General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.
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Introspection
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The party were subdued as they readied their equipment while preparing to move on. The rest had been a sombre affair, and shorter than they would normally have done; the spellcasters were given time to study their books, and Jaheira and Yeslick prayed hard to their gods for provision of their own spells. To their surprise they had not been interrupted.
Maiyn had to decide how to split her party once more. Yeslick had already asked to go onwards, and she couldn't refuse him his chance for personal vengeance. Some had to accompany Rill though, and she asked for volunteers.
"It is just as important, if not more so, than going further into the mine," she pointed out. "If noone else is willing, I will do it." Jaheira gave her a curious look, but she shrugged. Just because she was the leader, didn't mean she couldn't pick the less obvious path.
"I w-will go," offered Khalid. Maiyn nodded and looked at the others.
"Imoen, Xan - will you go with him? That way you're prepared for traps and anything needing a bit of magic. You will probably face a lot of enemies, so I would rather he wasn't on his own."
They both nodded, dutifully stepping over to Khalid. Maiyn had expected Imoen at least to protest, but the girl had been muted since Branwen's death. It is affecting us all, she thought morosely.
"Meet us at the junction when you are finished," she reminded them. "We will not proceed with our plans until we know you have finished your task."
Maiyn watched them go, following Rill as he led them first to the slave pens. She was slightly worried about what they might face - there were certainly a lot of guards in the complex, but she had a feeling she would need as many people as she could against Davaeorn, and time was running out. Maiyn only hoped that she hadn't made a terrible mistake.
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"That'll teach ye not ta wipe yer feet, ye scum!" spat Yeslick, glaring at the bodies of the guard's they'd defeated. There had only been a few of them when they had gone down the stairway to the next level, and the group had moved swiftly to overwhelm them before they could react.
Maiyn looked around and shivered involuntarily. It was cold down here, and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. Coran noticed her discomfort, and quickly undid a clasp under his throat as he approached her. She smiled as he placed his cloak around her, fixing the brooch in place. Maiyn settled it around her comfortably and pressed her cheek into the fur trimmed hood, smiling her gratitude to the fighter.
"It becomes you," he said softly. "That's much better, is it not?"
She nodded, and he took her hand gently as they followed Yeslick along the corridor. Jaheira cast them a disapproving glance, but managed to refrain from commenting much to the ranger's relief.
The dwarf led them to the old armoury where Jaheira found some armour on a mannequin. Dynaheir cast an identify spell on it, and Yeslick gladly exchanged his battered chainmail for the magically protected set. They went on, fighting a few hobgoblins who were patrolling the corridor and then passing an open doorway that led into a seemingly empty room.
It was a vast room, littered with the bodies of various humanoids; each appeared to have been tortured before meeting their demise, expressions of terror fixed onto some of the faces. Maiyn felt quite sick - the mutilation was apparent, and whatever did this obviously had a cruel streak.
"So, you have come to look at my handiwork?" The voice came from nowhere, causing the ranger to jump, and Jaheira spun round, looking for the source. "Rather impressive, is it not? The one to your left screamed for quite some time before he expired."
"Ye sick fiend!" shouted Yeslick, enraged. "Ye've made a pain-house out o' me home! Die ye filth!"
A booming laugh echoed around them. "Do your worst," it taunted, and the companions tensed, preparing for an ambush.
A slight haze shimmered far to their right, signalling the location of the previously invisible figure. It was an ogre magi, tall and muscular with a wicked expression on his face. Yeslick charged towards him, knocking him firmly with his hammer, and causing him to fall to the ground. The dwarf bludgeoned him relentlessly and without mercy, not even giving him a chance to finish his spell. Jaheira had to drag him away, the corpse of the ogre left looking just as mauled as the ones he'd created.
Maiyn regarded Yeslick cautiously, sensing the fury in him, praying it would be kept under control until their work was done. They were all struggling emotionally now, the shock of death hitting even the more seasoned adventurers, causing them to be pensive. We have to concentrate, and get to Davaeorn. We need to finish this for Branwen and Gorion.
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Imoen followed the man called Rill as he walked quickly to the slave pens. She could still see Branwen's body whenever she allowed her mind to wander, so her efforts were fully going into concentrating on the task they had ahead. Khalid had warned them to expect resistance from guards, especially closer to the entrance where he guessed they would be grouping.
They reached the pens without incident, and Imoen was relieved to see that the prisoners had heeded Maiyn's advice despite the wait. Rill quickly introduced them to the adventurers, and turned to Khalid for the next part of the plan.
"N-now we should go back up to the m-mining level," he said firmly, "and we shall s-scout ahead, clearing the way to the entrance and b-beyond. The forest can be d-dangerous, so if you are p-planning to leave straight away try to stay in g-groups."
"I will instruct everyone to head north to Baldur's Gate," said Rill quietly. "The forests may be dangerous, but at least we've got a fighting chance out there, and they won't want to hang around long waiting for more guards to show up."
Khalid nodded. On the way past the armoury he'd instructed Imoen and Xan to help him carry as many weapons as he could. He handed these to some of the prisoners, and Imoen wondered if they'd even have the strength to wield them.
"It is b-better to be prepared," said the fighter soberly.
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Yeslick was shaking with rage. Maiyn looked around and could certainly understand his anger. The dwarven shrine to Clangeddin had been defiled and replaced - with an altar to Cyric, of all Gods. The dwarf had kept his temper so far though, his eyes taking in the sight before them; the blood smeared stairs leading up to what had once been the holy font - now just a murky looking pool, tainted with pieces of human flesh. Two large braziers burned furiously at either side, providing ample light and excessive heat.
Jaheira rested a calming hand on the cleric's shoulders, and Maiyn watched as he seemed to compose himself slightly. His trembling stopped, but the fierce glint remained in his eyes as he spoke.
"How could they... those pig-bellied, swill-eatin', lowborn swine-tongues're goin' ta th' Abyss fer this!"
A sound from behind made Maiyn turn rapidly, noting the man who had entered the 'temple'.
"Are you here to pay homage to our Dread Lord?" he said, calmly walking past them, and approaching the altar, kneeling before the symbol of Cyric that adorned the wall - a white jawless skull on a purple sunburst.
"A Dread Lord?" mused Dynaheir quietly. "'Tis not a name I recognise, but I can see how it would apply to the Prince of Lies."
The man rose and looked back to them, obviously thoughtful over their lack of response. His eyes slowly found Yeslick, and his lips curled up in a sinister smile. "Ah, the dwarf who used to call this his home I believe... do you like the changes we made? It's a lot more... colourful in here these days."
"Ye beast, I'll kill ye fer this!" roared Yeslick, charging forward to fight.
The man just laughed and quickly uttered a hold spell, catching Yeslick and most of the others, rooting them to the spot. Only Maiyn seemed to be unaffected, but she stood rigidly still, keeping the pretence up that she too was held.
"Look around you, dwarf," taunted the priest. "Oh... you can't, can you? Shall I describe it to you? The blood of men that stain the stairs your people once held so sacred. Do you know why? Because now and then we find one of the pathetic slaves worthy enough to sacrifice... pitiful offerings, I admit, but nonetheless, we seek to appease Cyric in all we do..."
The priest was walking around Yeslick, and had stopped to describe the acts that now took place in the once peaceful setting. His back was turned to Maiyn, and she quietly unsheathed her sword, slinking through the others until she stood at his back. Without a word, she calmly pulled back her sword, then plunged it straight into the man's back; easily penetrating his leather armour, and with so much force that the blade went right through to protrude at his front.
"Perhaps Cyric shall smile today then," she said darkly as she removed her blade, watching the priest fall to the ground, his eyes looking at her with puzzlement. "Although the life of any of the slaves here is worth ten times what yours is."
The priest gurgled slightly, but blood was pouring from his mouth as death set in. Maiyn calmly wiped her sword on the hem of his robes, then stepped over him and ripped down the banner from the wall. Without a second thought she hurled it into the nearest brazier, and watched it burn. Her heart felt heavy, and she could feel the amazed stares of her companions - all unable to move, to prevent her from her rash actions. There was nothing but death, sooner or later they would all die, they would fall in the battle as easily as the priest had... as easily as Branwen had... as Gorion had.
Fenmarel, give me the strength to overcome this, she prayed silently, biting back the sobs she felt welling up, and backing away from the altar. She walked quickly to the door - a quick glance showed that the corridor was still empty, and she moved from the sight of her companions, sitting down on the stone floor, trying to clear her head, holding her head in her hands.
She jumped as Kivan sat down next to her. He shook his head at her questioning stare; no, he had not been affected by the spell either.
"Why didn't you..."
"You knew what you were doing." His reply was simple.
"I lost my control."
Kivan put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. "Do not berate yourself for your actions," he said quietly. "I know you follow Fenmarel Mestarine. I have heard you praying to him, and I am sure he guides you."
Maiyn sighed. She wasn't sure he was right about that at all. She had assumed that by devoting herself to a God, somehow her choices would become easier; her decisions would be right because of her Chosen's guidance. It hadn't happened like that at all though, and she could feel herself hovering over the edge of a dark pit, ready to be consumed by thoughts of revenge and retribution.
"You know I follow Shevarash?" Kivan asked quietly. Maiyn nodded. She had heard the name whispered by him before he entered his reveries. She had also heard Jaheira discussing his choice of deity with him, her concern shining through.
"You worship the Black Archer," Jaheira snapped angrily. "You cannot deny to us that you have allowed your thoughts of vengeance to guide you."
"Shevarash gives me the strength to go on until I have achieved what I must do," Kivan replied simply.
Jaheira sighed. "He is a deity dedicated to hate and sorrow. You can achieve those who are now lost to you without turning to such dark forces." Her voice had become gentler.
"I have chosen my path," Kivan said stubbornly. "And I choose to walk it, alone if needs be."
"Shevarash was a survivor of a drow and duergar raid upon his city, many years ago," said Kivan, lost in his thoughts. "He saw his loved ones die, swore an oath to Corellon to neither laugh nor smile until Lolth and her foul followers were destroyed. After a lifetime of fighting the drow, he was slain."
"And then he underwent ascension with the help of Fenmarel Mestarine," said Maiyn softly. Kivan regarded her with some surprise.
"You know your history."
"I only know about Fenmarel," she admitted. "I... I always meant to learn more of the other Seldarine, but..." She sighed. But I was always busy messing about.
"You know I was travelling with my wife, Deheriana, when we were ambushed by orcs as we rested," said Kivan suddenly. Maiyn nodded. He had not gone into details over the night; emotion had threatened to overcome his words, and he had quickly moved from the topic. "When the orcs had surrounded us, I had my dagger pressed against Deheriana's neck. But I hesitated, and I lost my chance to save her."
"Save her?" Maiyn was confused. "What if you had killed her and then there had been a chance for both of you to escape?"
"Maiyn, if I'd had another moment she would have died by my hand, and I would have followed her at the hands of the orcs," sighed Kivan. "Instead she begged the beasts for mercy... to spare me. Tazok found it comical and ordered me to be beaten in front of her, pretending that her pleas might touch his heart. I was weak; at length I fainted. When I came back..." Kivan's voice broke slightly, but he continued. "When I came back... she was lying on the ground; torn, cut, burned... Tazok was wearing a fresh pair of elven ears on his necklace - he told me that it was a trophy for the one who takes the first turn..."
"Kivan... I am sorry." Maiyn knew her words were useless, but he didn't seem to hear her anyway.
"It became my only goal to not pass out and be entertaining enough as a victim. The world became a blur, but I forced myself on my feet after each hit; I screamed until my voice failed... but Tazok finally grew bored by the spectacle and ordered Deheriana killed. There were enough volunteers. As soon as I felt that she was dead, my spirit left me too. They left both of us for corpses. But I did not die. Why did I not die with her?"
"Maybe it was Deheriana's love that returned you to life." Maiyn looked him straight in the eye, knowing it was not the answer he was seeking. "You did what you could to protect her, Kivan. Have your revenge, if you must, but I think that was not what she meant for you."
"Why would Deheriana want me to walk the Toril without her by my side?"
"Because it was not your time. You have more to face, and Fate... it decided you were to face it alone, for whatever reason. Deheriana would not wish you to join her in Arvanaith too soon."
Kivan laughed slightly. "Thank you, Maiyn, for the sweet words. Shevarash will not let me depart until I redeem myself by avenging my wife - that is what my fate is. Your path is different. Your eyes betray your emotion over the deaths you've witnessed, even when you try to hide it. You will not be devoured by a lust for revenge, despite what you fear."
"Because I follow Fenmarel..."
"Because you have more to live for," he said gently. "And because Fenmarel is watching, and shall keep guiding you as he has done so far. Have faith in him - he is a wise figure." He stood up and extended a hand to her, which she accepted, heaving herself back to her feet. I am not the only person who has felt loss, she told herself. It had taken Kivan sharing his deepest emotions with her to help her realise this, to help her escape from the mindless void she'd been ready to embrace. The dead would live on in her memory, and she would honour them with her deeds - not with revenge.
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They faced no resistance as they headed up through the mine to the entrance. The former slaves waited as they were instructed while Khalid, Imoen and Xan went ahead to check the entrance was clear. They got to the first shaft without incident, using the lift to get back up to the watch tower. Khalid cautiously glanced outside, but could see no one around. Imoen slipped out when he signalled the clearance, thankful that it was approaching dusk. She skirted down the path, sticking to the shadows of the fence, until she got to the compound. It was eerily quiet, and the way appeared to be free from guards. She slipped over to the door of the nearest storeroom and glanced inside - empty.
Stealthily she returned to her companions, and Khalid went to get the slaves. When they had all managed to get up from the mine the companions escorted them to the storeroom, urging them to wait in silence until everyone was out and free. They huddled into the shadows willingly, having lost the urge to chase off into the forest when they heard the wild cries of the creatures around them. The companions returned to the mine, and joined again with Rill. It didn't take long to get all the miners together, and the resistance from guards was minimal. Quietly, the procedure was repeated until everyone was safely within the storehouse.
"Khalid," said Imoen suddenly, peering out into the rapidly darkening night. "We've got company."
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Her arm throbbed as the blood poured from the massive gash that had ripped through her flesh. She'd already used her healing on Coran's injuries, and she didn't want to waste Jaheira and Yeslick's spells when they still had the mage to fight.
They'd found the stairs down, barely managing to restrain Yeslick from charging ahead. The two guards they'd met had provided little resistance, and a quick look around the small guard post revealed the guard's living quarters and little else. A few simple beds, and a few plain chests which were quickly pilfered by Coran. The corridor led straight ahead, seemingly into a larger living area, and the roguish fighter had disarmed several snares as they progressed along. Before they'd even reached the end, though, they'd seen Davaeorn.
"Why have you come?" he asked, staring at them. His posture implied that he had been expecting them, and their delay in the upper level had likely given the chance for word to reach him. "Is it to steal my riches?" His gaze went to Coran, narrow eyed as if ascertaining what threat the fighter posed. "Or perhaps you seek to righteously punish me for my affront to your morality." He glanced to Maiyn, and smiled slightly, almost as if he'd seen the events that took place in the temple. "It matters not," he continued, "for you will do neither."
"Boo is outraged!" roared Minsc, waving his hamster in the air. "See his fury! It's small, so look close. Trust me, it's there."
The mage just regarded the berserker with some contempt. "Before I dispose of you in some horribly gruesome manner, perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Davaeorn; I would ask for your names, but I care little to be acquainted with the dead."
"Do not take his words lightly Maiyn," whispered Dynaheir warningly. "I sense power about him: he is indeed a mighty magician."
Yeslick pushed his way past Jaheira and Maiyn, having controlled himself long enough. "One name o' ours ye know at least, mage!" He yelled. "Yeslick Orothiar I am, an' it sickens me ta think that ye're going ta share the same grave as me kin! Prepare fer th' Abyss, Davaeorn!"
Davaeorn looked at Yeslick with a cruel curiosity. "Well, well," he said softly. "The fool escapes, does he? Let us see whose graves shall be filled!"
With one fluid movement the mage had mirrored and become engulfed in a purple cylinder of light - Dynaheir had said it would stop the arrows and bullets from hitting him, and Maiyn had immediately swapped her bow for her sword. Before anyone could advance however, the mage had moved back, and two large figures moved in from the sides, bearing down on the party.
"Pull back!" Jaheira had ordered, and everyone had retreated to the guard room, where there was more space. Coran and Minsc had engaged the figures - Doom Guards, Coran had later called them - with Yeslick and Jaheira falling in to help. Maiyn and Kivan tried to give some backup, but no ones blows were having any effect apart from Minsc's - the blows from the weapons were bouncing off the enemies without even scratching them, and only Minsc's faintly glowing Spidersbane was penetrating their armour.
The group had been unable to do anything, but try and keep the guards busy; Minsc slowly finished one off, while the other eventually fell to Dynaheir's magic missiles. The witch had repeatedly cast at the one relentlessly attacking Maiyn, its fierce blade eventually cleaving her painfully in the arm, then immediately slashing Coran's leg before it fell alongside its partner.
The mage hadn't followed them, assuming his magnificent guards would save him the bother of having to fight. Maiyn's healing touch had worked wonders on Coran's injuries, and she now tried to hide her own wounded arm from the others. The pain was becoming too much.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, hoping she still had some healing within her. Please... Fenmarel, help me find a bit more healing... The familiar sensation she felt when she applied her strange innate ability didn't come though, and she sighed, opening her eyes. Suddenly a warm glow seemed to build up deep inside, and a feeling of calm washed over her. She watched as her limb glowed with a faint white light, the wound healing over instantly before her eyes. Slowly, the warmth left, and she felt normal once more - her arm repaired almost completely.
The others were watching her. "What was that, child?" Jaheira asked, but Maiyn could only shrug in response. Thank you, she thought, hoping whoever or whatever had healed her was listening. Words formed in her mind, but she could not place their origin, only their meaning.
You are a believer.
"We must press on before Davaeorn gets more guards," insisted Jaheira, leading the way down the corridor. Maiyn lingered back for a moment, wondering why she felt different. She shook her head - she didn't have time to think on it just now. There would be time when it was done.
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Imoen tiptoed across the scores of guards that lay strewn across the ground of the compound. Khalid and Xan were following her as they headed back into the mine, preparing to head to the junction to await the others.
The ambush hadn't been wholly unexpected - when Imoen had fist seen how quiet the place was, she'd suspected something, and her worries had been confirmed when she peered out of the door as Khalid reassured the former miners of their safety. She'd seen the guards advancing cautiously towards them, and warned the fighter.
Xan had immediately materialised by her side, murmuring slightly. His horror spell caused a wave of panic to wash over the attackers, and Khalid had charged at the unaffected, leaving the thief and enchanter to pick off the others with their ranged weapons.
Due to their burgeoning morale and confidence at freeing the miners, the fighting was swift and easy. They had quickly helped the miners to salvage more weapons and some armour to defend themselves with if they needed it, and Xan placed a simple cantrip on the now locked door of the storehouse, ensuring it would glow red whenever anyone tried to open it so they would have ample warning of any further attempts.
They picked off three still spooked guards as they made their way back to the tower, but then arrived at the junction without further incident. Khalid quickly checked that the way to the seal on his own, returning to affirm that the corridor was still and empty, and the party had not gone past already. All they had to do now was wait.
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The four fighters charged at the mage, and he looked at them with horror before conjuring a door in mid air, and stepping through. Yeslick swore loudly, and charged onwards, through the sparsely furnished living area, and under a simple archway that led into the rest of the habitat.
The others followed him, immediately banking right and heading into a bedroom, where the mage had appeared on a rune engraved on the ground. The fight was intense from the start, a lightning bolt ricocheting between the walls, injuring both Davaeorn and the group as they fought to dispel his illusions. Just as his final mirror fell, he spoke the word to bring back more, laughing at the frustration of the fighters. His joy was short lived though, as Dynaheir finished a chant of dispelling, the white glow engulfing the mage, and destroying all his illusions and protections.
It was only a few moments later that Davaeorn lay dead at their feet, felled by Yeslick's blows. Coran immediately went off to check the other rooms for anything valuable, giving Maiyn an assuring smile as he passed her. She found two letters on the corpse, along with the key for the seal, and immediately began reading them, looking for clues on their next movements.
Davaeorn,
I have received your request for extra slaves, and enclose a sum of gold that should prove substantial enough. Send your new apprentice to the city to make the deals - his name and face can stay anonymous in the crowds, and if he is caught there should be no direct link back to us.
Events go well in Baldur's Gate - we have purchased one of the western noble estates to use as our base of operations. It is a grand building, but alas outside the second wall. It shall serve us well, however, I am sure.
Please do ask Yeslick on my behalf, if he is enjoying his new accommodation!
Rieltar
Alturiak, 1367
The letter had been written over a year ago. Maiyn passed it to Jaheira, and looked to Yeslick. The dwarf was waiting for a chance to see the notes for himself, but now she understood the lines on his face. He's waited a long time for this. She turned her attention to the next letter.
Davaeorn,
Our plans go smoothly. Sarevok has arrived from our headquarters in Ordulin. He brings news from our superiors - they are pleased with our progress thus far.
I plan to place Sarevok as the commander of our mercenary forces in the region. He has already sent his subordinate, Tazok, to the Wood of Sharp Teeth to take command of the forces there, and he seems to be relishing the prospect of his new role within our plans.
Things go apace here in Baldur's Gate. We have placed our first agent amongst the Seven Suns Trading Coster, and shall hopefully be ready to work on them soon.
Rieltar
Flamerule 1368
Last month, she thought, the letter being taken from her hand by the impatient druid. This last letter was just last month. Coran had returned, reporting of the jewels he had found, and passing several magical scrolls to Dynaheir. The others read the letters quickly, saying little, but serious expressions giving away the thinking taking place.
"I also found this," said Coran softly, handing a small bag to Maiyn. When she opened it she realised it was full of coin - perhaps recent money for more slaves? She thanked the fighter, and he just smiled to her fondly.
"We need to go and meet the others," said Maiyn to Yeslick. He nodded slightly, looking around.
"It never used ta look like this, ye know," he sighed. The ranger nodded, and handed him the key before leading the way back out to the main room, looking to the lift at the far end.
"Would that take us near where we need to go?" she asked the dwarf, and he nodded.
"We need to go and retrieve Branwen's body, then we can use this one to go back up," said Maiyn quietly. "Minsc - would you mind..."
"Minsc and Boo would be proud to collect the body of brave Branwen," said the berserker sadly, remembering his fallen comrade. He headed back to the stairs while the others gathered by the lift.
"Wait!" said Kivan, suddenly darting into a side room that looked suspiciously like a library. He emerged, dragging a young human boy with him, who seemed no older than fifteen.
Maiyn peered at Coran. "I thought you looked around?"
The fighter shrugged to her. "No real treasure for someone like me in a library," he grinned, speaking in elvish. Maiyn returned his smile, then looked to the boy.
"Who are you?" she asked in common.
"Please don't kill me!" he cried. "Oh please, oh please, oh please!"
"Erm..." began Maiyn.
"I was just his apprentice," the boy bawled. "I haven't been here long, I don't know anything, I swear!"
"Hush child!" snapped Jaheira, instantly snapping the young mage from his hysteria. "You must know something if you worked with him - tell us what it is quickly, and we shall consider your fate kindly."
"The mine was set up so they could be the saviours of the iron crisis," he said quickly, his eyes rooted to the druid with fear. "They planned to get iron from here and offer it to the troops, or something. With the bandit raids and the rumours of Amn threatening war, the Iron Throne thought the Dukes of Baldur's Gate would think they needed arms quickly, and so would be in debt to them for providing it. They figured they'd get good prices, and maybe even sanctions against their competition, or an ease of trade laws for themselves, or something."
"And who is the leader?" asked Jaheira.
"I don't know! I swear!" the boy exclaimed, panicking. "All I know is that regional leaders put Davaeorn here. There are three of them - I think. They have a base somewhere in Baldur's Gate, and Davaeorn was getting orders from someone else, I don't know who, but he complained about it a lot."
"So the Iron Throne planned the whole iron shortage?" Maiyn needed this to be confirmed.
"Yep." The boy sighed with relief as he saw Maiyn's kinder expression. "They had someone tainting the ore in Nashkel - they used some strange potion, and they employed the bandits to raid any incoming caravans to prevent other supplies."
Maiyn nodded. "Thank you."
"C-can I go now?"
"You will come with us to the surface - from there you can go where you like," said Maiyn simply. The young mage hesitated. "Or you can stay here while we unlock the seal to flood the mines. It is your choice," she continued as Minsc returned carrying the priestess's body with ease.
The mage looked at the berserker and paled at the sight of the dead body. "I'll come with you," he said faintly.
