Disclaimer: only own the stuff that's obviously mine. Hey! You! Get your crumby hands OFFA Majandra!

A/N: Wow, sorry for the uber lateness of this chapter, but I hit some serious writer's block during the last couple weeks of school and early summer. Just a couple of changes here, including Pavel being only sixteen and one or two others. Anyhey, enjoy chapter seven, and I hope you review!

-LFK

Castle Never

"For the last time, Aribeth!" the graying lord pounded the arm of his throne to make his point, "I will not tolerate that mongrel running loose in my city! For all we know, the girl is part of the reason the plague befell our city to begin with, serving her masters like a faithful hound!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way, my lord," Aribeth replied steadily, keeping the disappointment from showing in her face and voice. "Majandra is an honorable woman, skilled warrior, and worthy of your trust. If only you would meet her, you would see tha-"

"I gave you my answer, Lady Paladin," Nasher interrupted in a coolly formal tone, "That animal will be going out on a chain or not at all, and that is final! Now, return to your duties and continue spearheading the search for the cure. I've heard reports about the paladin Kaerion Galadorn, and he appears to be one of our best hopes. Focus on him and your efforts, Aribeth, not on your pet demon."

"As you wish, my lord." Aribeth dropped a stiff bow and swept out of the throne room, shooting a glare at Desther as the priest of Helm passed her on his way in.

The lady paladin left Castle Never in a hurry, pausing only to boost the morale of the guardsmen she passed on her way out. Upon reaching the Core, Aribeth stopped at one of the railings that overlooked the lower levels of the district and sighed. The once spotless streets of Neverwinter were covered in garbage and filth, and piles of corpses besides. The sounds of happy children, laughter and high-pitched voices, were replaced by the cries of the grieving and the moans of the dying.

"Why are we suffering this?" Aribeth whispered under her breath as she watched another convoy of guardsmen trundle into the Beggars District with another wagon full of bodies. "What sins are we paying for, Lord Tyr, that all of my people must suffer? Please, give me a sign!" she waited for a moment, but her plea was met with silence. "So be it." She murmured as she turned from the ledge and headed for the Halls of Justice, a cool breeze blowing leaves in her wake.

Trade of Blades, City Core…

The Trade of Blades Inn, Tavern, and general mercenary haven was bustling with activity from the moment a weary and hungry Kaerion and Pavel stepped through the doors, hoping against hope that there would be a spare room for at least a night.

"Do you think they'll have room for us here, Master Kaerion?" Pavel asked tiredly as he set his pack down on one of the empty tables nearest the door. "I don't mean to complain, but it's long past moonrise, and aren't we to meet Lord Fenthick and the others tomorrow?"

"Yes, Pavel," Kaerion replied as he dropped his own bag, "We might have to make due on the streets like the last couple of nights though, so don't get too comfortable." That said, the paladin left his squire to order their meals and walked up to the beefy innkeeper standing behind his bar.

"What can I getcha?" The man asked as he idly wiped down the irreparably grimy barstand. "Booze? Firewhiskey? Wine?"

"How about a room?" Kaerion asked, deftly rolling a heavy gold piece into his palm. "Doesn't matter what kind, I just need two beds."

"One hundred fifty gold." The innkeeper said a moment later. "Take it or leave it."

"One hundred fifty!" Kaerion exclaimed. "That's completely unreasonable!"

"Sorry, bub," the man shrugged and went back to his 'cleaning'. "But times are rough, and a man's gotta make a living." Kaerion crossed his arms and frowned down at the smaller man.

"Now see here," He began. The rest of the conversation degenerated into a debate over the quality of the room versus the price.

Meanwhile, Pavel had completed a hearty meal of beef stew and fried potatoes, and was observing the other occupants of the relatively small common room.

I wonder if Master Kaerion has managed to grab us a room? He thought as his gaze fell on a gnome chattering at what appeared to be the speed of light into the face of a bemused elven cleric with the symbol of Sehanine Moonbow on her chest. In another corner of the room, a beautiful female bard was snarling at a rather cold looking, dwarven monk as he continued talking over her insults.

"Excuse me, young sir," a deep voice said from behind the boy, snapping him out of his people watching. "But do you think there is room for my companion and I at your table?"

"Oh," Pavel said as he turned in his seat, "Of course there's," he looked up and finally saw who was addressing him. "ORC!" he yelled as he tumbled out of his seat and landed on the floor with a painful thud.

On the other side of the room, Kaerion heard Pavel over the background noise and turned in time to witness his squire fall gracelessly from his chair in the face of a large half-orc, and the barbarian's apparent halfling companion rolling on the floor laughing.

"Fine, take your one hundred fifty!" Kaerion growled as he slapped a pile of gold onto the table and snatched the key the innkeeper was holding out before turning to his young charge.

"Masterrrr!" Pavel yelped as he scrambled behind Kaerion and held his knees tightly. "Saaavvvee meeeeeee!"

"Hahahahahahaha!" There were tears streaming from the halfling's eyes as he clutched his stomach snickered at the confused human boy.

"I apologize for my companion's behavior, and for frightening you, young master." The half-orc said gravely, bowing to both humans as he spoke. "My name is Daelin Redtiger, and this is my companion Tomi Undergallows. We are mercenaries for hire."

"Thanks, Daelin," Kaerion returned the bow and pulled Pavel from behind his back. "But I think my squire owes you an apology as well for the disrespect he has shown you. Pavel is but a boy, and has yet to experience the world outside of his farm. Pavel?"

Pavel bowed low and uttered a tiny, squeaky apology before backing up a step so he was slightly behind his master. "Sorry, sir."

"I accept your apology," Daelin replied formally. "Have no fear, young man, for I have yet to hurt a person who did not truly deserve it."

"That's very admirable," Kaerion said as he dropped his bag next to Pavel's with a thankful sigh. "My name is Kaerion Galadorn, Paladin of Lathander and servant of Neverwinter." He gestured at the table and he four men quickly sat, echoing sighs of relief to be finally off of their feet.

"So yah workin' wit the big shots up in there, eh?" Tomi said in his commoner's accent. "Wit that Aribeth chick, the scary old geezer, an' the flighty elf-boy, righ'?"

"Well, yes," Kaerion responded. "It all began when I received a letter from Lady Aribeth herself…" the rest of the evening was spent with the men regaling each other with tales of their adventures and travels, each trying to outdo the other with hilarity and outlandishness. They didn't notice the pair of eyes watching them from the window.

A/N: Sorry this is so short after such a long delay! (Runs from readers) I promise to have something for you guys around next Sunday, seeing as I'm leaving for Seattle for a week this afternoon. So! Leave me some reeeeeeallly nice presents why doncha, and review! Thanks for reading!

LFK