Chapter 130: Sides of a Coin
"And finally, the high spot of the tour," Anarg declared with a flourish, pushing open the door to the largest section of the hold of the Divine Thunder, allowing his six guests to see just what it was this party of Fallen Paladins were up to which brought in the money and made everyone from the Radiant Heart to the Shadow Thieves so interested in keeping an eye on them.
…but we're getting a little ahead of ourselves.
Anomen and his five companions had returned to the Thunder that morning to talk to Anarg about any ways in which they could assist the Fallen Paladins, from a 'brotherly' perspective which would, hopefully, let them get close enough to the exiles to allow the party to do whatever they needed to. Anarg had been very enthusiastic about giving them a tour of his ship, which he was obviously very proud of. At that moment, Reynald was not on board, however – Anarg had said that his second in command was on the shore, taking care of some 'business' which he himself did not have the time or inclination to deal with, as he would apparently prefer to attend to their guests.
The tour had been fairly mundane until that point. There were various interesting cargoes the Fallen Paladins were carting around, from ales in barrels to some fine silks – Anarg had told them that the Thunder's next port of sail was down in Calimshan – but there had been nothing overly iniquitous at that point. Imoen and 'Rondlek' had been eyeing Anomen all the way, and to those two, the two who knew him best in this party, his internal struggle was quite visible. Anarg's pièce de résistance would, no doubt, calm the struggle, however.
Anomen's jaw actually dropped for a few seconds, but he managed to close it before Anarg or any of the other Fallen Paladins could notice. "This… this would be the primary source of your income now?" he managed to stammer, assuming a nonchalant tone as Anarg led them further into the room. Behind the leader of the Fallen Paladins' back, the cleric gestured to his comrades that they should stay outside, but was a little too shocked to protest when Imoen followed him in anyway.
Along the side of the hold, deep in the shadows – for the only light in there came through cracks in the boards above them, a single, incredibly weak lantern in the middle of the room, and any lamination from the doorway – many shackles were set, the sort which would bind a man by ankles and wrists and stop him from moving more than a few feet around. Inside those shackles, bound so tightly and packed so close together that they couldn't even extend the full liberty of the shackles, were perhaps two hundred slaves.
The stench inside the hold was quite incredible; it was the stench of many human bodies pressed together for days at a time, the stench of hardships, and the stench of imprisonment. If an emotion could be attached to this stench, it would be despair.
Anomen raised a gauntleted hand to his mouth and nose to try to block out the stench. "What… what are you planning to do with them all? How did you get this many people on board without the Athkatlan guard noticing…?" he mumbled, managing to hide his aghast expression behind his hand.
Anarg shrugged casually, somehow completely desensitised to the sight presented to them. "There are ways. A small boat late at night isn't going to get all that much attention from the Athkatlan guards if it's suitable discreet. We'll be taking them with us south to Calimshan… I'm sure they'll bring in a nice few gold pieces."
"Is this what got you ejected from the Order, Anarg?" Anomen demanded, far too shaken to manage much by way of convincing acting for the leader of the Fallen Paladins. "Murder was mentioned, but slavery…"
"I suppose you would have heard about that, yes," Anarg mused, almost nonchalantly kicking a slave who tugged at his metal-clad shin. "The man I killed was a noble from outside Athkatla. These people are some of the villagers who used to live on his land. Their homes were burnt to the ground; it was assumed that they fled. It was what prompted those fools of the Order to eject me."
Anomen's voice was thick as he fixed the other man with a cold look, only just managing to keep it on this side of murderous. "And your comrades, here, the other Fallen took part in the destruction?" he asked, shocked.
Anarg shrugged. "Some of them. One or two have joined our ranks since then, like Reynald. But the majority, yes." He paused, smiling at Anomen with faint confusion. "You seem to be less than enthusiastic about this all…?"
"There is a mild difference between us, Anarg," the Helmite managed to say, avoiding too much venom in his voice as much as possible. "I left the Order, but I did not step away from my god. I did not set aside righteousness…"
The fallen paladin threw an arm over Anomen's shoulder. "My boy, my boy, I understand that this is hard. There are some of our number who similarly have some problems with the way we do things… they have yet to let go of the incipient 'morals' of the Order; those restrictive and naïve tenets. I do not force them to take part in what we do. Reynald himself has been a little difficult in regards to the slaving, but I think he is beginning to understand. I will understand if you wish to have little to do with this venture of ours."
"I am sure there are other matters where we can do business," Anomen said at last, scrabbling towards the light in an effort not to completely bring their plans crashing down. "After all, when our judgement comes, we are more similar than we are different." The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he managed to force out a smile as he backed out of the room, not wanting to see or smell the slaves anymore. There were no more questions in his mind.
Anarg considered this for a long moment. "There is… something you could do for me. Just a minor request. Something I would do myself if I could, and which you would be much more able to do…"
* *
"It is a simple matter to retrieve Anarg's cup," Keldorn said quietly once the party was on the shore, out of sight behind some buildings near Delosar's Inn to have a quick conference and plan. "But the question remains what we should do with the Fallen Paladins. There can be no doubt left in your mind, Anomen," he finished, smoothly removing his helm to allow his face to breathe a little.
The Helmite was leaning against the nearest wall, his gaze fixed on the blue horizon, where a few ships could still be seen making their way across the sea. "No doubt, Sir Keldorn," he murmured numbly, evidently deeply lost in thought. "We must bring them to justice and free those slaves. Even if it means the death of Anarg and the others."
"But how?" Imoen asked, wringing her hands together slightly. "You heard what Anarg said… most of the Fallen were with him when he captured them, and most of them are with him all the way. That means that they seriously outnumber us."
"Most of them are with him entirely," Aerie pointed out quietly, frowning slightly. "He mentioned that there were some who weren't entirely happy with it all. And Reynald was one of them," she concluded pointedly.
"My dove, I would not think that proposing to Anarg's second in command that he joins us in trying to bring down the entire group of which he is a part – the only group to which he has any ties anymore, the group which now seems to be all he has – is the greatest of ideas…"
"I do."
The six adventurers whirled around as their supposedly private time of conspiring was interrupted by an armoured figure standing just at the corner to the building they were huddled against. Although the figure had no weapon in his hand and his posture was distinctly not aggressive, his arrival still triggered the party to bring up their weapons instantly – drawing swords, notching arrows, raising hands ready for a spell.
Reynald de Chatillon managed to look fairly nonchalant and unconcerned as he stepped towards them, palms open, showing them his empty hands. "There is no need for violence. I have no hostile intentions towards you." He paused, taking in the six of them as they practically bristled with weaponry. "Though the feeling does not seem to be mutual." He paused, and smiled briefly at Keldorn. "Greetings, 'Rondlek'. How is retirement from the Order treating you?"
Anomen's face twisted into a snarl. "Do not think you can come here, act nonchalant, discover what we are doing and expect us to let you walk away to tell Anarg, you… you murderer, you slaving scum…" he snapped, raising the Flail of Ages aggressively.
Reynald looked serious again as his expression fell a little. "You will not believe me, but it pains you to call me thus. A murderer… aye, I am that, and on a larger scale than some would think. But the slavery… that I do not condone."
"You do not stop it," Keldorn pointed out, but still sheathed the Sword of Chaos as he fixed Reynald with an evaluating look, clearly giving the Fallen Paladin the benefit of the doubt but seeking out with his powers as an Inquisitor to discern Reynald's intentions.
"I cannot," the fallen paladin pointed out. "I have attempted to shift Anarg, to convince him that this does not need to be done, that it should not be done, but he ignores me. To press harder, to confront him truly, might…" His voice trailed off, and Reynald glanced away. There was a long pause, a long silence until he spoke again. "I have lost Torm. I have lost the Order. Am I to lose the other Fallen too? They are not all like Anarg. I cannot continue alone… and I once thought that maybe he could be changed, maybe there was hope for him."
"Who are you to teach redemption? You yourself need what you expect to teach!" Anomen snapped, his nostrils flaring a little as he took a step forward, and seemed on the verge of attacking Reynald there and then. It was only Keldorn and Imoen grabbing him which managed to make him calm down slightly.
"I do not seek redemption. I have had enough of a life striving for that which is impossible. I turned my back on my Lord Torm, and my sins are such that I cannot atone for them. But that does not mean that I condone the continued sins of Anarg. I am lost to my god and the Order, but it seems as if he is lost to sense." Reynald looked back at them slowly, having hardly batted an eyelid at Anomen's flash of anger. "The slaving must stop, and we Fallen brought to justice. And I believe you are the people to do it."
Imoen released Anomen at last, and the cleric slunk back a little as the pink-haired mage shook her head. "I don's see how, unless we involve the Order, or the guard. Your Fallen outnumber is way too much for us to bring them to heel."
Anomen glanced over slightly, returning the Flail of Ages to his belt quickly. "Perhaps. Perhaps not," he declared at last, a thoughtful expression on his face. He nodded as they all glanced over at him. "I have an idea…"