Chapter Thirteen:

Ocean's Nein

I hope everyone had a… *throws a dart at board* draconian Christmas, and a… *throws another dart* aquatic new year.

Some canon-typical drug use this chapter by a minor character. If that's something you'd wish to avoid, skip from the second scene break until "How long do we have until that wears off?"- I'll provide a summary in the endnotes.

…

Despite his trying day, Caleb found no comfort in sleep that night. Lying there on lumpy flour sacks in the early morning, fingers and toes freezing from the cold, it was a relief when he heard Rose begin her day in the kitchen.

With stiff joints and aching limbs, he joined her, stumbling through the half-dark like a sleepwalker. After a quick breakfast, he volunteered to help her peel potatoes. The monotony and consistency of the task helped occupy his mind. There was peace in the short, rhythmic motions that drove his crackling anxiety to the back of his brain.

He'd had mornings like this before. Mostly pre-Nott. Where he'd been careless with his magic or his thievery or sometimes the innkeeper just didn't like how he looked, so he'd get thrown in jail for an evening.

Hours would roll by as he waited for dawn. For his verdict. For a bored, hungover guard to make some jabbing remarks before announcing his fate.

The real torture was in the waiting, though.

The veil of night lifted, and sleepy patrons trickled down the stairs. Rose left to focus on attending them, and soon the smell of sausage filled the inn along with the dull murmur of conversation.

Caleb worked at the potatoes one by one, until, to his surprise, there were none left to peel. He spun the knife in his hand absently, wondering if Rose had any other chores worth doing. He needed to keep doing something, anything.

A bright figure bounded into the kitchen, interrupting his train of thought.

"There you are," exclaimed Love with a grin, putting her hands on her hips. "I've been looking everywhere for you, come on," she said, grabbing him by the forearm. His shoulder smarted as she tugged him up. She towed him behind her, out of the kitchen and into the dining area.

"Eh, what's this about?" he managed over the sound of scuffling feet.

"Our plans, silly," she said as she pushed open the door to the stock room with her free hand. The door swung wide, revealing the rest of the Mighty Nein lounged around the table, halfway through breakfast.

They looked up at him, eyes widening. Caleb froze in place. Time slowed for a beat as the Mighty Nein exchanged glances.

Beau glared at him, almond eyes narrowed to slits while Nott stared resolutely downward, picking at a groove in the table with a dark nail.

"Love, darling," Molly said, still reclining in his chair but keeping an eye on Fjord and Beau, "Would you mind giving us a couple moments to ourselves? We've got a couple things to discuss. As a group," he said with a smile a genuine as his carnival glass swords.

Love clapped her hands together and clasped them. "I'd be delighted to. Normally. But the ball is in four days, and I have to leave for work in twenty minutes, so we really need to talk about the plan now, if we're still doing this," she said, tail swishing behind her.

Fjord stared at the ceiling working his jaw for a moment before taking a deep breath. He let his gaze fall to Love, ignoring Caleb all the while, and schooled his features. "Yeah, I suppose we should talk about that," he said at last and crossed his arms.

"Oh good," Love said with a relieved laugh and tugged Caleb the rest of the way into the storeroom.

He stumbled after her, brain full of static.

Love reached the table and dropped his hand to pull a folded piece of parchment out of her apron pocket and splayed it out on the table.

Caleb stood off to the back, having only enough sense to shut the door behind them as every thought in his brain scattered to the wind. He wasn't ready. He wasn't prepared for this.

Love unwrapped the parchment to reveal a crudely drawn floorplan. She leaned over the table, meeting the eyes of the Mighty Nein around her with an excited grin. "So this was the old plan…"

He needed to pay attention. This plan was everything. But the noose of what was yet to come hung heavy over him, and he lost himself in the body language of his friends. How Beau angled herself away from him shooting scowls in his direction. How Fjord and Nott refused to meet his gaze. How Jester kept staring at him with her sad, puppy dog eyes trying to get his attention.

"And what are your thoughts on this, Caleb?" Molly asked after Love finished, casual tone betrayed by his restless shifting.

Caleb blinked. "Uh, it'll be—it'll be difficult without the changeling's abilities, but if we split the roles between us, eh, it should be possible."

Love nodded. "I think so too!" She said, clapping her hands. "The tricky bit is going to be Tomoe's flask," she said, mouth quirked into a frown. "She's been a little bit paranoid since the coup, so she only drinks out of that one flask. It's enchanted to detect poisons and stuff."

"Well that does put a damper on the poison-the-Countess plan," Molly said.

"Then why would Lox have all that shit about poisons written down if it wasn't ever gonna work?" Beau asked as she wrenched her gaze from Caleb to Love.

Love shrugged. "I think that's what Lox was trying to figure out? Find something that wouldn't be detected, I mean," she said. "The last time I saw them aliv—" her throat caught on the word. "The last time I saw them they were going to speak with the alchemist who enchanted that flask in the first place."

"I'll take care of it," Nott said quietly. Her voice was coarse and raw.

Caleb looked away, swallowing hard.

"Nott?" Fjord asked with a raised eyebrow.

She pulled Lox's blood-stained tome from a pocket in her cloak and let it drop to the table. "I'll take care of it," she repeated, nodding at the book.

"Alright," Fjord said, nodding in surprise at her confidence. "We'll leave that to you."

The discussion trailed onwards with Caleb forcing himself to pay as much attention as he could. Jester splashed a couple coins on the table to represent party members on the map, and Molly contributed several of his rings as tokens.

There were so many moving parts now, and Caleb could only occasionally offer his input. A wizard wasn't much use in a magic-proof castle.

Over the course of twenty minutes, the Mighty Nein wedged themselves into the husk of Lox's original plan. They could only guess at Alexi's and the Sharkfin Syndicate's machinations, but one thing was sure: as soon as the Mighty Nein filled a vile with Tomoe's blood, they had a limited amount of time to escape before all hell would break loose. Likewise, their encounter with the Sharkfin Syndicate was likely to have a similar effect.

They needed to be in two places at once. They'd have to split the party.

"Oh, yeah, because nothing bad ever happens when we split up," Beau mumbled.

"If you have a better suggestion, please, by all means, do share," Fjord shot back. For a tense moment their gazes met. Dark circles hung beneath their eyes, and limp strands of unruly hair swung in front of Beau's face, pulled free from her topknot.

With a dark frown, Beau shook her head, and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and looking away.

Jester chimed in with another alternative, trying to keep her tone positive, but the timetables didn't work, and her plan crumbled under scrutiny all the others.

The plan they settled on was this:

Fjord and Jester would poison the Countess and draw her blood. Yasha, Nott, and Beau would be the strike team to intercept the Sharkfin Syndicate since their abilities would be mostly unaffected by the wards. Molly and Caleb would wait in the wings to close in on the Syndicate from behind but would also be positioned in a way that they'd be able to aid Jester and Fjord if needed. Love would be working the event and could serve as a messenger between the groups.

"Oh, this is all coming together so well," Love said, beaming at the group as she folded the floorplan back up.

At least someone felt good about this plan. As for Caleb, it was all he could do to keep his hands clenched on his knees to hide their shaking. As soon as Love left, the real conversation would fill the space she left behind with accusations and biting words and teeth that tore.

"Pardon my askin'," Fjord said, turning back to Love as she prepared to leave, "But you seem pretty gung-ho about this whole thing. Do you have anything against the Countess? Or is that just sort of a dispositional thing?"

Her giggle bounced around the stockroom, feeling strange and alien in the tense air. "That's a funny way to ask someone why they're okay with committing treason," she said.

Fjord opened his mouth to speak, but Love plowed onwards. "My mom bought this inn from the previous owner. She loves it a lot and works real hard every day, but even with me picking up an extra job, it still isn't enough to pay off the loan," she confessed with a shrug.

"One last job then, huh?" Molly supplied, watching Love with interest.

She nodded. "It's uh—not the best, owing people money in Ice Haven," she said, voice going softer as she looked down at her feet, "but this'll be the last one. Then we'll only take the jobs we want to take. And maybe hire another server so my mom can take days off, and—" she cut herself off, curbing her own enthusiasm and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in embarrassment. "Sorry—I'm just…I'm just really glad you guys are here," she admitted.

"Aww, we're glad to be here too, Love," Jester cooed.

At that Love blushed a violent fuchsia, and quietly excused herself, scuttling out of the room and leaving the Mighty Nein in silence.

"Nothing like a little added pressure, right?" Molly asked Nott, keeping his tone light and elbowing her slightly.

Her only response was to bury her talon deeper into the wood grain.

"Hey Caleb," Beau called, breaking the thick silence.

He forced himself to look up. He couldn't avoid this any longer. "Yes, B—"

"What the actual fuck?" she asked, voice rough with challenge. She stood to her feet, pushing her chair back with a loud scraping noise. All pretense of civility falling like a curtain.

In a heartbeat, she was across the room and hoisting him by his collar off the barrel he'd been sitting on.

"Hey now—" Molly said, standing too.

"Beau this isn't what we planned!" Jester said and jumped out of her chair.

Beau ignored them, staring Caleb dead in the eye. Faces inches apart.

Blood pumped in his ears, and he could smell traces of last night's alcohol on her robes.

"So here's what's happening, Widogast," she breathed. "You're going to sit at this table and let Jester cast Zone of Truth on you until we learn everything we want to know. Got it?" she asked, enunciating the syllables so they were sharp as knives. "No more transmutation-bird-misty-step bullshit."

"Y-yeah," he managed.

"Great," she said and dropped him back down on the barrel he'd been sitting on. "Jester," she said, turning to the two tieflings hovering nearby. "He's all yours."

The interrogation lasted a little over an hour and Jester cast Zone of Truth seven times. Each time the cool magic washed over him, sinking into his lungs, and he had to will his body to relax and succumb to the spell each time. The onslaught of questions never ceased. Jester had a list she'd written in the sketchbook, and regularly Beau would interject with some of her own. Sometimes Molly and Yasha would add theirs. Twice Fjord. Never Nott.

"Did you kill our Caleb?"

"No."

"Is he in there with you?"

"No."

"So you want to go to the past to save your family?"

He grit his teeth. So Beau had aired his dirty laundry for him.

"Yes," he managed.

"Even if it means we might not ever be friends?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Jester's ears drooped downwards. Caleb had to look away.

"Why haven't you already gone back?"

"I—the spell components are very rare, and very hard to come by," he said, measuring his words.

"So that's why you said you wanted diamonds?"

"Yes."

"So you jumped back in time once without a plan to jump back again? Now that doesn't sound very much like the Caleb I know," Molly said.

"There was a plan," he admitted, voice sounding distant and weak even to him. "But things have already changed in ways I didn't plan."

"This Ice Haven thing is new, isn't it?" Molly asked, and Caleb could see the pieces clicking into place behind his dark eyes.

"Yes."

Molly hummed in thought, leaning back in his chair to think as Beau took over.

"What bullshit are you planning now?"

Caleb took a deep breath, fighting down the lies the immediately sprung to his lips. "I was thinking about robbing the Bank of Zadash," he said at last. It was technically the truth.

"Shit," Beau mumbled to herself in shock.

"And this Ice Haven business is just another stepping stone to get you closer to that?" Fjord asked, voice even but with an undercurrent so dark and frozen it sent Caleb off kilter. Fjord was hunched over on a barrel in the corner, studying the ground under him, trying to hide the tension in his jaw and neck.

Beau's anger ran hot, and Fjord's ran cold, and Caleb wasn't sure which he was more afraid of. As if it had a mind of its own, Caleb's hand rose to rest over his heart, tugging on the edge of his coat in the absence of the periapt.

"It—every little bit helps," Caleb finally said after collecting his thoughts. "It took me seven years to collect enough money before."

"And as soon as you buy your components, you're gone, huh? What happens to us then?" Beau asked.

"I don't know."

"How the fuck don't you know?"

"I just don't, Beauregard," he gritted. Maybe they'd be fine. Maybe this timeline would just go on without him. Maybe it'd unravel. Unwrite itself like he always assumed it would. Maybe it would collapse and tear itself apart.

All of the texts he studied were written from the perspective of the caster. Not the people they left behind.

"Last night, what did you say about dead clerics?"

Caleb clenched his hand into a fist under the table, blunt nails cutting bloody half-moons into his palm with the force. "I..I told you the future I'm from was shitty."

"What happened?"

"We got tangled up in things bigger than us."

Fjord looked up, meeting Caleb's gaze for the first time since last night. "Did you or your ambitions," he spat the word like a curse, "get any members of the Mighty Nein killed?"

Caleb straightened at that, blinking back shock. "I've never killed a member of the Mighty Nein."

"Hm."

"But you've saved them before," Molly pointed out.

"Ya."

Molly leaned forward on his elbows, watching Caleb across the table with a scrutinizing gaze. "I was supposed to die a couple weeks ago, wasn't I?" he asked, curiosity and realization flickering across his face in equal measure.

Jester gasped, Beau took a sharp intake of breath, and Yasha stiffened. She reached an arm out, resting it on Molly's shoulder then looked to Caleb.

"Answer him," Yasha rasped.

Caleb met Molly's infinite gaze. The way he leaned forward exposed a large swathe of his lavender chest. It rose and fell softly. Missing an eight-inch glaive wound.

That long-familiar weight of grief rose to settle in Caleb's lungs.

"Yes," he whispered, drowning.

Jester covered her mouth in shock, Fjord's brows knit together, Beau paled, Yasha's hand on Molly tightened, and even Nott froze.

"Shit," Beau breathed, massaging her temples.

"Huh, well isn't that interesting," Molly said casually, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin in thought.

"Molly, I don't want you to die!" Jester wailed, leaning out of her chair to bury her head against his shoulder.

"Ooh, ouch, thank you, Jester," he said, wincing at her horns. He lifted a hand to give her head a few sympathetic pats. "I'll work on making not dying a priority," he said. "I haven't—" but he broke off when Yasha stood, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Wordlessly, she unpeeled her hand from Molly's shoulder, and in a few short steps, walked out of the room.

"Yasha, Yasha, wait—" Molly called, jumping up and going after her, and Jester followed on his heels, clinging to his arm.

Caleb felt the Zone of Truth fizzle out as she left and found himself inadvertently sighing in relief. The last ounce of his strength fled his body, and he collapsed back into his chair, drained.

Beau watched the trio leave and for a moment it seemed she was going to follow them, but then decided better of it and turned her attention to Caleb then to Fjord. "I think we're done for now."

Fjord nodded slowly, once again staring into empty space and avoiding meeting Caleb's gaze. "Seems so."

Beau looked back to Caleb. "Hey Caleb, look at me."

He did.

"We've all got secrets, but if I think your lying to us from here on out, or hiding something that's gonna hurt the team," she cracked her knuckles and lifted her chin in challenge. "I've got ways of making you tell the truth too."

"Understood."

"Just making sure we're on the same page," she said with a mirthless smile then slung an arm around Nott. "Let's get out of here," she murmured, and the two women stood. Fjord followed their lead but paused in the doorway on his way out.

"Caleb," he said, looking over his shoulder, pupils constricted to thin slits. His knuckles went white on the doorframe. "If you do anything to hurt these people…" he trailed off, voice low and faux-accent slipping

Caleb swallowed hard and nodded once in acknowledgment.

After another beat, Fjord's shadow left the doorframe, leaving Caleb alone in the stockroom. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned Frumpkin to the table. He willed the tabby to lean forward so he could scratch his neck and bury his hands in his soft fur.

"Well that could've gone better, ya?" he mused.

Frumpkin didn't answer.

…

Lazy afternoon snow floated down on the bustling crowd. Thick-bodied draft horses parted the stream of people—steam billowing from their flared nostrils. The Mighty Nein huddled around a dark, windowless storefront with a gilded sign that read 'The Yawning Den'.

Caleb stood several feet outside the circle, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to be as inoffensive as possible.

The door opened, and Molly and Yasha slipped out into the cold to rejoin their friends. The duo had disappeared for hours earlier, and since then Yasha hadn't strayed more than six inches form Molly's side.

"Oh, they're in there alright," Molly said as they rejoined the group.

"Are they—?" Beau mimed a smoking motion.

Molly chuckled. "Ohhh yes. You know the rates aren't terrible either," he added, wiggling his eyebrows at Beau.

"No one is smoking anything, " Fjord said. His voice was even, but the tension in his posture from earlier hadn't left. "Not today."

Beau frowned. "So the plan is: go inside, tell this high-as-fuck kid to get the hell out of the city. And just hope they listen to us." She said. "As far as shitty plans of our's go, this one's up there."

"Once again Beau," Fjord said. "If you have any alternate suggestions, please do share with the group."

Molly cut in before Beau could spit a retort back.

"We might need to put a bit of coin on the table," Molly warned. "Sweeten the deal."

The group shuffled uncomfortably for a moment, minds all drifting to their empty coin purses.

"I've found there are other ways of being persuasive," Beau said, choosing her words slowly as she cracked one knuckle at a time.

Caleb flinched.

"I mean, Molly or I could try Charm Person?" Jester offered. "But it only works for an hour," she added with a little frown.

"So we send Jester in, disguised, to charm them, and if that doesn't work, I guess we'll do it Beau's way," Fjord said, doubt flickering across his crunched brow.

Caleb cleared his throat.

Nott stiffened.

"I can do it," he said, voice rough.

The weight of their gazes landed on him, and he cast his eyes to the ground, hands fidgeting within his pocket. "I have a spell for this," he said, voice softer. There was no point in hiding his hand anymore.

"Perfect," Molly said, shooting a toothy grin at Beau. "See? It's all working out."

She frowned at him while Fjord side-eyed Caleb with a measured expression. "I'm coming with you."

Caleb nodded.

Thick, acrid smoke rolled along the floor of The Yawning Den, filling the room with a nauseating haze. Caleb stepped up to the clerk wearing the guise of the Syndicate's own Alexi Vetrov. He could feel Fjord's presence looming close behind him, and though he too wore a different face, the icy stare hadn't changed.

"Two?" the clerk asked, eyeing both of them up and down with boredom.

"We're actually here to deliver a message to a friend," Caleb said, imitating Alexi's accent as best he could.

She sighed. "Make it quick."

A sea of bodies lied amidst the fog. Various patrons stretched out on palettes and mats, strung out and spellbound. The flickering glow from their lamps played across their faces, so they looked like dreamy celestials one moment and malnourished ghouls the next.

Their particular query lounged off to the side, still wearing the palace uniform.

Caleb navigated the maze of sprawling limbs until he reached the half-elf. Their blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun, dark bags hung beneath tired eyes, and the faint indication of wrinkles creased the edges of their eyes despite their young age. They twiddled with a wooden pipe about the length of Caleb's forearm, letting the end drift over the lamp's flame.

"You are Konstantin Vynokurov, ya?" Caleb asked, seating himself on the stretch of unoccupied mat. Fjord leaned against the wall.

The half-elf raised a slow eyebrow. "Mmm, who's asking?" they said, voice distant and slurred with a sing-song quality.

"We've come to deliver a message," Caleb continued, holding Konstantin's gaze while his hand drifted for his component pouch.

"If Doctor Ogino sent you, tell her I'm," Konstantin inhaled deep on the pipe, then exhaled a thick cloud through their nose and into Caleb's face, "preoccupied," they finished with a sleepy grin.

Caleb blinked, bitter smoke making his eyes smart. His fingers wormed into his component pouch, locating the dried snake's tongue and his honeycomb. "Konstantin Vynokurov," Caleb said, letting his magic cover his throat and mouth like a thick syrup, so the incantation dripped from every word.

"Hm?" they asked, perfectly pliant and watching Caleb through glassy eyes.

"We suggest you quit your job today. Say it was too stressful for you, then leave Ice Haven, and look for work in another city."

Konstantin blinked, then took another drag on their pipe. The grey smoke curled around all three of them before joining the curtain of fog in the room. "Yeah, alright."

Caleb and Fjord excused themselves, weaving their way back towards the exit.

"How long do we have until that wears off?" Fjord mumbled.

"A year and a day," Caleb whispered back and he heard Fjord's sharp intake of breath in response.

"That's a dangerous spell," Fjord said at last as they pushed out the door, tone even but with a faint edge of accusation.

Caleb swallowed hard, shoving his hands back in his pockets as the cold knocked the air out of his lungs. "Yeah."

The dusk leeched color from the world on their long walk back to the Tipsy Seal. Caleb continued to trail behind the group like an afterthought. He could almost lose himself in the concentration it took to wade through a foot of snow. Almost filter out the way Fjord whispered, hurried and low, to Beau. Or the way Beau blanched at what he told her. Or the looks they shot back at him. Scrutinizing with an undercurrent of fear.

He took deep, steadying breaths that never seemed to be enough. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot.

When they returned to the inn, Beau in a few short words informed him the Mighty Nein needed to have a "talk". Without him.

Caleb leaned against the bar, unsure of what to do with himself as the rest of his friends began to file into the stock room.

"Hey," Molly said, sliding in next to Caleb while keeping an eye on the rest of the group. "How are you holding up?"

"I've been worse," Caleb said, staring at his hands.

"Not what I asked, but alright," he said. "Here." He slapped something hard and metal down on the bar.

"A key?"

"Listen, Caleb," Molly said, turning on him with a sigh, "things are shitty right now, but if you leave things are just going to get that much shittier, so do me a favor and don't go on any more midnight excursions tonight, alright?" he asked, weariness hanging in his voice and on his shoulders.

"You want me to lock myself in my room?" Caleb asked slowly, staring at the key but making no move for it.

"Gods no. Do what you want just stick around the inn. That key is for Fjord's and my room," he said. "Nott's locked you out."

"Ah."

Molly watched him for a moment. A conflicted expression played across his face, mouth slightly agape as if he wanted to say more, but a shouting Beauregard ended that. "Remember what I said, Caleb," he called as he was dragged away by the scruff of his coat.

Glad to have a retreat from the roaming eyes of the Tipsy Seal's patrons, Caleb escaped upstairs where the roar of the evening crowd was muted into a low hum.

As it turned out, Nott had locked Caleb out. More than that, she'd left all of his effects in a pile in front of the door.

With a sigh, he scooped them up and headed for Molly and Fjord's room to sort through the mess.

The room layout was identical the room he'd shared with Nott. Small bed, narrow hearth, table and chair, and a frosted over window casting diffused moonlight across the floor. A few dying embers glowed in the hearth, failing to combat the heavy chill hanging in the room.

Fjord kept his minimal belongings shoved off in a corner while Molly's menagerie of colorful and odd tchotchkes consumed the entire space as if he'd lived there for five years already. It even smelled like him already for godsake—though the pile of half burned incense might explain part of that.

Seating himself at the table, Caleb began to sort through his belongings, packing them back into various pockets and pouches on his person. He snapped Frumpkin back into existence, letting the familiar crawl onto his lap as he sorted. The last item in the pile took him a moment to recognize.

'Sixteen Princes and a Midwife'. That ridiculous action novel he'd picked up yesterday morning. A lifetime ago.

He ran a finger down the book's spine. There were times when he just felt so powerless. That despite his lifetime of struggle and effort, fate would drag him like an undertow towards whatever final destination it'd chosen, and nothing he could do would ever make a difference.

But there were other times when he felt the reverse was true. When he was keenly aware, with crystalline horror, just how much control he had over his own life. That any moment he could smash it all into glittering shards. He could keep secrets, tell lies, and destroy every significant relationship he had within twenty-four hours. Ruin everything just like that.

What a terrible responsibility it was to live as a person.

…

The sound of muffled voices caused Caleb to start awake, disturbing Frumpkin in his lap. His back ached from sitting in the rickety chair, and there was a neat grease stain on page 12 of 'Sixteen Princes and a Midwife' where he'd fallen asleep on it.

"Get him out, Molly. This isn't negotiable," hissed the first voice. Fjord.

"And put him where?" Molly shot back, Caleb could see their shadows from under the door. "Listen, the only other person who'd be willing to room with him right now is Jester, and I know you don't want that."

"Put him in the hall for all I care. Put him in a different inn. There's no way in hell I'm going to sleep in the same room he's in."

"Fjord, listen listen—"

"No, you listen, Molly. Frankly, I don't care that you have a soft spot for him. That man has used us and lied to us for the entire time we've known him. He's dangerous."

"Goddammit, Fjord, we're all dangerous," Molly hissed. "He's not this invincible, world-shattering mastermind you've convinced yourself he is. He's just Caleb."

Fjord took a step forward. "People like him get other people killed. I've seen it happen before, and I'm not going to let it happen again."

"And we're not going to let him hurt anyone," Molly said placatingly, "but think about this, Fjord, since the time he's been here, he's saved you, me, Yasha, and Jester from the Iron Shepherds, saved me a second time from the maniac in Berleben, then spent the next week reading to me and Jester because we were sick. Does that really sound like a cold-blooded wizard mastermind to you?"

"For all we know that's part of his plan, Molly," Fjord stressed, frustration raising his voice.

Molly made a noise between a growl and a sigh. "Alright, alright," he said at last, voice tight. "If you want me to stay up and keep watch on him, I will, Fjord. If that's what it takes. But we're all shitty people, and we don't throw people out on the streets just because they're being shitty."

"This is beyond shitty, Molly. Way beyond."

Molly sighed again, but this one was more tired than frustrated. "And I agree with you, but throwing him out on the street is only going to make things worse for everyone—especially if he actually is the mastermind you think he is."

There was a beat of silence before Fjord let out a weary groan. "Alright. You win, Molly. But the second he tries anything weird, he's out in the hall."

"Fair enough."

The doorknob turned, and Caleb rested his head back down on his book, shutting his eyes as the duo entered. He listened to them ready for bed around them, shirking their gear and stoking the embers. In time they settled down and the noises ceased. Their breathing went slow and shallow. The stars drifted through the sky as hours passed, and all Caleb could do was lay there, wide awake and wondering what he'd ever done to deserve the friendship of Mollymauk Tealeaf.

…

The M9, downstairs: We need to talk about how absurdly strong Caleb is and what that means for the group :/

Caleb, upstairs, talking to Frumpkin: Do you ever think about how you can go absolutely apeshit at any given moment?

Summary of the drug scene: The M9 tracked down an apprentice doctor who worked at the palace, and Caleb cast Mass Suggestion at 9th level to get the kid to quit their job and leave town. Fjord was freaked out.