His desk was full of scrolls as usual. Some had dropped on the floor, others were in small piles on the table, yet they all were closed.
Sighing, Feryan dropped the ones he was carrying and headed towards the balcony where his master sat.
Aarin Gend was supposed to be studying the information he received from his spy in Luskan. With its new captains, Luskan was growing stronger every day and might once again clash with Neverwinter. The issue was important and his report to Lord Nasher should not only survey the situation, but also suggest what actions Neverwinter should take in response to such an event.
However, today he felt old and tired, not eager to face the challenges of daily life. The game of intrigue and whispered words was not easy for a player, but Aarin Gend was the master. Letting one's personal thoughts interfere with work was something novice thieves did when their mentor first trusted them with a task. As a long-time professional, he should've known better by now.
Yesterday, he had witnessed a rather unpleasant situation. Tomi Undergallows, a halfling who had aided Ariadne in her mission, was accused in Lord Nasher's court for trying to establish a new thieves guild in Neverwinter. Aarin had no fondness for these 'organizations' in Neverwinter and neither did Lord Nasher. Yet that was where their similarities stopped. Unlike Lord Nasher, the Spymaster did not base his dislike on the legalities. Somehow, in his heart, Tomi Undergallows was ill suited for the position that Calliara once held.
Nasher had announced his judgement: exile. Though Tomi was never to return to the city, he was given a brief moment to say goodbye to his friends and companions.
"Go to Cormanthor. She is there," Daelan had said.
Aarin was unsure of what to do. When she had left almost a year ago, he refused to send his contacts after her. He did not want to hurt her even more than he already had. It had felt best not to know anything about her, to cut all contact between them. Now he wasn't so sure. But it was too late to change his mind. Probably his contacts couldn't find her anymore. During their time together she had learned enough skills of rogue to spot those who followed her. Aarin had taught her himself.
It had been such fun at the time. She would come back to the little cabin in Beorunna's Well, silent and weary from her battles. She was always full of new scars which made him feel death's cold touch in his heart. The situation had been grim, and even the joy of a-new-love-found did not ease his worries. He hoped fervently that he wouldn't have to ask what had happened to her, to know every danger she faced while he stayed in his cabin, coordinating his spies. Coordinating! It even sounded ridiculous. He remained behind, talking to his 'staff' and trying to understand all the pieces of information, while the woman he loved battled dragons, giants and... He could not find the words to describe the frustration he felt.
So to find something that could lighten their evenings, he taught her what he knew of the rogue's silent art. She was a ranger with a hunter's grace, accustomed to moving unseen and unheard, but opening locks and disarming traps was new to her. He kept poor Tomi busy "borrowing" all kinds of locks, but took care of traps personally. One had been especially nice, Aarin smiled at the memory. Traditional, maybe, but he would never forget how she laughed and screamed at the same time when a bucket of cold water fell on her when she opened their bedroom door. Her brown, bobbed hair dripped with water and her green eyes shone with laughter and surprise when she went for him, screaming of revenge and tickling him fiercely. Tickling changed to deep, heart-warming kisses, kisses into...
His memories were interrupted when his apprentice, Feryan, appeared. He sighed sadly, wondering what had happened. His life wasn't what he had thought it would be. He was lonely, serving as Lord Nasher's spymaster and prisoner, with a sentence which could and probably would last for years and years still. His freedom was a subject Nasher was unwilling to discuss with him. It was hard for Aarin to believe his friend and lord still seemed to think the Chultan would run away at the first opportunity if Nasher was to give him his freedom. Gend had roused the subject the first time when he met Ariadne and again a few times after she had left, but always Nasher directed their discussion to other things.
After she had left, his chains began to chafe him. Badly. Before the plague, he had enjoyed his life as spymaster, but now...something was amiss. He did not know what to do. For the first time in his life, he was hesitant.
"Lord Nasher wishes to talk with you. He has recieved an embassy from Silverymoon," Feryan told him. Slowly, Aarin rose and went to serve, once again.
Sighing, Feryan dropped the ones he was carrying and headed towards the balcony where his master sat.
Aarin Gend was supposed to be studying the information he received from his spy in Luskan. With its new captains, Luskan was growing stronger every day and might once again clash with Neverwinter. The issue was important and his report to Lord Nasher should not only survey the situation, but also suggest what actions Neverwinter should take in response to such an event.
However, today he felt old and tired, not eager to face the challenges of daily life. The game of intrigue and whispered words was not easy for a player, but Aarin Gend was the master. Letting one's personal thoughts interfere with work was something novice thieves did when their mentor first trusted them with a task. As a long-time professional, he should've known better by now.
Yesterday, he had witnessed a rather unpleasant situation. Tomi Undergallows, a halfling who had aided Ariadne in her mission, was accused in Lord Nasher's court for trying to establish a new thieves guild in Neverwinter. Aarin had no fondness for these 'organizations' in Neverwinter and neither did Lord Nasher. Yet that was where their similarities stopped. Unlike Lord Nasher, the Spymaster did not base his dislike on the legalities. Somehow, in his heart, Tomi Undergallows was ill suited for the position that Calliara once held.
Nasher had announced his judgement: exile. Though Tomi was never to return to the city, he was given a brief moment to say goodbye to his friends and companions.
"Go to Cormanthor. She is there," Daelan had said.
Aarin was unsure of what to do. When she had left almost a year ago, he refused to send his contacts after her. He did not want to hurt her even more than he already had. It had felt best not to know anything about her, to cut all contact between them. Now he wasn't so sure. But it was too late to change his mind. Probably his contacts couldn't find her anymore. During their time together she had learned enough skills of rogue to spot those who followed her. Aarin had taught her himself.
It had been such fun at the time. She would come back to the little cabin in Beorunna's Well, silent and weary from her battles. She was always full of new scars which made him feel death's cold touch in his heart. The situation had been grim, and even the joy of a-new-love-found did not ease his worries. He hoped fervently that he wouldn't have to ask what had happened to her, to know every danger she faced while he stayed in his cabin, coordinating his spies. Coordinating! It even sounded ridiculous. He remained behind, talking to his 'staff' and trying to understand all the pieces of information, while the woman he loved battled dragons, giants and... He could not find the words to describe the frustration he felt.
So to find something that could lighten their evenings, he taught her what he knew of the rogue's silent art. She was a ranger with a hunter's grace, accustomed to moving unseen and unheard, but opening locks and disarming traps was new to her. He kept poor Tomi busy "borrowing" all kinds of locks, but took care of traps personally. One had been especially nice, Aarin smiled at the memory. Traditional, maybe, but he would never forget how she laughed and screamed at the same time when a bucket of cold water fell on her when she opened their bedroom door. Her brown, bobbed hair dripped with water and her green eyes shone with laughter and surprise when she went for him, screaming of revenge and tickling him fiercely. Tickling changed to deep, heart-warming kisses, kisses into...
His memories were interrupted when his apprentice, Feryan, appeared. He sighed sadly, wondering what had happened. His life wasn't what he had thought it would be. He was lonely, serving as Lord Nasher's spymaster and prisoner, with a sentence which could and probably would last for years and years still. His freedom was a subject Nasher was unwilling to discuss with him. It was hard for Aarin to believe his friend and lord still seemed to think the Chultan would run away at the first opportunity if Nasher was to give him his freedom. Gend had roused the subject the first time when he met Ariadne and again a few times after she had left, but always Nasher directed their discussion to other things.
After she had left, his chains began to chafe him. Badly. Before the plague, he had enjoyed his life as spymaster, but now...something was amiss. He did not know what to do. For the first time in his life, he was hesitant.
"Lord Nasher wishes to talk with you. He has recieved an embassy from Silverymoon," Feryan told him. Slowly, Aarin rose and went to serve, once again.