For a Better World
(5:00 AM)
Selena ran her fingers across the grooves on the temple door, tracing out the symbol adorning the face. It was caked in dirt and grime, but she could tell that it was the symbol of the dead god Myrkul. Typical. She brushed her hands off and glanced up at the sky, now a shade of grey. No doubt the sun would be rising soon. The question was whether they could afford to wait before going after Cyrael.
Dace returned from around the side of the building. "There is a breached wall in the back through which we may enter. Others may have been to this place ever since this district was abandoned. But I am certain that freak is inside, and alone."
"The more I think about this, the more convinced I am that we should get help after all. What could the three of us possibly do against someone with as much power as Cyrael?"
"If you are seeking words of inspiration from me, you will receive none," Dace pointed a finger at her face. "It will not matter if we are three or three hundred, the chances will be the same. Cyrael cannot die, so his defeat will be not be secured through sheer force or power."
"I see. Cerdan once said something to that effect: 'A hundred catapults can break the walls of a fortress, but one diseased rat can kill all inside.' You really believe your plan will work?" she asked, gesturing to the crossbow in his hands. "I don't expect my faith will grant us enough power for this."
"I do not expect your useless faith to grant any power, period. Relying on some invisible man in the sky? All I require is a clear shot at the bottle. How that opportunity comes about is on you."
The cleric stretched her arms, wondering what could possibly be taking Cerdan so long. "Yesterday, I never would have guessed that I'd be in a position like this. Working with you of all people. And I'll thank you not to insult my beliefs."
"Pfah. Faith and beliefs are nothing, if not backed by competent skill and cunning. " Dace turned his back to her and started moving around the building again. "Inform me when the other elf arrives, but make haste. There is no telling what the so-called celestial is planning to do here."
(5:03)
Cyrael held the Behemoth's Heart before his left eye, staring through it at the sky above. The red crystal had lost its glow when the Behemoth dissipated. If only he hadn't lost the Wild Source in such a clumsy manner… but no matter. Even without the cube, he could still command the power of the Behemoth. If he could touch Cerdan with the artifact once more, it would simply take a day or so for the power of the Heart to replenish itself before he could try again. And he would have to find another source of wild magic, or the Behemoth would only last for a few hours at a time before expending its energy.
As always, he could rebuild. But time was starting to grow short… if only these humans could perceive the greater scope of things. The celestial shook his head and lowered the crystal.
He glanced around the room, taking note of the exits to the temple's central chamber. The room was structured much like a forum, or even an arena. The raised circular platform gave him a clear sight of the steeped rows of seats that formed elevated rings around the main stage. How many impassioned speeches praising Myrkul might have been delivered in this very place, long before the god was reduced to ash?
The stained-glass ceiling of the temple had been shattered at some point in the recent past. Shards of purple glass still littered the central floor, making it difficult to step across the large, circular platform without making loud crunching noises. At least no one would be able to sneak up on him.
And that is who it all boiled down to. Cerdan, Caden, Bloodletter, Behemoth. Even if the elf refused to pledge himself to Cyrael's cause, there were other ways to seize his reins. He only needed Cerdan alive, not necessarily willing. Cyrael flicked his wrists, and called his flaming swords to bear. To control the Behemoth, he needed to control Cerdan. And if the only way to keep the elf from running were to remove his legs… then so be it. The stakes were far too high to allow for mercy.
(5:06)
"I'm still not too keen on this 'plan' of his. And what, praytell, should we do to divert Cyrael? Just charge in, screaming at the top of our lungs like idiots?" asked Cerdan.
"We only need to provide a distraction. Dace will take care of the rest."
The rogue scratched his chin, cocking his head toward the temple of Myrkul. "Forgive me if I don't have the utmost faith in him. He said that the demon-in-a-jar, or whatever it is, feeds on magic. Fine and well for him, but it doesn't bode too well for either of us. For all I know, it might try to eat my heart. And I need that."
"Nell will inform my fellow faithful of the situation. If we do fail, others will find a way to stop him."
"Never took you to be the suicidal type. I'm sure neither of us came all this way just to be killed."
Selena shook her head. "Then what should we do? Leave? I never took you to be the cowardly type."
"Only one of us needs to distract Cyrael, so before we head inside, we ought to have a contingency. Between the two of us, I'm sure we have all we need to come up with something. And I do intend to have a fighting chance, at least."
(5:09)
Charell was flanked by two paladins as she followed the path that connected the Tower of Tyr to the city street. Every step made the butterflies in her stomach flap a little harder. She could see the Prelate approaching with two of his own men and Villet in tow. Her hands fidgeted slightly as she pulled on a pair of gloves. This wasn't going to end well.
"What is the meaning of this?" Saudere demanded before Charell could say a word. "You had no right to invade my personal property and I promise that you'll be severely disciplined for this incursion!"
"Ordinarily, I would agree, High Prelate. But I don't think that will happen." Charell gestured to one of the knights at her side. He carried with him a metallic case that held several dozen red scrolls. "If you were to have me disciplined, the Grandmasters of our Order would need to be made aware of what I found. In fact, I think you are trying to intimidate me into surrendering these documents into your possession, so you can destroy them. I must confess, even I was doubtful of what Cleric Shademoor told me a short while ago…"
The Prelate turned toward Villet and made a dismissive gesture. "Begone, whelp. This is not for a child's ears." Villet frowned at both of them, but said nothing and started off toward the tower.
Charell ignored him and continued, "She told me I'd find documents that detailed your involvement in the creation and subsequent cover-up of the weapon that caused the massacre at Caden's Hill. She also warned me that the scrolls are enchanted to burn up when touched, I suppose by anyone other than you. It will take some magic to undo those wardings. Still, one of our clerics was able to read sections from a few of the scrolls simply by looking inside the case." She gestured to the other knight beside her, and he stepped closer to the Prelate with his hand on the hilt of his sword. "We found records of the Church's involvement in a number of projects to build magical weapons, many of which seem to be in violation of the Treaty of Caden's Hill."
The High Prelate's Royal Horsemen came forward to block the knight, but Saudere quickly waved them off. He fixed his eyes on Charell, and the young woman felt a lump forming in her throat. "Nothing inside that case is proof of anything. You have naught but words on paper. What do you intend to achieve from this? If you believe that is enough to have me convicted of a crime, then you are severely mistaken."
"Convicted, no. But there is enough here to warrant an investigation into your past and current activities. And I think we both know that there will be misdeeds brought to light. Conviction or not, it will have repercussions upon you."
"And you as well. If you go through with this, it will be a terrible scar upon the Order of Tyr in this city and beyond. Everything I have done has been for the good of our brethren and to bring justice by all means at our disposal." Turning to his Royal Horsemen, he said, "You are dismissed. Return to the black tower and continue the search for the Bloodletter." He folded his arms and held his head high as he returned his attention to the woman. "Do what you must, cleric, but be warned that I will do the same in the coming months."
Inhaling slowly, Charell nodded toward the knight. "Take the High Prelate into custody. We cannot formally place you under arrest, but you will be confined to a separate room until the investigation has been completed."
Saudere showed no sign of emotion as he was led away by the knight. His Royal Horsemen each gave Charell a dark glare as they made their way back to the street.
The remaining knight tapped her on the shoulder. "Shall I take this evidence back to the lower vault?"
She nodded. "But I want three of our most loyal men guarding the case at all times. I doubt the Royal Horsemen would stoop to petty thievery, but we should make no assumptions." Charell paused when she noticed that a number of local townsfolk, probably awakened by the commotion coming from the Old Quarter, were gathering just outside the field surrounding the Tower of Tyr. "What's going on over there?"
The knight pointed toward the large wooden platform that had been set up outside the gates. "Yesterday the High Prelate ordered the construction of an executioners' block. He wanted a public hanging for the Bloodletter, remember? We never had a chance to finish the hangman's beam before we were called off, so the locals probably think it's a stage for a show or some nonsense."
"Or a speech…" Charell added absently. She looked back toward the tower and watched as Prelate Saudere passed inside the building. He undoubtedly had far more influence in the higher circles of the Order of Tyr, and it would be no small feat to keep the investigation free of taint. For all she knew, the investigation might be called off before she even had a chance to present their case. Unless…
"Summon the remaining priests and a few scribes," she said to the knight. "And inform the people that we will be making a statement within the hour. I think it's past time the truth was made known."
(5:15)
It all seemed oddly familiar. Cerdan found himself navigating a labyrinthine set of old stone corridors that probably had not been used in years. The grime and decay here was probably even older than the plague that had once infested this district. Myrkul's faithful had abandoned him decades ago, after the god was destroyed, and the temple was probably on the verge of collapse. The crumbling walls of the maze were several metres tall, but the building's outer walls were much higher, giving him a clear view of an open skylight in the centre of the ceiling. It was probably getting close to sunrise. Over the past hour, the skies had slowly turned from black to grey, but Cerdan doubted sunlight would provide much advantage to this particular opponent.
As he made his way toward the centre of the shrine, he couldn't shake the thought of Derrick from his mind. There was something the merchant had once said to Cerdan about a temple of Myrkul, something about that fateful day against Verskul three years ago. The elf shook his head. It probably didn't matter. His old friend couldn't help them now.
He emerged from a downward sloping passage and found himself in a wide chamber that extended to the sides of the building. There were tiered rows of stone benches going up on either side of the room, giving the place the look of an arena rather than a temple of faith. The central part of the room was an elevated circular platform, like a sacrificial circle of some sort. He spotted something moving at the very top of one of the seating rows at the left side of the chamber. Probably Dace, moving into position.
Cyrael stood at the very centre of the platform, wings fully extended through the tears in the back of his white coat. His back was turned to Cerdan, but the elf knew the celestial would be expecting him. Keeping his eyes on the winged man, the elf slowly paced forward, moving toward the ramp that led up to the platform. Cerdan pulled his cloak close, hiding his arms and hands from view.
A loud series of cracks came from underfoot, causing Cerdan to stop and wince at the noise. Looking down, he now saw that there were shards of purple and black glass covering the ground, mostly obscured in the dark. Cyrael immediately turned toward the elf with a look of bemusement on his face. "There used to be a stained glass window with the symbol of Myrkul up there, on the ceiling. Some fool apparently shattered the glass a few years ago, back when Verskul tried to take the city." The celestial's hands were empty, but Cerdan knew the Behemoth's Heart was still somewhere on his person. So long as the rogue kept his distance, Cyrael wouldn't be able to touch him with the red crystal.
Cerdan pulled his leather gloves from a pocket and pulled them onto his hands, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
"You think you're doing something heroic, do you not?" Cyrael asked as Cerdan stepped forward and walked along the edge of the platform. "But there is more going on than you realize, even here at the end of all our paths."
"Care to illuminate me, then?" Cerdan stole a quick glance to the side, wondering where Selena was hiding.
Cyrael folded his wings close to his body. "There is no point in that. Even if you knew what was to come, you would still choose to oppose me. That is your role in your quest, as is mine. In the end, everyone is faced with a defining trial. One must be willing to make a great sacrifice, or perish. You of all people should understand this. "
Cerdan had no idea what the celestial was talking about, but he nodded his head sagely anyway, just so he wouldn't appear clueless. There was a slight bulge coming from underneath Cyrael's coat, just over his heart. As Cerdan continued to pace around the perimeter of the platform, he caught a glimpse of what looked like a corked bottle sticking out of an inner pocket. Good. Now all he had to do was make Cyrael turn so that Dace had a clear shot.
"Let me tell you this, Cerdan: the world never changes. Not with humans as the dominant species. It keeps turning from day to night and back again, without end, and these humans remain ever selfish and arrogant above all else. Do you really think anything you've done here today is for the greater good? Nothing has been accomplished; you've simply ensured that your own race, and countless others, will continued to decline until you are naught but a shadow beneath these humans. Why would you allow such an imbalance to come to pass?"
"Fine words from you. I don't see mass murder as something to bring about 'balance'." Cerdan stopped moving, and Cyrael turned to face the elf directly. Hopefully Dace wasn't an incompetent shot with a crossbow.
"A life is worthless unless it is spent in a cause for a better world."
A snapping sound echoed from the stone benches to Cyrael's right, and Cerdan braced himself, ready to dive to the ground in case he needed to. But instead of looking toward the source of the noise, Cyrael raised his arm and his flaming sword ignited his hand. The celestial swiped his arm to the side and cut the bolt out of mid-air, sending the fragments of the projectile flying across the room. The entire act happened in an instant, and for a moment even Cerdan was stunned at the celestial's speed. Cyrael didn't even seem to take his eyes off the elf.
"Do you think I am a fool? I knew the blackheart was there the moment he set foot inside this chamber. There is no –" A fist-sized rock struck him in the side of the head, and he turned in Dace's direction, summoning his second sword.
The moment the celestial took his eyes off Cerdan, the elf reached behind his cloak and removed the ice sphere from beneath the strap across his back. The sphere felt cool to the touch, even with gloves on, and the elf wasted no time raising the artifact back over his head with both hands before pitching it forward at Cyrael.
The celestial glanced back in time to see the object coming, and he reflexively raised a fire sword against the incoming sphere. Cerdan crouched low and turned his back to Cyrael, pulling part of the protective cloak over his face. A long crackling noise erupted behind him, drowning out all other sounds, and the elf felt a series of cold shocks passing through the air around him. The crackling quickly died down into a hiss, and Cerdan moved his arm to survey the effects.
Much to the elf's dismay, Cyrael was still standing, albeit with a pool of water and ice at his feet. The skin of the celestial's hands and face now seemed to be grey and cracked, but the flame swords were gone. Cerdan cautiously stepped closer as Cyrael tried to move his hands, managing to flex his fingers sluggishly. Fresh steam seemed to waft off into the air as he attempted to recall his flame swords.
"This changes nothing," Cyrael growled. "Did you think I was standing here by myself, doing nothing as I awaited your arrival? I was preparing the spell ritual that would keep you in this place until I have what I need." He glanced down at the floor beneath Cerdan's feet.
Cerdan stopped moving forward and followed his eyes down, noticing for the first time a line of symbols that were drawn on the platform in black dust, concealed beneath the pieces of broken glass. He looked up at the celestial again, and saw Cyrael finishing a hand movement through the air.
Cyrael whispered a few syllables and closed his eyes. Cerdan could feel a wind picking up in the room and heard a jingling noise as the shards of glass rattled against the floor. In an instant, the strength of the winds multiplied, lifting the debris from the ground and rapidly swirling them around the platform in a circle. Several sharp pieces of glass scraped across Cerdan's neck and back, forcing him to step forward and closer to the centre of the platform.
The elf touched the back of his neck and found that he was bleeding from what felt like several small gashes. Cyrael raised his voice so Cerdan could hear him over the sound of the winds. "These humans. You walk among them, separated so far from your own kind. And for what end? To pretend that you owe them some sort of allegiance for what you did at Caden's Hill, and atrocity that was their own doing?"
The shards of glass were too many and moving too fast for Cerdan to make it through. For now, it seemed that he was trapped inside the vortex atop the platform with Cyrael. "I'm not stupid enough to blame an entire species for the actions of a few zealots, no matter how much I wanted to."
"So instead you hide from the truth, drifting along wherever the road takes you? Inaction bred through fear." The celestial experimentally flexed his hand into a fist, and Cerdan could tell that Cyrael was already starting to heal from the damage of the ice sphere. "Do you know what makes us alike? Neither of us belongs here, in this human hive."
"I agree. I should have run off to Waterdeep along with Derrick. You never would have managed to release the Behemoth there."
"No. I mean that we are both pariahs, our names struck down by our own people because we dared. To save our respective people through means that no one else would even consider. To question the human dominion over Faerun. To do whatever was needed to rectify the imbalance. Humanity will bring about ruin for Faerun if they are left unchecked."
"I won't make any excuses for humans, because I really don't care; I'm not supporting a crusade for anyone's side, right or wrong. But killing thousands of people isn't going to help whatever problem you think you're fighting."
Cyrael slowly began to pace around the perimeter of the platform, stepping just barely away from the wind barrier. Cerdan circled as well, squinting through the flying debris and wondering where Selena and Dace were, and if they would be able to do anything.
"Again, you are afraid," Cyrael continued, "That is the greatest difference between our paths. I am at peace with what I am and what must be done. I need not entrench myself among humanity as you have, enshrouding yourself in some false guise in the hopes that humans will 'accept' you. Truly, Lenthyrr was correct; over the past fifty years, you have fallen so far to become a traitor to your cause.
"And so our respective journeys draw to a close… here at the end of our private little war. It's exactly the way any proper war should end, wouldn't you agree? There is no one else here to judge us. No more artifacts, intrigues, or layered plans. Just two men standing alone, warrior to warrior, among the ruins of an old battleground. We are both leaders and executioners in the name of our causes. "
Cerdan reached up and removed the cloak from his shoulders; it was far too liable to get carried away in the wind wall and pull him along with it. "I've never cared much for a title like 'leader', and certainly not 'executioner'. It's just not who I am." He drew his sword as Cyrael began to stride across the platform, closing the gap between them.
"Then what are you? After all that has transpired both today and before, into what have you been forged?"
"If you win, maybe I'll tell you." Cerdan held his sword with his arm slightly to the side, anticipating a sudden charge. "At least one of us is bound for the Nine Hells. And I know you need me alive."
"And I cannot die from any blow you can strike." Cyrael shrugged and removed the Behemoth's Heart from his pocket, holding it up in his grasp for Cerdan to see. "Then it shall be as you say, for the sake of all our tomorrows. No peace in our time."
The celestial seemed to move with a sudden burst of speed, and nearly clipped Cerdan on the head with the red crystal. The elf pivoted to the side and grabbed Cyrael by the wrist, trying to force the Behemoth's Heart away. Cyrael used his other arm to strike the elf across the chest, knocking him off his feet across the platform.
Rubbing his chest, Cerdan rose to his feet and thrust his sword forward, impaling Cyrael in the abdomen as he closed in on the elf. The wound didn't even faze the celestial, and he grabbed Cerdan by the arm, wresting the elf's hand away from the weapon. The sword fell to the ground and the celestial kicked it away to the opposite side of the platform.
The rogue pulled back and then slammed his forehead into Cyrael's face. There was a wet cracking sound from the celestial's nose, and Cyrael momentarily staggered back a step, releasing his hold on the elf. Seeing his chance, Cerdan shoved forward and used both hands to seize Cyrael by the forearm and push the celestial's hand into the wind wall.
The red crystal was knocked loose from the celestial's grasp and flew into the swirling airs, joining the flying shards of glass in the barrier around them. Quickly retracting his arm, Cyrael grabbed Cerdan by the neck with his other hand, lifting the elf from the ground. As his feet dangled in the air, the rogue started to choke and cough.
Pulling the elf close, Cyrael stared directly into his eyes. "This is over, there is nothing to be served by either of our deaths. I've studied your ways. You could kill yourself to stop me, but you would never do that; you love yourself far too much."
He threw Cerdan away, and the elf landed hard on his back, sprawled on the floor a few metres away. "Did you actually come here thinking you could defeat me alone like this? That you could somehow outfight me?" Cyrael demanded, "Perhaps I was right after all. It is because you think of yourself as an unyielding leader or executioner."
Cerdan shook his head as he forced himself up into a sitting position. "No," he managed to croak out. The rogue held up his gloved hand. Held between his finger and thumb was a small black object. "Because I'm a thief."
It was a black cork.
The look of confusion on Cyrael's face suddenly melted into one of shock. The celestial glanced down at the pocket on the inside his coat. The bottle that contained the demonic entity was now open and rapidly leaking a smoky red mist.
Cerdan enjoyed the dumbfounded expression that Cyrael gave him as the bottle suddenly exploded. The red mist quickly spread out, coiling around the celestial's body like a floating snake. Cyrael flailed about, making a feeble attempt to seize or knock away the incorporeal creature, but he might as well have been striking at the air. One end of the line of mist briefly hovered at eye level, forming what looked like the head of a serpent. The demonic serpent reared its head back and snapped forward, sending three tendrils of mist into Cyrael's eyes and mouth.
There was what appeared to be a short flash of red light from within the celestial's mouth, and he collapsed forward, falling on his hands and knees. The wall of wind and glass suddenly stopped – it did not slow or gradually die down, it simply stopped. Shards of glass shattered into even smaller pieces as they fell against the ground around Cerdan. Just as abruptly, however, the red mist shot away from Cyrael like a lightning bolt, making a direct line for the Behemoth's Heart which had fallen to the platform nearby. Cerdan saw the mist gather around the crystal for a few seconds before shooting off a second time, this time through the open skylight on the ceiling, and it disappeared into the sky above in a streak of crimson.
The elf returned his eyes to Cyrael, who was still on his hands and knees and seemed to be gasping for air. Wasting no time, the rogue ran forward and kicked the celestial in the stomach, knocking him over onto his back. Cerdan was about to stomp on his throat, but he noticed the sword wound on Cyrael's stomach. There was a golden light coming from the wound as it sealed itself before his eyes. The demonic entity wasn't enough to remove Cyrael's immortality.
Cyrael seized the elf by the ankle and pulled him off balance, causing Cerdan to collapse forward and hit his face against the stone floor. Pain exploded from his nose, and the elf could taste blood leaking down the back of his throat. Cyrael got to his feet and grabbed Cerdan by the hair, then slammed the elf's head against the floor again. There was a cracking noise from his jaw as he impacted, and the elf thought he could feel at least one tooth breaking off.
"You… can't deny our shared fate, Cerdan." Cyrael's voice sounded forced and raspy, as he flipped Cerdan over to glare into the elf's eyes. "My quest, my destiny must be fulfilled… and your defiance will earn you no quarter. The Behemoth will walk again, and willing or not, you will also fulfill your part in this. Did you think I would meet my end against a demon that likely spent several centuries in an imprisoned and weakened state? Was that to be the last attack that ended my life?"
Cerdan's gaze drifted past Cyrael, and he spotted Selena standing at the far end of the room with an unrolled parchment in her hands. "You still don't get it, do you?" he said, trying to smile but failing to move the muscles on his face. "A thief's job isn't to strike the final blow. We just run interference."
At that time, Cyrael must have heard Selena's voice, chanting the last few syllables written on the scroll of Imprisonment she had taken from Lenthyrr. He turned just as the cleric pointed directly at the towering celestial. A flash of yellow light leaped from her fingers and enveloped Cyrael completely, burning his outline into Cerdan's vision, even as the rogue squeezed his eyes shut.
Raising a hand in front of his face, Cerdan squinted through the cracks between his fingers and saw the radiant celestial dissolve into nothing. There was no scream or final cries of defiance from Cyrael; he simply dissipated along with the fading light. The scroll in Selena's hands crumbled to dust and disappeared as well.
Letting out a breath, Cerdan turned his head and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the ground. He could hear Selena's footsteps coming closer as she hurried over to him. Lying back down, he stared up through the open ceiling. The sky was slowly becoming tinged with bright orange as fresh sunlight touched upon Baldur's Gate at long last.
(5:47)
The crowd seemed to be growing in proportion to the queasiness in Charell's stomach. Still, her Order owed a duty of trust to the people of the city and the whole of Faerun. And the truth had been concealed for long enough. A pair of knights stood on either side of her, partly for protection, but mostly so her words would convey more authority.
She recognized several faces in the gathered crowd, most of which came from positions that required them to be up at such an early hour. Merchants, several minor nobles, and even a few city councillors were looking on with interest, wondering what was about to happen. Charell had no doubt that word would carry; she just hoped it was the right step in regaining the people's trust.
"Half a century ago," she began, cutting directly to the heart of the matter, "The Order of Tyr partook in an armed conflict with the elven nations of the eastern forests. In the period since then, members of our Order claimed that the elves were at fault, and guilty of producing magical artifacts for the purpose of widespread devastation. Their alleged crimes later gave way for the Treaty of Caden's Hill. Today, many of my fellow brethren and I learned that these claims were not so." There were a handful of elves throughout the crowd, and they seemed to lean forward with piqued interest. "It is with great shame and humility that I must convey the truth to you, the people to whom we have deceived. We have recently acquired evidence that a number of our Order's senior clergy were responsible for overseeing the creation of a magical weapon known as the 'Behemoth', which resulted in the deaths of thousands of soldiers and civilians during the final battle at Caden's Hill."
She paused for a moment, and could hear the whispers and discontented murmuring coming from the onlookers. "Further details on this discovery will become known over the coming weeks, and during the ensuing investigation into this matter. It is out of responsibility that I stand before you today to inform you of these events, and we give you our word that every effort will be made to regain the trust of the people, faithful or not, within this city and beyond…"
(5:49)
"… Many of you will find the words I have spoken today to be difficult to fathom. But I promise you, though a great injustice has been perpetuated for all this time, we will reach out and rectify the great divide that has grown between the parties involved…"
The unicorn symbol must have represented something important to the man, before he died. Shen turned the pendant over in his hand before placing it back down on the table with the rest of the dead man's possessions. The Kara-turian looked back at the covered body that lay upon the slab nearby and could only lower his head out of respect and apology. He still felt tired and weak from all that had happened yesterday, but he owed it to show at least some shred of honour to the fallen. After all that had transpired, he still didn't even know the man's name.
One of the clergy members from the temple, a young boy, poked his head in the door and rudely pointed a finger at Shen's face. The child began babbling incomprehensible words at the warrior, but Shen had a feeling he was being ordered to leave.
"Leave me be, boy. I merely wish to pay my respects to this fallen comrade." He tried to turn away from the boy, but the child strode forward and brazenly seized him by the arm. "Unhand me, you fool. I'll not be befouled by this indignity. If you don't remove yourself, then I will not hesitate to strike a child!"
At that time, a young woman who had been passing by paused and looked inside. She shouted something at the child, who merely looked back at her and gave more gibberish in reply. The woman stepped inside and made a furtive gesture with her hand, causing the young boy to finally relent and let go of Shen's arm.
She glared at the boy as he moved off and then turned her attention to Shen. "I heard you shout from the hallway," she said in a broken Shou Lung dialect, "You have the appearance of an eastern noble."
Finally, someone who at least understands me! He bowed to the woman. "Thank you, madam. My name is Shen, First Sword of House Zhong. It is good to hear a familiar tongue at last."
She nodded and returned the bow. Shen noticed there was a black wooden container of some sort strapped to her back. Perhaps she was a bard. "I'm Nell. I once traveled through Kara-tur for two years, studying your culture's music."
Shen smiled broadly. At long last, someone who was actually useful!
(5:51)
"… There will be many of you who may ask why. Why would faithful members of our clergy stoop to such inexplicable measures, even in war? I can offer you no immediate answer. Only those directly involved can illuminate us as to their rhyme and reason. And they will answer to their crimes…"
Prelate Saudere had his arms crossed as he stared out the barred window. As if the fool cleric believed he would attempt to flee like a coward. That was the Bloodletter's way, but not his. He watched silently as Charell stood atop the stage, likely shouting self-aggrandizing words to exemplify her role in the discovery.
There was no doubt in his mind that this failure would bring about terrible repercussions against the Church of Tyr. Even worse, his private contacts would be even more displeased to learn of his carelessness with his set of the Crimson Scrolls.
Saudere inhaled slowly and straightened his posture. Whatever was coming, he would be ready for it. He could do no less.
(5:52)
"… There will be challenges to overcome. Our enemies may attempt to use these discoveries to undermine our reputation and standing even further. I must ask for your patience and understanding. The terrible acts that came to pass on that day fifty years ago emphasize the need for vigilance. Be it known that no guilty man can evade justice indefinitely…"
Dace didn't bother lingering once it became clear that Cyrael was defeated. He was not entirely certain what the elf's spell scroll was or where it came from, but the end results were clear. Cyrael was now disintegrated, and with that, his role in the assassination was over.
It was most disappointing that he had lost his bandolier of gems, his retirement funds, at the hands of Cyrael and the rest of the so-called celestial's gang of idiots, but there would be other opportunities to be found elsewhere. He was a free man once more, and that was a definite gain over where he had been less than a day ago.
The mercenary strode off through the streets of the Old Quarter, travelling off toward the docks. Perhaps he would try plying his trade in one of the southern nations of Faerun for a change.
After all, there was still so very much for him to do out there…
(5:53)
"… And that, my friends and faithful, is the reason that this investigation is needed: Justice. How can we mete out justice, if we cannot even act against our own prior miscarriage of righteousness? The past may be set in stone, but the present is mutable. Know that we shall make every effort at redemption for what has transpired, and rightful justice will be found. A new day begins, and clearly we all have our work laid out before us. With that, I thank you for your time and bid you adieu."
Cerdan sat quietly on one of the stone benches as Selena returned from the platform at the centre of the room. In one hand she held the Behemoth's Heart, now wrapped up in black fabric just in case he accidentally touched in later on. In her other hand…
"Is this your tooth?"
The rogue held out his hand and she dropped the white bloodied piece onto his palm. "Nope, it belonged to Cyrael. You should have seen how harshly I beat him. He would have been mewling like a baby when I was finished with him." He knew she wouldn't buy it, but he smiled anyway and pocketed his tooth.
"I used up the last of my spells earlier today against that undead elf. You need to go and see a healer for your injuries."
"Eh, later, on my own time. I think the bleeding has stopped, anyway." He rubbed his jaw as he looked about the chamber. "We seem to be missing someone."
"I'm not certain what happened to Dace. He must have fled and abandoned us after he missed his shot. I suppose that would be best for him. If he hadn't, I'd be placing him under arrest again."
Cerdan shrugged and waved his arm dismissively. "Eh, let him go. It would be best for all of us if we just forgot about him. I was never able to pay him that boat passage out of the city he wanted, but I doubt that will stop him from chartering the first ship away from town." He winced and touched his cheek as the pain in his mouth continued to sting.
She came over and sat down on the stone bench beside him, leaning forward slightly. "You realize, of course, that this may not be the end. Cyrael is merely imprisoned in a pocket underground. If someone casts a spell of freedom…"
"Don't worry. Wizards never go around casting spells as powerful as that one left and right. Besides, nobody will really know what happened here, except you, me, and Dace, and none of us will breathe a word of this to anyone. Not even that blackheart. Trust me, I know these things."
"And according to the words on the scroll, the imprisonment spell will expire naturally in one thousand years. After that, Cyrael will be released and appear right there in the same spot."
Cerdan smirked and looked her in the eye. "So what? I'll be long dead by then. Problem solved." He put a hand over his forehead as he gazed up at the sky. "And quite honestly, I'd prefer if the whole world forgot about me, and Caden's Hill for that matter."
"Oh…" Selena murmured, a slight frown appearing on her lips. "That could be a problem, considering the last request I made of Charell back at the temple."
"… I don't want to know, do I?" He asked. She shook her head at him, and he rolled his eyes in response. "Fine. Tell me another time. I'd rather not think about the future right now. Just let me take in the moment. It's over, at least."
Neither elf said anything for a long period. They sat silently and rested as tiny rays of sunlight began to appear in the narrow windows, casting bright shafts across the floor from the eastern side of the room.
"So, what happens now?" Cerdan slowly stood up and gave Selena an offhand salute. "Are your faithful fellows going to arrest me again?"
She sighed and shook her head. "It might be best if we stayed away from the city for the foreseeable future. Even if Saudere does become diverted, there will be others under his command that will continue the hunt for you, as well as this." The cleric pointed to the Behemoth's Heart.
He shrugged and helped her to her feet. "Yes, well, I was planning to leave town anyway. I seem to have outgrown the guild life… Hold on, did you say 'we'?"
"Yes, that's right. You do realize that I set you free and gave up my position at the temple in order to help you? That makes you my responsibility. And knowing you, you're liable to stumble your way into causing another massacre. I'm leaving with you."
Cerdan shrugged his arms and cocked his head, smirking as he followed her out. "Is that so? Certain it's not because you're falling for me?"
"Get over yourself," she said, rolling her eyes. "Nobody would fall for you after a day like today. Especially after Caden's Hill and all you've done since."
"Surely I've made amends by now. Did you already forget how I heroically vanquished Cyrael?"
She turned and glared him in the eye. "You can say you've paid for your past, but you haven't truly done anything to repent. You opposed Cyrael, but only because he came after you. Maybe you feel guilt over what happened, but you never once told me about it until Saudere practically made you confess. Have you even once gone to your home village to ask forgiveness for letting your own people die?"
The rogue crossed his arms. "No. I imagine they'd hang me just as quickly as Saudere."
"Then what of the battleground itself? You've never paid your respects to the fallen, have you?" Cerdan said nothing, but his expression must have given enough of an answer for her. "It's like you're a drifter, expecting the world to lay down a path for you as you float on to the next place. You can pretend to smile and smirk all you like, but you need to face the reality of your life and deal with this burden you carry." She poked him in the chest. "So no, you can't just wander off without me. I told you before that I've always believed in redemption over retribution. Well, now it's time to test the strength of my convictions. I'm coming with you, and you won't be rid of me until you've atoned for your crimes. Otherwise, you really are just a war criminal. You know you're better than that, don't you?"
Cerdan frowned as he considered her words. He liked her better before, when she didn't seek to criticize his every move. Still, she probably had a point. "…Okay."
"Is that all you have to say for yourself? 'Okay'?"
"Look, I won't make any promises to you, Selena. Not when my word is so easy to break," he said as they continued onward, toward the collapsed section of the wall in the back of the chamber. A moment later, he sighed and nodded. "But I suppose that would be fine. One day at a time, though. Tomorrow, the day after that, and we'll see how things turn out from there. For both our sakes, I do hope you're right about me."
As they stepped outside, the rogue squinted against the rising sun in the east and shook his head slightly. "Heh, listen to what I'm saying. Nobility doesn't suit me very well, does it?"
Selena smiled and touched him lightly on the shoulder as they began to make their way north, back toward the rest of the city. "Maybe better than you think, Cerdan. Maybe better than you think."
(6:00 AM) Dawn
(Epilogue to follow)