Chapter 13: Clever Monkey

Charmane slowly opened her eyes, her vision blurry and unfocused. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her sight, and took a deep breath. The air was dry and cool, but it felt like sandpaper against her throat. As she looked around, she saw that she was in a small campsite surrounded by cacti and desert grasses. The buttes loomed in the distance, their peaks silhouetted against the starry sky.

Charmane slowly sat up, and grimaced as she felt a awful headache but otherwise she felt fairly healthy. Someone had clearly tended to her while she was unconscious. She could feel the warmth of a fire nearby and the soft rustling of the party's bedrolls as her companions slumbered.

Imoen was sitting on a nearby rock, her short bow in one hand as she kept watch. Her eyes were focused on the dark horizon, scanning for any sign of danger. She looked over as Charmane stirred and gave her a small smile.

"You're awake," Imoen said softly. "How are ya feeling?"

Charmane groaned as she tried to move again. "Like I got hit by a lightning bolt," she replied, her voice hoarse and scratchy. "What happened?"

Imoen leaned forward, her voice low and steady as she recounted the events of the past few hours. She explained how they had set up camp against one of the towering buttes, dragging Charmane into its protective shadow. The party had been taking shifts to keep watch over her all night, ensuring she was safe and comfortable.

Charmane listened intently, grateful for her companions' care. But something was nagging her. "Did the mage have anything of value?" she inquired, unable to help herself.

Imoen raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Shouldn't you be worryin' about yourself first?" she teased gently. "But yeah, we got everything. They're in a pile over there. We thought it best to wait for you to divvy it up." as she finished, Imoen got up from her seat. "Now 'nuff worrying 'bout loot. You gotta get some food down ya," Imoen said, busying herself with a pot hanging over the campfire.

The stew was warm and comforting, and it helped soothe her headache. "Thanks for keeping watch, Imoen. I'll take over for the rest of the night," she said, handing her the empty bowl. Imoen nodded but kept Charmane company for some time afterwards. Eventually, with a grateful smile on her face she settled into her bedroll.

Sometime later Edwin woke up, adjusting his robe as he prepared for his watch. He looked over at Charmane, who was still awake, staring out into the darkness. "You should be resting," he said.

"I'm fine," Charmane replied. "I slept for ten hours. I feel rested."

Edwin snorted. "You may have collapsed from a measly lightning bolt. But I doubt you'll feel rested for long."

Charmane shot him a withering look. "I thought you didn't 'care at all' what happened to us monkeys?"

Edwin raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with condescension. "You misunderstand my position, my dear. While a pawn, is ultimately expendable, it would be foolish to hasten a perfectly placed piece to an early demise."

Charmane rolled her eyes. "Ah yes, the grand strategist Edwin. Are you now so confident that you are willing to admit that you plan to sacrifice those around you?"

Edwin smirked, "Sacrifice? That implies emotional attachment. I assure you, I am not burdened by such sentimentalities. Each piece has a value, some more dispensable than others. But worry not, you monkeys have proven to be somewhat... resourceful."

Charmane crossed her arms, a sly grin playing on her lips. "Oh, so we're resourceful now? Coming from you that's practically a glowing endorsement. Perhaps there's hope for you yet.

Edwin leaned back, his smirk widening. "Hope is a feeble sentiment, my dear. But I will concede that your resourcefulness has proven... mildly intriguing, in its own way."

Charmane tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Is that the best compliment your high intellect can muster, Edwin? I must say, I expected a grander display of flattery from a man of your calibre."

Edwin chuckled, his arrogance seeping through his words. "You overestimate your worth, my dear. It is not flattery that I offer, but a mere acknowledgment of your limited capabilities."

Charmane smirked, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Well, Edwin, perhaps it's time you broaden your perspective and recognize the untapped potential within us 'monkeys'."

Edwin scoffed, a dismissive wave of his hand. "Hmph. I have yet to witness anything truly remarkable. But do continue to amuse me with your futile attempts to prove otherwise."

Charmane's eyes narrowed, "We shall see, Edwin. We shall see. Perhaps one day, even you will come to appreciate the worth of a clever monkey."

With a smug smile, Edwin retorted, "Highly doubtful, my dear Charmane. But by all means, feel free to indulge in your delusions. It adds a modicum of entertainment to this otherwise mundane journey."

Charmane settled into her watch, letting out a sigh as she scanned the darkness. Edwin, muttering something about the unreliable, injured monkeys, did the same.

The party set off before the sun had even risen, their path leading them westward through the unforgiving barren land. The journey was long and arduous, their eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight reflecting off the barren soil. They passed by more cacti and buttes, seeking refuge from the sweltering heat under the shade of the rock formations. The hours ticked by slowly as they trudged onward, their feet growing sore and their water supplies dwindling. But eventually, the barren terrain gave way to a lush forest, providing them with much-needed relief from the harsh environment they had just endured. The journey continued well past sundown until they finally reached Nashkel village.

Just as they approached the inn, however, a dark figure emerged from the shadows, his face obscured by a hood. "I am Death come for thee. Surrender, and thy passage shall be... quicker." the man said, his voice low and menacing.

Charmane arched an eyebrow, "Oh, Death, how kind of you to grace us with your presence. But I'm afraid we have other plans for the evening, ones that don't involve surrendering to a tired old trope. So why don't you scurry off back to whatever hole you crawled out of and leave us be?"

"Struggle if you must, dead one, I do not mind working for my money." The hooded figure said, as he unsheathed his weapons.

Because the rogue had revealed himself, Charmane expected him to drop into stealth, like she normally did. However, it quickly became apparent that the bumbling fool had no such skills at his disposal. As he sprinted towards the group, Edwin's magic missiles and Imoen's well-aimed arrows proved more than enough to take him down.

Jaheira let out a small chuckle. "It seems the quality of these assassins is deteriorating rapidly. Perhaps we've become too formidable for their liking."

"Or perhaps," Charmane added with a smile, "they're just running out of competent assassins."

The mayor was beaming as they walked towards him the next day. "You have returned!" he said, smiling ear to ear. "It would seem I was right to trust you. The town thanks you wholeheartedly, and is pleased to give you the proper reward. Please take this 900 gold for your efforts. It is a small fortune by anyone's standards. Thank you again."

Edwin scoffed. "Bah, 150 gold each for all that work!? This is unacceptable for a man of my stature!"

"Uh, don't mind him." Charmane cut in. "Thank you for the reward, it's greatly appreciated. Oh and before I forget, I found this suspicious vial on one of the kobolds in the mines. I think it might have something to do with the iron."

"Hmm," the mayor said after inspecting it, "I'm no master of metals. But you might want to show that to Thunderhammer, up in Beregost. He might know a little more."

"Interesting," Charmane replied, absently. "All paths lead back to Beregost it seems."

"Ooh ooh," Imoen chimed in, her voice brimming with excitement. "The innkeeper done said there's a festival goin' on. Can we go have a look-see? Pretty please?"

"Festival," Charmane repeated, sounding intrigued. "Well I guess we did earn ourselves a break, don't you think?" she asked the team, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Jaheira's nodded approvingly, "Aye, a day of revelry would be well-deserved," she remarked.

Khalid smiled warmly, his agreement evident. "A respite sounds refreshing indeed."

Edwin let out an exasperated sigh and muttered under his breath, "Backwater entertainment for simpletons and peasants. This is hardly befitting of my refined tastes."

Charmane turned to Edwin with a playful smirk. "Oh come now, Edwin. Where's your sense of adventure? Besides, you might find it enlightening to see how the common folk enjoy themselves."

"Enlightening? I fail to see how such festivities can offer any sort of stimulation."

Charmane turned to face Edwin, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Oh, don't worry," she retorted, sarcastically, "I'm sure the town's jester will have plenty of intellectual banter to engage you in." she then turned to the group with a smile. "Well, folks, Imoen and I are heading to the festival. You're all free to do as you wish, of course. Anyone care to join us?"

Edwin's eyes darted around, looking for an excuse to join the rogue, before a sly grin formed on his face. "Ah, I seem to recall hearing word of rare and exotic magical items for sale. It would be prudent for someone of my calibre to inspect the offerings, don't you agree?"

Charmane grinned, "Oh, yes, of course, Edwin," she replied, knowingly, "Your keen eye for magical artefacts will undoubtedly be an asset. Just try not to scoff too loudly at the peasants' taste in entertainment, won't you?"

Meanwhile, Xan, normally gloomy and pessimistic, surprisingly decided to accompany them, albeit with a melancholic tone. "Ah, a festival," he sighed, "Another occasion for us to waltz amidst the treacherous tangle of potential demise, where jesters' juggling might end in an unfortunate decapitation, and mirthful merriment can swiftly turn into gruesome mishaps. How utterly delightful."

As they approached the festival grounds, the four were greeted by a vibrant and lively scene. The field before them was adorned with a myriad of colourful tents, creating a picturesque sight against the backdrop of the morning sky. However, the scene seemed to lack its usual buzz of anticipation and merriment, for the number of festival goers was noticeably sparse.

To their left, wooden stands stood tall, providing vantage points for the eager spectators. Before these stands, lively performances unfolded, capturing the attention of a handful of onlookers. Poets passionately recited ancient tales, their words painting vivid images of heroic deeds and mythical creatures. One poet, with a mesmerizing voice, recounted a haunting tale of Nosferatu, a creature of the night that sent shivers down the spines of the few who listened.

Amidst the poets, performers showcased their impressive skills. Jugglers skilfully tossed and caught flaming knives, their daring acts met with gasps of awe and applause. As if to add to the spectacle, some performers even dared to breathe fire, their breath transforming into a mesmerizing blaze that danced and flickered before the enchanted audience.

In the midst of the festivities, a self-proclaimed mage, known as the Great Gazib, commanded attention with his grandiose presence. With a flourish, he summoned forth an ogre, its massive form towering over the small crowd. Gasps of both fear and excitement echoed through the air as the farmers nearby marvelled at the mage's mastery over the mystical arts. The next moment the ogre exploded.

"Why on earth would anyone find that interesting?" Charmane asked, looking disgusted.

"Ah, the grand celebration of impending doom," Xan muttered under his breath. "I can already envision our untimely demise from a stray shrapnel. Truly, a captivating prospect."

Imoen, could not contain her excitement amidst the crowd. She approached the Great Gazib, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "That ogre explosion, it was just a clever illusion, right? Could you do it again? I'd love to see it one more time!"

The Great Gazib, basking in the attention and eager to assert his superiority, raised an eyebrow at Imoen's question. With a smug grin, he dramatically extended his arms and proclaimed, "No mere illusion, my dear child! Behold the true power of my art!"

As the small crowd hushed in anticipation, the mage's eyes glowed with an intense focus. He waved his hands with exaggerated precision, summoning the ogre once again. Within seconds the same ogre exploded.

"Pray tell, Great Gazib," Edwin began, snidely, " if my intellect serves me correctly, that was the same ogre that met its explosive demise earlier. How, may I ask, did you manage to recreate such a feat?"

"Ah but a mage never reveals the intricacies of his craft." Gazib replied. "The secrets of my work are shrouded in the enigmatic depths of arcane mastery, a tapestry woven with threads of wonder and intrigue. It is not for mere mortals to comprehend."

"Of course," Edwin muttered sarcastically. "The Great Gazib, master of mysteries, protector of secrets. How utterly predictable."

"Is there anything more tiresome than a pompous mage who thinks he's the epitome of brilliance?" Charmane remarked, with a grin.

"I do not merely think it, my dear, I embody it," Edwin replied with his nose held high. "Go on, mage, repeat your paltry trick. I am certain I can effortlessly deconstruct its feeble intricacies."

"Watch and behold," the mage boomed, commanding the attention of the crowd. "Welcome, one and all, to the extraordinary spectacle of the Great Gazib Show, starring none other than the illustrious Great Gazib himself! Prepare to witness the incomparable wonder of the Amazing Oopah, the world's only exploding ogre!" As he concluded his introduction, the ogre reappeared.

However, this time, instead of exploding as expected, the ogre unleashed a furious roar that reverberated through the air. "No, Oopah, just one more," the mage whispered frantically, his voice tinged with panic. "Just one final display, and then you can return to the safety of the tent... Oopah, please, put the weapon down— Oopah? Aaaaah" With a terrified scream, the mage turned and fled, his feet carrying him as fast as they could. The hulking ogre, no longer restrained, shifted its attention to the crowd of petrified onlookers.

Sensing the urgency, Charmane swiftly unsheathed her weapon and screamed, "Hey! Ugly!" she taunted, "You looked prettier in chunks!"

The furious ogre turn its attention on the rogue and charged, but she deftly rolled aside and stabbed the giant in its thighs. The next second Imoen's arrows lodged into its back, followed closely by Edwin's magic missiles.

"Don't waste your magic." Charmane chided, as the unfortunate creature lay dead before the well-equipped party. "It's only an ogre."

"Worry not, my dear, I possess an abundance of such spells," Edwin replied, smugly.

The four ventured into a spacious and vibrant tent, its entrance adorned with a peculiar sign that caught their attention. The sign, a mix of intricate symbols and bold lettering, depicted a deck of cards interwoven with shimmering dice, surrounded by a halo of golden coins. Its colourful hues seemed to dance and beckon, enticing the curious to enter.

As they stepped inside, a man clad in green-tinted leather abruptly collided with Charmane, jostling her in the process. "Good day!" he smoothly greeted, flashing a mischievous smile. "Consider yourself victimized by Vitiare, the master thief and pickpocket extraordinaire! No time for idle chitchat!" His words spilled out hurriedly as he swiftly darted away. "Gotta go!"

Vitiare had almost reached the tent flap when he felt a hand snatched hold of his hair, forcefully yanking him backward, and felt the unmistakable chill of a dagger pressed against his skin.

"Now, dear Vitiare," Charmane mocked. "Allow me to enlighten you on the dire consequences of crossing paths with a mere shadowdancer." With a sardonic smirk, she swiftly and effortlessly slit his throat, putting an end to his pitiful existence and extinguishing any glimmer of hope for escape or redemption.

"What happened to not wasting our abilities" Edwin inquired, a hint of amusement evident in his gaze. "However, I must confess, my dear, your unyielding ruthlessness is most alluring."

Charmane tilted her head, "What an odd thing to say."

Edwin raised an eyebrow, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Ah, my dear, there is a certain charm in embracing one's darker inclinations. After all, what good is power without the willingness to wield it?"

Charmane's eyes flickered with amusement as she swiftly rummaged through Vitiare's belongings, her nimble fingers finding a pouch filled with potions. With a satisfied grin, she held them up. "Looks like our master thief had quite the collection. These potions will do wonders for a rogue."

Imoen, who had been observing the scene with excitement, couldn't contain her glee. "Oh, sweet! Count me in fer a share. I'm feelin' lucky tonight, so I'm gonna go try me luck. Care to join me, Xan?"

Xan, ever the bearer of melancholy, sighed softly. "Ah, the allure of chance and risk-taking. Perhaps it is a fitting distraction from the inevitable doom that loom over us. Lead the way, Imoen. Let us indulge in fleeting moments of frivolity.

Edwin's attention shifted to Charmane, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "You say power is not your ultimate goal, yet you do not hesitate to use it. It seems to me that loyalty, as you claim, can be a double-edged sword. Tell me, dear, how do you reconcile the two?"

Charmane leaned against a nearby table, watching Imoen play a game of roulette. "Power is but a tool, Edwin. Loyalty, on the other hand, is a means to ensure the stability and longevity of that power. By surrounding oneself with a close circle of loyal pieces, one can manipulate the masses, guiding their actions and bending them to our will."

Edwin smirked, his fingers tracing the edge of his chin, as the roulette wheel spun. "So you say, my dear. But you know as well as I that in this game you play, some pawns must be sacrificed. It is the price of achieving greatness."

"But be wary, Edwin," Charmane replied, as the ball settled on a black number, eliciting a groan from Imoen. "Losing your loyal queen can also be the price of overreaching ambition."

Edwin scoffed, "You keep speaking as if loyalty is a virtue, my dear. To me such notions will continue to be a means to an end."

Charmane gave him a sly smile, her attention now fully on the red mage. "So you say. But tell me, have you ever truly been alone?"

Edwin smirked. "My dear Charmane, your concern for my well-being is touching. But rest assured, I will never truly be alone. My own mind is a vast playground of intellect and creativity. And soon I will be able to conjure a simulacrum to keep myself entertained."

Charmane snorted. "Oh please. A mere puppet that can only echo your own thoughts back to you? That's your idea of entertainment? You'd be depriving yourself of the stimulation that comes from engaging with other sentient beings. What's the point of having all that power if you have no one to share it with? No one to truly appreciate your greatness?"

Edwin sniffed, indignantly "Bah! External validation is for weak-minded fools. What higher stimulation can there be but the thoughts of Edwin Odesseiron?"

Charmane rolled her eyes. "You're missing the point, Edwin. True stimulation comes from the exchange of ideas, the sharing of knowledge, the challenge of perspectives. You can't truly grow if you're only hearing your own voice echoed back to you."

Edwin paused as he considered Charmane's words, "I suppose there may be some truth in that," he said finally. "But finding someone who can truly challenge me intellectually is no easy task." he said, smugly.

Charmane arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?" she said, slowly. "Well, perhaps you aren't looking hard enough." she said with a grin, and turned her attention back to the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I better intervene before Imoen squanders all her coins."