Chapter 2: Reminiscing
Back at Candlekeep, Harrian Corias had always been fond of just finding a quiet place to lie, sitting back, and staring at the sky. Obviously, he had preferred night-time, watching the stars peacefully. They comforted him, calmed him, reminded him that he was merely a part of a big tapestry and that there was, in fact, a world beyond the walls of Candlekeep.
Imoen would have often joined him, and throughout their youth they would sneak out at night, clamber to the top of the haystack, and spend hours up there, sometimes in silence, more often talking – discussing what they planned to do with their lives, who they were going to be, where they wanted to go.
They had been simpler times, obviously. The worst thing they'd had to deal with was getting caught, and Harrian was convinced the those late-night escapades were where he first honed his thievery skills. Though he didn't like to call it thievery – productive reallocation of goods was a far better, and less criminals-sounding term. It was not uncommon for the two of them to sneak down to the larder and take whatever food they wanted for a midnight feast.
Simpler times.
Corias didn't miss them, to tell the truth. He was an adventurer at heart, a man who could not settle down for anyone or anything, a man born to wander and explore. People had classed him as a cheat and liar for his profession, much to his consternation, but that was something he'd been able to overcome. Eventually, you learnt that the opinions other people have of you wasn't as important as the opinion you had of yourself. A little more profound than his usual thoughts, but true, nonetheless.
He constantly maintained that he was not a petty man. Yes, he was a thief, and being a thief meant that he would steal things, obviously, but he would draw the line at mugging a drunk, or stealing some coppers from a poor family. It was irritatingly principled, he knew, and had often interfered with many of the tasks he had undertaken, but he would only steal goods from the rich, and only steal their luxuries – luxuries that would carry a fine price at market, and at worst would mildly inconvenience their former owners.
Gods, he was too soft. He'd probably never have survived out in the world if it hadn't been for Jaheira, Minsc. Some unscrupulous character would have probably found him, seen his skills, and exploited him. Edwin had attempted to do so the moment they had met him at Nashkell, and if it hadn't been for some close quizzing from Jaheira, and Minsc's ensuing burst of outrage, Harrian would most likely have found himself tricked into killing Dynaheir… an action which would have removed him of a valuable ally, and thus left the mage unable to save his life a few hundred times.
That was a mere example. A simple display of how much he needed his companions. Suspicious Jaheira, who stopped him from being overly trusting, taking everything with a pinch of salt; mighty Minsc, the warrior of the group, dealing with matters that nimble fingers and swift movement could not handle; Khalid – Gods, he would miss the man – the one who showed him, ultimately, that you didn't need to be bold of outlook to be the most courageous man alive….
And Imoen. Much as he valued his companions, past and present, none of them could hold up a torch to his young friend. Well, he called her young… she was technically his elder! Chronologically, anyway. In the mind… most definitely his junior.
He knew this, he had seen from the moment she had appeared down the road from Candlekeep, right after he'd witnessed Gorion's death. Corias knew that she had a streak of innocence that he had never had, a naivety that had often outdone him when he had known little of the world, an attitude that everyone, by all rights, should have seen and taken advantage of to the maximum.
But they didn't. For some reason. Somehow, not even the most vile of creatures could bring themselves to do anything to sully her nature in any way, to bring a black cloud to her clear horizon.
Well, with a few exceptions. And Harrian had proven himself willing to lay down his life, even for something as mundane as his friend's innocence. He had shielded her from the harshness of the world, taking the full brunt of it on his own back as penance. He had protected her.
Until now. Until Irenicus.
As a single cloud could be spotted creeping over the walls of Waukeen's Promenade, breaking him of his almost catatonic mood, Corias silently vowed that he would not rest until Imoen was safe, and Irenicus had paid for his actions.