Chapter 47: Keeping Promises
Anomen Delryn, warrior-priest of Helm and squire of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, was pissed off. So pissed off, in fact, that his companions were starting to seriously wonder how bad an idea this particular endeavour was.
It had seemed so easy. Tellis the informant had given Yoshimo everything necessary to bring Saerk Farrahd down for his crimes… except for the murder of Anomen's sister. The information on that was sketchy – there were two unknown men who had apparently mentioned having been hired by a nobleman to kill Moira, but this was hardly enough to convict the man.
But they did have proof for a thousand and one other minor breakings of the law. None of them reached the level of murder, but put together they could leave Farrahd very inconvenienced for the rest of his life, and Yoshimo had predicted that it could even land him in prison.
Harrian had suggested turning the merchant in for all of those, but Anomen had been adamant that no such action would be taken if it was impossible to prove or disprove Farrahd's guilt for his sister's murder.
So the plan had been altered. Murder would carry a lighter sentence than absolutely everything else Saerk had done wrong. It was the most heinous of his crimes, but he had only done it the one time, as opposed to the score of times he had cunningly skipped the taxes, or such. Anomen couldn't care less if Farrahd was untouched for those other crimes, but he was to see justice for the murder of his sister.
The idea was that they blackmail Saerk into turning himself in for the murder. If he didn't, then they would bring the anger of many, many different parts of the government down upon his head, and ensure that he didn't get away with a quick bribe. Hopefully, Farrahd would much rather face the comparatively light sentence murder would offer.
Corias knew the plan was odd. He knew it would be best just to give the scrolls to the government and let Saerk pay for what they could prove he had done, as he deserved. But there was a nagging sensation at the back of his mind that told him to check up on this; that there was a piece of the puzzle missing. He indulged the gut feeling for once.
It had been hard to gain an audience with the Calimshite merchant, and Harrian had had to use that dagger of his he was growing a little too fond of so as to convince the guards and servants that meeting Farrahd was absolutely necessary. But they were there.
Anomen threw the door to Saerk's office much harder than was necessary for what was supposed to appear as a calm, quiet discussion of business, and burst into the room, shaking with barely controlled anger. Harrian, Imoen, Yoshimo, Haer'Dalis and Minsc followed swiftly, most of them afraid that he would let his fury get the better of him and do something stupid
The room was large, far larger than any simple office, and from the number of doors along the wall, was clearly set right in the heart of the building. Why a merchant would choose such a room to run his business in, a room that must be subject to much intrusion throughout the day, was unfathomable.
"Saerk!" Anomen called out, pointing his mace at the merchant, who was most surprised at being disturbed this late in the morning. "Do not think that you can rest easy! It is time to –"
He was interrupted by Imoen and Yoshimo practically throwing themselves at him to stop him from continuing, and Harrian smoothly placed himself in between the cleric and the merchant, desperate to try and keep things visibly civil.
"Ah, that is to say that there is much we wish to discuss with you, Mr Farrahd," the thief told the Calimshite as courteously as he could muster. Great as his distaste for the man was, it wouldn't do to let Anomen go raging at him right now.
Saerk raised an eyebrow. He was an ageing man, maybe in his late fifties, with streaks of silver creeping in to his otherwise jet black hair at the temples. His face, as darkly coloured as was to be expected from a Calimshite, was wrinkled and worn from the ravages of age, but he still seemed to hold a strong vitality within him that told Harrian this was no man to mess with. "Ah. You would be the Delryn's manservant, yes?" he asked lightly, seemingly ignoring Anomen's outburst.
Harrian frowned until he remembered the role he had taken at Duchinov's ball. How Farrahd thought that he was a servant now that he wore his studded leather armour and long, hooded cloak, the sword at his belt still quite visible, he wasn't sure. He was in something of a mood to set the nob right. "Actually, I am a friend of Anomen's," he replied smoothly, brushing his dark hair back. "And there is some business we would like to talk to you about."
Farrahd folded his arms across his chest and leant back in the chair behind his desk, mild and false interest written all across his face. "I'm all ears," he said in an ever-so-slightly mocking voice and smiling a false smile.
Corias glanced at Yoshimo, who had finished subduing Anomen, and stepped forwards. He said nothing to the Calimshite, merely pulled a long roll of scrolls from somewhere about his person and deposited them carefully on the desk. The bounty hunter gave Farrahd a look which Harrian interpreted as 'read 'em and weep' before withdrawing slowly.
Saerk picked through the scrolls delicately, his face impassive. Harrian could see that he had no desire to let a smidgeon of emotion creep through the mask that had now slipped over his face, and it pleased the thief to see the merchant's expression falter as he read what they had given him.
There was a long silence, broken only by the ticking of a great clock that stood by the wall nearest the desk. For some reason, the seconds seemed longer than usual as they waited for Farrahd's reaction.
At last, the Calimshite leant back in his chair again and coolly set the papers down on his desk. "So what is it you want?" he asked calmly. "Money? I can give you money if you let me burn these right here. Goods? I can get my files and see if we have what you want within moments."
Anomen burst forwards, pushing Harrian out of the way, his face a mask of fury. "Viper!" he spat at Farrahd, shaking with anger. He shoved Corias back roughly as the swashbuckler tried to restrain him. "You murdered my sister, and you shall either face justice for that or face justice for these other, petty crimes!"
Farrahd was clearly taken aback at the vehemence with which the young cleric spoke. "Your sister?" He chuckled dryly, then threw his head back and laughed. Harrian could see Anomen's anger increase tenfold at the callous display. "Nay, boy, I did not kill your sister. What makes you think that?"
Delryn was slowly turning a rather odd shade of purple. "The fact that you have hounded my father his entire life and turned everything he has done into a mockery! Killing Moira completes your victory against him!"
Saerk snorted, becoming calm once more, even in the face of Anomen's ire. "I would not resort to murder just to make Cor feel even more cowed than he already does. Your father is an insignificant gnat – he is not even worth my acknowledgement. He may have painted me as the unscrupulous and evil businessman, boy, but I am not a murderer. It takes someone worth more than Cor to make me resort to such depths."
Harrian frowned. The worrying thing was, Farrahd's words made sense. He had no reason to have Moira killed, and Corias could easily see how Cor could be seen as absolutely insignificant in his eyes. In anyone's eyes.
"He speaks the truth, my raven," Haer'Dalis spoke quietly, and everyone turned to stare at him. Somehow, at that moment, he seemed even more alien than ever, his bright blue hair and odd features distinctive and clear, and the obvious fact that he was a tiefling forestalled any comments.
But, becoming convinced as his party fellows were, Anomen was still not subdued. "Liar!" he screamed at Saerk, grabbing him by his shirt-front and yanking him to his feet, the mace shuddering in his hands as he fought with the desire to use it. "You murdered her; I know you did, so admit it!"
"Anomen, you should –" Harrian's words stopped as one of the far doors opened, and a girl stepped out into the room. She wore only a simple white dress, and her dark, wispy hair that seemed to almost engulf her gave her an ethereal, almost angelic sort of look.
"Father? W-what's going on?" the girl, probably in her late teens, stammered, stepping forward. "I heard shouting…" She finally seemed to acknowledge that Anomen seemed ready to beat her father's head in. "W-why…"
Delryn released Farrahd quickly, and started to skulk around the room cautiously. His stance and pace were completely different to that of the Anomen the rest of them knew, and the dark look in his eyes made Harrian fear they had lost him completely. He knew what it was like to deal with darkness. It looked as if Delryn had had a similar fight to the one Corias faced every day, but had lost.
"Steps will have to be taken to get you to admit your sin, Farrahd," he said, in a low, threatening voice that was so unlike Anomen it was unnerving. "You have taken a wonder from a family; a veritable angel amongst mortals. You have relieved a being of light and good from this world, and yet you fail to confess your sins."
He slowly meandered over towards the girl. She shrank back and would have run had the cleric suddenly bounded forwards and grabbed her wrist in his left hand, his eyes smouldering with hate and anger. "And if I were to do the same thing?" he snapped venomously, fixing his gaze on Farrahd's. "Would you then see what you have done? Would you then acknowledge your sins?"
All of the strength seemed to seep out of Saerk. "Delryn! No! Do not take my daughter!" He seemed frantic, panicking. "I did not have your sister killed, but if turning myself in for the crime is what it will take to keep my family safe, then I…"
"Liar! Admit it!" Anomen yelled. There was silence for a long moment, silence as everyone remained immobile, too stunned to move or acknowledge what Delryn had become in this moment of fury. Then he raised his mace, ready to bring it down upon the girl.
"Father! Help me!" Farrahd's daughter shrieked, panic and fear of death creeping into every syllable of her words as she struggled to escape from Anomen's iron grip. But it seemed as if nobody had the power to save her.
Harrian felt himself bounding forwards to try and restrain Anomen, Minsc and Haer'Dalis close behind him. Saerk was screaming something, something absolutely indeterminate as they moved, and Corias was dully aware of Imoen frantically running through a hold spell, incanting faster than he had ever thought possible.
Anomen's mace dropped.
But it did not reach its target.
An arrow flew through the air so fast as that it was almost impossible to see, and embedded itself in Anomen's hand, defying any gauntlet on its errand to save an innocent life. His weapon fell limply from his injured hand and to the floor harmlessly as the cleric let out one sharp, pained yelp, whipping around with the motion of the arrow, and instinctively kneeling down and curling up within himself to deal with this unexpected assault.
There was a long silence, broken only by the panting of Anomen as he struggled to get his breath back, and the reverberating twang of Yoshimo's bow in the aftermath of his swift efforts.
Everyone stared at the bounty hunter dumbly as the Kara-Turan padded forwards towards the cleric. Anomen was still crouched, cradling his hand and seeming without the energy to move and stand. The anger that had controlled him had clearly ebbed out, leaving behind something of a shell.
Yoshimo leant forwards and grabbed Delryn's wrist, yanking the arrow from out of his hand and ignoring the second yelp the squire emitted. Then he pulled his gauntlet off and wrapped the injured hand in the strip of cloth he usually kept to clean his katana. He did not help Anomen get up.
When he finally spoke, there was no pity or acceptance in his voice. "You made me a promise that you would not murder those responsible for your sister's death. Whilst you did not promise that you would not murder innocents, I never thought that an oath you would need swearing."
Anomen finally raised his head to look at Yoshimo, and the anguish on his face was heart-wrenching. A single tear ran down his face as he looked solemnly at Farrahd's daughter, who had retreated to the safety of her father and was shaking all over.
The cleric lowered his head again, and let out an anguished moan, a noise full of remorse and pain that came straight from his very soul. "Gods," he murmured weakly. "What have I done? What have I become?"
Strong arms grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. "Anomen simply lost his mind for a moment. It happens to Minsc often, and when it does, he becomes a dangerous force. Boo helps him channel this fury towards his enemies in righteous butt-kicking, but if you have no Boo, how can you be expected to control this anger?" The giant ranger paused and considered his words. "And you just went a little crazy. You did not hurt anybody."
Harrian stepped up and handed Anomen back his mace, then slapped him on the shoulder. "He's right. We all have our demons inside of us, and we have to be eternally vigilant against them. You may have lost control once, but nobody was hurt, and you are now aware of your own particular piece of darkness." Corias frowned, realising his words were a little on the morbid side, but said nothing more.
Finally, it was Imoen who seemed to break Anomen through this dire near-catatonic state that seemed to be creeping upon him. "Are you alright?" she asked lightly, placing a hand on the shoulder Harrian had slapped.
Somehow, being asked such a simple question, such a light and easy query where everyone else had been offering advice and lectures, seemed to break through Anomen's mood, and the slightest of slight smiles tugged at his face. "I… we'll see," he murmured, frowning.
He straightened up, and turned to face Saerk, then bowed his head a little. "I offer you my most sincere and humble apologies. I…" The cleric's voice trailed off, and he gave them a long look. "I shall take my leave of you now. You may… dispose of those documents however you choose," he added, waving a hand at the scrolls that lay on the desk.
The group wordlessly started to troop towards the door, sensing a need for yet more emotional patching. It seemed as if it was turning into a common occurrence for them all, which made the moment seem even more bitter than usual.