Fine. Go on, see if you can move all of Faerûn while you're at it," Shandra said, rolling her eyes.
"Marcus, I'm glad I got a chance to speak to you," Casavir said, making his presence known. "I know something of knightly combat, more so than Lorne, I suspect. Are you familiar with the etiquette of the duel?"
Marcus shook his head. "No, not really, Casavir, nothing beyond the basics," he replied.
"Very well, do not yield to Lorne. If there is a chance you can still win, keep fighting, for Lorne will not accept your surrender," Casavir said gravely. "Any weapons or spells are permitted in the arena as each combatant is expected to fight to the best of their ability, with all the resources at their disposal," the paladin explained. "There is no doubt that Lorne's strength is in close combat. As such, there is no dishonour in keeping him beyond arm's reach if you can." Casavir was silent for several moments. "I know you intend to face Lorne yourself, Marcus. May Tyr guide your blade, and may the people of Ember grant strength to your weapon," the paladin said solemnly. "This is a ritual flask. It will heal you and also convey a blessing upon you. Use it today and it will have served its purpose, for it was intended to be used in such a duel as this."
"Thank you, Casavir," Marcus replied, taking the offered flask. "It's good to know I can use what spells I know."
"Hey, you," Neeshka said softly from behind the harbourman.
"Hey yourself," Marcus replied just as softly as he turned to face her. If he didn't know better, he'd say she'd been crying again. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"You know me; got to make sure you're safe," Neeshka said as she glanced at Bishop and Shandra. "And I don't trust the ranger, or the farm girl."
Marcus smiled. "Still jealous of Shandra, are we?" he said playfully. Neeshka just gave him her classic 'who me?' look. "Yes, you," the harbourman said. "Anyone would think we're married with the way you act at times, sweetheart."
Neeshka snorted. "Like that'll ever happen."
Marcus' eyes sparkled. "Don't know about that… one day perhaps," he said wistfully as he noticed one of Nasher's guards signalling him. "It's time. Honour and duty calls, Neesh. I'll return to you once this is over. I swear." Then Marcus turned and walked toward the tourney ground entrance.
"You'd better," Neeshka said softly. "I love you," she whispered as she watched Marcus marching into the arena to face Lorne.
So it's come down to this, has it? Marcus thought dismally. I must face another harbourman in single combat. A sad day, indeed. The sadder thing is what drove Lorne to this path. Why did he never return after the war with Luskan? And what in Torm's name do I tell Retta? he thought as he walked out to face Lorne Starling.
"Is the accuser or her champion here?" Lord Nasher asked from where he sat, overseeing proceedings in his private box.
"We are here," Lorne replied angrily.
"Is the accused or his champion here?" Lord Nasher asked.
Marcus turned to face Nasher's private box. "I am here, my lord. For the honour of Neverwinter and those lost at Ember," he said as he bowed before turning back to face Lorne.
"Why did you never come back to West Harbour after the war, Lorne? Your mother still wonders about your fate, what became of her oldest son?" Marcus asked.
"What would you know of my mother?" Lorne growled.
"Enough; I'm friends with your younger brother, Bevil," Marcus said. "Retta often told us how proud of you she was when you went off to fight for Neverwinter, but she worried terribly when you never came home. She even asked Cormick to see if he could find anything, but he never did." At the mention of the Marshal's name, Marcus saw something in Lorne's eyes but it was gone too fast.
"Shut up! Just for that, I'm gonna carve my name into your hide while you still breathe," Lorne hissed.
Marcus sighed. "So be it, Lorne," he said grimly. "You turned your back on West Harbour, on Neverwinter. You are a Harbourman no more." Retta, please forgive me, he leaves me no choice.
As Lorne and Marcus walked to their starting marks, Judge Oleff began his speech. "What takes place in the field here today shall resolve the crime of the razing of the village of Ember and the death of its people. Torio Claven, ambassador of Luskan, has accused one in the service of Neverwinter, and has called for a trial by combat to resolve the matter. Acting on her behalf is her champion, Lorne, who will fight in her stead." And as unceremoniously as that, the duel began.
This is not going to be an easy fight at all, Marcus thought to himself. Lorne is far larger than me and that falchion he's wielding would hurt a lot if it were to connect, something I plan on avoiding as much as I can.
Lorne charged at Marcus and brought his weapon down as if he were trying to split the harbourman in two like a piece of wood. However, Marcus saw it coming and dodged to the left, scoring a hit of his own. Lorne, faster than Marcus gave him credit for, swung his weapon around, smashing the flat of it into the harbourman's back.
Marcus recovered, wincing a little, and turned to attack Lorne again, but when he did, Marcus realised that Lorne was in some sort of barbarian rage which was going to make hitting him a waste of time. Lorne didn't even seem to realise where he was any longer, so enraged was he. He charged at Marcus like a maddened bull, bellowing and sweeping his falchion in great arcs that had the harbourman dodging to and fro.
Marcus spent what seemed like the next twenty minutes staying out of Lorne's way, which he did successfully most of the time, putting the larger man in an even fouler mood. The fight didn't all go Marcus's way however, as Lorne was able to get a few blows in, one in particular which shredded the armour on his upper left arm and gave Marcus with a nasty gash down to the bone, and made him drop his shield.
The harbourman quickly backed off and downed the ritual flask that Casavir had given him. Marcus soon felt its healing effects for which he was grateful. While he waited for Lorne's rage to wear off, Marcus was able to retrieve his shield from where it had fallen.
When Lorne's rage finally did wear off he seemed dazed and exhausted, and Marcus knew to take full advantage. The warrior turned mage cast a number of magic missiles in quick succession which sent the dazed Lorne reeling as he was blasted by magical energy, until he fell to his knees, defeated.
Marcus grinned at the downed brute as he raised his longsword to finish it once and for all… then he checked himself, blinked and took several paces back before sheathing his weapon. "You've lost, Lorne," Marcus said, as he realised that he'd almost became what Lorne was, a murderer.
"Do you think you've won?" Lorne growled, looking up at Marcus.
"I don't think, Lorne, I know," Marcus said. "When you next see your master Garius, tell him if he wants the shards he can come and try and get them himself, as I look forward to removing his thorn from my side permanently," the harbourman said grimly, blue eyes blazing cold fire.
Marcus then turned to face Lord Nasher's private box and bowed. Lorne staggered to his feet, realising that both he and Torio had failed spectacularly. Lorne turned and left the tourney ground defeated. The duel was over and Marcus Cole, squire of Neverwinter, was the victor.
Marcus heard a shout from behind him and the sound of running feet. He looked over his shoulder to see what was happening but that only made Marcus turn fully around at the sight he saw. He couldn't help but grin. Neeshka had jumped clear over the wall at the edge of the tournament ground and was coming toward Marcus at a dead run, with two of Nasher's guards after her, but she had too much of a head start. Neeshka was far more worried than Marcus could have suspected.
The harbourman could see what was going to happen so he opened his arms, and once Neeshka was close enough she leaped into them, wrapping her legs around the harbourman's waist and putting her arms around his neck. Marcus encircled her in his arms. The momentum of Neeshka's impact spun them around as they kissed passionately. Marcus could feel the tension slowly drain from her body; Neeshka was also shaking slightly as well. Marcus's rather preoccupied brain was vaguely aware of Lord Nasher calling off his guards. And the crowd… cheering? Neeshka at last untangled herself from the harbourman.
"You have to be the brashest, most brazen, impulsive, infuriatingly frustrating… and loveable woman I've ever met," Marcus said, slightly breathless, their foreheads touching. "So are you trying to tell me you were just a little worried, Neesh?" he asked, stroking her cheek.
"Yeah, I guess," Neeshka said, looking flushed. "I'm glad you're safe."
Marcus smiled. "I've told you before, Neesh, I'm hard to kill." She just smiled back at him, her eyes shining. "You do realise you've put us both in an awkward position?" he asked, teasing her a little.
"Huh? What? Why?" Neeshka asked, mystified.
"I'm going to have to present you to Lord Nasher. After your rather spectacular entrance, I can't do anything else. It would be very poor manners not to," Marcus said with a grin.
"Hells, hells, hells," Neeshka said, looking away. "Never thought of that."
The harbourman grinned wickedly. "I did say 'impulsive', didn't I? And he wasn't the only one watching. So was half of Neverwinter. Have you no shame, woman?" Marcus asked.
Neeshka blushed the loveliest shade of red Marcus had ever seen. "I thought not," he said affectionately. "So are you ready to be presented to your lord, my lady?" Neeshka just nodded, looking bashful. Marcus wasn't really surprised after the stunt she'd just pulled.
They both turned to face Lord Nasher, holding hands. He looked bemused by the whole thing. Oleff had a slight smile on his face. Torio just looked ill. As for Sir Callum, he was grinning, and Sir Nevalle was doing a very good impression of a stone statue.
"And whom do we have here, Squire?" Lord Nasher asked, the amusement evident though he knew full well who the tiefling was.
"My lord, may I present to you Neeshka, a very dear friend of mine," Marcus said.
"Greetings to you, my lady," Nasher said.
'Thank you, my lord," Neeshka replied, bowing, hoping she was doing the right thing. Nasher nodded his approval.
"As I was about to say when the celebrations started a little early..." Nasher began. At that Neeshka blushed and the crowd laughed. "Justice has been served. My judgment passed at the trial shall now take effect, as was intended. The Arcane Brotherhood of Luskan is to leave the city of Neverwinter within three days time, and they are not to be permitted within our walls again, by royal decree. The possessions of the champion of the Luskan ambassador, Lorne, are to become the property of the accused." Nasher stopped a moment to speak something to Torio in a low voice and by the pale look on her face it couldn't have been anything good. "To the accused, I believe you are in need of a well-deserved rest. Please return to the Sunken Flagon. That is a command from your Lord, soldier of Neverwinter."
"As you wish, my lord," Marcus said, as he and Neeshka bowed. With that they turned, still hand in hand, and walked out of the tournament grounds to the cheers and applause of the crowd.
Black Garius was not a happy man. In fact, he was very upset. Before him stood both Torio and Lorne.
"Word of the trial came to me faster than you did," Garius said coldly. "It would have been wiser for both of you not to have come at all."
"Forgive us, Master Garius. He proved more... capable than we had expected," Torio said, bowing her head a little.
"In an open field, without the... mockery of this trial, I would have run him through. His head would lie on a pike outside this Keep, for all to see," Lorne said angrily.
"Indeed," Garius said with a raised eyebrow. "I think it is you who does not see, Lorne." Garius made a motion with his hands, and suddenly Lorne was screaming; his body was torn apart as it burst into flame.
Then silence. Torio looked, horrified, at the remains of Lorne's corpse next to her. Garius started advancing on Torio, forcing her to back up, frightened, making her fear she was next.
"Ember destroyed, the time wasted with this trial ... I trusted you, Torio," Garius hissed, disgusted; he definitely was thinking about killing her, too. "Brutes like Lorne... they swarm the Luskan streets in hundreds, thousands, but you..."
"Master... Garius... the one we seek, he still has the shards, they are in his possession..." Torio said, almost begging for her life. Garius paused and looked at Torio. The mention of shards had calmed him slightly. "They can still be retrieved. Tell me what to do, I shall do it."
"Do…? You are to do nothing. And you are to say nothing… especially to our ally," Garius said angrily. "The shards are out of my reach... for now. But I have almost all I need for the ritual," he mused quietly, seeming to forget about Torio. "And when that is done, I shall need our ally no longer. I shall not need anyone." Garius looked up. "Leave me, Torio," he said with a sigh.
Torio turned to walk out, passing Lorne's body on the floor as she did. "At... once, Master Garius," she said in a hushed voice as the realisation hit home that Garius was eventually going to kill her as he had Lorne. Torio knew her only hope was to return to Neverwinter and hope Lord Nasher didn't hang her.
Nasher Alagondar, Lord of Neverwinter, sat at his desk, still trying to understand what he'd witnessed earlier in the day at the tournament grounds, after his newest squire had defeated the Luskan champion. If someone had told him of the events, he doubted he would have believed them. But he had witnessed it with his own two eyes and that could not be denied. That was why he had summoned three of his closest aides, for they had seen what he had and maybe would be able to offer some perspective on it.
A knock sounded on Nasher's office door. "Enter," he said.
The door opened and Sir Nevalle, Sir Callum and Judge Oleff entered. "You wished to see us, Lord Nasher?" Nevalle said.
"Indeed I did, Nevalle," Nasher said. "You were all present at the trial by combat. What do you make of the events following the Luskan's defeat?"
"Can't say I'm that surprised," remarked Sir Callum. "Not after seeing them together in Old Owl Well."
"Oh? It was obvious even then?" inquired Nasher, intrigued.
Callum shook his head. "No, not really. But it was clear to me there was something between them. All the times I saw them, she was never far from his side. Even when Casavir joined them and I knew she must be very uncomfortable being so close to a paladin… she still would not leave."
"Interesting," Nasher said, and then he looked at Oleff. "They helped you with the Tomb of the Betrayers, did they not?" he asked.
"Indeed they did, Lord Nasher. I was surprised by how much influence he had with her. I made them swear not to interfere with the tombs before I'd allow them to enter." Oleff smiled. "She, being a thief, was not happy about that situation. However, the way the squire handled it was masterful. He simply pointed out when it came her time to be laid to rest, he wouldn't want anyone defiling her tomb. The change in the young woman was… remarkable. And I am certain that he was deadly serious as well, for if she were to die before him he would see to it she were laid to rest with dignity and honour." Oleff inclined his head, thinking. "There is also something that Prior Hlam told me about this morning regarding the Rite of Tyr." Nasher nodded for him to continue. "Those undergoing the Rite are allowed visitors. Well, unsurprisingly she visited him, but when Hlam went to show her out he found her asleep in the squire's arms. It seems she was… concerned for his safety and once he'd managed to calm her enough, she simply gave into exhaustion and fell asleep. Hlam sought Tyr's guidance in the matter and he allowed her to remain."
"I can confirm that, Lord Nasher," said Nevalle. "She was present when Sir Grayson and I went to collect the squire. I don't know about Sir Grayson, but I found the whole thing… unnerving, as if we really shouldn't have been there."
"Oh? And why do you say that, Nevalle?" asked Nasher, slightly amused at the knight's awkwardness.
Nevalle rubbed the back of his neck, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't make him look like a total idiot. "I don't know if I can fully explain, Lord Nasher. But there was something about what we saw… a feeling that we really shouldn't be seeing it. They were acting so much like a couple it was frightening."
Nasher nodded. "Well, gentlemen, you've helped clarify the situation … but that still doesn't help me when it comes to knighting the young squire."
"When? Don't you mean if?" Nevalle asked.
"No, Nevalle. I mean when, for I fear it will be all too soon when I bestow a knighthood on the young harbourman's shoulders. Can you imagine how the nobility will react to that, much less his consort?"
"I don't really see the problem, my lord," the captain of the Nine replied, obviously not following his Lord's train of thought.
Callum shook his head. "Are you really that dense, Nevalle?" he said. "Imagine if they marry? With a knighthood she by default gains the title of Lady. Now do you see Lord Nasher's predicament?"
The horrified look on Nevalle's face spoke volumes. "Oh…"
"Oh indeed," Nasher replied.
"Well, they may not marry, my lord," Nevalle responded lamely.
"Do you really believe that, Nevalle? Given what we all witnessed today?" Nasher said, giving Nevalle a long hard look.
"It's… possible," Nevalle said cautiously, trying to defend his increasingly indefensible position.
"But not very likely," Nasher responded. "I believe that the only thing now that could possibly separate them would be death itself, after what we've seen."
"If you ask me, the nobility could do with a kick in the pants," Callum said. "But that decision is yours, Lord Nasher."
"Don't remind me," Nasher said sourly. "Thank you for your help, gentlemen, you are dismissed." As his three advisors left he stood, walked to the window and looked out over the city, no closer to a decision than when he'd started.
Nasher had to admit that Callum was right. The Lord's Alliance could do with a kick in the pants and he suspected that the young harbourman and his tiefling consort would certainly do that. The more Nasher thought about it, the more he liked the sound of Sir Marcus and Lady Neeshka. So be it, he thought. Nasher had made his decision.