Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein. Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them. I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.

– Blackcross & Taylor

Author's note: best wishes for the New Year to everyone and thank you for your ongoing support!

The Furled Banner

Anomen was not sure which he became aware of first - the grey light that was filtering in hazy lines through the closed shutters or the sound of the sparrows greeting the dawn in the eaves. So far south, glass in the windows was deemed a luxury most places could not afford, and their inn was no exception. The small room was cool, dawn light opening the plain whitewashed space to which he had paid little mind the evening before. The door was opposite, a dented washstand crammed in behind it and wooden chair next to that, the two narrow beds they had paid for set either side of the drafty window, and heaped with quilts and blankets in various faded shades. A sigh from the bundled bedding but a yard from him; so Fritha had eventually made it back to their room last night. He had left her in the tavern when the vesper bells had sounded across the city, laughing over cards with those drunk sell-swords. He had not wanted to leave her, but his options were limited. He could not make the girl retire, but, equally, he had not felt up to staying down there with her and walking all the next day with a hangover.

Anomen shifted, burying his shoulders under the quilt and weighing the temptation to sit and grab his tunic from where his clothes were neatly folded over the chair, Fritha's piled much less carefully about its legs. The others would reach Ferhl any day now, and he wondered if any knights he knew were stationed there. It felt strange to consider they could be, that his friends would be standing ready for a battle when he, who knew more of what they were to face than any of the Orders, would be far away. But this was his path now, going with Fritha to seek the aid of the only allies he could still claim.

Anomen lay still, watching the light creep across the dusty rafters as, outside, the town slowly stirred to life, roused by the chime of the temple bells. Everything was different now. For the first time that he could recall, he wanted nothing. He was not worried about his fate within the Order, or the coming war or if Brieanna could have been saved. Even Fritha, who had once been his soul's desire now slept but a yard from him and the thought stirred nary a flutter. And it was wonderful -in a quiet, sombre sort of way- not having to be that man anymore, so rash and insecure, always hungry for something more to banish the barren sense of worthlessness that had seemed to hang ever in him.

Complete: that was how he felt now, as though parts of him had always been empty, but he had tried to fill himself with all the wrong things. But, at last, no longer…

He knew his course: he would walk into the future with Fritha and ease her path however he could – even with where it was to take her. Perhaps it was as the girl said, that, for all their regrets, it felt right when they accepted their destiny. In the bed just across from his, something stirred.

'Fritha?'

A muffled mixture of groan and yawn, and a tousled mop of amber curls slowly emerged, a pale hand pushing them clumsily from bright, black eyes.

'Morning, Anomen.' A pause as she shifted onto her back and let her eyes grow accustomed to the wan light. 'What time is it?'

'A little after sunrise – I heard the lauds bells not long ago. How are you feeling?'

'All right,' she murmured tightly, jaw locked for an instant as she stretched under the quilt, 'just a bit tired. I was mostly sober by the time I came to bed.'

Anomen doubted her assessment of the thing, but she did look well enough and he tried to keep the censure in his tone to a minimum.

'And what time did you come back? You were quite reluctant to leave your friends when I retired.'

A dry snort. 'I've have stayed down there even if I was sat on my own – it was barely sun down when you went up to bed.' She glanced to him.

'You disapprove my… socialising?'

'No,' he lied, 'it is merely that you have so little time left, I am surprised you wish to waste every other day on a hangover.'

'Yes,' the girl mused to the dusty beams above, 'it must seem a bit daft to you but, I need this, now and then, to remind me what I'm doing it for. A couple of ales and people are nicer, everything's shinier - the world is worth saving. Speaking of which…' She heaved herself upright, settling in amongst the crumpled blankets to gather them about her against the chill.

'Our journey to the Keep,' Anomen supplied, ready with his investigations. 'As it stands, it will take another tenday on foot. Normally, I would suggest obtaining horses, but once into the mountains we would have to carry our own feed. I doubt Watcher's Keep usually gets more that a few bands of pilgrims a year, but it seems many are headed there at the moment.' He watched her watch him, a moment searching the bright eyes that stared back at him and feeling an unnamed worry stir low in his stomach. 'They have put a call out for mercenaries, though I do not know why. I was speaking to a trader last night. He told me the roads west are teeming with mercenary bands and other groups we will likely wish to avoid, so it would be better if we could travel with a group.'

'Yes, I heard as much, too.'

'You did?' he exclaimed; he did not think she would have bothered with anything outside of the usual bawdy flirtations over cards.

'Oh yes,' she nodded wisely, an oracle in quilted robes, 'And, what's more, I may have the solution.'

Anomen paused on the inn's empty wooden porch, the tables and chairs of the night before not yet set out at that hour. It was fortunate Fritha had insisted they forgo breakfast, the girl racing over to laundry as soon as she was dressed to collect their still damp clothes.

She was standing beside him now, cloaked against the morning's chill and bent under her pack just as he was. The group she had been eager to catch was obvious in the teeming street, a cart and covered wagon parked side by side across most of the road with little care as to how they blocked it, while two horses waited patiently within the shafts, too old to be bothered by the people that surged past them. Two men were loading supplies onto the cart, the dark outline of their fellows seated in the gloom of the covered wagon. One man was standing on the step at the mouth. Both his skin and hair were of the same earthy brown, the short stub of his bound ponytail wagging above the collar of his cloak as he talked animatedly to someone within.

'You are sure of this?' Anomen hissed, 'If they realise it is you on the bounty notices-'

'They won't. I told you, they think I'm your servant. To be fair, they really weren't that interested in getting to know me – at least not in a way which involved talking.'

'Fritha…' he warned, but she had already batted at him to hush, the girl stepping from the porch and patiently waiting for someone to note them. An older man who had been heaving sacks of feed onto the cart was the first.

'Here, Jarrhe.'

The lean figure on the wagon step started at the address and, as he turned, Anomen recognised the long-faced vulture from the night before. His eyes found Fritha immediately; his smile was only an instant behind.

'Malal, my pearl, what brings you here?'

'As you said last night, it's best to travel in a group in these dangerous times –you lads still have room on the wagon?'

'Of course,' he cried, 'I'd have you along even if the rest of us were forced to walk.' Dark eyes narrowed a fraction as they fell upon Anomen – the smile did not waver. 'And who's this?'

'This is my master, Brother Iorwerth – the one I told you of last night.'

'Oh aye, the Helmite? I was expecting someone older.'

But any more to this grim appraisal was cut short by the arrival of two men, packs across their shoulders and weapons at their hips, their clothes crumpled and soiled from days on the road.

'All right, Jarrhe, we still good for a place?' came the first. He clearly assumed he was, the man moving to dump his pack in the cart beside them. Jarrhe's façade of friendship vanished.

'No. Sorry, turns out we've no room.'

'But you said-'

'And now I'm saying there ain't room, so clear off!'

Anomen watched the pair share a dark look and reluctantly slink back into the crowds. Jarrhe had returned his attentions to them, all smiles once more as he reached a hand down to Fritha, 'Here, girl, let me help you there.'

He hauled her up the wagon step, his free hand finding happy purchase on her rear. That Fritha pretended not to notice, did nothing to quell the displeasure that was slowing coiling in Anomen's chest.

'What? You'd prefer to walk?' she hissed to his scowl, trying to hide the obvious discomfort as they found places on the empty bench directly opposite the wagon mouth, the two rows of men that lined each side nodding to Fritha as they recognised her.

'We all aboard, Jarrhe?' came a voice behind them, muffled by the thick canvas wall – the driver was ready for off.

'Aye, move out.' The wagon sprang forward with a jolt, Jarrhe finally moving from his place at the mouth to sidle his lean frame onto the bench between Anomen and Fritha.

'Now, isn't this fine? Kajal, pass over some of that wine – we have guests.'

Through the streets of Ambril they clattered, the wagon's mouth an open window upon ever-changing scenes of people, hurrying to work or to the market, that cart of men bustling through lives they would never know, and their rumbling passage was a match to the building disquiet in Anomen as Fritha summoned a smile for their host and accepted the bottle.

xxx

The breeze was stirring through her short hair, Imoen raising a hand to shield her eyes from the glare that seemed to reflect off the swaying grassland about them in great shimmering waves, the field of blue above so bright, she could hardly bear to look upon it. A day and a half of walking had finally brought them to their destination, and the walled town of Ferhl was barely visible for the sprawling camp of pale dun pavilions, each blotted here and there with some coloured house banner which likely served as a means to identify as much as decorate.

The Order's camp was to the south of the town, and had been there for a while by the staked paling that surrounded it. Jaheira was the first to see the break in the eastern wall, and their approach was quite overlooked in the tide of traders, laundresses and runners from Ferhl itself, the three reaching the gate to be finally halted by a young Tethyran squire. He was no more than seventeen winters and standing at ramrod attention in a plain blue tabard that Imoen fancied he was trying too hard to fill.

'Hold citizens, you have business with the Order? Sir Gant is in charge of hiring mercenaries, though I warn you, we hire only groups of a score or more men. He holds station in the temple to Torm within the town itself. Seek him there if you wish-'

'We are not here to sign up,' cut in Jaheira, 'We need to speak to Lady Amaniti; we bring a report from the Apagis.'

'I am sorry,' he dismissed and so promptly that Imoen wondered if he had even listened to them, 'but the Knight Commander is a very busy woman. Perhaps I could relay-'

'Look,' sighed Imoen, more than tired of his blustering, 'we've walked all the way from Alhali. We have important information about Sendai and I'm only telling Knight Commander Amaniti.'

The lad was frowning, pulling himself up to his full height and trying to ignore the fact that Minsc still stood over a head above him.

'As I have already said-'

The squire glanced back at the sudden presence behind him, two older men of the local colouring stepping in.

'Stand down, Squire Benevell,' offered the first, the amount of silver braiding on his blue surcoat ranking him highly within his order. Dark eyes came to rest upon Imoen in stern but polite interest. 'Sendai… Not just anyone knows of that name, my lady. Who are you?'

'I- well, we-' Imoen faltered, not sure she should be announcing her heritage so openly when the local army still had a warrant out for her brethrens' arrest. 'We were at Saradush. We helped fight Yaga Shura and we're here with news of Sendai.'

A glance between the two knights, the first continuing evenly, 'I understand you wish to help, but-'

Imoen had had enough, the furious urge to tell them both to 'stuff it' fought back in her desire to present the leader she knew she was supposed to be. 'Listen, I know you'd like to know more, but please believe me when I say lives are at stake – if Amaniti doesn't think so, she can soon throw us out again.'

The knights eased the tension with a reluctant chuckle. 'I suppose you have that right. I am Sir Caryl and this is Sir Willam – come, we will escort you.'

Squire Benevell looked more than a little deflated as he returned to his post. Sir Caryl led the way as they moved through the neat rows of tall pavilions, men and women in the blue livery of the Silver Chalice and the occasional red of the Radiant Heart stood outside, some talking, others overseeing the work of their squires.

Lady Amaniti's tent looked little different from the others that surrounded it despite her position, the plain, bleached canvas bearing house banners in grey and green as well as those depicting the goblet of the Silver Chalice. Sir Caryl speaking to the knight who was on guard at the entrance, before both disappeared inside. There was barely enough time for Sir Willam to send the three a reassuring smile as he remained outside with them, before Sir Caryl had emerged once more with the guard.

'The Knight Commander will see you now.'

Jaheira offered him a deep nod as they filed past. 'Our thanks.'

Inside, the relative gloom of the pavilion was warm, stuffy even, and Imoen realised how much the heat of the day must have been tempered by the cool breeze. There was little by way of furniture in the room –the commander must have slept elsewhere. In the centre was a table, while behind was a large standing board covered in a map of Tethyr and freckled with many coloured dots which a young aide was hastening to cover as they entered. A woman of the local colouring was sat behind the recently cleared desk, dark hair silver at the temples and brow, her olive skin lined heavily across the forehead and less so about the mouth or eyes – this was a woman who had spent more years in frowns than in laughter. She wore the blue surcoat of the Silver Chalice over her mail, a pair of leather gauntlets and a neat collection of styluses and inks the only things left upon the desk before her.

'Please,' she began, gesturing to the three seats that had no doubt just been unfolded for their arrival, the woman dismissing her young aide with a nod. For a moment, she said no more, keen, grey eyes scrutinising the dusty clothes and mismatched armour.

'So, I am told you bring news of the Bhaalspawn, Sendai.'

'Sendai,' began Jaheira gravely, 'is dead.'

Whatever Amaniti had been expecting, it had not been that, greying eyebrows darting up her tanned forehead. She leaned forward with a rasp of mail, weathered hands planted upon the wide desk.

'Dead? You have proof of this?'

'No, but she is,' pressed Imoen, 'and if you don't believe us a lot of people in the east are going to suffer before you can reach them.'

Amaniti caught her with a critical frown. 'I see. And who, exactly, are you?'

'Me?' Imoen confirmed, wondering briefly whether she shouldn't be announcing her presence with a little more pride. 'I, well, I'm Imoen -what is it they call me?- the Saviour of Saradush.'

The woman opposite cast over them again, as though she was suddenly seeing something very different from the three wayworn mercenaries who had first arrived, her gaze coming to rest on the girl.

'Imoen… one of the Children. Yes, I can see why you were reluctant to merely announce your presence. So you are the mage who removed the enchantment on the giant, Yaga Shura.'

Imoen snorted, not tired or defeated, but heavy with a wry amusement at how wrong everyone still had it.

'No, I'm not. Someone else did that, and I'm no more the saviour of that city than anyone else who took up arms to protect it. But people need a figurehead for these things, a banner to rally under, and this time it has to be me.'

Amaniti eased back in her chair once more, something intense about her gaze that made Imoen wonder just who, or what, was judging her. Slowly, the woman began to nod, and Imoen was surprised to see a certain respect ease the hard lines on her face.

'I believe you.'

'So you agree then?' Imoen pressed eagerly, 'That Sendai's dead and your troops don't have to be here anymore.'

The knight commander's lined forehead creased in a pained frown. 'It is… not quite as simple as that.'

'Really? And how much simpler does it need to be? Because there's a Bhaalspawn as bad as Sendai back east raising an army, and we need to stop them!'

'You speak of Fritha, leader of the Five,' confirmed the commander wearily. 'I could hardly believe it when I heard, but I suppose when she killed the deceiver, Sarevok, her own selfish ambitions were well hidden behind the altruistic façade of sparing the north from war.'

Minsc was shaking his head, Jaheira looking like she was just suppressing the eye roll as Imoen heaved an exasperated sigh.

'Fritha's not leader of the Five. Fritha's well, she's our leader. She's-' The sudden swell of almost forgotten affection made the words come hoarse. 'She's our friend. Fritha just wanted to help -the other Children and Tethyr. I don't know who put about that rumour of her having command of dragons and drow, but it's all lies.'

'And spread by those who wished to keep her from raising an army to face them,' added Minsc wisely.

'Worked, too,' muttered Imoen, adding determinedly to the woman opposite, 'Look, Fritha was the one who killed Sendai, and took the enchantment from Yaga Shura, and killed Abazigal-'

'Who?'

'This mage,' the girl offered dismissively, 'the one who had the dragons. The only Bhaalspawn we killed without her was Illasera.'

A pause as Amaniti performed the calculation in her head. 'So, there is only one member of this Five left.'

'Yes,' agreed Jaheira, 'a monk called Balthazar from the monastery at Amkethran. He believes it is his duty to murder all the Bhaalspawn, and he will plunge this land into war to do it.'

'It is he who raises an army to the east,' added Minsc, 'and we must stop him. We came here to rally men to fight with us.'

On the desk, olive fingers formed a tense steeple. 'I understand… but I cannot help you, at least not with men. The town of Ferhl and its routes to both the coast and Hegir's Fort make this area strategically vital. Until something visible draws us away, we must remain here to protect it.'

'From what?' snapped Imoen, 'The threat's at the other end of Tethyr!'

'As it may seem to outsiders, but…' Amaniti drew a deep sigh, seemingly weighing up how much she should divulge and the breath was released with an air of frustration - very little would be held back. 'This province borders the land of a Duke Sihdus Farn, the head of a very old, very respected Tethyran family and a known opponent of the Queen. Though he would never act openly against her majesty, his family finances a moderate but well-trained force of soldiers who have protected their lands from the time when Tethyr was still embroiled in civil war. The lands around Ferhl need protection – were not the Silver Chalice stationed here, then the Duke would have every reason to move his troops in to take our place -for the good of Tethyr. And the people, as fearful as they are, would likely welcome him.'

'Only, you do not believe he will remove himself so obligingly once this threat has passed,' supplied Jaheira. Amaniti's mail winked with her shrug.

'I do not know, but the Queen clearly holds it as a concern, and has spoken to the Prelate thus. In one bloodless move, Farn could lay claim to the most profitable third of Tethyr's coastline, farmlands and the old capital… I am sorry,' she added at the assembled frowns before her, 'I know it must seem petty, but I have my orders and our presence here is not in vain – between the Queen and the Duke, Tethyr could be split by a civil war as bloody as the last. But that said, the Duke is loyal to Tethyr and its people, and he has an army at his disposal; why not ask of him what you asked of me? If he agrees to send men with you, I may have a case to put to my superiors to allow some of our own forces to move further east. And, what is more, you will have what aid I can afford you. You will be given horses for the rest of your journey, and I will provide you with what supplies we can spare for any men you manage to gather. Where should I send them - where do you plan to raise this force?'

'Alhali,' said Minsc.

'Alhali?' the woman repeated, 'The ruined village?'

Imoen nodded. 'We wanted those who missed Saradush to see what a Bhaalspawn army's capable of.'

Amaniti drew back in her chair with a sigh, looking for the first time as old as her lined face suggested.

'Yes, it is not something to which anyone should be able to turn a blind eye. I will have my aide prepare a letter confirming your… station and purpose for the Duke – it will be with Sir Caryl at the gates whenever you wish to depart. And,' she added as the three of them rose in their cue to leave, 'may you walk in Tyr's Grace.'

After the stale warmth of the tent, the breeze across the plains was especially pleasant.

'Well, that was-' Imoen breathed a sigh, clearly fighting back the waste of time to something more fitting to her new position as leader, 'Less promising than I'd hoped,' she ground out at length.

'You did well to get us inside the palisade,' praised Jaheira to the girl's surprise, 'you can be charming when you wish it.'

'You needn't sound so surprised!' Imoen laughed, her mood ebbing as she added grimly, 'Besides, I think we might have to be a bit more than charming to get what we need before Balthazar's on the move.'

'Boo says we must speak with this Duke. If he truly wishes to aid his homeland, he will help us.'

'I wish I were as sure, Minsc,' Jaheira muttered, scanning the activity about them, 'many people are blinded to these simplicities by their own selfish agendas. You may find this man's idea on how to best aid his land is by having him rule it. In any case, we must speak to-' She paused as her eyes caught on a familiar flaxen-haired knight who had just appeared from the sprawl of tents about them. 'Is that not-?'

'Simon!' cried Imoen. Every man in the surrounding ten yards whipped to them, including the suntanned Lathandite she had called to, the frown easing to a beaming smile as he finally recognised her.

'Imoen?' he laughed, bounding over to them to catch the girl in friendly embrace, 'Imoen! Look at you! I barely recognised you with your hair darker. And Mistress Jaheira, and-' Simon stopped, surfacing from where he had been furiously thumping Minsc's back to glance over their meagre three, 'where are the others?'

'They are well,' said Jaheira, assuaging the worries written plain on his face, 'but could not attend with us. We left Valygar and Solaufein at Alhali. The last two…' She trailed off, sending a pointed glance about them to the half dozen or so men within earshot. Simon perceived her fears.

'Ah, how my mother would be scolding my lack of manners,' he laughed, 'Come, I have a pavilion over in the east of the camp –we can take some refreshment there and continue this at our ease.'

His pavilion was small, but serviceable, a young squire as blond as his knight hastening to his feet from the pair of boots he had been polishing, the footlocker set at the end of the bed serving him as a makeshift table.

'At ease, young Pars,' greeted Simon kindly, 'these are some friends of mine from Amn. Why don't you go and see if Sir Donnel needs any help with the horses.'

A nod and the boy was off, the tent flap slapping cheerfully closed behind him.

Simon insisted Imoen take the only chair while he sat next to Jaheira on his narrow folding bed, Minsc alone on the cot opposite.

'You know of the warrant for Anomen then,' Simon confirmed as they settled into their seats, 'Ah, my friend, Helm did not give you an easy path to walk. And I have denied these rumours that Fritha is leader of the Five since they first came to light – to little avail. You say they are well - where are they now?'

Jaheira was frowning. 'If we tell you, will you be obliged to tell your superiors?'

Simon snorted. 'Obliged or not, I won't be.'

It seemed this was enough for Imoen. 'Anomen has gone with Fritha to Watcher's Keep.'

'The Keep? Have they gone into hiding? No, neither of them would accept that-'

'You need not guess, Simon,' cut in Jaheira. 'They have gone to consult the libraries regarding the prophesy for Bhaal's return.'

'They seek a way to circumvent it?'

A glance between their trio - Imoen's answer came unusually quiet. 'Something like that.'

The slap of the tent flap saved them from any more questions though, Simon on his feet to greet the dark-haired man who had just entered, the once-pale skin now almost as tanned as Simon's.

'Erick,' the Lathandite nodded, something strained in his manner that Imoen did not miss.

'What's happened between you two?'

Erick flushed as he sank onto the bed next to Minsc. 'Ah, nothing. We merely-'

Simon would not let him finish the lie. 'After Anomen left and we returned to Amn, Sir Ryan Trawl questioned us regarding Anomen's departure. Our reports were the same in content,' a dark scowl was thrown to Erick, 'if not in spirit.'

'Anomen deserted!' Erick burst out in frustration.

'Anomen did what he thought was right and it was! Look at us, the Order is down here now and if we had stayed when we had first heard of this threat at Saradush we might have ended this war before it even began!'

'You do not know that, Simon,' Erick retorted, 'and it is not our decision to make.'

Simon sighed and shook his head, but was not willing to pursue the fight further it seemed, Erick turning to their three.

'I just spoke to Sir Caryl; so you have met with the Knight Commander?'

'Yes,' said Jaheira, 'we hope to gather men to march upon the Bhaalspawn army which is being raised in the east.'

'Lady Amaniti is sending troops?' cried Simon, 'I will volunteer-'

Jaheira raised a hand to forestall the eager young man who was already halfway from his seat. 'Stay, Simon, Amaniti is not sending anyone. The situation here requires your presence more.'

'You mean the Queen would rather keep us here to protect her throne as the east burns!' snapped Simon. Erick's jaw dropped.

'Simon, you speak treason!'

'She is not my Queen and this is not my land! I serve Lathander and the Radiant Heart – in that order- and I came here to fight those who would ravage these people, not to stand guard against a political land grab.'

'If an army marches in the east then we will have to mobilise, Simon, you know this. Until then,' Erick sighed, 'we must just be patient.'

Simon slumped back, looking tired. 'Sweet Sunrise, I cannot wait until all this is over and we are returned to Amn. I will want to see you all at the family estate,' he added, suddenly smiling once more as he rested his elbows on his knees, 'homecomings are always to be celebrated. Oh, and tell Fritha my sisters are still eager to meet her.'

Imoen's face had frozen in the smile she was wearing, not even a hint of hesitation to her tone as Jaheira watched the girl realise how easy it was to lie about some things.

'Yeah, course. I'll tell her.'