Raewyn and Casavir both rose to see the cause of the ruckus. Casavir, being taller, had seen the identity of the visitor, and bent to whisper to Raewyn. "That is Sir Nevalle, one of the Neverwinter Nine, Lord Nasher's personal bodyguards. What could he possibly be doing here?"
"Well, I doubt he's here to see Grobnar perform. I suppose we ought to go find out."
With an apologetic look at Casavir for yet another conversation interrupted, she went to greet the man, noting his blue uniform emblazoned with the striking eye emblem of Neverwinter. At her approach, the man, Nevalle, Casavir had called him, looked her up and down before asking "Raewyn Thorne Farlong?"
"Yes. What can we do for you?"
"There you are." Nevalle paused, studying her intently. She crooked an eyebrow at his scrutiny. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I am here because Luskan has accused you of murder." At her stunned expression, he elaborated. "An entire village, no less. Have you heard of Ember?"
"Ember? Oh, gods. I traveled through it, I didn't slaughter it." With a shudder, she thought of Marcus, the eerie little boy they had met in Ember, who had spoken so chillingly of Ember's destruction. "What happened there? All those people…"
She felt her knees go weak and she swayed. Casavir caught her elbow to steady her, and she leaned against him gratefully.
Nevalle resumed, almost apologetically. "I've scraped things from my boot that I respect more than Luskan. But unless we find some means of clearing you of these charges, we will have to surrender you to them. We've signed a treaty with Luskan; they have the right to dispense low justice for any crimes committed on their soil." He paused, clearly not happy with the situation. "But I'm not turning over a loyal member of the Watch to some Luskan dog on this day or any other."
"So how do I prove my innocence?"
"Your guilt is preordained in a Luskan court. If you were a lord, knight, or even a squire, however, then matters would be different. You would be subject to high justice, and your trial would take place here in Neverwinter before Lord Nasher."
"Does serving the Watch not grant me a fair trial? Not even all I've done for Neverwinter..." Nevalle raised a hand, indicating he had more to say, and she bit back the swell of bitter resentment that filled her. "I'm sorry, this is…. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."
He nodded, seeming to understand. "I need you to go see Sir Grayson, one of Lord Nasher's most trusted knights, and become his squire. He is aware of your predicament and has offered to help you."
"A squire?"
"I know it is frustrating, and I am sorry to force your hand this way. But it is a generous offer."
"Very well, and thank you. I'll see him right away."
"I may also send a...friend of mine...to assist you. He has proven invaluable in such cases in the past." Nevalle heaved a sigh. "Mind you, the matter must still go to trial, and if you cannot prove your innocence, then you will face execution. But for now, let us deal with what we can. See Sir Grayson at once at Captain Brelaina's office. Pledging yourself to Neverwinter's service will give us time to counter these Luskan lies." He paused, then reluctantly added "And I'm sorry, but until you answer for these charges, the gates of the city will be barred to you. Seek out Grayson, but do not leave the city."
He directed a nod at Casavir, then left. Silence fell in Nevalle's wake, until Duncan broke it angrily. "No way in the hells will I let those Luskans get their hands on you."
"But there's still something we can do, right?" Khelgar, too, seemed to be holding back his own rage and frustration. "Nevalle said as much; all you have to do is pledge yourself to one of the knights, and Luskan can't touch you."
"And we're innocent, besides." Neeshka's tail lashed behind her, evidence of her own distress. "I mean, the slaughter of an entire village? That's going too far, even by Luskan standards."
"Is it?" Raewyn whirled at the ranger's growl. "If you have something Luskan wants, they'd kill an entire city for it. They don't care. They attacked Neverwinter once, and even now, they're sending fleets to attack Ruathym. Give them an excuse, any excuse, and you'll soon find Luskan blades at your gate."
No one had anything to add to Bishop's words. They turned as the door opened again and Duncan groaned.
"Oh, as if the day couldn't get any worse. What do you want, Sand?"
The wizard addressed the distressed innkeeper. "I am here to help you, and your kin, actually."
"Oh, really." Duncan sneered. "And what's the price? If it's more than a half-copper, you can see yourself out."
Raewyn placed a hand on her uncle's shoulder. "Relax, Duncan, I think we need all the help we can get. Let's at least hear him out."
"Thank you, madam. No, I...seem to have been given an ultimatum, in fact. I have heard of your...troubles with Luskan."
Raewyn sighed. Did all of Neverwinter know her for an alleged murderess? "Well, Sand, what do you think? What happens if I…if I end up in Luskan hands?"
"Well, at best, they will put you on trial, or what seems to be one, then execute you. At worst, they will dispense with the courtroom mockery and execute you as soon as you step within the gate. And when I say 'execute,' do not think it will be one clean chop of a headman's axe. Luskans have all sorts of inventive ways for executing prisoners that is best not to describe on a full stomach."
He stopped as Raewyn sank into a chair, her face white. The elf continued. "I realize you may find my sincerity difficult to believe, but allow me to act on your behalf."
"I appreciate it, Sand, but why would you get involved?"
The moon elf chose his words carefully, and Raewyn was a bit surprised at his sincerity. "There are laws, and there is right and wrong. I know you uphold the law, and I do not believe you are guilty of this...and if they should get a hold of you, you will be killed. I believe people should answer for their crimes, but it must be just."
Casavir spoke up, holding back his own outrage with difficulty. "If you have ever been ruined by politics, you know that at some point, one must make a stand, or else more will fall. I think we should give Sand, and Sir Grayson the chance. This is not a battle that can be won by swords, and I for one, am ill-equipped for such a fight."
"I know, Casavir. I don't see how I can possibly fight Luskan itself, even with all of you." Raewyn leaned heavily on the table, feeling the room tilting beneath her.
"Let me join with you. I have considerable experience with these matters." Sand allowed a smug smile to turn his lips. "Foiling Luskan plots is something I relish."
"Very well, Sand. Welcome to...us. And thank you." She rose stiffly, and her voice was flat. "We will go seek out Sir Grayson together, first thing in he morning. The rest of you should all take advantage of the next few days off. I don't imagine I'll be doing much adventuring for a while."
With that she went to her room. She hadn't gone to rest, however, but to gather her weapons. She slipped out the Flagon's back door to the tiny plot behind the inn where Duncan had helped her build some targets and practice dummies. She needed to hit things, badly. For once, she wished she had another of Brelaina's errands to run. Beating the stuffing out of a pack of bandits or smugglers or githyanki would suit her perfectly. Hells, she'd be happy for a whole crew of Logram's orcs at present.
She had begun to feel the stress ease, just a little, when Casavir appeared. She didn't stop her movements, but she spared him a glance as he settled on a crate behind her, well out of range of her sword.
He remained silent, watching her, struck as always by her grace and power with a blade. She could trip over a spiderweb when walking, but with a blade in her hand she moved like a dancer, even now despite her evident stress.
"Is it helping, my lady?" he ventured at last.
"No." She heaved a sigh. "Maybe." She made a few more strokes, right, left, right, before stopping, She stood there, breathing hard, her sword dangling from her hand. Then her shoulders heaved and the sword began to slip from her fingers.
Casavir crossed to her before the blade fell, gathering her in his arms, and holding her close as huge wracking sobs tore through her. She clung to him, seeking shelter in his solidity, in his care. Her stroked her hair and murmured softly to her, his heart aching for her. She felt so small, her shoulders seemed so slight in his arms; too narrow to bear such burdens. The fate of her village, the shards, the vague warnings of the githyanki Sword Stalker, and now this.
He wanted so badly to shield her, protect her, bear her burdens for her. But there was nothing for him to fight, nothing he could do, and he felt helpless, furious, and...afraid. So he held her close and gave her a safe haven for her tears.
She took a deep shuddering breath, struggling for calm. "Thank you, Casavir. It must be awful, having me fall apart all over you."
"Not at all, my lady. I am...honored you trust me, and happy to give you whatever comfort I can."
"It means a lot to me, really. It's just…I don't even know what to feel, this is just too...big to comprehend."
"I know. I think you must take each battle as it comes to you, each day as it dawns. I know that is not so easy as it sounds…" He settled back on the crate and let her pace in her frustration.
She laughed, only half bitterly. "You are right, it is not, especially when the battles, and even the days, seem to gather themselves in packs…." She sighed. "It's not that I mind swearing to Neverwinter; although I thought I already had. But I've come to love this place. I've seen it's darker side, the corruption, the thugs; but I've seen the good, too. Partly because of you, you know." She smiled at Casavir, and he raised his brows, surprised. He had all the same doubts as she did about Neverwinter, and it was her optimism that had restored his faith in what Neverwinter stood for, if not in all of its representatives.
"It's just...they are forcing my hand! I'm grateful to Sir Grayson, I am. I know this is a tremendous honor, to say nothing of literally saving my life, but how can he, or even Nasher for all that, even want the oath of someone who's been forced to it?" She gestured restlessly, feeling trapped.
"I think you underestimate your reputation, my lady. Marshall Cormick, Captain Brelaina, and even Callum have spoken often of your accomplishments and your character. I am certain none of them would prefer to force you to this, but I think they know you will take it seriously nonetheless."
"Right. If they all think I'm so wonderful and accomplished, why is it even necessary for me to do this? Isn't everything I've done enough? Isn't swearing to the Watch enough? Does it really take being 'noble...'" she gave the word all the contempt she felt. "...to be deserving of justice?"
"No, my lady, it should not be so, you are correct. But the terms of the treaty are what they are...though I suspect that will change once this is over."
"Lovely. I get to be the precedent. I don't know as much about these things as you do, but doesn't the 'precedent' usually end up...wrongfully imprisoned, or wrongfully dead?"
"We will not let that happen, my lady."
"I know, Casavir. I'm just overwhelmed, I suppose."
She sat beside him then, her head resting on his shoulder for a long time. They were quiet, enjoying the stillness of the night together, savoring a few moments of peace.
"My lady, this may not be the proper time to speak of such things, but…"
"You know you can tell me anything. What is it?"
"I do not wish to presume, my lady. But I want to assure you that the attention I have paid to Shandra; it is for her safety and ours, nothing more. My loyalty remains to you alone…."
She held up her hand. "It's alright Casavir, I know. I just...I've missed talking with you. You've seemed to be avoiding me for a while now. Is there...have I done something wrong?"
The paladin looked away, his scowl deeper than she'd seen in a while. "I do not wish to be in the way of whatever other...associations milady may wish to…entertain."
"Associations?" She frowned in confusion. "What kind of associations do you think…." Her eyes went wide. "Oh, my gods. Wait, are you saying you are staying out of the way so I can…" she started giggling. "...associate...with Bishop?" She was laughing in earnest now, her hands on her stomach, tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Casavir…." She saw his scowl deepen and he looked even more uncomfortable, even miserable.
"I guess what they say is true, laughter really is good for the soul. I needed that." Still chuckling, she wiped her eyes. "Now seriously, you can't possibly think I would ever…" she searched his face, seeing only distress there. "Gods, you were serious?"
"What my lady chooses…" He ground the words out between clenched teeth. "...who my lady chooses…." She put her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her.
"Casavir, stop, honestly. I admit, I want to believe there is some good in Bishop, but even if I was so inclined—which I am most decidedly not, by the way—I would sooner, and safer, let a viper into my bed. Believe me, I have no interest in...associating...with Bishop; none. And alright, yes, perhaps I was a little afraid that you'd begun to prefer Shandra's company to mine. That wasn't very charitable of me, I know. But I missed you, Casavir. Please, ask me before you decide to leave me alone for my own sake?"
He almost smiled. "Yes, my lady. I have...missed you as well."
She laced her arm through his. "So tell me, my paladin, what shall I expect from squirehood?"