Chapter 18: Charming Fate
Charmane's eyes widened with curiosity and a hint of recognition as she approached Thunderhammer's smithy. There, standing with an air of wisdom and power, was the figure Charmane assumed to be Elminster, the legendary wizard of Faerun. The very mention of his name had stirred the imaginations of countless bards and readers throughout the realms. Though he had crossed paths with Charmane before, his enigmatic presence left her wondering if he had some unseen purpose in meddling with her affairs. The wizened old mage wore his iconic pointy, red, wizard hat, crimson robes and a bright blue sash. His presence, considerably distinct from Edwin's flamboyant get-up, made Charmane wonder if there was a hidden connection between a man's proclivity towards the wizarding profession and an affinity for the resplendent hues of red.
"Well now, our paths cross once more," the man said, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the assembled group. "I suppose proper introductions are in order, as we will no doubt meet again. My name is Elminster," he revealed.
"I've heard nothing but tales of thy exploits in the time we have been apart," Elminster continued, his words tinged with both admiration and caution. "It would seem that thou art destined to have quite the impact on the Sword Coast," he remarked, his tone both sagacious and foreboding. "Quite the burden for one so young."
A ripple of recognition coursed through the party as Elminster's words hung in the air. Imoen stood frozen in awe, her eyes widening with unmistakable delight. The tales she had eagerly devoured about Elminster, her idol, had suddenly sprung to life before her very eyes. Charmane could sense a tremor of excitement emanating from her young friend, as if every fibre of Imoen's being was captivated by the legendary wizard.
Edwin's lips curled into a subtle sneer, his eyes narrowing with contempt. Charmane heard him darkly mutter something about Mystra's pet and then dismiss the old man's presence with an air of superiority.
Neera's face fell with a touch of disappointment, her eyes momentarily clouded with longing.
Interestingly, neither Jaheira nor Khalid displayed surprise at the introduction, their faces remained stoic yet respectful. They acknowledged Elminster's presence with a nod.
"I suspected as much." Charmane now responded. "But do tell, why is a man of your calibre keeping track of a fledgling rogue such as I?" Charmane asked, curiously.
"Fledgling? Hardly." Elminister replied with a smile. "I am aware of thine efforts and accomplishments. Thou art quite adept, as Gorion predicted. All that remains is to determine motive."
"Gorion? You authored that letter." Charmane mumbled under her breath, the realization sinking in. Her foster father had carried a letter from an individual signed simply as "E", warning of a grave threat that had compelled Gorion to flee Candlekeep with Charmane. Elminister would likely know who her assailants were but she had a distinct feeling she would not get a straight answer even if she asked.
"Edwin speculates that I may be a prophesied Bhaalspawn." she finally stated, her gaze fixed on the wizard, watching for a reaction.
Elminster's lips curled into a faint smile, "Ah, the young Thayan, a discerning mind, indeed." he remarked, a hint of praise laced in his words. "Alas, I can neither confirm nor deny such speculations. One of the most valuable lessons that life has taught me is when not to go sticking my pipe in other people's affairs. Such is the case now as well." he said, cryptically. He stood expectantly, as if waiting for an answer.
"My motives, you say," Charmane began, thoughtfully. A brief image of piles of gold and magical artefacts flashed through her mind. "are my own and no one else's."
"Thou hast certainly taken it upon thyself to straddle the morality fence, but I cannot truly fault the results," Elminster spoke, his voice carrying a touch of admiration and perhaps a hint of caution. "I shall leave the future to thy discretion, and we shall see what happens," Elminster concluded, his voice trailing off with a touch of mystery. "I do have one piece of information for thee before I go, though 'tis hardly a surprise, I am sure," Elminster added. He confirmed that the bandits they were looking for were in the northeast. As he finished, a shimmering portal formed around him. Faint arcane symbols danced along its borders, carrying an air of mystery. In an instant, he vanished, seamlessly blending into the fabric of Faerun, leaving the party feeling somewhat unsettled.
Taerom Fuiruim stood tall, his stocky frame a testament to his years of toiling over the anvil. Muscles rippled beneath his sturdy apron, earned through countless hours of smithing. His chestnut hair and mutton-chop whiskers were shot through with gray and white, but his huge hands continued to be strong and deft. Renowned as "Taerom Thunderhammer," his skill with the forge was legendary, making him one of the most sought-after smiths in all of Faerun. Charmane had noted at least a dozen apprentices in her previous visit, but had been unable to peruse any of his special wares due to the ongoing iron shortage.
When she presented him with the mysterious vial she had discovered in the treacherous depths of the Nashkel mines, Taerom's eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and determination. He assured her that, with the assistance of one of his trusted associates, he would find a way to reverse the effects of the devastating iron plague. However, he cautioned that it would take a few days to yield results.
Now, as Charmane looked around the shop, her gaze fell upon a magnificent piece of black leather armour, its craftsmanship unparalleled, a pang of longing tugged at her heart. It promised to augment her natural ability to blend into the shadows, granting her an even greater advantage in her clandestine endeavours. Alongside it lay a dagger, its blade permanently enchanted with a lethal poison, and a crossbow designed to unleash a barrage of deadly projectiles with each pull of the trigger. These items held the promise of immense power and untold possibilities for both Charmane and Imoen.
Yet, a sense of frustration gnawed at her as she and Imoen counted their meagre coins, realizing that their combined wealth fell far short of what was required to acquire all the coveted items. Charmane's eyes lingered on the items, a wistful longing in her gaze, as she reluctantly turned away, knowing that her current means would not grant her the treasures she so desired.
As Charmane made her way out of the bustling smithy, a burst of youthful energy approached her, embodied in the form of a little girl with flowing golden locks. The child's eyes sparkled with excitement as she called out, her voice filled with unrestrained enthusiasm.
"Charmane! Charmane!" the girl exclaimed, her small feet barely touching the ground. "Someone in the Jovial Juggler gave me a shiny gold piece to come find you!"
Curiosity flickered in Charmane's eyes as she regarded the young messenger. "How do you know my name, child?" she inquired, her tone laced with a mix of surprise and intrigue.
The girl beamed, her face radiant with innocence. "Why, everyone here is talking about you," she replied, her words carrying an air of wonder. "You're the ones who saved the Nashkel mines! My momma says that even though we don't like those folks from Amn, there's no reason anyone should have to suffer so…"
Imoen's eyes widened in awe, and she nudged Charmane excitedly. "Wow, we're famous, Charmane!" she whispered, unable to contain her delight at the recognition they had garnered.
Charmane heard Edwin muttering something about insufferable do-gooders. A wry smile played on her lips as she considered their growing reputation. "Well, that's us, I guess," she remarked with a touch of amusement. "You've got a good eye, my young friend. Now, tell me, who is this person that seeks our presence so eagerly?"
The little girl's face lit up with enthusiasm as she shared the eagerly awaited information. "Her name's Officer Vai, and she's with the Flaming Fist," the child replied, her voice brimming with excitement. "And you needn't worry, she's real nice!"
Charmane's brows furrowed in skepticism as she listened to Officer Vai's proposition. "Bandit scalps?" she questioned, her voice laced with a hint of doubt. It seemed the city of Baldur's Gate had taken desperate measures, shutting its gates in the face of relentless bandit raids. Stranded outside, Officer Vai and her contingent had devised a plan to combat the scourge: offer a substantial bounty of 50 gold per scalp to incentivise the hunting of these criminals.
"It may be a gruesome approach," Officer Vai admitted, her tone tinged with understanding, "but consider the alternative. If we were to demand their heads, you would need an endless parade of backpacks to accommodate the sheer number of bandits plaguing our lands."
Charmane's eyes narrowed, her skepticism unabated. "Fair enough," she countered, her voice sharp with inquiry, "but what's to stop the unscrupulous from scalping innocent folk and claiming the bounty as their own?"
Officer Vai sighed, her expression weighted with the burden of the times. "In this dire hour, we must place our trust in the goodness of people," she replied, her voice resolute.
Edwin snorted in derision, looking every bit skeptical as he sounded. However, Officer Vai's gaze remained focused and determined as she continued, her voice unwavering, "For without that faith, we shall never find a resolution to this crisis."
"Fine then," Charmane said with a sigh, a touch of bitterness in her voice. "May the death of innocents rest on your shoulders. Guess we'll be off giving some bandits a morbid new hairdo."
As they exited the bustling confines of the Jovial Juggler, Charmane decided to disband the party for the day, so her companions could use the opportunity to rest and explore the town.
Charmane fell into stride alongside the red mage. Sensing an opportune moment, she decided to interrupt his musings about a pointy hat.
"Edwin," she began, her voice cutting through the air and halting his train of thought.
The grumpy mage scowled, visibly annoyed at the interruption. "You are so irritating!" he complained, his annoyance palpable.
Suppressing a smile at Edwin's predictable reaction, Charmane pressed on. "Have you paid a visit to High Hedge yet?"
"No," he replied, impatiently. "What of it?"
A smile played upon Charmane's lips as she replied, "Well, you see, there resides another remarkably charming conjurer who peddles a variety of enchantments. Would you care to accompany me on a visit?"
"That would be prudent, yes," Edwin responded, his irritation momentarily eclipsed by genuine intrigue. As Charmane nodded for him to follow, her words sank in, a flicker of realisation danced across Edwin's face. Did she just call him remarkably charming? Or was it perhaps an allusion to his prowess as a conjurer? Or maybe she was insinuating that the merchant in Beregost possessed those qualities?
Caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, the self-centered mage found himself in a rare state of bewilderment. His thoughts, usually tethered to his own grandeur, were now momentarily adrift, sailing aimlessly in a sea of confusion. Edwin's musings, once steadfast and unwavering, had been derailed by Charmane's offhand remark, leaving him momentarily stunned
In the guarded estate of High Hedge, nestled to the west of Beregost, Charmane and Edwin ventured into the home of the cantankerous Thalantyr.
The mage, who had been engrossed in his research, grumbled audibly upon catching sight of the intruders, his demeanour strongly reminiscent of Edwin. "Why do I live in such a pissant town?"
"I sincerely hope you have a valid reason for disturbing my solitude once more," Thalantyr huffed, impatienly. His annoyance subsided as Charmane made her intent known and the grouchy mage led her and Edwin to his collection of magical wares.
"This one," Edwin said, he pointing to a scroll of Resist Fear. "I simply can't have you scurrying about like a headless fowl every time we encounter another wizard. Consider it a precautionary measure for your rather delicate disposition."
Charmane couldn't help but roll her eyes, fully expecting Edwin's snarky remarks. Nonetheless, she proceeded to gather an assortment of magical scrolls for the wizard. Just as she was about to call it a day, her gaze was captivated by two elegant robes, each adorned with intricate silvery runes—one in pristine white, the other in a mysterious shade of gray. The robes appeared far more exquisite than the one currently worn by Edwin, prompting a question to escape her lips, laden with curiosity. "Could this be...?"
Edwin's voice dripped with disdain as he nonchalantly uttered, "Robes of the Spineless Archmagi. Utter trash." His dismissive remark caused Charmane's eyebrow to arch in curiosity. Before she could voice her thoughts, he quickly added, "Besides, we cannot afford such luxuries. Look here."
Indeed the price tag was twice that of the entire party's coffer. Charmane sighed. She wished she could shop without having to consider the price.
As they left High Hedge, Charmane found herself engrossed in deep contemplation, her thoughts consumed by Elminister's non-committal response earlier that day. A mischievous thought flickered in Charmane's mind, her lips curling into a sly smirk. "What if I were a Bhaalspawn as you speculated, Edwin? A demi-goddess," Charmane mused. "Imagine the hoard of adoring worshippers and their tithe-free offerings."
Edwin scoffed condescendingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Ah, yes, a demi-goddess of murder, revered for her benevolent ways, no doubt. I can already envision the masses trembling in adoration, eager to bask in the warm glow of her blood-soaked reign."
Charmane rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. "Oh, Edwin, always a ray of sunshine. You just had to ruin the moment, didn't you?"
Edwin smirked, enjoying Charmane's annoyance. "Oh, forgive me for injecting a dose of reality into your lofty daydreams, dear rogue. But fear not, I'm sure your reign of adoration and free offerings will be simply... enchanting."
Charmane shot back with a mischievous grin, "Well, at least my reign won't be as dull as your ego, dear wizard. The masses will dance to the tune of my charisma while you're left alone with your dusty tomes."
Edwin's expression remained stoic, his voice laced with biting sarcasm. "Ah, yes, the revered power of charisma. I'm sure it's a tremendous struggle to manipulate the feeble-minded into obediently fulfilling your every whim."
Charmane chuckled, shaking her head. "And yet, here we are, Edwin, still bound by my 'barbaric charm'. Seems like even the brightest minds are unable to resist the allure of my persuasive ways."
"Bound? Bound?!" Edwin retorted, his voice laced with indignation. "Edwin Odesseiron goes where he pleases." he declared, his tone dripping with arrogance.
Charmane chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "The mage doth protest too much. Clearly, staying by my side pleases you more than you'd care to admit." She flashed a sly smile, enjoying the exchange.
Edwin shook his head, a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Ah, Charmane, I can only hope you put as much effort into your schemes as you do into your banter."
The two fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their reverie, as they traversed the path back to Beregost.