For the first time in a long while, Fallon managed to sleep through the entire night. She wiped the crust from her eyes and observed that the morning sun had already risen well beyond dawn. Most nights she managed only a few hours at a time and always awoke with the chattering of birds. Outside, the hustle of Baldur's Gate had begun. She could hear the cries of the merchants and the bells of the various temples and towers. When she left Elfsong Tavern she observed just how fresh her mind felt, and realised how terribly she had been sleeping for so long. She trotted down the steps and into the dense mud- the previous evening's storm had turned the dirt roads into sludge, but the folks of Baldur's Gate were not deterred. The tangy taste of red wine still clung to her lips from her evening with Alfira and Lakrissa.
A sneeze tickled her nose when she breathed in the city air. Spring pollen, stirred up by the wind, clung to her dress and cape. The skirts of her dress swayed in the breeze, and her hair whipped across her face. It all felt… blessedly normal.
As she weaved between the midmorning merchants, a thought occurred to her that it had been years since she had taken off her armour– it felt liberating. Most nights she slept in it, too afraid that she would be ambushed in her sleep. Yet, spending one night with friends purged that paranoia by the morning– like healing words that seeped into her skin and stitched her back together. This was her city, she saved it, maybe it could save her too.
Lorakoen's Tower– now Gale's Tower– stood high among Baldur's Gate, like a beacon in the city. But as she moved closer to it, she found herself pulled off the main road by a buttery smell wafting from a bakery. Fresh breads, pompous cakes decorated in an array of colourful creams, and flaky pastries sung out to her from behind the glass. Autonomously, she ordered a few pastries filled with lemon cream. A pastry that Astarion had introduced to them so long ago.
"It's the best bakery in all of Baldur's Gate, even better than the ones in the Upper City. A little 'hidden gem'." Astarion handed a small pastry to each of them. Wyll smiled and swooped one up.
"I remember these! My grandmother and I used to buy these and eat them in the park every summer," Wyll took a bite, the flakes falling as he did, "Mmmm, they haven't changed the recipe at all."
"I can't believe I've never even heard of these," Shadowheart took a healthy bite, her eyes widening when she did, "Oh my Gods" she moaned through a full mouth. Astarion smirked and nodded.
"Divine, isn't it?" Shadowheart's eyes rolled back into her head.
"You really shouldn't have brought us here, Astarion, I don't think I have the capacity to not eat twenty of these a day," Gale quipped. Behind him, Lae'zel stared off into the distance, her foot tapping uncontrollably.
"This is art, this is beyond the perfection of Gods," Fallon drawled. Karlach gave an ecstatic, drawn out moan as she shovelled the rest of the pastry into her mouth.
"Astarion," she swallowed and licked her clawed fingertips, "I could literally marry you right now."
"Me too," Gale added.
"I'll marry whoever brings me the biggest, most expensive ring." Wyll moved behind Gale and Karlach to stand next to Lae'zel. She crossed her arms and refused to look at the group. Wyll held out the other half of his pastry.
"You should really try these, they're delicious." She breathed out and turned towards him.
"We don't have time for this! We need to figure out how to get the Hammer," she snapped her head towards the rest of the group, "You can all sit here eating tarts and cream, but if we don't find a way to free Orpheus, we're all doomed to be thralls." She spun on her heel and stormed away. Wyll trotted behind her and reached for her hand, which she snapped away. The two bickered far enough that the group couldn't hear them. After watching them for a few lingering moments, Karlach spoke up.
"So… how did you find this place?"
"They're open late during the festivals, I happened to bring a mark here during one and when I saw the ecstasy on their face… well," he smirked, "I knew I'd found something quite special."
"Smart," Karlach said, nodding, "I would've followed you into any creepy dungeon after taking me here."
A devilish giggle escaped Astarion, "Precisely."
"So we're eating Dead Man's Cake," Shadowheart assessed the pastry in her hand, shrugged and finished the rest of it, "Delicious Dead Man's Cake."
"Always so morbid," Fallon said, she turned to Astarion and noted his empty hands. "You're not able to taste it?" A sad smile spread across his face.
"Food turns to ash in my mouth. Not even the tadpole could change that," he wiped a spot of cream from Fallon's lower lip, "but seeing you all enjoy it feels… surprisingly good."
Behind them, Wyll gingerly put a hand to Lae'zel's cheek, who leaned her face into it.
The memory had been so consuming that Fallon hadn't realised that she had reached the tower. People flowed in and out of the front doors, the Half-Orc from the previous day dashed from one side of the counter to the other, trying to manage the demands of their customers. Fallon brushed past the crowd, went up the stairs and through the portal.
Immediately she was struck by a pungent seasalt smell. A long table stood in the centre of the room and was stacked with glassware and potion brewing equipment. The large map of Baldur's Gate now sat in the middle, held in place by beakers on its corners.
"Just leave the delivery beside the table thank you," a familiar voice called out from above. Fallon approached the table and saw the culprit for the pungent seawater smell. Piles of gillyweed were scattered across the surface. She picked up a piece between her fingers and sniffed it. She felt the slime sticking to her fingers and while the sea odour was pungent, the gillyweed was only just beginning to rot– which meant it was harvested recently.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were–" Fallon put down the gillyweed and smiled up at the familiar red-tinted face of Rolan.
"Hells Bells, ha!" the Tiefling trotted down the steps and held out his arms towards her. They embraced briefly before Rolan gave a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled away.
"The wizard wasn't lying. You really did drop by yesterday."
"I'm happy to see your talents are still being put to good use," Fallon said as her eyes grazed over the messy table.
"Sorry about the mess, we just had a few deliveries come in at once. Gale should be back soon, he's just running a few errands."
"I brought breakfast." Fallon handed the basket full of pastry treats to Rolan.
"You're a saint. As always," Rolan chuckled, "I'll brew up some coffee while we wait." As he walked back up the stairs, a faint sound of fluttering feathers drew Fallon's attention to the window. She stalked towards it, the sound getting louder.
A feathery creature erupted from the window, Fallon ducked to the floor as the creature swooped over her. It circled the ceiling twice, Fallon noted its impressive wingspan and the way it glided effortlessly. Then it graciously landed in the centre and looked up at Fallon with its feline eyes. The cat-like creature began delicately licking its paw, its impressive feathery wings nestled behind it. A sense of deja vu struck Fallon, she'd never seen such a creature before and yet somehow it was familiar to her.
"Greetings," It said between licks.
"Good morning," Fallon replied politely, resisting the urge to draw nearer to the creature to get a good look at it. Suddenly it stopped cleaning its paw and looked up at her, nose twitching.
"You smell like a horse. Perhaps twenty horses."
"Well I did just get back from living years in the wild."
"Couldn't spare a moment for a bath?"
"I did, but the soaps and oils at Elfsong are not the best of quality," Fallon crossed her arms, cheeky little kitty.
"Hmm, clearly."
The faint jingle of porcelain gently shaking on a tray interrupted them as Rolan gingerly walked down the spiral stairs.
"Ah, I see you've met Tara." Tara! The Tressick? Trassy? T-something…
"She's Gale's faithful companion. She's a Tressym." Tressym!
Gale had lovingly spoken of her one night, he had missed her and Fallon enjoyed hearing him talk about someone that wasn't Mystra.
"How are we able to speak to each other? I haven't casted any spells." Fallon queried.
"Ugh, you bipeds think you're the centre of everything. No, smelly one, I casted a spell so that I may speak to you and the rest of your ilk."
"Now now Tara, be nice," Rolan said as he expertly shoved the tray among the gillyweed, "this is Gale's friend, Fallon Abradawn." The Tressym's head snapped towards Fallon.
"You? No, you're mistaken Rolan. Gale spoke very highly of that woman." Fallon narrowed her eyes at her, Tara narrowed her eyes back.
"He said that she was intelligent, graceful, and had a voice that soothed the soul. This person is nothing more than some outlandish… horse tamer." A pebble of guilt crystallised in her chest, had Gale really thought that of her? Even after she cowardly escaped on her own?
"Tara!" Rolan stood above the Tressym, hands on his hips.
"Yes, Gale may have the tendency to overstate and inflate the qualities of people he admires but I can personally attest to Miss Abradawn's quality of character. No, she isn't well-read and sophisticated but she is observant, wise, and quick on her feet."
"Tell me how you really feel, Rolan," Fallon chuckled. Rolan looked at her.
"I'm honest above all things. Gale is loyal."
"My ears are burning," A woman emerged from the portal. She carried a sack in her arm which she placed on the floor beside the table, "The docks were full today. I'm not sure the port can even handle all the trade that's been coming in recently."
Rolan motioned at the woman's face, "Your disguise is still on."
"Oh, excuse me," her features melted and morphed like wax and tiny hairs began protruding from her chin. Gale's rugged face smiled back at them, "There, better."
"Gale, settle a disagreement, is this or is this not your friend, Fallon Abradawn?" Tara fluttered up to the cluttered table, knocking over a glass beacon with her left wing. Gale looked between Tara and Fallon, his brow cocked.
"Of course it's her."
"She smells like a horse," Tara stuck her nose up.
"Well I think horses are wonderful," Gale scratched a spot behind Tara's ear, she stretched out her neck and cocked her head for a better angle.
"Fallon brought breakfast," Rolan said, holding up the basket of treats.
"Oh no not those lemon pastries, I just got over my addiction to them," Gale picked one out of the basket and took a long sniff, "They smell as buttery as ever."
"So…" Fallon said, both men looked towards her. She shifted her eyes to the gillyweed and back to Gale. Rolan gave an uncomfortable laugh.
"Oh that, well we had a big order for potions so a huge delivery of gillyweed showed up. I'll just clean this up before they rot." Rolan handed the basket to Gale and began gathering the slimy strings of gillyweed into a bag.
"Must be very important to need this much."
"Yes, yes, it's for the… uh, well it's for…" Rolan laughed again, "for… one of the guilds I believe. Is that right, Gale?" Fallon raised her eyebrows and smiled at Gale, he returned a knowing smile back.
"No need to cover, Rolan. She already knows." Rolan straightened up and looked between Fallon and Gale.
"You told her?"
"No, we left too much evidence out. Put away the gillyweed and meet us upstairs." Gale turned and headed towards the spiral staircase, Fallon picked up the tray of coffee and followed behind. Tara interrogated Rolan about how he knew Fallon. As Gale reached the top he yelled back to Fallon.
"I had every intention of telling you, by the way. I just didn't think yesterday was the best moment."
"So how many water breathing potions can you make with that much gillyweed?" Gale sighed.
"Not enough." He stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to look down at Fallon. She recognised the defeated look.
"Do you trust me?" he said suddenly. Fallon's brows knitted together.
"Of course I do," she said.
"Then I must ask for your help,"
"Anything." Gale nodded.
"Most pleasing to hear." They placed down the basket and tray at a small circular table decorated in mosaic patterns. Fallon poured out three cups of coffee. Gale added cream to his and Rolan's and a cube of sugar to his own.
"So it's no mystery that we've been looking for the Crown. I know I said I wasn't pursuing it anymore but…" he looked at Fallon's eyes, searching them. She resisted the urge to validate him or interrupt him. She took a sip of the bitter coffee, not breaking eye contact as she did.
"When I was back in Waterdeep it didn't take long for stories about the Absolute and the Mindflayers and the Elder Brain to begin circulating. A lot of stories were untrue or exaggerated but people seemed to believe that the Absolute was thwarted." Rolan appeared beside Fallon and took the empty seat, a fluttering of wings preceded Tara.
"But I started hearing whispers about a powerful artefact that was lost in the wreckage. Mercenaries and wizards began concocting plans to retrieve it. I knew they were talking about the crown."
Rolan blew on his coffee and added "I saw a leap in magic users coming by Sundries and requesting information. I knew something strange must be happening so I contacted Gale. We agreed to work together to try and find the crown first before anyone else could."
"So why the secrecy? Why pretend like you're not here?" Fallon asked.
"People began asking me about it! Probing to see what I knew. If anyone saw me returning to Baldur's Gate, they'll know it's because I'm looking for something," Gale said exasperated, "No, it's better that they think I'm still in Waterdeep."
A moment of deja vu struck Fallon, Nine Fingers had said something similar– that it was better people believed she was gone.
"I am not interested in its power, Fallon. I'm only pursuing it to prevent it from falling into worse hands. If I thought it was safe at the bottom of the river I'd leave it there, but it's only a matter of time before someone finds it."
"And how exactly do you think I can help? I'm not that good of a swimmer."
"Exactly what I've been wondering," Tara added.
"Well… you're you!" Rolan said.
"Rolan and I have enough magic and brains between us to fill a tower, but we lack the ability to find out what people know."
"I don't understand," Fallon said. Tara leapt up onto the table and glared at Fallon.
"You silly girl, they want you to sleuth, barter, and seduce your way into the competition. Find out what they know and use it to get ahead of them."
"Not the way I would put it, but in essence… yes, that," Gale leaned in closer to Fallon,"I don't think it's in the river anymore. I think someone already has it."
It felt like lightning had struck her. The prospect that the most powerful artefact was currently sitting in a stranger's possession sent ruptures of headaches through her mind.
"So if someone has it, why haven't they used it? Shouldn't we have noticed that kind of energy," she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"I should damn well hope so," Gale's laugh was strained. She could see the way his eyes creased– the laugh masked his anxiety.
"We suspect they still need to forge it. My theory is that whoever went looking for the crown was unaware that stones were not in it. So whoever has the crown…" Rolan held his palms out to Fallon.
"Can't use it."
"Precisely."
Rolan and Gale exchanged a moment of wordless tension, their weariness evident as they glanced at each other before returning their gaze to Fallon. Lost in contemplation, Fallon chewed her bottom lip, wrestling with her thoughts. She had witnessed the crown's descent to the depths of the Chionthar, yet the whereabouts of the stones remained an enigma. The last clear memory of them was when she commanded the Netherbrain's self-destruction. Her assumption was that she lost them when she had plunged into the river, never catching sight of them again. However, it occurred to her that whoever discovered the crown might have presumed she still retained possession of the stones.
"And what of my letter?" Fallon finally asked.
"We talked about that last night. We think whoever sent you that letter may have the crown. I think they've lured you back believing you have the stones, or at least know who does. They might even already know Rolan and I are searching for it."
"So they're probably following me then."
"We should assume so. We can't confidently say that our presence is still secret." Gale sighed and took the first bite of the pastry. The satisfying crunch drew everyone's attention and each suddenly remembered the presence of the delicious treats.
"Perhaps it's safer if you sleep in the tower," Rolan said with a mouthful of pastry. He hopelessly attempted to brush the flakes off his crimson robes.
"Of course, you're always welcome, Fallon," Gale added. Tara's bushy tail swished impatiently.
"Nobody asked me."
"It's ok," Fallon held up a hand in surrender to the Tressym, "if i am being followed, and this person knows about the two of you, it's better we go forward pretending we know nothing. Act normal, act unaware."
"Good idea," Rolan said.
"So… who's on our list of suspects?" Fallon took another bite and washed it down with coffee.
"Anyone that knew about the crown. Us, Raphael, Harpers, Gortash…"Fallon choked on a piece of pastry, after seconds of uncontrolled coughing she finally managed to speak.
"That… bastard is still alive? No one killed him? Arrested him?"
"He convinced Stelmane and Ravengard that he was tadpoled himself, that his actions were not his own. Ravengard sympathised with him. But it seems Astarion might have also influenced this outcome."
Fallon buried her head in her hands and groaned into them, "Oh Star. What are you doing?" She cringed at realising she'd called Astarion by the affection name she had given him years ago.
"That's why you want me to help? You think Astarion and Gortash are working together?"
"I'm quite certain they are and have been for some time already. Gortash isn't above making alliances and Astarion is… well… affectionately– an idiot."
"With your– ahem– history with Astarion, we might at least find out what they know and if it's nothing, well, we can cross them off our list and focus elsewhere," Rolan said.
"Meanwhile, Rolan and I will continue searching the river and keep our ears on the ground. Someone is bound to mess up and give themselves away," Gale smiled and winked.
"I don't think it'll be so easy to get close to Astarion. I didn't exactly say goodbye to him either," Recalling the hastily scrawled note she left on his bed at the Elfsong Tavern, Fallon pondered– was it better to bid a pathetic goodbye or none at all? A pang of sorrow pricked her chest. Their love was not an ardent flame but rather a resilient, flickering candle amidst a tempest. In a world crumbling around them, they had sought solace and shelter in each other's presence. However, like all candles, theirs eventually flickered out.
"You'll find Gortash down at the new cathedral these days, those Stone Masters have been building it for years," Gale's voice interrupted her thoughts, she wasn't sure how much she missed with her brooding but Gale didn't seem to notice.
"Cathedral? What cathedral?"
"How could you miss it? Damn thing towers over most of the Lower City, you can even see it from the Upper City," Rolan laughed. Fallon stood up and brushed the pastry crusts from her dress.
"Then I'll start there."
"Always the efficient one aren't you?" Gale quipped. Together they descended the stairs and reached the portal. Truthfully, Fallon had little desire for company. The weight of her betrayal, the act of vanishing without a trace, gnawed at her with guilt, twisting her insides. She was resolute in her determination to make amends, to set things right, beginning with Gale. Even if it meant confronting Gortash again.
"Thank you for this," Gale had his lopsided, lazy smile that creased his gentle eyes. But behind them, she knew there was hurt. There had to be. She gave him a hug and when she pulled back she told him, "It's the least I can do."
As she turned away a hand grabbed her shoulder.
"I wanted to tell you that Shadowheart lives in the city as well, if you wanted to see her. I'm not sure where she lives exactly, but I see her quite often in the graveyard. So you might catch her there," Rolan said. The thought of seeing Shadowheart again brought a wave of relief. Of everyone she had left behind, she was certain only Shadowheart would truly understand why. Suddenly Rolan's words struck an unpleasant thought in her head and she looked into the Teifling's golden eyes.
"I'm sorry, Rolan. Who have you lost?" Fallon's voice held a gentle, empathetic tone.
Rolan's gaze dropped to the ground, his features softening into a solemn expression. His eyes seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, filled with the weight of past sorrows. "My brother, Cal," he uttered quietly, the name carrying both a heavy ache and a distant memory.
He hesitated, as if the mere mention of Cal's name opened a floodgate of emotions. "It's been a year," he continued, his voice tinged with a quiet ache. "He was always the diplomat. The level-headed peace bearer. Lia and I…"
His words hung in the air, carrying the weight of the void. Fallon sensed the depth of Rolan's grief, the lingering ache in his voice that painted a vivid picture of the profound loss he had endured. She remained silent, offering a comforting presence in the shared moment of sorrow.
He said nothing else and stared at a spot on the floor. Gale put a hand on his shoulder and said quietly:
"We'll see you soon, Fallon. Keep us updated."
Fallon stepped through the portal.