Chapter 9: To Rule A Kingdom
As they walked through the farmlands dotted around Nashkel, Charmane spotted what looked like a buried sac that had partially been dug up by an animal.
Edwin's gaze lingered on Charmane as she dug it out. She was wearing a mid-thigh length, violet underdress that flared around her hips but left the front exposed, revealing tight, brown, leather breeches underneath. The brown, form-fitting, studded leather armour she wore hugged her in all the right places and cinched tightly around her waist. It was not the first time Edwin found himself appreciating how well the deep neckline of her underdress, clearly designed to distract, offered a tantalizing glimpse of her ample bosom. As he watched her work, Edwin found himself imagining running his hands over the soft leather and feeling the contours of her body beneath his fingers. However, he quickly composed himself before Charmane caught him leering.
Once Charmane was done digging, she found a peculiar set of armour made of thick chitinous scales. It seemed stronger than plate but half as light. The plate armour Khalid was wearing was so heavy, that he could barely carry much else. This would be a welcome improvement.
Meanwhile, Edwin's eyes had narrowed as he watched the rogue pull out the armour, "Sometimes I wonder if the gods squirrel treasure away in the most random of places just for her to find." he muttered, sounding equal parts exasperated and impressed.
Imoen had been unusually quiet as they walked. Now she looked up at Charmane with a hint of excitement in her eyes, "Hey Char! I've been thinkin', what if you're some kinda long lost princess from a faraway kingdom, and your relatives want you dead 'cause you're next in line for the throne? It's like one of those stories Puffguts used to tell!"
Charmane grinned. "That's a little bit far-fetched, Imoen. Even that nonsensical Bhaalspawn theory seemed more plausible"
But Imoen was undeterred. "You're pretty enough and all, and you got that exotic vibe goin'. And ya sure do know how to pick the fanciest stuff. Maybe your royal blood just speaks to ya or somethin'."
Edwin rolled his eyes, "Well, of course. Finding a piece of armour buried in a dirt sack is clear sign of your noble birthright. I'm sure the peasantry will be clamouring to greet their long-lost queen when we come across a golden carriage next."
Charmane chuckled, "Ah yes, I can already see it now. My people will bow before me and I'll be hailed as the chosen one who pulled the armour from the dirt, showered with riches and adoration."
"Ye see that?" Imoen said, grinning, "Even Edwin done admitted you're good at findin' treasures. Who knows what else we might find on our adventures!"
Edwin shook his head, "Imoen, perhaps you should pay more attention to the path ahead instead of feeding Charmane's delusions of grandeur."
Charmane laughed, "Relax, Imoen's just having a bit of fun. But hey, maybe one day we'll stumble upon the proverbial sword in the stone and I'll become the next queen of some distant land."
Imoen's eyes widened with excitement, "Yes! And we'll be your loyal knights, battling evil and saving the land from darkness!"
"I suppose, " Edwin muttered absently. "the role of court wizard would not be entirely unpleasant. No doubt there will be ample opportunities for manipulation."
Charmane smiled, "Well, I'll need someone to help me rule my kingdom with wisdom and magic. I'll trust you with the magic part, Edwin."
Edwin scowled. "Hmph. One might argue that my extensive knowledge and unrivalled mastery of the arcane arts would make me wisest of your so-called subjects."
Charmane laughed. "I think you're confusing intellect with wisdom there. But don't get your robes in a bunch, Edwin. I was only teasing."
As the party travelled, the terrain became more rugged and the earth gave way to a wide and imposing ravine. Cliff faces towered above them, stretching towards the sky like massive, jagged teeth. The narrow strip of sky overhead was a mere ribbon of blue, a stark contrast against the deep, earthen red of the cliffs.
Charmane cautiously scouted ahead as the oppressive walls on either side seemed to close in around them. The air grew thick with the scent of earth and sweat, the only sounds the crunch of her boots on the rocky terrain and the distant trickle of a nearby stream. Above her, vultures circled ominously, their beady eyes watching her with keen interest.
It was then that she heard a voice echoing through the ravine. She had been spotted. A suspicious looking group blocked her path forward, weapons at the ready.
"Hail and well met." the foremost of the group said in a smooth and arrogant tone, swaggering towards her. His face was obscured behind a hood.
Charmane eyed him suspiciously. "Keep your distance, traveller." she said threateningly, her daggers in hand. "What do you want?"
"Now, now, there's no reason for this to turn violent." the hooded man intoned. "Hand over your belongings, and you may yet live."
"Hah! Come and get it." Charmane challenged, before vanishing into thin air.
She had not gone two paces, when a bloodcurdling scream pierced through the air, and moments later a severed head rolled into view. Before Charmane could fully process what had happened she witnessed the bandit farthest from her being brutally cleaved in half by a massive two handed sword.
The figure responsible for the carnage stood tall and imposing, with small tusks jutting out of his menacing countenance and pointed ears that unmistakably marked him as part-orc. Charmane, though not one to easily pass judgment, could not help but sense an overwhelmingly malevolent aura emanating from the demi-human. If asked at that very moment to describe his disposition, she would not have hesitated to use the word evil.
The man exchanged terse words with the bandits and it was clear to Charmane that he was here for some form of revenge. It sounded juicy, but Charmane decided it was none of her business and sneaked quietly back to her group.
"Right so there's a group of bandits ahead, but they're probably getting slaughtered by an angry half-orc right about now." Charmane said when she finally caught up with them.
"A half-orc?" Edwin's lip curled in disgust. "I can hardly imagine the depths of depravity and desperation that would lead someone to mate with a creature as foul as an orc."
Charmane shrugged, uninterested in discussing the complexities of half-orc births, "In any case, he was big, scary, and definitely not someone you want to mess with. Let's retrace our steps and take the scenic route."
A few hours later the Nashkel mines loomed before the party, a vast scar in the earth's surface that stretched as far as the eye could see. The pit was surrounded by jagged rocks and boulders, and the air was thick with the metallic smell of iron ore. The giant wooden contraptions that served as pulleys for the mined iron were creaking and groaning in the wind, their ropes and chains swaying ominously. The whole place had an eerie, otherworldly quality to it, as if the very earth had been ripped apart to create this man-made monstrosity.
On the far side of the pit, a tall wooden mining tower rose up into the sky, casting a long shadow over the surrounding area. It's bleak and foreboding appearance was punctuated by the groans of a handful of miners moving back and forth, their picks and shovels glinting in the sunlight as they worked tirelessly to extract the valuable iron ore from the earth.
In keeping with her usual approach, Charmane opted to survey the vicinity surrounding the mines prior to venturing inside. She approached a blackened tree stump that looked to have been struck by lightning and inspected it out of curiosity. There poking out of the dead stump, was an odd looking blue stick.
"Edwin," she called absently, rolling it in her palm. "This is a magic wand, right?"
Edwin strode over to Charmane and examined it with a critical eye. "Yes, it appears to be a wand of frost," he said, with a hungry glint in his eyes.
"Aha! Sword in the stone, here I come." Charmane crowed, causing Edwin to roll his eyes. "Well, it's yours. Keep it." she said looking at Edwin.
"Excellent, this will make a fine addition to my arsenal," Edwin replied, as he pocketed the wand with a satisfied smirk.
As they circled around the outer edges of the mine and approached a bluff, they could hear the distinct sound of metal chiselling against stone. The source of the noise was a man hunched over his work, his long hair and beard tangled and unkempt. His clothes, once fine, now hung off him in tatters. He seemed oblivious to the world around him as he furiously chiselled away at the bluff, adding intricate details on the ethereal beauty he was carving.
The woman in the sculpture was striking; her expression was both serene and regal. The sculptor had managed to capture the subtle details of her face, down to the finest blemish. The chisel marks on the stone were rough, yet purposeful, as if the sculptor was transferring his own passion and emotion onto the stone. The man took a step back to survey his work, "Ahh, beauteous creature! You are my masterpiece!" he rasped. "Never should I have stolen these emeralds, but there was nothing else that would capture the majesty of thine eyes! I did what must be done, for I have left my shop, forgotten all my commissions, and spent all that I had. I must complete thee!"
As the group approached him, the sculptor paused, his eyes flicking over them with a mix of fear and apprehension. "Wait, who's there! Who are you? 'Twas that relentless Greywolf who sent you, was it not?"
"Grey!?" Charmane repeated with mock indignation. "Verily, good sir, thou canst not have missed the crimson aura that doth float from our persons. Rest assured, you're in the company of Charmane and her Crimson Canines."
Edwin pursed his lips, clearly unamused by her jest. The sculptor, however, seemed to relax slightly at Charmane's words, his eyes widening as he took in the group before him. "Thank Deneir, I thought I was done in. I am not cut out for a life on the run. Mayhaps you could help a foolish sculptor finish this epiphany? Please, guard this place, for surely Greywolf will come seeking the bounty on the gems. I will pay with my last possessions if you would do this one service for me."
"Fair enough," Charmane responded with a nonchalant shrug, her gaze wandering over the picturesque surroundings. The warm sun on her skin and the gentle breeze made for a welcome respite from their usual travels. "We could use a break in the sunshine before delving into the dark depths of the mines. Guard duty it is."
"Wow, it's so pretty!" Imoen gushed, staring in awe at the intricate details of the stone relief. "D'ya reckon someday they'll be makin' statues of us too, Charmane?"
Edwin, who had been observing the sculpture with a critical eye, interjected with a scoff. "Bah! I have no interest in being idolized like some insipid hero. If they must erect a statue in my likeness, it should be a towering monument that strikes fear and awe in the hearts of all who behold it!"
"Why Edwin," Charmane interjected with a sly grin, "For a man of your supposed intellect, you seem to lack vision. The most cunning of villains is not one who simply strikes fear and awe in the peasantry, but rather the one who artfully exploits the sheep while profiting from their unadulterated adoration. A true mastermind knows that the ultimate power lies in the manipulation of hearts and minds."
"I am surprised," Edwin replied, a smile tugging at his lips, "I would not have thought you capable of such cunning." he said, "While your approach is not entirely without merit, I would much rather dominate the masses with sheer power, than rely on the fickle nature of their emotions."
"Each to their own, I guess," Charmane shrugged, gesturing towards the sculpture. "But fear can never inspire the kind of passion you see before us."
Imoen nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I reckon folks wanna be inspired an' feel hope, not just scared outta their wits all the time."
Edwin scoffed, "Bah, what would you peasants know of ruling and inspiring people?"
Charmane chuckled softly, "You underestimate the power of hope, Edwin, as cliché as it sounds. Even the most ruthless rulers have used it to gain unyielding loyalty of their subjects."
Edwin scoffed, "I have no need for such frivolities. My power and intellect are all that I require to maintain control."
"Suit yourself," Charmane replied, "But don't be surprised when your subjects inevitably turn on you."
The party was enjoying their lunch when a muscular man approached. He stood tall and broad-shouldered with an imposing build that spoke of a lifetime spent fighting and hunting. His weathered face was lined with scars, and his sharp features were framed by a thick mane of grey hair that fell to his shoulders in wild, unkempt waves. He wore a tattered leather jerkin over a simple linen shirt. At his waist he wore a dull looking grey sword with a golden tip. Its matching golden hilt held a bright red gemstone surrounded by intricate carvings.
Greywolf's piercing eyes scanned the party, before turning his attention to the sculptor, "I have come for you, Prism."
"No! Not yet! My work is nearly done! Please, I implore you!" Prism pleaded in desperation.
"Your sentiment is wasted on me, fool. You are but gold in my purse." the man sneered. "Do you make your situation worse by hiring help to protect you?" he asked, disdainfully, then turned towards the party. "Who are you fools?"
"Prism wishes only to finish his masterwork." Charmane replied. "Why not let him? What harm can it do?"
"You should be more worried 'bout the harm I can do!" the grey-haired man boomed. "Never have I taken a bounty and not delivered! Now stand aside that I might dispense with this fool and claim my prize. Or would you rather I go through you to get him? Consider well if he be worth your lives!"
As the man approached, Charmane reluctantly put her lunch aside. She was unsheathing her dagger, when she felt a familiar hum of magic and heard Edwin's deep, resonant voice.
The air crackled with magic as the spell took effect, stopping the tall bounty hunter in his tracks. The man regarded them with serene expression. "I am Greywolf," he began. "A bounty hunter who tracks down those who'd spurn the laws of the Sword Coast. Been known to track for sport, occasionally." he paused, seemingly considering something. "Maybe I'll let you live, since you're such a likeable person. Strange, normally I don't like people."
Edwin's tone was smug as he gestured towards the now docile Greywolf. "See? Why bother pandering to the masses when a mere flick of my finger can achieve the same effect?"
Charmane raised an eyebrow. "Don't be so quick to celebrate, Edwin," she warned. "Like the Charm spell, fear and brute force is but a temporary solution. It's a fragile foundation for any lasting rule. It only takes one misstep, one mistake, and it all crumbles. True power lies in winning the hearts of your people. It's a much more permanent solution. As a bonus, you get to sleep soundly at night knowing you won't be murdered by an angry mob."
As if to demonstrate, the bounty hunter snapped out of his trance and charged towards them in a fit of rage. Khalid intercepted the man with his own sword but recoiled as a wave of cold shot through him, leaving him sluggish and disoriented.
"Did it not occur to you to disarm him before debating the nuances of world domination?" Jaheira scolded, as she swung her scimitar.
Charmane lunged forward to strike at Greywolf's vital points but he deftly parried each of her attacks, all the while dodging attacks from Khalid and Jaheira. With impossible speed, the man counter-attacked with a series of blows, that left Khalid wounded and reeling.
Charmane quickly reached towards the wounded half-elf, and a surge of divine energy flowed through Khalid at her touch, mending his wounds and imbuing him with renewed strength.
Charmane knew they needed a new strategy, so she quickly gestured to Edwin. With a flick of his wrist and a muttered incantation, Edwin summoned a wicked arrow laced with acid. The arrow flew with unerring accuracy, lodging itself in Greywolf's shoulder.
As the bounty hunter recoiled in agony, Charmane felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her body. Everything around her skidded to a halt, the sound of her boots, seemed to echo in the silence of the moment, as she deftly moved behind the bounty hunter and raised her dagger, ready to strike the final blow.
Greywolf gasped for air, his eyes filled with pain. Even as he sensed Charmane's sudden presence behind him and tried to react, it was too late. In one swift move, Charmane's blade sliced through his throat, silencing him forever.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the mysterious weapon that had rendered Khalid almost helpless in battle. As she gazed upon the cold sheen of the blade, a strange sensation coursed through her veins, beckoning her to wield the weapon and quench its thirst for blood. It was as if the weapon itself had chosen her as its master, urging her to vanquish all those she deemed unworthy with its deadly edge.
"I think I've found my new favourite weapon." Charmane said with a smile.