Bishop blinked furiously as he was led into the afternoon sun, shackles at his wrists jingling as he raised his hands to shade his eyes. In the three days he had spent quietly contemplating his fate in his cell, a great deal of preparation appeared to have taken place. The vaulted wagon that had been used to transport Tholapsyx's hoard from the Fiery Canyon had been repurposed as a prisoner transport for him, flanked by two carriages. As Kana led him to the wagon, Sand, dressed for riding, informed him that the exchange would take place at Port Llast at noon the following day. The plan was to arrive late in Neverwinter, to avoid a spectacle and leave the city at first light.
As he bounced uncomfortably in the wagon, Bishop briefly pictured what might have happened had he lashed out and struggled, clawing like an animal at Sand's face. That's what the old him would have done. Before Kelemvor. Before the Wall. The closeness of the tarp roof of the wagon would have irked him deeply then, but the space felt palatial compared to the memory of the Wall, which was ever present and looming in his barely remembered dreams. The Luskans he would fight, once the exchange had been made. Kelemvor must surely acknowledge that he was giving his life, however unwillingly, to save that of another. He knew all too well there were worse ways to die.
When the wagon's door was opened again, he was led out into torchlit warehouse, surrounded by familiar faces. Alongside Sand and the Keep's delegation stood Sir Nevalle, who was sporting a neatly maintained beard which accentuated a scar on his jawline that he had not had when Bishop last saw him.
"Are you sure about this, Sand?" he asked the elf "This is no trick? No scheme?"
"It most certainly is a scheme, Nevalle. Thankfully, it is one of our own making. The Luskans were fools to put on a show trial for Casavir. I cannot wait to see the look on the High Captain's faces when we present their murder victim to them." Sand replied, glee in his eyes flickering with the torchlight. "Torio, for all her faults, knows a good offer when she sees one. Luskan strains under the pressure of the Lord's Alliance sanctions, another show trial will be good for morale."
Nevalle derisively considered Bishop for a moment, sighed, then nodded.
"Any chance of a quick trip to the Moonstone Mask?" Bishop asked to stunned and unamused silence.
"Had to ask…" he mumbled as Sand and Nevalle's attention turned away from him and he was shoved back into the wagon. Kana brought him bread and water perhaps an hour later and slammed the door with a grim finality, leaving him to eat in pitch darkness.
Surprisingly calm, despite the fact that this was very likely to be one of his last nights back in the mortal realm, Bishop ate and then lay on the hard wooden floor, savouring the moments of peace.
He did not know long he had lain awake in the darkness, but it felt only a moment later that the rumble of the wagon woke him from a deep slumber.
The tranquillity of the night before had been replaced by increasing panic, trapped in a box leading him to death and an uncertain fate beyond. With only hours to spare, he set to the work of planning how he might just escape this with his life. In silence, as the wagon clattered North, he considered his predicament, recalling the layout of Port Llast, a frequent haunt of his. He considered the Neverwinter delegation, their motivations and their fallibilities. Then his thoughts turned to the potential Luskan delegation and the uncertainty. Finally, as the stuffy wagon began to warm as the day rolled along, he considered Linn and what she would do.
When the wagon came to a halt and the door was opened, Bishop was wearing a smile at the corners of his lips.
"How does this all work?" Bishop asked Sand, whose eyes were darting warily among the ramshackle buildings and sparse crowd lining the main avenue to see what all the fuss was about. The Neverwinter caravan had halted at the South end of town, the Luskans decamped on the Northern side.
"It's all very official." Sand assured him "The Luskan ambassador to Neverwinter, our mutual friend Torio Claven has assured us that the Luskans are happy to make a fair exchange. Seems they're quite keen to ask some questions about a village called Redfallows Watch. Ever heard of it?"
Bishop nodded grimly.
"Duplicate copies of a treaty of exchange have been drawn up, along with Casavir's pardon and the warrant for your arrest. The documents will be signed and exchanged, we will take Casavir and you will be handed over to whatever fate the Luskans have in store for you." Sand went on with a contented smile which left a bitter taste in Bishop's mouth.
The two delegations approached each other under the high noon sun, stopping twenty paces apart in front of the Alliance Arms Inn, a dozen individuals on either side. Bishop, flanked by Katriona and Kana, both grim faced, followed Sand and Nevalle forward, crossing the distance between the two groups to meet face to face with the Luskan delegation. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered in front of the inn, wondering what all the fuss was about in their sleepy little fishing village suddenly overrun by warring dignitaries.
High Captain Kurth himself, scratching impatiently at his bushy black beard, stood at the fore with Torio. Behind him hulked a massive figure, orcish tusks protruding at his lips beneath his unmistakeably human eyes. This half-orc dragged a makeshift stretcher which was unceremoniously dropped, eliciting an audible groan from the ragged occupant. From behind an unkempt beard and mop of unwashed hair, Bishop glimpsed Casavir's bright blue eyes, wide open with alarm.
"Torio. High Captain, you honour us with your presence." Sand drawled by way of introduction. "Who is your companion?"
"I am Vorgak Eyegouger, heir to Clan Eyegouger." The half-orc said before either of the Luskans had time to respond, stepping forward to look derisively down at Sand and Nevalle, chest heaving with barely contained rage.
"Know this, little men of Neverwinter, no matter what happens today, the Katalmach will die by my hands. The shamans have prophesised it. I will have my vengeance for the death of my father."
"Very well." Sand said after a moment's pause, looking to Torio.
"Yes, thank you Vorgak." The ambassador said, gently taking the half-orc's arm and stepping him back. Vorgak growled, but said nothing, choosing instead to lurk and scowl behind Kurth, who looked wholly unbothered by the outburst.
"Katriona." Sand called out over his shoulder. The woman stepped forward, armour clanking and went to kneel next to the stretcher. The ragged figure on it raised a hand and gently touched her face and she nodded to Sand, tears welling in her eyes.
"It's Casavir." She confirmed, clasping the paladin's pale hand in her own, pressing it close to her cheek.
Sand nodded again and Kana pushed Bishop forward to stand face to face with Kurth, High Captain of Luskan and one of the most feared men on the Sword Coast. He looked awful up close, eyes bloodshot, sickly yellow hand trembling on the hilt of his opulent basketwork hilted sword.
"It's him," clipped Torio "I can tell by the smell."
"Nice to see you too, Torio." Bishop grimaced back at her "You and I should chat about why it is some traitors get promoted and some get abandoned to be tortured and killed."
"I doubt there'll be time." Torio returned, tongue lashing like a whip.
"If you two are done courting each other, could we get this over with?" growled Kurth "Bring the girl." He clipped over his shoulder.
From the rear of the Luskan delegation a slight, hooded figured emerged. Clad in a cloak of wolf fur, the figured approached Bishop. Under the hood, he saw familiar dark eyes framed by black hair. It was Malin, beautiful as ever. Different to Linn, a stronger jaw, but no less striking. They stared at each other for a moment, her eyes unreadable and cold before she turned to Kurth and nodded.
"Never expected to see you back with the Luskans." Bishop said as her eyes returned to his. Malin was like him, or how he had been before his resurrection. Stubbournly faithless and incapable of taking orders. Their romance had been chaotic, wild, even messy at times.
"A harbour is the safest place in a storm." She replied, coldly "Not all of us wrote ourselves into the history of the War of Shadows."
"Is that sufficient?" Nevalle asked, glancing nervously at the crowd, eyes alert for danger.
"Not remotely." Kurth replied "But I'm only here with you landlubbers because I drew the short straw, so it'll have to do. Let's get this fucking over with so I can get back to my ship."
One of the tables in front of the inn was briefly requisitioned for Nevalle and Kurth to sign the documents set out, witnessed by Torio and Sand. Quills scratched, forced smiles were exchanged and the parties stepped aside, each taking their copies of the documents.
"It's done then, I'm under arrest?" Bishop asked as Torio returned.
"Correct. You are charged with murder, desertion and treason." She informed him, Kurth already halfway back to the rest of the Luskan delegation.
"Let justice be done." Nevalle said, signalling Kana to help Katriona carry the stretcher that carried Casavir.
"Very well." Bishop said with a smile, glancing down at the papers in Torio's hands. All legal and official. If it was justice they all wanted, then it was justice they would get.
"I demand trial by combat." Bishop called out, loud and clear for both delegations and the onlookers to hear.
A wave crashed in the silence as everyone looked at everyone else frantically before High Captain Kurth broke into a cackling laugh.
"Trial by combat?" he said between chuckles "This isn't Neverwinter high justice, traitor. You're coming with us."
Kurth was the only person laughing, however, so Bishop met his gaze.
"Then I name you a coward Kurth, and you, Eyegouger whelp." Bishop spat, turning his attention to the half-orc. "Let all who leave this place today know not one soldier of Luskan was brave enough to fight a starving prisoner!"
The silence continued as his words echoed and faded. Bishop could feel Sand's eyes burning into his back, Kana and Katriona stopped halfway back to the Neverwinter side, watching Bishop.
"I will fight you, little man." Vorgak growled, stepping forward to stand in front of Torio. "I fear nothing."
"Shut up, Vorgak." Torio said, reaching for his arm again, only to be brushed aside.
"You give away my father's killer, Kurth." Vorgak said, ignoring the ambassador and turning to the High Captain. "I want the prize for myself."
Kurth glanced at Torio, then to Bishop, then to Vorak who was visibly shuddering with rage, knuckles white on the blades at his belt.
"Fine. Kill him and be done with it. We can drag his corpse back up the high road and hang it in the main square."
Vorgak grinned and Sand dragged Bishop around to face him and Nevalle.
"What are you doing?" he whispered urgently.
"Get the paladin out of here and unlock these shackles, Sand." Bishop growled "I'm not going back to the Wall without a fight."
Sand and Nevalle exchanged nervous glances before Nevalle clicked loudly. Katriona and Kana hurried forward with the stretcher while the keys to Bishop's wrist shackles were passed from a waiting attendant to Nevalle then to Sand, who unlocked them with satisfying click.
"I need a sword and some armour." Bishop said, glancing back over his shoulder at Vorgak, who was stretching his shoulders and neck, pacing back and forth like a caged animal about to be let loose. Kurth, Malin and Torio had hastily retreated, leaving Vorgak alone in the street, wide eyed onlookers placing wagers in hushed tones.
Sand scoffed and reached under his cloak, producing a bone handled hunting knife in a worn leather sheath and handing it to Bishop. It was his old knife, enchanted in the waters under Ember.
"You're lucky to get this after the stunt you just pulled." The wizard said, scowling up at Bishop as he took the blade.
"Better than nothing I suppose." Bishop replied, taking the knife and feeling the familiar grooves in the bone handle. "Any advice on how to fight him?"
Sand shrugged. "Clearly he isn't very bright if he let you bait him into a duel. Try and bluff him? Honestly, I hope he kills you so we can put this all behind us, but I'm glad you learned something from watching me at least."
With that, Sand and Nevalle retreated, ushering Kana and Katriona back to where Ivarr stood by the carriages, awaiting Casavir's limp form on the stretcher.
All eyes were on the combatants as Bishop turned to face Vorgak, who must have been hunching when he stood behind Kurth. Up close, Bishop saw his opponent would have easily cleared seven foot tall and his arms rippled with muscle under the green tinted skin.
"I am going to enjoy tormenting you." Vorgak growled as he drew his two blades simultaneously. They were ugly things, orc crafted, heavy and sharp.
"Well wait a moment," Bishop said, heeding Sand's advice. He walked as casually as he was able up to Vorgark "We need to discuss the rules."
"This is a fight to death, there are no rules." Vorgak laughed incredulously.
It had been a roll of the dice, Bishop knew. An opponent less headstrong wouldn't have fallen for it, but Vorgak had dropped his guard to throw his head back and cackle at the ranger. It was just enough time for Bishop to swing a swift kick between his taller opponent's legs.
Vorgak crumbled, eyes wide as he fell to his knees, wheezing with the unique pain that came from a kick in the stones. The half-orc would have been sick to his stomach with it, if he had lived long enough. Bishop's knife slid down through the green flesh where the jaw met the neck and a spout of blood followed as the blade was withdrawn. Bishop leapt back out of retaliation range, but Vorgak only managed to gape at the ranger as arterial blood bubbled from the mortal wound, mind working through the incomprehensible.
"But… the prophecy… the shamans…" he said, going pale as his blades slipped from his hands, pawing at the wound while his life drained out over his armour.
Bishop watched warily for a few seconds as blood began to pour from Vorgak's mouth and he tumbled sideways, coughing and gurgling, red bubbles on his lips.
"Tell Kelemvor he'll see me when I'm good and ready." Bishop said in a low voice as the light faded from Vorgak's eyes and the ranger turned to the rest of the Luskan delegation, looking on in disbelief.
"Anyone else?" Bishop snarled out, wielding the bloody knife menacingly. He met the eyes of every man and woman staring and none dared hold his gaze.