King of Shadows, Queen of Light

New chapter! You thought I'd given up on this, didn't you?

I write to music. These were the pieces I've had playing while working on this chapter to get the mood right: yet again, the haunting Queenof the Sun by the Angels of Venice, as the recurring theme of Arrighan's spell cast back in Chapter 34; and three pieces from Faun's Renaissance and Licht albums: Unda, Ne Aludj El and Da Que Deus.

And the usual disclaimer: I strongly regret that I do not own any of the main characters, especially a certain paladin. I take full responsibility for that Pendwyr girl, though...

Chapter Fifty-Six: Do Not Sleep, Star of My Eyes

That 'best sleep of my life' was a bit of an exaggeration, at least partly. It was deep sleep, for sure, but I paid for it being on a narrow, hard mattress, holding myself almost entirely motionless, not daring to move much. I am sure there are some who are familiar with of what I speak, and might smile at my discomfort; but then and there I only knew that I woke with a deep ache in my neck, my back hurt as if I was lifting heavy logs…and whenever I wanted to move a limb, it either slid off the bed or there was someone else in the way.

And light was coming in through the blinds on the small window already, and there was movement on the corridor, and I was still in my clothes from yesterday in someone else's room.

"Gods." It came out of me in a muffled groan and I sat up at the edge of the bed, trying to shove my hair out of my face and to get that crick out of my neck at the same time. "I know what my first order as Captain is going to be…"

"Hmm?" I turned as I felt him move; naturally, he was completely awake from the first moment he opened his eyes. However, his hair looked just as tousled as mine. "And that would be…?"

"Procuring wider beds and better mattresses." I stood up and did a few stretching exercises out of habit and desperation. "I am no fit for anything this way."

Casavir muffled a chuckle and cleared his throat.

"About appearances, now…" he started, and I blushed.

"Stop it." I stood up, hands on hips and glared at him, keenly aware of my rumpled attire. "Whatever you want to say, it would just make it much, much worse." I raked my fingers through my hair again. "And…"

Dammit, this is ridiculous, I thought. I am Captain Pendwyr now, not some blushing farm girl from the swamps tumbled into a knight's bed for a quick dalliance. Man up, Arrighan, and be your relentlessly practical self, will you?

"And so…" I gestured towards where his small portable Tyr shrine was already all set up in the corner, trying to sound brisk,"…I am thinking: devotions, morning practice, breakfast? Does that suit you?"

"Most admirably." The corners of his mouth tilted up slightly. I had to realize from the way his aura trembled around the edges that he was just as uncertain about this as I, and took my evasion with great relief. "Including the bit about the mattresses." he added, rubbing his shoulder with a slight frown, and I grinned sympathetically.

I daresay we both rushed through our prayers that morning, although on my part it was all the more heartfelt. I included wordless thanks to Tyr about what transpired between us: engagement or no, I knew we still had a lot to learn about each other, and figuring out a simple thing such as how to sleep next to each other without any other intimacies was… Well, I thought it was actually much harder than it might have seemed prior to it actually happening. I also tried really, really hard not to think about how it might be when we finally arrived to said intimacies…but it seemed very wrong to include that in a prayer to one's god, understanding and kind he might have been about the fumbling-abouts of His Chosen.

Unfortunately, with my fair skin, I do blush very easily. As I made the sign of the sword above my heart the last time and stood up, I caught Casavir watching me, and noticed that he also had a faint sheen of red on his cheeks. Our thoughts, apparently, must have strayed off the path of pious contemplation into the same direction.

"I see." I muttered, my human side gaining the better of me yet again. "Neither of us are in a… pious mood this morning, then."

"So Tyr help me…" His startled laugh ignited small sparkles all across my aura. "You know me already all too well, meum mel." He caught my hand between his and bowed over it, lips brushing my skin lightly. "And a good morning to you, my lady."

"Always a good one with you, my lord." I answered without thinking, feeling that light touch down to my toes and relishing it with my eyes half-lidded for a second or two. I cleared my throat. "Um, now, well…"

Ah, the relentlessly practical details of mornings. Casavir had a small dressing screen in the corner of his room, hiding a washbasin on a stand and a jug of very cold water, and we both partake of it, taking turns and spending half the time turned away from the screen staring at the wall. At the end, there was nothing to it, but asking him for a clean shirt for myself; he handed it to me over the top of the screen, accidentally rattling it enough that it almost fell over and I, for a second, didn't know if I should grab the shirt first and clutch it to me to hide my nakedness, or steady the screen instead. We ended up laughing helplessly: he instinctively jumped back and turned his face away, as it turned out, and the screen held.

"Mmm." He nodded as I finally came out, handing me my jacket and smoothing a hand gently over the ruffles of my shirt. "Lace indeed does suit you well, my lady."

I swatted at him, half-heartedly.

"Hush, now. You might just not get back this shirt if you flatter me so."

"Paladins." He deadpanned, bowing slightly. "No lies."

"Indeed." I took a deep breath. "And speaking about that…" I pulled at the chain at my throat and unclasped it, sliding the ring off and offering it to him on my palm. "I think it is time for this to get on my finger. Will you do it?"

He went still for a second, his gaze intense on me. I felt my knees go weak; the storm in the depths of his eyes was all swirling hues of azure and silver, barely held behind that steel bar of self-control. I had no intentions of shattering it today for him, truly, but I had to realize just how close I've gotten to doing exactly that with this request as I saw him sway a bit and close his eyes for a second, swallowing slowly.

"Always." he said finally, breaking the silence stretching between us. His touch was gentle but firm: the ring slid on my finger as if it always belonged. "Thank you…" he added, his voice growing thick with emotion. "My lady. For this, and for staying, that is. I realize this is not the proper way of…"

"Proper." I think I made a rude sound. "Casavir, I think I am done with proper right now." There was no hesitation in me as I wound my arms around his neck and kissed him; there was no hesitation in him as he returned it, fingers tightening on my shoulder. Suddenly the god's light was back, lit fierce and joyous in me like a beacon of hope: and I knew I'd done the right thing.

I let go of him reluctantly, and stepped back a bit.

"We have work to do, and you and I are Chosen and Champion." I said, trying in vain to keep my voice from shaking. Dammit, the man indeed had a disastrous effect on me: but I had to realize, I didn't mind. Not a bit. "People are counting on us: where we slept has nothing to do with that. "I lifted my head and kept my hand entwined with his firmly. "Let's go and start making sure evil doesn't have a foot on which to stand."

And that's just what we did pretty much all day, ignoring the Significant Glances we've received from basically everyone we've met…word travels fast in a small space such as this manor house was, but I couldn't afford to pay attention to any of that. We ended up separated after an hour or so anyways: I sent him to see Kana and her rosters of garrison duty and training, as my second-in-command, while I trudged up to the Keep itself to seek out Master Architect Veedle and his plans for rebuilding. That took quite a while, and what with one thing and other after that the day went by rather quickly. I almost didn't notice the passing of time until I was back in my room with a stack of missives and orders to write for couriers to be sent and there was a knock on my door.

"Yes?" I called out loud, scratching my nose absentmindedly with my ink-stained finger. "If it's any more paperwork, I am fair buried in it as is, thank you very much." I was in front of the desk someone scrounged up from who knows where: it was massive and ancient, with scrollwork carvings on the sides. The chair that went with it was obviously made for someone with much more bulk than I, enough so that I was able to pull up my legs and curl them under. I kicked off my boots and stockings a while back while trying to compose an assessment of the Keep's current and future defensive capabilities.

"Actually, it is your dinner." Casavir backed into the room carefully, maneuvering a tray loaded with enough food to feed an army. "I am told by Mrs. Bornell that if you forget to appear for dinner once again, she'll be inclined to think the Captain doesn't care for her cooking."

"Oh, gods." I stared at the tray, dismayed. "I had no idea it was that late, I am so sorry...Is it mandatory, then, for me to be there for dinner?"

"Normally, if you're present at your residence, it is expected." Casavir nodded, understanding at once what I meant by the question. "If you desire to take your meal in a more private setting, sending word to your staff is customary; it takes the guesswork out of everyone's evening."

I hung my head: there I was again, demonstrating for everyone that I was utterly ignorant in the ways of higher society and my new-found status.

"It is all right." he said gently, sensing my discomfort. "I told her you are most likely tied up with paperwork and offered to make sure you're fed."

"Um...thank you?" I offered, still embarrassed by my gaffe. "Goodness gracious." I said slowly as I uncurled myself. "I have no idea how long I was sitting there, I am stiff as a board."

And I was hungry, too, as to my even greater embarrassment, my stomach started to growl ferociously at the sight of piles of roast chicken pieces, mounds of potatoes and carrots, and steaming biscuits slathered with butter. A small sauce boat contained gravy speckled with flecks of black pepper: a clear sign that I was indeed up and coming in the world. Pepper was a spice for nobility, imported all the way from Chult or some other place like it. And there was pie, too: two lovely slices of apple pie with sweet cream.

"May all the gods bless Mrs. Bornell, this is lovely." I said quickly, trying to mask the sound of my stomach. "Seriously: you'll need to help me with it. I hope you haven't eaten yet...?" I asked, nervously, and I was rewarded by one of his slow smiles. "Oh, good. " I said sincerely relieved, breaking off a piece of chicken and stuffing it in my mouth unceremoniously. "Let's eat, then."

And so we dined in my room with its haphazard furniture, after our second day away from Neverwinter. There was an old and worn rug in front of the fireplace large enough to accommodate both of us, so we curled up in front of the fire much similarly to that last evening at his house. We cleaned up everything on that tray, so Mrs. Bornell had no reason to be annoyed with me, including a small flask of crisp Waterdhavian white wine to go with the chicken. My toes were nicely toasty in front of the fire, and my insides were growing glowy from the wine: I had to admit, this being-a-captain business wasn't that bad. Of course that thought immediately reminded me to the report I was working on when Casavir knocked; and so, fueled by the glow of the wine, I didn't hesitate asking his opinion about the matter. We spent some time discussing siege basics: it always amazed me just how far his education stretched—the man even knew about different stones and their hardness, used for building.

"Just when did you learn about that?" I had to ask. "I didn't realize chapterhouse education extended to..."

"It isn't." He toyed with a piece of biscuit in a way that by now told me that this was another chapter of his past of which he wasn't particularly fond. "I spent some time in Port Last during my...absence from the City. You know their chief commodity is building stones from their quarries. I had to, out of necessity, learn somewhat about the... goods I was protecting."

"Protecting. " I repeated slowly, leaning against his shoulder. "Casavir, I don't mean to pry, but..."

"'Tis no prying, meum mel." He sighed. "After all, you have every right knowing about all the things that befell me. Noble or not, paladin or not, you have to eat –and they pay well, those merchants in Port Last, for caravan guards."

"Caravan guards." I really, honestly felt stupefied: Tyr knows, I accepted all kinds of commissions during my travels to Neverwinter, and some of those probably would have raised eyebrows in the Halls of Justice, but... Casavir?

"Ten years." he reminded me, with a small, sad smile in the corner of his mouth. "I have been caravan escort, bodyguard, knight errant, weapon master...Did you truly think I've spent all that time around Old Owl Well? I might not believe in the superiority of my fighting skills overmuch, but if the orcs still would have held the Well after me being there that long, I surely would not deserve to be called our Lord's servant."

I made a face; if he thought that discouraged me, horrified me or in any way made me think less of him… I honestly thought to punch him right then and there.

"Oh no, I've just..." I finally just shrugged. "I guess I've never thought about it that much. I... realize those years were not the best ones of your life, so..."

"The best years of my life, I believe, are still ahead of me." he said slowly, taking my hands into his. "That is, if you are still willing to spend them with a former caravan guard."

"Idiot." I said fondly, my heartbeat speeding up in a rush as I leaned closer to him. "I know you, Korranos: you probably ended up saving some merchant's life six times over, slain monsters, rescued fair maidens, small children and their dogs and didn't take any money for it either."

"Just like you did between West Harbor and Neverwinter this past year, meum mel." He lifted my hand to his lips, eyes never leaving my face. "I believe, then, that neither of us has anything to complain about."

This was an entirely new side of him: I inhaled sharply as his lips played along the knuckles of my hand, exploring the hollows at the base of my fingers, the lines of my palm... I felt a brief pang of shame at the state of my hands. I've never considered this much before, but really, they reflected my life in West Harbor and as a paladin perfectly well: calloused, narrow but strong from the daily wielding of weapons, with all the small, white scars from past nicks, bruises and cuts, my nails all short and uneven, knuckles slightly red and swollen… No, my hand was definitely not that of a noblewoman, and...

I couldn't help but gasp as he reached my inner wrist, and only partly in surprise. My thoughts fled in a haze of crimson and silver at his touch, his warm breath moving along on my suddenly oversensitive skin. It was an utterly exquisite sensation and a deep shudder racked my entire body in its wake. My head fell back and my eyes fluttered close: the fingers of my other hand knotted into his hair, drawing him up to my starving mouth with an almost violent motion that I couldn't control. So that's how he feels about his ears... was all I could think before even the last remnants of conscience fled and all that remained was sensations—arching up against each other, our lips and teeth and tongues clashing, demanding, wanting more, ever more...

Although my inadverted spell definitely played a part, I knew by then that it was only part of it. After all, like I so often liked to remind Casavir, I wasn't as sheltered as some of the daughters of nobles he might have met as suitable matches back in the days of his father. But while I definitely understood the, for lack of a better word, technical aspects of intimacy between a man and a woman, nothing could have prepared me to the intensity of emotions, sensations, and the pure, sheer power of want and need that also went with it. Maybe it was the highly intellectual Tyrran education I received from Aevan, the careful but distant fatherhood of Daeghun, or the rigorous exercise program with which I honed my body and mind from age twelve, or, hells, maybe all of that together, but the "demands of the flesh" as some of the Rules vaguely described it, never really entered my world until…well, until Casavir did.

And with him came this... It seemed that every time we were together, the pull of simply giving in to the sweet abandon of it grew stronger and stronger. My Tyrran mind, of course, somewhere deep in the recesses of me where reason withdrew, pointed out that it was only natural, that we were both young and healthy, denying these kind of emotions for way too long, and that I should just shut up and stop thinking...especially with his hands trailing under my shirt on my bare skin, sending sensations to the core of my being that had absolutely nothing to do with chastity and everything to do with wanting to rip his clothes off right now and just taste him...

"It's getting worse..." His voice was hoarse, playing alongside the corner of my mouth; I felt his hands slowly withdraw from my heated skin and I felt a pang of regret. "I don't..." He swallowed and my heart sunk as I heard the desperation in his timbre. "I am not sure if you should trust me anymore, meum mel..."

"Crap." I said succinctly and sat up. Somehow we ended up on the rug in front of the fire: the dinner tray got kicked over and there was wine on the stone floor. "That's not the issue."

"Pardon?" He was flushed; I could only imagine how bad I must have looked. "I am not sure I..."

"Trust was never the issue, Casavir." I said, hugging my knees to my chest. "It's a bit more complex than that, I think." I made a face as I realized that I was analyzing the situation yet again, like a good Tyrran, or...

Or maybe it was more. I felt a chill run along my spine as I considered that maybe this was not quite how an ordinary Tyrran's mind worked. I had, after all, my unknown celestial ancestry to contend with... and who knows how that worked?

It seemed that my mouth opened without me really consciously thinking about it: the words spilled out precise and clipped, almost analytical.

"Pro primo: we're both paladins, and thus having constrains on our wants and desires. Pro secundo: as Chosen and Champion, our duties and roles place us on an elevated pedestal that easily gives itself to aloofness and subliming basic desired that come natural to other people. Pro tertio: we both are woefully inexperienced. Pro quarto: that spell I unleashed, unknowing and unwitting, created a bond between us that seems to add to the strength of our emotions every time we're together." I took a breath as I continued, and felt the certainty of truth rise in my heart. Coldness spread in its wake, the crystalline clarity of stars and the void in between them. This was one of the aspects of being His Chosen that no one could have prepared me for: to know the faultlines of not only others' but one's own heart to the exacting degrees of the Just God. "Pro quinto: I am terrified that you'll find me ugly and rough and clumsy compared to all those fine women you might have had the opportunity to meet as a blueblood, and you..." I poked a finger into his chest as my human self desperately tried to reassert itself... "You are still positively frightened of me."

"And you are wondering why?" His blue eyes were huge; he raked his fingers through his hair, already disheveled enough, but he wasn't denying what I said. "Arrighan... Do you have any idea just how disconcerting it is to hold you in my arms in one minute, forgetting about everything else but the scent of your skin and the softness of your hair, and hearing that in the next minute...?" He made a gesture with his right hand that was once helpless and frustrated. "I don't...I don't know how to deal with that." he confessed and that admission, stark, desperate and bare in its simplicity alone was enough to chill my blood even more.

"Oh." I said, hugging my knees to my chest even more closely. "I'm…I'm not sure either." I felt miserable, and, as usual, I went for something lighter. "So: what then? We're just not going to touch each other anymore? I believe that normally would be rather detrimental to an engagement…" I bit my lips as he shook his head with a frown.

"You know, this might actually be easier if you were raised in a chapterhouse, like…" he started to say, and fell silent quickly, just as I started to bristle at the suspected implications of what he just said; it still stung, after all this time. But I bit back my acerbic reply, seeing the expression on his face: deep thoughts were flickering behind his eyelids, faster than lightning, as he sat there, looking at his hands clasped in his lap.

I waited: I learned early with Aevan that you never, ever try to interrupt a Tyrran's thinking. It was several minutes later that he finally looked up at me with a deep sigh.

"This is…complicated." That deep frown still marred his features and there was something in the way his shoulder bunched up under his shirt that signaled that whatever he was about to say made him uncomfortable. "I have to…start with some basics that you, despite your accomplishments might not be familiar with. Please forgive me…It seems that our problems have deeper roots that I've suspected."

"Just great." I muttered, my human side fully reasserting itself now. "Wouldn't be anything new now, would it?" I swept a few stray strands of my hair out of my eyes. "Sorry…" I said sheepishly. "I'll be good and shut up now. This has something to do with me being imperfecta, right?"

"Indeed, and something else, besides." He nodded. "We can remedy that one…I'd been granted the right to field test and dub new paladins back when I received my first Old Owl Well assignment as a special envoy of the order…and Prior Hlam reinforced that before we left the city scant days ago." I could see the practicality of that—for all intends and purposes, we were on our own here, a brand new outpost to reassert Neverwinter's dominance here, where the influence of the King of Shadows grew unseen for too long. I remembered from my studies with Aevan that border forts and such were often having a law of their own, and whatever clerics or paladins, guardians of many faiths lived amongst their defenders, they always had special rights due to the isolated nature of their assignments. "But while your training has been completed a long time ago… due to you not being raised in a chapterhouse, you are unfamiliar with some of our traditions and customs."

"Such as?" I sat up straighter: I wasn't sure where this was heading, but I knew we'd arrive there sooner or later. And if this helped our little…problem, hells, I was willing to listen to him for hours if needed to be.

"The Path of the Silver Fire… has two parts." he said slowly, measuring his words with care. "I didn't quite think you were ready for the second one yet, since you never…" He stopped, reconsidered, and started again. "The second part of the Path is for paladins who… choose another to complete them. "

That was an odd choice of words, sounding way too formal, but as I mulled them over, I thought I understood their meaning.

"Fighting in pairs?" I asked, feeling my brows draw down in thought. "Is that why you are paired as novices in the chapterhouses?" I didn't ask why he never told me about the second part before: you learn early as a student that you only need to know what and when your master chooses to tell you. With Aevan as my teacher, it was doubly so, since I only saw him twice a year.

"It's…not that simple." he said, and I noticed a faint coloring on his cheeks. "This is a very…rare school, as you know, and the origins of the style are rather obscure. Some argue that the tradition of pairing novices up for training originated precisely from the possibility of training every paladin in this style, but the opinions are… widely divided since, like I said, this school's practitioners are… limited in number, and most of them only complete the first part nowadays anyway." He took a deep breath. "I was… Eaydra and I were chosen to start our training in the second, secret school very shortly after we…"

"I see." I said slowly as I tried to comprehend. "So you're not simply paired with your partner in this, but you're actually a…couple?" Something occurred to me and I caught myself blushing, too. "Regardless of gender, I assume?"

"Precisely." There was a tiny easing of the tension in his shoulders. "It creates a lifetime bond that literally only death can break apart. It makes the two of you the extensions and compliments of each other, the two halves of a whole, like the two sides of Tyr's scale, the edges of His sword, or the heads of His warhammer." He swallowed. "We…would have been the first ones chosen in a long time, with her. In a generation, to be precise."

I weighed that for a second before my next question.

"Your teacher?" I took care of keeping my voice calm, despite the clearly uncomfortable subject. I didn't want to give Casavir the impression that talking about Eaydra and their past was unwelcome. "Obviously you had someone to initiate the two of you, tell you about the second part of the path, give you instructions from the beginning… otherwise you would not have been even able to teach me this far, right?" He nodded. "And I don't think it's anyone who resides in the Halls of Justice right now."

"You are very perceptive, as always, my lady. " I stifled a sigh; we were, at least for the time being, back to formalities. Well, if this is what he needs to look at things objectively, regain his footing and come up with something that makes it work between us with my stupid spell mucking everything up even further… my human side snickered. "It was Mother Hadewiga."

"I see." Obviously there was a story there, something that explained how she ended up leaving Neverwinter to take up an inquisitor's mantle in Waterdeep, but just as obviously it wasn't important right now. "And you think… this would offer us a solution?" I wasn't quite sure why that discomfort was still there in his posture, but I figured he'd arrive to that sooner or later. I just had to be patient.

Right.

"First we'd need to complete your paladin initiation." He hesitated. "And… there are some…exercises that are the core of the training to bond the pair together even more." I watched him closely. There it was: the core of his discomfort.

"Casavir." I said quietly, reaching across the distance between us and letting my hand fall onto his. "Could you speak a bit more plainly, please? Just pretend I don't know anything…not that it's far from the truth." I added with a little smile.

"I am sorry." His fingers were cold as he squeezed my hand briefly, but he didn't pull away. "It's just… obviously, after Eaydra's death, I didn't even think I'd ever… and now that I have you, I must confess, I am strangely hesitant to take this step, even though the more I think about it, the more I am convinced this is the correct path." He looked at me and my throat went tight, there was so much longing and tenderness in his gaze. "You and I are clearly… not ready for…" he cleared his throat and blushed a bit as he said it, "…erm, physical intimacies yet, despite the obvious…um…"

"Yes." I said, my impatience finally showing. "Yes. Obviously. We take one step forward, and then two back, and it's mostly my fault for starting the whole thing with my spell to make the bond between us so much stronger and much more…physical." And I was putting it mildly. We would normally, as I understood, be able to resist the…for lack of the better words, temptations of the flesh much better due to our discipline as paladins, but what with the spell weaving our already existing bonds even tighter, it got harder and harder every time we were close and let our boundaries down just a little bit. It was a self-feeding cycle and Casavir was right: something had to be done about it. Although he never actually said it, my inadvertent magic clearly was much more potent than I thought the first time.

"Then we keep pushing it, and I have absolutely no idea what I am doing despite my theoretical knowledge of the subject, but wanting it anyway. Wanting you, I mean." I added after a moment's hesitation before continuing. "And there's something in this secret school of the path that's connected to this, and you know what it is but it makes you extremely uncomfortable, so you might as well just come out and tell me so we're over it and I can start sputtering and tell you 'hells no' and break a couple of vases on your head before I kick you out of my room." I exhaled forcefully. "There. Does that make you feel better?"

"No." he said almost reflexively, with the paladin honesty the direct question required and which made me, inexorably, wanting to pat his head and say 'daww'. "No, it does not. Nevertheless, you might indeed want to do that once I am finished, in truth, so let me…" He swallowed and threaded his fingers through mine. "Those united on the Second Way of the Path of the Silver Fire are, the teachings say, one in mind, body and soul. Each has its own way and its own time to be shared and joined." He looked at our joined hands in his lap as if he was gathering strength from the way my palm fitted into his. "The way you and I can feel each other's mood, and see the colors of each other's aura…while that's largely due to the spell, the spell itself, in the original version of the Ertorian Cycle, was part of the soul-joining ritual of the Second Way."

I remembered our discussions about ancient legends and their versions, and my mouth went a bit dry.

"Let me see if I get this: I unknowingly performed a ritual from the Second Way of the Path of Silver Fire, the way I performed those exercises back when we returned from Old Owl Well?" He nodded. "And this was preserved in corrupted form in a romance cycle that you can get at street vendors for some silver?" I could feel my eyebrows go all the way up to my hairline, it sounded to incredible.

"Meum mel, you have to understand… to most people, even in our own order, this is nothing but…literature." He sounded a bit exasperated. "The pure ritual is preserved in detail by the initiates of the Second Way, copied down from the uncorrupted original versions of the Ertorian Cycle. But there are further problems. The soul-joining is the final step in completing the perfect companions." He paused. "Not the first."

"Oh." I started to feel like I was clearly out of my element. "I guess I jumped ahead a bit, then…" I bit my lips. "So what's the correct order? Can you share that?" I suspected this was the destination towards which we were traveling with this entire conversation.

"First you need to be made full paladin formally." he said slowly; he always chose his words with care, but now it was doubly so. "We need to observe all the rites, so there should be no rushing it. As Khelgar should be arriving soon with the second contingent of our supplies and personnel, he can assist me as another servant of Tyr. Rededicating the chapel in the castle, unfortunately, has to wait until a full cleric of Our Lord can make the trip, so this will be a field ceremony only, but it should be valid. I am sure Our Lord will be present… and what else can we ask?"

He bowed his head for a minute in silent prayer and I followed suit. I felt the familiar silver presence of Him envelop us gently and reassuringly, and some of the tension in the put of my stomach eased.

"And so, after that…" Casavir continued after we finished the prayer, "your formal Second Way training should begin. The first step is, always, the declaration of intent and then the exercises to…open the mind, for lack of better world." His discomfort was palpable. "I shall dispatch some missives to Mother Hadewiga for guidance as soon as possible on how to proceed after that…that's as far as my training ever progressed."

"Mind-opening exercises." I said slowly, tasting the words, trying to figure out why this had him in such a discomfort. "That doesn't sound much different than the ones you learn with your first spells, to channel the divine energy…"

"Except in this case it's a very different energy you channel, meum mel." I tilted my head, questioningly and he continued, still not quite meeting my eyes. "When two people…become one…it's not merely a joining of bodies in the most common, base sense. It's definitely a higher level of theology and mysticism that most paladins ever get exposed to, but the basis of the Second Way is, to put it as simply as possible, to harness the energies of creation and divine that exist in all of us and which are shared in the moments two people unite."

"Mind, body and soul." I repeated what he said earlier, my voice cracking up a bit. I started to comprehend. "That would be the correct order, right?"

"By letting you into my mind and you opening your mind for me we prepare for the union of the body, and that, in turn, shows the way for the soul." That, also, sounded like something from a holy text…I shivered a bit from the way his voice seemed to be sliding along my skin.

A memory invaded: the way my powers rose up unbidden and powerful by seeing his broken and burned skin after he took the heat of the exploding githyanki portal for me, the way the silver lance of my power thrust out of me and into him, bathing his being in silver and reknitting his flesh and skin while I clutched at his shoulder and tried to control the waves of energy coming from the very core of my being, energies of creation and divine from me into him…

"I think I know now." I whispered and, as I looked at him, I saw that he remembered, too. He drew me to him, gently but irresistibly, with his gaze as much as his arms; I still shivered from the understanding that settled over me like an enormous silver-and-blue cloud. "I am afraid, Casavir."

"Don't be, meum mel. Don't be." He tried to sound reassuring; but the way he held me tight told otherwise.

We were on uncharted waters, in a brand new ship…I don't think either of us slept well in the next couple of days while we sorted out the start of a new border fort and awaited Khelgar's arrival. I tried to concentrate on organizing my affairs as best as I could so I can depart for West Harbor in time to be there for Greengrass. It was an almost impossible feat, but I decided to make it work. I needed a firm timeline, I realized; otherwise I'll keep putting it off forever. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed prudent that it would not merely be a quick run with no one but Casavir and Khelgar… my new status as Commander of Crossroad Keep required an entourage, and since our trip would take us through several locations I've visited previously, I decided to make it a kind of a recruitment trip as well. My new keep desperately needed people, skilled people: after instituting a meeting of my closest staff every firstday, I had to realize just how enormous this task I was entrusted with was, and how grateful I had to be for everyone who decided to stick with me in this endeavor. I found an old map of Neverwintan territories in the stack of official papers I was given by Nevalle, and it became a permanent fixture on my desk, with several small pieces of papers stacked next to it regarding the route we'd take, places we'd stop and people I'd need to talk to. I also dispatched some messages to where I knew I would not be able to go just yet. Haeromos in Port Llast needed to be notified regarding our need for copious amounts of stone for Master Veedle's, so when one of the apprentice stonemasons set out to get the first shipment, I gave him a letter for Calindra, the miner I've met there to see if she could work for me—I also included a sketch of locales I've encountered ore deposits during my various trips (this was Elanee's suggestion and I was thrilled that she remembered). I also sent a letter to Callum at Old Owl Well with my belated thanks regarding his help during my trial, and a request to release Katriona, Casavir's former sergeant from his service and send her to Crossroad Keep to take up training the new recruits: I needed Ballard and his crew to start road patrols to prevent further degradation of security between us, Highcliff and Fort Locke.

Casavir and I renewed our sparring exercises despite the demands on both of our time; we desperately needed the distraction, and sheer physical exhaustion seemed to be a very good remedy for the short term. After a few days, we noticed some of the recruits sneaking around and peeking at us despite the early hours, and I had a word with Captain Ballard about it. It seemed that we had some talented youngsters who were interested enough in sword and shieldwork on a higher level and were able to more or less follow the intricacies of the complicated dance of death the two of us wove in the sand of the training ground.

"I noticed it too." Ballard rubbed his chin in thought. "I suppose I could get those couple o'lads some extra lessons myself, and see if they stick with the beyond-the-basic training."

"That's how it starts." Casavir murmured: I could almost see the thoughts spinning behind his smooth forehead. "Captain, if you would draw up a roster with the names and their current schedules, please…I shall see if I can talk to some others from additional fields of expertise regarding this."

And thus the Commander's Own have started, mere weeks into our arrival, although the group only acquired that name much later. There weren't many at first, maybe half a dozen, but their number grew in the months that followed, although it always remained a small cadre of men and women. Their training was rigorous and far reaching, ranging from formation training to small unit tactics with Ballard, subterfuge and nighttime operations with Neeshka, bare-hands combat with Khelgar once he arrived (with numerous carts full of supplies, people, and Duncan and Shandra to boot), and several other fields of violence. Casavir himself took the field with them a couple of times: drawing on his time as a guerilla leader at Old Owl Well, he taught them about the basics of operating in enemy territory and organization skills as potential small unit leaders. I wasn't quite sure how, but he managed to con Bishop into giving them lessons in wilderness survival, even…I told him I didn't ever want to know how he managed to do that, and he, with a completely blank face, simply said that maybe that's for the best. I didn't push any further, although I noticed the next day that Mrs. Ballard, during serving dinner, was muttering awfully loud about some 'large hunks of barely cooked beef and those butterhorn pastries that take forever to get so flaky' she had to make 'special' and how 'some things are just wasted on certain people'. That cause me to snicker rather loudly into my stew, but I think I managed to turn that into a cough before anyone noticed.

As order started to emerge from chaos and uncertainty, my initiation ceremony also drew near. And that caused a little friction regarding one obscure rule Casavir insisted on keeping.

"My hair?" I asked incredulously. 'You want to do what with my hair now?"

"It needs to get cut." He pressed his lips together stubbornly. "It is a sign of vanity and pride in the eyes of tradition, and thus it needs to…"

"No. The hair stays. We can cut an inch off." I interjected firmly, holding my hand protectively over my head. "As a symbol." I raised my voice. "I said, no, Casavir." I wasn't sure why this firm rejection facing centuries of rules and regulations, but my celestial side was sending me all kinds of warning signals and so far I was never let astray by it. "If this means we have to write to Father Prior for dispensation from an archaic rule no one understands any more, then I'll get my pen to paper right now. The hair stays."

After more than an hour of arguments back and forth which gave Khelgar a severe headache even though he was merely listening, Casavir finally acquiesced, and was content with my losing about an inch from my hair in exchange for me writing a long letter to Prior Hlam asking for official absolution—which delayed the whole process even further.

But the day arrived, finally, when I kneeled in front of the humble chapel we set up using Casavir's portable altar, and, with closed eyes, endured my haircut. The chant of prayers Khelgar and Casavir wove above me was almost as if I was dreaming. It was late in the evening, and I was fasting since I rose at dawn, kneeling in solemn vigil in this room for hours, so everything was a bit fragile and out of focus, heightening all of my senses and directing me away from worldly matters.

"And so it happened that you came in front of us asking to be admitted into the most holy order of Tyr, the Maimed God, to be His warrior and servant." Casavir intoned solemnly when I rose to face the two of them. "Have you considered well, good sister, that you wish to be a serf and slave of the Order and leave behind your own will forever to do another's? Do you wish to suffer all the hardships which are established for His holy warriors and carry out all the orders you will be given?"

"I do." I answered as prescribed, nodding solemnly. My head felt light; I focused on staying upright and moving as little as possible.

"Are you in good health, without obligations to another god or order, ready to serve Our Lord in coming and going, in need and plenty, wherever and whenever He calls you to do His will?"

"I am."

This was the shortened field ceremony Casavir was authorized to conduct; there was no long list of questions from various dignitaries, no series of prayers and chants to stretch the process out. I rested my eyes on the small table substituting for an altar table, upon which my sword and the plain blue mantle of a Tyrran paladin, sent by Prior Hlam with his dispensation letter, lain. Now Casavir took them up, spreading the cloak upon my shoulder as I knelt again.

"Then in accordance with the powers that our order vested in me as Our Lord's humble servant temporarily acting as His hand, having witnessed your deeds and looked into your heart, I deem you worthy of wearing the cloak of a paladin of Tyr, Arrighan Pendwyr." The silver clasp of the cloak formed a small shield with Tyr's silver scales wrought on it. "May it shelter you from harm and bring you the warmth of His power to aid those in need."

Next came my sword belt around my waist; I could almost feel the power in my blade reacting to the silver tide of my own rising slowly, while the weight of the belt anchored me in reality again.

"This is the sword of His justice. Wield it in defense of those dispossessed, and never draw it unjustly." Casavir's hands rested on the sides of my head and I felt the kiss of welcome on my forehead. "From this day forward, you are fully in His house, and will dwell there until your days' end, and beyond. Welcome, sister."

"Welcome, sister." Khelgar rumbled, giving me a generous slap on the shoulder that rocked me back on my heels. "An' let this be the last unjust blow you suffer, or let anyone else suffer."

"I…thank you, brother." I wheezed, carefully moving my shoulder in his socket, making sure no bone broke or muscle got torn. The solemnity of the moment clearly passed as I looked into my oldest traveling companion's laughing eyes. "I shall never forget your teaching."

"I def'nitely'd hope so." Khelgar winked at me, solid and unmoving as a rock; strangely lean-looking without his armor and weapons. "So: is there any food left in that larder, y'think?"

All three of us joined in laughter at that, and our hands clasped together in a shared moment of unity in front of Our Lord's altar: I understood then again, that He never was that stern and unyielding deity some made him out to be, and my heart lifted despite the myriad worries that plagued me those days.

And worries I had aplenty, as my rigidly enforced day of departure for my trip neared. The journey—we sometimes jokingly called it The Commander's Progress- vastly evolved by now: it encompassed a longer stop at Highcliff and Fort Locke to recruit for volunteers for my Grelycloaks and to see if my prospective armorsmith and weaponsmith were still available; to check on Shandra's farm and see if any of her old tenant were willing to relocate to the Keep's lands to revive the village; to deliver a small box of money that Khelgar brought with him from the Lathander temple in Neverwinter to Brother Merring in West Harbor…the list kept going on and on…

To add to the frustrations , Zhjaeve has warned me one evening in her usual cryptic way not to forget about my mission to the Ruins of Arvahn, the Illefarn city where apparently some weapons to combat the King of Shadows were hidden. At least that's what I thought she meant: as usual, the githzerai was distant and mysterious, keeping mostly to her room with some tomes of lore Aldanon lent her before our departure from the City. When she finally left me alone, she managed to extract a promise from me that we'll incorporate the ruins to the end of the trip somehow. I had this vague idea that we could send the 'Cloaks back to the Keep from West Harbor with the supplies and our recruits, while me, Zhjaeve and whoever from my little band wanted to accompany us would continue on.

I stared at my map where she marked the location of the ruin until my eyes went blurry, and my mind finally threw up the shards of a memory, fragile and barely discernible beyond layers of pain and loss: Amie talking about how Tarmas adventured in his youth up to the eastern hills of the Sword Coast, and finding the ruins of some elven city of old with a weird name.

I realized why the name of the ancient city bothered me deep down…and as another piece of the puzzle fell in place, I know that Tyr has just given me another reason to return to the place I still called home.

"Was that Arvahn?" I whispered to the silence of my room, trying to remember. I didn't like where my train of thoughts took me, not a bit. "Is this why Tarmas decided to hide in West Harbor and spend the rest of his days brewing love potions and remedies for colic?" I leaned closer to the map and tapped the parchment next to the section of the Mere where West Harbor was marked. "Just what did you find in those ruins, old wizard?"