I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.
– Blackcross & Taylor
Shades of grey
Anomen descended the stairs into the
tavern, grey dawn light illuminating the room. The only sign of life
was from a pair of maids who were slowly clearing the debris of the
previous night from the tables and floor in preparation of the first
meal and the patrons that would soon be arriving for it. They nodded mildly to Anomen as they
passed before going back to their work, the sight of him not an
unfamiliar one for the man often rose early to attend matins at the
temple.
Anomen yawned widely. Accustomed
though he was to rising with the dawn, it had been much more of a
struggle that morning. The late night he and the rest of the group
had endured had made his bed all the harder to leave once he'd
finally returned to it, and for the first time in a long while what
sleep he'd managed to get had been undisturbed by dreams.
The group had arrived at the Five Flagons not long after midnight, Meck proudly leading the way and looking as though he was quite enjoying himself. A stark contrast to those they went to meet, the group ushered inside by Samuel, the halfling landlord still in his nightshirt and looking severely displeased by the commotion that was taking place under his tavern. Higgold had immediately launched into a lengthy and rather dramatic account of what had happened, describing how he and the cast had been absorbed in rehearsals when there had been a loud crash from backstage and suddenly there were men everywhere, shouting and throwing things, demanding to speak with the patron. Fritha had tried to press the actors for numbers or how these raiders were armed, but everyone seemed to have a different account and in the end Fritha just told them not to worry, the girl sending Marcus and Davith off to inform the Watch before resignedly leading their group downstairs to attempt to reason with the men.
All had not been as expected though, a tall mahogany-skinned man stood in the gloom before the darkened stage, the outlines of his companions moving in the shadows behind him. He had presented himself as Dieron of Turmish, curtly demanding they abandon the play that very day or he would return to burn the theatre to the ground. Something which had sounded a lot more threatening before Jaheira had clearly grown tired of standing in the dark and cast a werelight, the room illuminating to reveal Dieron was the only Turmian among them, his companions looking little more than local ruffians, Fritha suddenly furious as she demanded an explanation.
Dieron, though, had drawn a knife instead, perhaps hoping to frighten her, which he had and Minsc as well, the huge man leaping forward to knock it from his hand and punch him squarely in the jaw. The room had instantly descended into chaos as some of the raiders attempted to flee, while others surrendered and soon they were all upstairs again, the room now crowded by the addition of six bound men, who all looked a lot less brave now they were under the glare of Samuel and the assembled cast.
Fritha, with considerable help from Minsc and Boo, had convinced Dieron to admit they were indeed not from Turmish, but had been hired by Bethseda, the patron of the Crown, a rival theatre just south of the Promenade, the Watch agreeing to look into the matter before finally leading the men away. And with that, Samuel had returned to bed and Higgold had ushered a very unenthused cast back downstairs to begin repairs, Fritha volunteering to help as well, the girl very audible reminding Haer'Dalis of all his previous claims to being 'a man of no small artistic talent' and how they would definitely need help repainting the backdrops.
The tiefling had looked as amused as he had displeased, agreeing to stay too with a loud sigh and small smile, and Anomen wondered mildly what time they had managed to get away when the door of the tavern creaked open and the pair entered, Haer'Dalis drawn and tired, while Fritha looked as bright as the sunlight that poured though the doorway behind her.
'Anomen!' she cried, rushing over to him as though they had not seen each other for years, the girl stopping just before him, close enough that he could see the paint still beaded in her hair.
'Hello Anomen, d'you sleep all right?'
Anomen nodded slowly. 'Yes, thank you, my lady. The, ah, repairs went well?'
'Oh yes, very well. I'm so tired now though,' she beamed, sounded nothing like it. 'Are you going to matins?
'That is so.'
'Well, goodbye then,' she finished abruptly, moving past him and heading to the stairs as though that was an end to it. Anomen frowned, glancing to the man who had just reached him to ask, 'What is wrong with Fritha?'
Haer'Dalis sighed, smiling fondly as they watched the girl blithely accost Jaheira as the woman descended into the tavern as well.
'It seems our raven, by her own admission, is not particularly skilled with a paintbrush, and so after she and I had helped clean the stage, the repair of the scenery got underway and she was set the task of mixing the paint for the rest of the cast.'
'Why is Fritha in such good spirits?' asked Jaheira as she reached them, still sending a puzzled frown to the stairs behind her.
'Paint fumes,' said Anomen and the bard together. Jaheira groaned.
'I must confess, though, I rather like the raven like this,' continued Haer'Dalis conversationally, the fond smile back on his pale face, 'much less unsure of herself. She sang all the way back from the bridge district; it put the larks to shame.'
Anomen frowned again and more deeply this time. He did not like the way the bard spoke of Fritha sometimes, as though he had momentarily forgotten the existence of Aerie, but Jaheira merely shook her head.
'She'll suffer for such joy later.'
'And your Balance will be served, good druid,' the bard smirked before sighing, 'Well, this sparrow has seen more than enough of the day so far. I fear I must follow the raven and retire.'
And Anomen watched as he too trudged up the stairs, Jaheira's voice bringing his attention back to his side.
'You are taking breakfast, Anomen?'
'No, I had plans to attend temple.'
'Farewell then,' she answered mildly, moving to take a seat at the nearest table and Anomen left her with a slight bow, leaving the tavern to step out into the cold clear morning.
xxx
It turned out to be a bright day, but even so there was still a chill to the air, as though to serve as a reminder that winter was not far away. The bridge, which normally saw a lot of traffic merely by the nature of the place, was even busier that noon, the fifth day market drawing even more people and Jaheira could see that she was not the only one who found the bustle unwelcome. Haer'Dalis and Fritha had managed to get only a few hours sleep in the end and it showed, the pair almost grey with tiredness, Fritha a different person from the cheerful girl who had arrived back at the tavern that morning.
A group of young men pushed past them in the bustle, giving the girls a more than a cursory glance as they did so. The youths were mercenaries by the look of them, though such things could be deceptive and Jaheira felt their eyes long after they had passed. The druid frowned. She would have been much more at ease had they been on their way to Trademeet already. She had hardly liked Athkatla before, any city sure to jar with her. And the realisation that the ever-watchful eyes of the Galvarey may be following them had merely fuelled her dislike of the place, their stay there only increasing the chance she would be summoned again to the man, and that this time would find him all the harder to dissuade. And the druid soon realised that their acceptance of the Trademeet mission may have ensured peace of another sort as well.
'So, remind me again, my raven, what we are doing on this ride?' sighed Haer'Dalis. The man had clearly not wanted to leave his bed so soon after returning to it and Fritha sounded as though she was trying to hide that same feeling as she answered him brightly.
'We are going to try and ally ourselves with a group of men who used to be knights of the Order and who still seem content with the association.'
'And that requires such immediate attention?' the tiefling continued, stifling a yawn and Anomen shot him a stern look.
'Indeed, it does. Anarg, their leader was implicated in acts of the vilest sort for which he was cast from the Orders ranks. Unfortunately, others were swayed by his lies and followed him.'
'And then?' prompted the bard. Fritha shrugged.
'And then they were cast out, just as he had been.' She snorted with a wry amusement. 'There's clearly no glory in compassion.'
'Compassion?' repeated Anomen, his voice coming high in his incredulity, 'The Order shows such men more mercy than they deserve. Such a manner of base traitor should be put to death in my opinion. To be a fully-sworn paladin and to turn your back on your oaths is inconceivable!'
Jaheira sighed tiredly, sure another argument was imminent. Though Anomen's stance was rather extreme, she could see why the squire may have held it. For one who had been so desperate to walk the path to paladinhood only to have it denied to him, the idea that others could turn their backs on something he had so desperately wanted no doubt provoked a strong reaction. Fritha, though, was either too tired to consider this or did not think it much of an excuse, the girl looking no less than astounded by his words; something which had fortunately stunned her to a momentary silence, Aerie's voice continuing tentatively.
'B-But, Anomen, surely you can't mean that? These men were good enough to become paladins once, I-I mean, everyone can make a mistake, can't they?'
But the squire shook his head gravely. 'As a paladin your very life is based upon the divide between good and evil. To stray across it even once is inexcusable.'
Jaheira rolled her eyes; such a black and white view of the world never ceased to amazed her with its naivety. She glanced up to the ranger who was walking next to her, ready to share a look of understanding, but Minsc had turned to send the boy such a scowl that he did not notice her. Fritha glanced pointedly to Aerie.
'Well, we plainly don't have such a clear-cut sense of right and wrong, Anomen. But as you said, Anarg had not even been convicted of slavery, merely implicated.'
The squire flushed, opening his mouth to snap a reply, though another question cut him off.
'If your Order were sure enough of the hound's guilt to cast him out, should they not have acted upon it?' considered Haer'Dalis, his dark eyes holding a genuine interest, 'Instructed the Watch to investigate his behaviour or the like?'
'Do not be foolish, Haer'Dalis!' cried Nalia with an airy laugh, 'They may no longer be knights, but they are certainly still of the nobility. They are clearly above the judgement of the common law.'
'Nalia, that is unfair!' Aerie scolded, 'the Order holds all accountable to the law; surely you don't doubt that?'
Nalia said nothing though, merely sent the elf a pitying look and Anomen frowned.
'Indeed, Lady Aerie, and the Order's repute for such is paramount. The citizens of Amn need to know they can trust us to always act in justice and righteousness, which will be why Sir Ryan wished this matter to be dealt with discreetly, so as not to sully the Order's reputation. That same reputation which Anarg has no doubt been using to his advantage as he works to exploit the peoples of the Bridge district. And, besides,' the squire continued, sending a look to Haer'Dalis, 'the Order are acting upon it, they have sent us to investigate the matter.'
Fritha smiled tightly. 'Indeed they have, and I warn you now, we will be pursuing this no further if I can see nothing untoward in their actions.'
Jaheira sighed to herself as the squire went an even deeper shade of pink. The girl was not usually so confrontational, more than happy to let most disagreements fade with a 'let's just wait and see', and the druid wondered if this antagonism stemmed from Fritha's lack of sleep, or whether she was merely tired of Anomen.
'But, my lady, they are telling people they are still members of the Order! Why would they lie unless they had some villainy to hide?'
Fritha snorted.
'If they are truly helping people, I don't care if they're going round saying they're the right-hand of Tyr! Sir Ryan Trawl said himself that these reports of wrongdoing were just rumours, and we will go and investigate it as he asked.'
'Good, that is settled then,' agreed Jaheira before Anomen could make any reply and a stony silence descended over the group, no one speaking until they reached the other side of the bridge.
Renal had directed them to a group of disused warehouses that had once been used to pack fish when the river through Athkatla had not been so polluted as to make the fishing of it unprofitable on any great scale. The air seemed even cooler there in the shadow of those tall decaying buildings, the briny reek of fish still lingering around them as they walked and it was Jaheira who finally brought them to a halt, her voice low.
'Can you hear it? Voices in the warehouse up ahead.'
The druid's ears were more attuned
than hers and Fritha paused, straining to hear over the low roar of
the bustle back on the bridge and the cry of the gulls wheeling above
them. There it was, the deep rumble of male voices. Fritha glanced
about her; Haer'Dalis could hear it too and by the look of Aerie,
the elf wasn't even having to try.
Together they continued their path,
though more slowly than before, the group closing to the point where
all could hear, gathering at the corner of the building
half-concealed behind a stack of old crates and in view of the doors;
the metal panels hanging awkwardly on their rotten wooden frames, a
distinctly male voice of an accent not dissimilar to Anomen's
drifting through the gap.
'We shall not allow you to continue your depredations here, Rindus. Take your men and begone, your smuggling in this district will be tolerated no longer.'
A contemptuous snort, the rough voice that answered of a more local dialect and almost singsong in its mockery.
'Tolerated, is it? You better be able to back up those words, knight, because I won't be giving you my turf without a fight.'
'We have no interest in your turf, Rindus-' but the rest of this dissent was lost as Minsc tugged at her sleeve, Fritha turning to finally notice what he and the druid had already seen, a group of seven men, lightly armed and in the mismatched armour of poorer mercenaries were creeping around the other side of the warehouse. Fritha watched as they took up positions around the doors, half her attention still on the argument within.
'Hah! What are you trying to pull, Reynald? I know the Order kicked you out. You're no more of a knight than I am. And they were right to do it too, if you're anything like your leader; Anarg's as bent as a Calimshite blade.'
'How dare you speak so of Anarg, dog! I may no longer meet the Order's standards, but in the eyes of my god, I am still worthy. You wish me to back my words? So be it!'
Rindus gave a triumphant bark of laughter. 'Strike boys, now!'
With a roar the men wrenched the doors open and poured inside, their weapons drawn, Fritha watching a moment, her heart suddenly pounding before she too drew her sword and sprang after them
'Well, come on!'
But the sudden gloom after the brightness of outside left her almost blind, the two opposing groups little more than shadows clashing in the darkness. It was apparent though, that one side plainly outnumbered the other and it was in that Fritha was first able to distinguish them. Their arrival had not yet been noticed and the group used this to their advantage, her friends quickly joining the battle, Fritha moving to pull a thief from a young warrior who was already embroiled in a fight against another, the rogue whirling to lunge at her with a clumsy surprise and Fritha side stepped the blow easily as she cut him down.
The fight continued and for a while it was difficult to tell who was prevailing, the shouts and cries of those around her for the most part unfamiliar, a guttural curse that sounded like Haer'Dalis the only indication that one of their own number had been injured. Suddenly, one of the men, whom she had placed as one of the Order's exiles merely by his heavy plate armour, raised his sword above his head, calling out in a tongue she recognised as celestial and a blinding light engulfed the warehouse, the thieves still left shying from it as though it burnt. In that moment, both groups pressed their advantage and the fight did not last much longer after that, the former knights clearly still excellent warriors and as the last of the thieves fell a silence descended as well, each group watching the other warily, some of the men sporting minor cuts and scrapes while Jaheira and Aerie pressed in about the injured teifling, the women trying to carefully remove his jacket to get to the wounded arm beneath.
Fritha's eyes had finally adjusted to the gloom and she could see the warehouse had been furnished, albeit sparsely. A jumble of rough tables and benches were set in the far corner while dusty hangings of hessian that looked as though they had been sewn together from old sacks curtained off the back of the room where Fritha could only assume they slept. The men themselves had the same mismatched quality, about a dozen or so warriors ranging from younger than her to well past middle age stood grouped before them wordless and watchful, this stalemate finally broken as one stepped forward with a smile and Fritha recognised the man who had called down the divine power of his god during the previous battle.
Sandy-haired and broad-shouldered, his plain face held an open look, as one either unaccustomed to or exceptionally skilled at deception and though he looked to be approaching his thirtieth winter he seemed much older, a worn air about him, like someone who had suffered troubles and recently enough that they had not yet lost their ache. Fritha could see Anomen recognised the man and was clearly disturbed by the discovery, and she absently wished she had not been quite so sharp with him earlier, though she was given no further time to ponder this as the man finally spoke.
'I greet you, friends, though I know you not. You have spilt your blood for us and I welcome you most openly.'
Haer'Dalis bit back a cry as Jaheira finally straightened his arm enough to remove his jacket, the bard sending the man dark look.
'As you would have it, my hound, though know it was not spilt willingly.'
'Haer'Dalis!' Aerie scolded even as she fussed over him and the man laughed, turning back to the rest of them.
'Well met, friends, I am Reynald de Chatillion, formally of the Order and now led by Anarg, the man you no doubt heard those rogues insulting. I do not know how they found us, but thankfully will not live to tell others.' He shook his head for a moment troubled. 'I fear they must have been planning this attack for some time to catch us at a disadvantage; Anarg and the others of our group are out on some task in the city.'
Fritha smiled, trying to ignore the way Anomen was openly staring at the man.
'So you admit you are no longer members of the Order?' the squire demanded before anyone could interrupt, Fritha hastening to add mildly, 'We had heard rumours that you were still serving in their ranks.'
But Reynald merely shook his head, smiling with a genial surprise though it did not hide the regret that lingered in his eyes.
'Why no, but some of us are still paladins, as you saw; I suppose the common folk see little difference.'
Behind him, Fritha watched two of the younger men, their dark heads close as they shared a whispered exchange, the taller glancing up to offer in a carrying voice, 'You would seem to know much of this, my lady… And is not your companion the Squire Anomen?'
A pause. Fritha kept her expression mildly interested as she turned to the man next to her, Anomen's face set, the squire finally breaking the silence with a terse sigh.
'I am not to be counted among the Order's ranks. As you point out, I have not yet been knighted- and likely never will, at this rate,' he added with a bitterness that did not sound particularly forced. For a moment he and the man scowled at each other, neither attempting to conceal their dislike, before Reynald stepped forward, his hand raised in a conciliatory gesture.
'Forgive Alve his suspicions, our lives have been difficult since we left the Order and have been made no easier by some still within their ranks. Before Anarg united us, some of our number were little more than mercenaries, having to decide between our morals and our next meal. We owe much to his guidance.' He smiled, his face brightening with pride at the talk of leader. 'May I ask your names, friends?'
Fritha nodded politely, sending the group opposite a friendly smile as she introduced her companions.
'I am Fritha and, as you recognised, this is Anomen Delryn. Then we have Jaheira, Minsc, Nalia-
'Nalia de'Arnise?' exclaimed Alve before he could seemingly stop himself, the man instantly dropping his head to whisper to his companion again, more than a couple of the other men sending Reynald doubtful looks and Nalia bristled.
'You have heard the rumours I am mad, I assume?' she confirmed, her eyes blazing, 'I live my life according to my beliefs, not the rules other have placed upon me. If this is madness, then so be it.'
Reynald shook his head gravely.
'No, indeed, it is not madness, my lady, for they are principles we hold ourselves and,' he continued, throwing a stern glance to the young men behind him, 'we meant no disrespect.'
Nalia nodded once, seemingly calmed and Fritha quickly finished her introductions, sensing that at the rate they were going their alliance would be at an end before it had even been suggested.
'Well, my lady,' Reynald began, once she had finished, the warm smile back on his worn face, 'I must confess to having heard your names before this day. Some of us have heard rumours of your group and the deeds you have performed about Athkatla, helping the common citizenry against the evils of this place; goals we hold dear ourselves.'
Fritha smiled, more than relieved to see many of those at his back nodding and murmuring agreements, though Alve and his friends were still watching them with a sullen look.
'Tell me,' Reynald continued, 'was it merely chance that brought you to our aid this day?'
Fritha shook her head; a mix of truth and falsehood always made for the best lies.
'No, it was not. We actually came to look for you. We heard of a group of men working in this area with ideals similar to our own and I wished to propose an alliance of sorts. The sharing of information and aid, perhaps even uniting when necessary against the thieves' guild and other more disreputable groups that seem to operate so freely within the city.'
Yet more muttering from the others, Reynald sending her an appraising look, his gaze travelling over their group as he nodded slowly.
'Is that so? Well, there is certainly strength to be gained from such alliances. Come,' he smiled, gesturing to the tables behind him and the men parted instinctively to make way for them, some pairing off to make a start on removing the bodies that littered the floor. 'I can make no decisions without Anarg, of course, but your reputations have earned my trust of you and we should discuss this further. In fact, we may even have a task for you already; one in which outsiders will have a chance of succeeding where no one of us could.'
xxx
It was a good couple of hours later when they finally left the gloom of the warehouse, their group sharing a cheerful farewell with Reynald and the others before making their way back across the bridge. The bustle of the market had faded considerably in their absence, some of the stalls already being packed away for the afternoon and this waning air seemed to suit their group, the mood darkening with every step, an afternoon of making pleasantries with a group of men they could well end up betraying clearly not resting well with any of them.
Once crossed, they halted on the edge of the bridge, the others beginning to quietly discuss plans and Anomen moved away from them, walking a few paces back onto the bridge proper and looking over the edge to watch the river slowly coursing by beneath him. Though still a bright day, the wind was picking up and he could feel the dust prickling his skin as he stood there, just trying to make sense of it all. He had been so sure before he had met them, but now…
Footsteps behind him and Anomen turned to see Fritha approaching, the girl smiling a greeting as she joined him before her gaze shifted to the sky, eyes following the clouds that were racing overhead. She looked vivid and healthy stood beside him in the sunlight, her tunic matching the sky while the wind caught at her trousers and cloak, making them ripple and swirl.
'It will rain later, but only a shower,' she said finally and Anomen turned away feeling uncomfortable.
Every time they had spoken lately, it had ended in crossed words; his vow to end both his outbursts and his worries for his father coming to naught it seemed, and now he was finding himself questioning the very Order whose ranks he was set on joining, Anomen did not feel as though he even knew himself anymore. He glanced back to find her watching him, eyes tired above an understanding smile.
'It's not so black and white anymore, is it? Ah, don't worry, Anomen,' she sighed, turning back to the sky, 'I'd be more frightened if you thought it was... Did you know Reynald?'
'I knew of him. He was a celebrated knight and- and I believed a good man as well. I served under him in my first campaign with the Order… I had not even realised he had been cast out.' Anomen shook his head. 'But it was not just him, some of the others we spoke with, young knights who I had once respected, even aspired to emulate…'
His mind drifted back to the gloom of the warehouse, all sat about the tables sharing a plain meal of bread and ale as they had talked.
'Wh-Why were you cast from the Order?' Aerie had asked with her customary hesitance. No one else would have dared such a personal question, but the elf more than anyone seemed to be able to get away with such things. Even so, some of the men had looked wary, all heads turning to Reynald who'd sighed deeply.
'All of our company have one thing in common in that we are no longer worthy of the vows of knighthood we once took under the Order. Some of us have lost our paladinhoods as well, though in the case of my own transgression, I broke no vow to my god and my service to Him remains true. More than that I cannot say, my lady; we do not share the particulars of our shame. But when Anarg was cast out, he brought others with him, sought out the rest of us and our group was formed. We seek solace in each others company and work to help the peoples of Athkatla as we always have. And in that, friends, you may help us.'
And that was when Reynald had explained it, this task that no one of their number could have hoped to complete. And indeed he was correct for it was a request for the return of Anarg's cup, a ceremonial chalice presented to all paladins within the Order upon their knighting and served as a symbol of the holy covenant made between man and the divine. Something, Reynald had explained, that still rightfully belonged to Anarg, for he too had retained his paladinhood even after he was cast from the Order's ranks, and their leader felt that its return would go some way to restoring his ruined reputation and strengthen the standing of their group as a whole as men in the service of goodness and righteousness.
Anomen scrubbed a rough hand across his face. Reynald had seemed so sincere, no different, really, to the knight Anomen remember from all those years ago; how could he have fallen so far as to serve that traitor, Anarg? And yet serve him they did. In fact, you would have to blind not to notice the devotion Reynald and some of the others gave him; Anarg the saviour who had given their lives in exile purpose again.
Besides, Sir Ryan Trawl had been his mentor since he joined the Order years ago; there was no truer man in all of Amn and Anomen could not believe the paladin capable of any mistake on a matter of such importance. Reynald and the others had been cast out fairly, even they did not dispute it, just as Anarg was for his crimes, and that was all Anomen should need to know.
He sighed, feeling suddenly very old, the world a much more confusing place than it had been even just a few hours before. He looked down to find Fritha calmly watching him once more, the girl's presence somehow heartening and he felt an unpleasant weight settle in his stomach. He had been so harsh with her lately and though she was just as likely to snap right back at the time, she was still willing to put it all aside to council him when he had need of it. He watched her a moment longer, struggling to form words from the confusion of emotions within him until,
'I- I should like to apologise to you, Fritha.'
She blinked once, suddenly wary.
'You haven't been speaking to Minsc, have you?'
Anomen frowned slightly.
'No… but, I have been ill tempered of late, to say the least, and I have been treating you unfairly. You were correct. Loathed though I am to admit it, I have been worrying for my father and how he is managing without my sister. I know he has the servants, but still…'
Fritha sighed slightly, her voice quiet as she asked, 'Can you not reconcile with him?'
Anomen swallowed, recalling in a moment the years of cruelty he had suffered at his father's hands, the derision, the countless humiliations; the bastard remorseless even now when his bitter feuding had left his daughter dead, and already Anomen could feel his anger at the old drunkard filling him. He shook his head, his voice even and heavy with finality.
'No, I hate him… But such hatred is against all the Order teaches. They will see it in my heart. They will know I am unworthy.'
He turned to her, expecting Fritha to look appalled, but instead the same kind smile was back pulling at her lips.
'Yes, well, it is all very good saying you should not feel certain things, but emotions are not so easily controlled. Perhaps fighting against this hate you have for you father is just making you feel worse.'
'I do not quite follow you, my lady.'
'You hate your father, yet you know you should not. So then you hate yourself for not living up to the Order's standards and you hate your father for making you fail your vows and it all just grows.' Fritha sighed deeply, her voice taking on a very matter-of-fact tone as she continued. 'Anomen, as far as I can see you have a choice of two paths: you can go and try to reconcile with the man and alleviate your worries, or you can just forget his existence completely and let your hatred die.'
'But I cannot, my lady!' Anomen cried, his heart almost bursting with his need to make her see his torment. 'My father ruled our family like a tyrant for years! Surely you must understand? Irenicus tortured you, you must hate him, do you not…?'
Anomen trailed off, his anger ebbing as he slowly realised what he was asking her. They had never spoken of her ordeal at the hands of the mage outside of the day he officially joined their company, the girl's frank detachment as she described her imprisonment giving a better indication of how badly it had affected her than anything she had actually said. Fritha seemed momentarily frozen, her face holding a painfully empty look before she dipped it slightly to consider the point and when she spoke again her voice had an absent quality, as though she was trying to remember a dream she had once had.
'Well, I cannot say I forgive what he did, but hate Irenicus? No, Anomen, I do not hate him… I can't explain it, the things he did… you were not there… he- he was as a man broken…'
Anomen swallowed.
'I am sorry, Fritha, I should not have brought that up.'
But she merely shook her head, glancing up at him again with a tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
'It doesn't matter.'
He felt such a surge of anger at her dismissal that it almost choked his reply.
'Do not say that! It does matter. That it happened and that I was thoughtless enough to remind you of it.'
She opened her mouth, but after a moment closed it again and just nodded once, still looking tired and slightly amused, as though she knew different. Silence fell between them once more, Anomen turning back to the sky as she did, the field of faded blue merely providing a calm in which his worries of how to now deal with this group of fallen knights could rise. He looked again to Fritha.
'So, what are our plans?'
The girl gave a weary sigh.
'Well, we will need this cup of Anarg's if we are to further our investigation any. Will you be able to convince Sir Ryan to let you borrow it?'
'It is an important symbol of Anarg's paladinhood, no doubt why he would want it back, but I believe Sir Ryan will understand.'
'Good. If we fetch it today, we can present it to them tomorrow under the pretence we liberated it overnight.'
A moment to finalise their plans with the others and Anomen stood watching as the majority of the group moved off down the street heading back to the slums, Fritha walking in the opposite direction back across the bridge, the girl insisting she go and check on her playhouse. Anomen sighed again and with one final glance to the sky, he set off towards the temple district, clouds gathering above him.
xxx
Nalia watched the mirror before her, the girl within slowly pulling a comb through her straight red hair, the reflection of Fritha's foot twitching in the lower corner of the glass as her friend lounged on the bed behind. Fritha had been quiet since her return, the girl arriving in the tavern grey and damp, the rains having broken whilst she was off at her theatre, and immediately asking Jaheira if she had anything for a headache. The druid had obliged her before Nalia convinced the girl that some rest would likely help as well, Fritha shrugging once and wordlessly following her to her room
And so there they were, Nalia sat before her dresser and Fritha lain upon the bed chewing methodically on the root Jaheira had given her. Though not as bad as she had been the previous day, Fritha's silence still held an air of despondency and Nalia wasn't really sure how to bring her out of it.
'You cannot help the entire world, my dear,' came her aunt's terse sigh behind her eyes and Nalia recalled clearly how the woman had always looked with disparagement upon her attempts to aid others- but then perhaps her aunt was right in this case. Fritha was usually so bright, but every now and then her mood would turn, the girl suddenly distant and brooding and with seemingly no cause. Nalia had already offered herself as confidant, but Fritha seemed unwilling to speak of whatever was troubling her and there was really nothing more she could do.
Nalia frowned, feeling increasingly frustrated as she shifted slightly in her chair, angling herself to get a better view of the room behind and watch Fritha, the girl still staring up at the ceiling with a blank look. Had she always been like this? And for a moment Nalia tried to imagine the girl back in Candlekeep with Imoen, young and unhappy; how would her oldest friend have helped her?
But it was no good. From what little she knew of Imoen, the girl seemed as likely to tease Fritha about it as be sympathetic and Nalia did not feel comfortable attempting either. She sighed gently, finally turning in her chair to break the silence between them.
'So, how was the theatre?'
'Hmm?' Fritha began distractedly, 'Oh, fine, it was fine.'
Nalia swallowed, wanting more than anything to find out what was wrong, but she did not know what more she could say. She watched the girl, still chewing on her root, pale fingers stained with dark grey freckles.
'There is ink on your hands.'
'I was looking over the music again with Marcus,' Fritha answered casually after a contemplative pause that Nalia did not quite trust, 'We rewrote a couple of passages.'
Silence fell between them once more, one moment stretching on into two when Fritha finally broke it with a sigh and Nalia felt her composure snap.
'Oh, Fritha, what is wrong? Please, if you would just tell me!' she cried, springing from her chair to sit next to her and grab her hand, desperate to shake her, embrace her, anything to pull her from this melancholy.
The mere movement seemed enough to rouse the girl though, Fritha looking quite alarmed by her outburst and sitting quickly to pat her arm, her voice much closer to its usual cadence as she replied, 'Nothing, dearest, really, I'm fine.'
Nalia released her and sat back without a word, the ache inside her worsening. Nothing. It was always nothing whenever she asked what was wrong.
'You always say that…'
Fritha sighed, leaning forward slightly and trying to take her hand again, but Nalia remained out of reach and the girl finally gave up.
'But it is nothing. I just, well, I'm just a bit tired, you understand. But, I'm fine really, dearest,' Fritha continued, smiling slightly now and clearly trying to convince her. 'I'm probably just bored. I've been spoilt with all the dancing yesterday.'
Nalia watched her a moment, Fritha's smile fading into a concerned frown as the silence progressed and Nalia sighed inwardly; she was making it worse. It was better to have openly melancholy Fritha than one pretending to be well for her benefit. And perhaps she was right, perhaps it was nothing… at least in her eyes; the girl unable to tell her what was wrong for she did not know herself. It could not be denied that a lot had happened to Fritha lately, and, Nalia suspected, more than even she had been told of. Perhaps these occasional bouts of melancholy were to be expected…
And if she could not help, then she could at least work to distract her from it. Nalia drew a deep breath and forced a smile.
'Well, if you are bored, we could always go out. There are many taverns in Athkatla and quite a few have music of an evening. We could go and find some, just the two of us.'
Fritha blinked slowly. 'Really? You know, I'd never even thought about that before…'
Nalia felt a rush of warmth burst in her stomach as the girl grinned suddenly.
'Shall we?'
A pause, the two watching each other, a sense of excitement building between them, when suddenly a shriek of laughter split the air and they were both scrambling from the bed to root in bags for clothes and combs. Moments later found them stood before the dresser, Nalia in her favourite blue dress while Fritha was next to her wearing her usual black trousers and the sky blue tunic they had embroidered together so long ago.
'Here,' continued Nalia, taking a long sea green linen sash from her bag to proffer to the girl, 'this would look nice.'
Fritha glanced to her, frowning slightly. 'If you think so. About the hips?'
'Well you could, or here.' She gestured for Fritha to turn back to the mirror, Nalia stepping behind her and opening the sash out to its full width to catch it just beneath her bust and pull it tight. And there they stood a moment, Nalia looping and tying the ends as she secured it, her breath stirring the few short curls that wisped about the base of the girl's neck as she laboured, until she finally finished, her voice coming quiet as she asked, 'What do you think?'
Fritha's reflection smiled mildly, the girl turning to admire the large ornate knot that now rested in the middle of her back.
'Very nice, thank you, though I can't really wear my sword with it,' she considered, fingers already moving to unfasten her belt and she threw it carelessly to land on her bag, her attention already back to her reflection as she took out her hairpins, the hair unwinding to hang down her back in one long rope. Fritha left it untouched though, just pulling her wooden comb through the roots and evening out her parting before moving instinctively to coil it up again and Nalia caught her sleeve.
'Don't pin it up, it looks so pretty when it's combed out.'
Fritha sighed slightly, a touch of her previous despondency back as she stroked a finger absently along her comb.
'But, that's the problem, isn't it? When things start out pretty you want to try and keep them that way. When you just pin it all up, tidy and serviceable, it doesn't matter if its streaked with blood and filled with leaves by the end of the day.'
Nalia tugged the nearest curl, scolding playfully, 'Well, it's hardly probable anything like that will happen to it tonight, so stop being so stubborn.'
Fritha smiled unwillingly, relinquishing her comb and Nalia spent a few moments fussing over her hair, using the girl's wooden pins to twist back the curls at her temples and frame her face, before it joined the rest, hanging free and curling down her back.
'There,' she sighed finally, placing a hand upon the top of her head and kissing the back, 'lovely.'
Fritha laughed warmly and shook her head, her curls dancing.
'If you say so. All right then, ready to break some hearts?'
xxx
Jaheira stared down at her hand, or rather the five Talis cards it held and tried to concentrate past the gentle murmuring of the pair next to her, Aerie sat so close to the tiefling she was practically in his lap, while their own cards rested almost ignored in their hands. Ever since the previous night and the elf's sudden boldness of affections, the two had been a lot more demonstrative in their regard for one another, much to the druid's displeasure.
Jaheira sighed tersely. She, Haer'Dalis, Aerie and Minsc had lingered at the table after the girls had departed, Jaheira pulling the worn deck of cards from her bag to pass the time. But the fact that Haer'Dalis and Aerie were also enjoying diversions of a more intimate nature and that her own worries were not so easily forgotten, meant Minsc was having a surprisingly good evening, Boo scurrying in and out the stacks of coppers they had been playing for. Jaheira felt her temple begin to twitch as the sound of light kisses whispered at her ear.
'If you are both still hungry, there is some bread left over from dinner,' she offered dryly, well rewarded as the pair broke apart and went back to their cards, Aerie a satisfying shade of scarlet.
Right, Jaheira considered, determinedly pulling her attention back to the game. If she could just get a court card on her next turn, she would likely win this hand, and it was as she moved to draw a fresh card from the pile in the centre that she noticed them. Fritha and Nalia had appeared on the stairs opposite, both cloaked and heads close as they chattered quietly. Nalia was wearing the same blue dress she had worn the previous evening, while Fritha looked as dressed-up as Jaheira had ever seen her, wearing the pair of black trousers she had not bothered to take-up, the hems trailing slightly on the ground and her sandaled feet just visible underneath. One of Nalia's sashes was tied about her waist, the tails hanging down her back and the whole effect was very striking, the green of it going well with the blue tunic of her own she was wearing. The pair were still talking and giggling quietly as they drifted over to their table, Minsc the first to comment on the change, the ranger glancing up from his cards to notice their approach
'Young Nalia, ah, and young Fritha too! See how nice they look, Boo,' he beamed, scooping up the hamster to give him a better view, while across the table Haer'Dalis grinned.
'Indeed, Minsc, like two celestials come from blessed Elysium to grace this baser plane.'
The girls smiled slightly, but said nothing; a wise decision in light of Aerie's suddenly stormy expression. Jaheira smiled as well, finally taking her card and pleased to see it was the queen of wands, 'You are going somewhere?'
Fritha nodded. 'Nalia and I thought we'd go and have a look about some different taverns.'
'Did you indeed? Well, have a pleasant evening,' the druid finished, turning back to her cards as they made to leave and it was only then she noticed it. 'Wait, Fritha, where is your sword?'
The girl glanced to her hip, flushing slightly as she replied, 'I left it off, it doesn't look right with the sash.'
Jaheira frowned. 'Do not be foolish! You cannot leave without it, go and fetch it now.'
'I will not,' Fritha snapped, really pink now and looking more than embarrassed by the fuss being made, 'No other girls wear them, why must I always stand out?'
'You are not other girls.'
'I am tonight.'
Fritha was looking unusually defiant, but Jaheira was not accustomed to backing down either and an argument was only just diverted by the arrival of the squire, returned from the Order and clearly quite surprised by the sight that greeted him.
'Nalia, Fritha, you both look, ah… nice,' he said after a moment, Haer'Dalis rolling his eyes despairingly which prompted laughter from Aerie and smiles from the rest of them, the tension over the scene dissipating somewhat as Anomen still looked on, thoroughly bemused. Fritha sent him a kind smile.
'Hello, Anomen, has it stopped raining?'
Anomen nodded slowly. 'Yes, but a moment ago… Where are you two going?'
'We don't know really, just out,' Fritha answered with a smile and a shrug. The squire frowned slightly.
'And when will you be back?'
'Later,' trilled Nalia, linking her arm through Fritha's and with that they were gone.
Anomen joined their table looking disgruntled, the man nodding curt thanks as Aerie poured him some ale, and Jaheira noticed he didn't stay long after he had finished it, excusing himself early to retire for the evening.