After meeting with Kagha and Nettie, the group decided to make camp. They went outside of the druid enclave since the grove was already full to bursting with all of the tiefling refugees.
Everyone gathered around a campfire that Gale had conjured. He had volunteered to make dinner and happily handed out bowls of stew to everyone.
"Apologies on the simple fare," Gale said with a smile as Letya took her serving. "I assure you that as we come across better ingredients, I'll be able to create better dishes."
A delicious, savory scent hit Letya immediately after accepting the bowl.
"No apologies necessary, Gale," Letya told him. "This smells amazing."
"It tastes even better than it smells," Wyll told her after taking a bite.
Shadowheart kept quiet but took spoonful after spoonful.
Letya watched Lae'zel eye the stew with suspicion but ultimately take a bite. Her eyes widened while the spoon was still in her mouth.
"It appears that your true skill lies in preparing meals, wizard," she told him.
Gale let out a small laugh. "I shall take that as a compliment on my culinary prowess and not as a slight on my magical abilities."
Lae'zel neither confirmed nor denied this as she continued to eat.
Letya looked to Astarion. She wasn't sure if he had sampled Gale's dish yet but at the moment he seemed to just be picking at it.
"So," Gale started as he took a seat next to Letya. "I didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but I'm relieved you were able to talk Kagha into releasing the tiefling girl, Arabella. I am by no means advocating thievery, but she was just a child. And what is youth for if not for earning grace after transgressions?"
Letya brushed his comment off with a shrug. "All I did was remind Kagha of the druid tenant of balance. It wasn't a big deal."
"It was a big deal to Arabella and her parents," Wyll replied after swallowing his bite of food.
"It was also none of our business," Lae'zel interjected firmly. "We went there to seek out the druid healer, not involve ourselves in petty squabbles that do not concern us."
Shadowheart put her spoon in her bowl and held it on her lap with both hands.
"Ordinarily, I would agree with you about minding our own affairs," Shadowheart told Lae'zel. "but this was different. Arabella is just a child. She was terrified with that snake hissing and baring its fangs at her. She must have been so relieved to return to her mother and father. I believe, in this instance, we did the right thing."
Astarion smirked at the remark from Shadowheart. "Speaking of being terrified of animals, Shadowheart… You looked pretty shaken up anytime that large wolf sauntered by while we were in that inner chamber."
A momentary look of surprise crossed Shadowheart's face. It quickly disappeared, however, as she insisted she didn't know what Astarion was referring to.
"Come now, there's no need to be bashful," Astarion continued, ignoring the seething glare he was getting from Shadowheart. "Everyone is afraid of somethi-."
"Fine!" Shadowheart interrupted angrily. "I'm afraid of giant wolves and their giant teeth and giant claws. Surely that's not so ridiculous?!"
Astarion positively beamed at Shadowheart's admission. "See? Was that so hard?"
Shadowheart ignored him and went back to her stew.
"Of course," Astarion said slowly. "Wolves are basically dogs. Out of all the terrible things out there, THAT'S what you're afraid of?" He gave a short, condescending giggle. "How very…quaint."
"If you don't shut that mouth of yours, Astarion, you might find that Wyvern toxin we got from Nettie added to your next goblet of wine," Shadowheart retorted, having calmed herself a little bit.
A look of disgust crossed Gale's face at the mention of Nettie. "Don't get me started on that woman and her nerve. How dare she elicit a promise of suicide?! And I can't believe you agreed to it, Letya!"
"What's so surprising about it?" asked Letya. "I would rather die than turn into an Illithid. It didn't seem like such an extreme request to me."
Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Wyll agreed with her.
Gale's gaze softened a bit at Letya. "Yes, I understand that. But it should be an absolute last resort and not something so readily agreed to."
Shadowheart stood and handed Gale her now empty bowl. "I think I've had enough company for the evening. If there's nothing else, I'll be heading to my tent. Thank you for the food, Gale."
She disappeared into the tent that she had set up for herself far from the others, and closed it behind her.
All of the others followed suit and went to their respective corners around the clearing they were currently occupying, leaving Letya at the fireside.
She watched Lae'zel go to her tent and immediately begin to sharpen her longsword.
In front of his own tent, Wyll drank what Letya assumed was wine while looking to the sky.
Surprisingly, Astarion walked with Gale to his tent. Letya couldn't hear what was being said but she watched as Gale pulled three books from thin air and hand each of them to Astarion. He looked to be reaching for a fourth only to have Astarion loudly proclaim that three books were plenty for the moment, before walking to his own tent. Astarion immediately began studying the borrowed tomes.
Letya allowed herself a moment to wonder about Astarion. While he was very attractive, Astarion knew it. Add that to the selfishness he had already displayed and Letya had been prepared to write him off as an arrogant, self-obsessed prick. That is, until she saw him with two tiefling children in the grove.
She had watched as one of the kids attempted to lift something from Astarion. She had looked away when Astarion spared a glance at their group but she looked back when she felt he was no longer paying her any attention. She watched as he talked to both. Then he had shocked her by pulling a dagger on the kids, but he had put it away almost immediately. Whatever he had said to the kids had put a smile on the little girl's face before she ran off.
The whole interaction puzzled Letya. She would not have guessed that Astarion would give the refugee children a second thought, much less be capable of putting a look of happiness on their faces. She chastised herself for judging him so quickly. She only met him that day. And while he had certainly shown he was vain and self-serving, that didn't necessarily mean that he was incapable of being kind or helpful. Letya promised herself that she would give Astarion a fair shake before judging him further. There seemed to be more to him than he let on and she couldn't help but be curious.
Letya tore her eyes away from Astarion and looked at Gale.
Gale seemed to be sorting through his books, setting some aside and putting others back.
Ordinarily, Letya would have joined him. Books were one of her favorite ways to pass the time and she just knew that Gale would have some amazing, rare finds. But this was her first opportunity to take stock of everything going on since she escaped the nautiloid.
After speaking to the refugees and the druids, she now had the current date and a good idea of where she was. The date being 20, Eleasis meant that she had been missing for three days. They were about 10-12 days from Baldur's Gate. That is, if they left tomorrow, went straight there, and encountered no issues along the way. Given the tadpole situation and all of the side-tracking they'd already done, Letya guessed that it would take them at least twice that, if not longer.
This will be the longest I've ever gone without seeing Raihan or Ashyr, she thought sadly. If I ever do get to see them again, that is.
Both would still be looking for her, she knew. But Ashyr would reasonably assume that she was either dead or turned Illithid. Raihan, on the other hand, would accept nothing less than her lifeless body as evidence that she was truly gone.
A bittersweet smile appeared on her face as she thought of her brothers. But the smile left her face as quickly as it came as thoughts of Morven invaded her mind, along with feelings of disgust, anger, and fear.
If she was able to get rid of the tadpole and make her way back to Baldur's Gate, that meant dealing with Morven and his demands again.
Prior to her abduction by the Illithids, she had been prepared to give in to Morven's ultimatum in order to save the life of Raihan's wife and their unborn child.
If there was a silver lining to this whole tadpole ordeal, it was that it bought her time to try and figure out a plan to deal with Morven once and for all.
Not that planning had done her any good in regards to Morven. While she considered her magical abilities to be great, Morven's talent at swordplay was, too, in equal measure. He also had numerous underlings at his beck and call while she only had her brothers.
This should not suggest that her brothers were incapable of defending her. Raihan's ranger abilities and Ashyr's roguish talents with daggers were considerable. But Letya had no desire to risk their safety. Morven, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Indeed, he would do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
Letya's hands went to her stomach. She couldn't feel the scars through the thick sorcerer robe she was wearing, but her hands knew where they were, regardless. She thought of the night she got them. The pain, the anguish, Morven's hideous, handsome face leering at her from above while she screamed-
"Upset about something?" Gale asked gently as he sat down next to her, providing a welcome interruption to her memories. "Aside from the expected inner turmoil regarding our tadpoles, I mean."
"Hmm? Oh. No, not really. Just lost in thought," Letya answered.
"Ah."
Gale looked to the starry sky for a moment before turning to her. "I won't pry, but if you would like some help navigating those thoughts of yours, I'm happy to help. Just until you're not so lost. "
Letya looked at him, surprised. "Oh, uh, thank you, Gale. That's kind of you to offer."
She went back to looking at the fire, knowing full well she was nowhere near ready to talk to anyone in this group about Morven.
"It's a standing offer, too," he assured her. "Absolutely no expiration date."
Her silver eyes met his warm brown ones. "Noted," she told him with a smile.
Gale smiled back before they both turned to stare into the flames. A moment passed in silence before Gale broke it.
"I meant what I said earlier, regarding how you handled Kagha."
Letya began to look at the stars, not immediately responding to him.
"It was nothing," she answered eventually.
Gale was still smiling at her when he turned to look at the evening sky, himself.
"I can see that you aren't one who likes to bring attention to herself." He spoke quietly, not taking his eyes off the night.
Letya looked at him again, trying to determine what to say.
"I mean no offense," he continued quickly, meeting her gaze once more. "And I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable. It's just that… All too often the good that we do is ignored because it is expected for people to live with integrity. Never mind that few practice this when it really counts. I wanted you to know that what you did, what you've done today, is impressive."
Letya felt her cheeks blush a little at his unabashed compliment.
What does someone say to that? A simple 'Thanks' sounds ridiculous. But what else can I say? I've said it wasn't a big deal twice now…
"And yet, it still wasn't as impressive as landing yourself in that giant boulder," she said with a small laugh. "Please, tell me again how it was that you managed that?"
Letya saw Gale's smile turn sad for a split second. She hoped she didn't upset him in her effort to simultaneously make light of the situation and take the attention off herself.
But Gale's expression quickly turned to one of excitement.
"Then allow me to regale you with the tale, my lady," he replied with an exaggerated bow in her direction. "Mine is a tale of intrigue, betrayal, love." He lowered his voice as he emphasized that last word.
"Really?" Letya asked with a laugh. "In that brief time spent speeding to the ground there was time for intrigue, betrayal, and love?"
"There is always time for love, my good woman!" Gale feigned outrage at her question.
As he continued to play along, adding one impossible thing after another to his story, Letya found that she was enjoying herself.
So much so that Morven didn't invade her mind again until she slipped into slumber some time later.
Astarion silently stalked the forest, looking for his meal. While he had to begrudgingly admit that Gale's stew wasn't bad, it did nothing to stave off his hunger. In truth, even the animals that Astarion drank from did little to alleviate this.
He was deep in the forest when he suddenly felt unnerved, like he was the one being hunted.
Astarion betrayed none of the panic he was starting to feel as he turned about, looking for whoever might be watching him.
"Hello?" he called. "Is there anybody there?"
He saw the trees light up from something that came from behind him. He quickly turned around to find a shadowed figure standing in the light. Astarion's panic gave way to absolute terror. He didn't have to see the figure's features to recognize his master, Cazador Szarr.
"First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures," Cazador commanded.
Astarion couldn't bring himself to move. "Master?" he croaked out nervously. "I was just coming to see yo-"
Cazador continued as if Astarion had not been in the middle of speaking.
"Second, thou shalt obey me in all things."
Astarion tried not to think of all the ways that he would be punished if he couldn't talk his way out of this. "Absolutely. It's just that I was kidnapped by a tentacle-faced-"
"Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed."
Astarion fought the sickness that was churning in his gut. His palms felt sweaty but he plastered a smile on his face, his first method of arming himself against others. Against Cazador.
"Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine." Cazador said the last word with quiet force.
All Astarion could think about was the many ways that Cazador had tortured him in the past. Memories flooded his mind, unbidden and unwanted.
Once, when Astarion had returned home later than the curfew he had been given, Cazador had Godey seal him in a coffin. Astarion had been left in the coffin for a year, unable to feed, unable to move, and unable to do anything to quell the constant panic at the walls closing in.
Nearly a century ago, Astarion had angered Cazador by second-guessing his decision to abduct a patriar that had been making it difficult for Cazador to import certain goods he needed. Cazador had become so enraged at Astarion's daring to question him that had impaled Astarion with a spear. Cazador then lifted the spear and stabbed it into the ground, all with Astarion still impaled. He had left Astarion like that for three years. Cazador would occasionally come by to re-position Astarion on the spear, sometimes pushing him further down the pole. Other times pulling him back up. Either way would elicit screams of agony from Astarion as the flesh that had healed around the pole would tear asunder again.
Another time, Cazador had carved a poem into Astarion's back, taking pleasure in the cries that he couldn't contain. Astarion hadn't done anything to earn this particular punishment. Cazador had simply told him that he had a sudden creative inspiration and couldn't be bothered to wait on the servants to bring him quill and parchment.
Astarion felt his panic and anxiety win out. "Please, Master. You have to forgive me," Astarion begged, bowing his head in supplication, too terrified to care about his pride at the moment.
Cazador sneered at him, smiling in triumph. "Pathetic. As always. But at least you know your place. And I have prepared something exquisite just for you upon your return."
Astarion's eyes flew open. He jumped up and frantically looked around, unsure of where Cazador might be. It took several moments before Astarion realized that he had been dreaming and that Cazador hadn't been here. Astarion didn't know if he had simply had a nightmare or if Cazador had truly reached out. But one thing that Astarion did know for sure was that he didn't feel any compulsion to return to Cazador. And he hadn't all day.
Under ordinary circumstances, Cazador would have compelled Astarion to return and face his wrath. And Astarion would have been helpless to do anything but obey. But now? No such coercion existed in his mind. He'd been gone way longer than Cazador allowed. There was zero chance that Cazador hadn't tried to force him back home. Was this another benefit of the tadpole? Or was he just too far for Cazador to assert his will at this distance?
Astarion needed to figure it out. Assuming incorrectly in this case would truly be disastrous. The tadpole offered the huge benefit of day-walking. That definitely had nothing to do with how far away Cazador was. There were other things that Astarion could test, such as crossing moving water or entering someone's home without permission…
…or feeding from a person instead of an animal.
Astarion looked around the camp and briefly contemplated sampling the blood from one of the party members. But fear quickly talked him out of it. Not only due to Cazador, as feeding from thinking beings was strictly forbidden, but also because Astarion had never fed from anyone before. He was unsure of being able to do it without waking the person. And chances were, they wouldn't take kindly to him feeding on them. Each was formidable in their own way and Astarion wasn't completely confident in his ability to survive should any of their party turn their blade toward him. And if Astarion was wrong and Cazador could indeed still punish him for disobeying, then Astarion needed all the help he could get. And alienating himself from the group by feeding on any one of them would likely result in the group gladly turning him over to Cazador.
Astarion needed his new companions. There was the obvious benefit of safety in numbers, of course. Either all of them together could take down whatever enemies came their way or the others would serve as a distraction long enough for him to make his escape.
But Astarion also needed to get especially close to an individual in the group. That way, he would have someone that would stand against the group in defense of him, if it came to that. Someone that wouldn't turn against him, even if they found out he was a vampire spawn. Someone that would prioritize his safety and well-being. And Astarion only knew of one way to accomplish this: seduction. And luckily for him, each person in this camp was reasonably attractive. That would make things so much easier for him to stomach. However, unluckily for him, none of them would be simple. Each had at least one hurdle that would make the game more difficult.
His mind turned to each member of his party as he considered them in this new light. True, he had only spent a day in their company, but the hundreds of years he had spent manipulating and seducing others had taught him to read people quickly and accurately.
Gale and Shadowheart were unlikely contenders as both seemed to have a preference for women. Neither had looked at him once with desire. But Shadowheart's eyes had flicked to Alfira, a tiefling bard at the refugee camp, a few times. And Gale had been looking at Letya with obvious appreciation. So while Astarion had successfully persuaded people to come away with him regardless of their sexual preferences in the past, he didn't have the time to waste on this now. Not to mention, attempting this and failing would make it that much harder to seduce someone else in the party. No one liked feeling like they were the "runner up," after all.
Lae'zel had given him the "let's get naked" look after their brief battle with the goblins. And Gods knew she was a fierce fighter. But Astarion could tell that something as insignificant as sex would not be enough to turn her head. She would bed him then leave immediately after and not give him a second thought.
Wyll had not tried to hide his glances at him. But he had also already flirted with Lae'zel and Shadowheart. If Wyll had his eyes on others, then Astarion would have to persuade him to choose him. Not too big of an obstacle, to be sure. The bigger obstacle was that Wyll seemed to look at the world in very "black and white" lenses, no gray allowed. If so, then Wyll was more likely to drive a stake through his heart than aid him in any way, should the truth about his heritage come out.
As for Letya, Astarion hadn't seen her looking at him with lust or desire. But he hadn't seen her look at anyone else in that way, either. Thanks to his vampiric abilities, he could hear her heart rate accelerate slightly when he got close to her. But was that because she was interested or because she was anxious?
Whichever category she fell under made seduction more difficult. If she became nervous when he got too close because she didn't like people in her personal space, then the game was going to take a lot of time to move past the first round in his efforts to not scare her off.
It might seem like the preferable cause of her increased heart rate would be that she was interested in bedding him. But in this case, that didn't necessarily make things easier. If Letya was interested, she wasn't showing it. And if she wasn't showing it, there was likely a reason. One explanation would be that she was already seeing someone so she wasn't trying to pursue anyone else. And in that case, Astarion could easily entice her away from whoever might be waiting on her back in Baldur's Gate. Another reason could be that she was one of those women who admired from afar but had no real expectations of anything happening. If she was one of those, then there could only be two reasons: she was either especially naive with the opposite sex (which would make luring her easy) or she was especially suspicious of the opposite sex (which would make enticing her difficult). Also, Gale seemed to have taken a liking to her. If Astarion chose to pursue Letya, he would be going against Gale. A minor hindrance, of course, but a hindrance, nonetheless.
The only reason Astarion wasn't putting her in the "unlikely" category with Gale and Shadowheart was because Letya seemed to be the helpful, forgiving sort. She was quick to let bygones be bygones when he had pulled a dagger on her when they first met. She rescued Gale instead of just walking on by. And she had saved that tiefling girl, Arabella. So she seemed the most likely of the group to back him up if the situation called for it and the one least likely to care about his being a vampire.
Astarion would do what he could tomorrow to help discern the right companion for him to focus on. For now, he needed to feed. He quietly left the camp to find an animal to slate his thirst, hoping for something decent sized, like a boar…
Morven Bidri looked at the cowering man that had just been thrust into the chair across the desk from him. Brygg was his name and he had been in the Bidri family's employ since Morven's father ran the household. He was human with dark eyes and dark skin that reflected many scars that were earned after joining the Bidri family guard.
"So, Brygg," Morven started. "I first want to apologize for interrupting your vacation." Morven smiled at him, his tone sounding sincere.
"N-no, my lord! I wasn't on any vacation! I was trying to locate your prisoner. She managed to escape when that giant ship came throu-," Brygg's words died in his throat when Morven's smile grew bigger. Brygg began to tremble in his seat. He had been a member of Morven's private guard until just three days ago. He knew all too well that Morven's smile rarely meant anything good.
Morven was a very wealthy and handsome patriar of Baldur's Gate. Tall, broad shouldered, and very fit, he could have his pick from any woman he desired. And he frequently did. With golden hair that was long enough to need to be swept back out of his vision, bright blue-green eyes that were similar in shape to a cat's, and a smile that charmed most, he never heard the word "no" from anyone. At least, not until that draconic sorcerer came along.
"I see," Morven said. "And you were so dedicated to locating Letya that you even recruited your young daughter to help you?"
Brygg tried to stop himself from shaking. He froze, unable to say anything.
Morven continued. "From my viewpoint, it looks like you were trying to run away with your daughter after setting Letya free. Please, if I am mistaken, by all means correct me."
At no time did Morven's voice change from a calm, reassuring tone.
Brygg looked about the room, trying to think of something, anything, that would get him out of this mess.
He saw a guard on either side of the only door in the room. He knew them both, but they purposefully avoided his eyes. Celix, Morven's most trusted employee, stood to the right of Morven.
Celix was a mystery, no one knew anything about him except that he was a man and was human, elf, or a mix of the two. He wore dark leathers and a cowl that kept his face shrouded in shadows at all times, even in a brightly lit room. Whether Celix was loyal to Morven himself or the gold he got from Morven was a mystery. But either way, he would be of no help to Brygg.
There were three others in the room, none of whom looked familiar to him. One was an elven man with dark hair and pale eyes. He was seated in one of the comfy chairs that Morven had a few yards away. Normally the chair, along with the other next to it, would face the fireplace. But this one had been turned around so the man occupying it could see Morven and Brygg. The elf was dressed in expensive but sensible clothes, which told Brygg that he was likely a well-off traveler or merchant.
On either side of him were what Brygg assumed were his own guards: one an elven woman and the other a half-orc man. The guards looked ahead, both wearing the same stoic expression on their faces. The elf that was seated looked extremely relaxed, though his eyes were focused on Brygg and Morven. He seemed to be waiting for something. Alarms were going off in Brygg's mind.
Somehow, Morven knew that Bryyg had decided to release Letya from her bindings. There was nothing that Brygg could say to try to convince Morven otherwise. So Brygg decided to tell a little bit of the truth. Though he knew it wouldn't change anything. Morven had likely decided on his course of action long before they entered this room. And whatever it was, it would be something truly terrible. What if Morven decided to..?
Brygg shuddered briefly, an image of his beloved daughter entering his mind. He silently prayed to the Gods that his daughter would be left out of whatever was coming.
He looked to Morven. "I-I-I, let her go."
Morven's smile grew even wider. "Go on," he encouraged Brygg.
"That giant ship was tearing through the city. It was snatching people up with its giant arms. The prisoner was worried for her brothers."
Brygg hurried on when Morven said nothing. "You wouldn't have had any way to convince her to do as you were asking if anything happened to her brothers so I… I let her go."
"So you're saying that you let her go solely out of concern for me and my goals?"
Brygg looked down and said nothing, knowing without any doubt that he was going to be punished horribly. The reason he told Morven that he had freed Letya was not true, and the lie he told was weak. Truthfully, he was worried about his own daughter when the mind flayer ship appeared and felt a moment of sympathy for the woman who had the misfortune of catching Morven's eye. So he had released her before fleeing to find his child. But he did not want to bring his daughter to Morven's attention any more than necessary.
Please, Brygg silently pleaded. Please leave my daughter out of this.
"Oh, excuse my manners. I haven't introduced you to my guest," Morven said, gesturing to the elf that had been watching them. "Brygg, this is Deovin. He is just passing through Baldur's Gate. He is a collector and purveyor of unique items, a job that always has him on the move."
Brygg knew that Morven was being intentional with everything he was doing, including "forgetting" to introduce Deovin until now. Whatever Deovin was doing here, it was going to be bad.
Please don't involve her. Please please please.
Morven turned his gaze to his guest. "Deovin, did you know that Brygg has worked for my family for nearly two decades? A fine guardsman, to be sure. Many of his scars he got while protecting me," Morven said with a smile.
Deovin smiled back. "A guard that has literally bled for you many times over. A valuable find."
"True enough," Morven agreed. "But a few days ago, Brygg cost me something that I've been trying to acquire for over a year. I finally had her in my grasp and he just let her go."
Morven looked back to Brygg.
Please please please
"Brygg also has a beautiful daughter named Neva."
Brygg's breath caught in his throat as he clenched his fists.
"How old is she now, Brygg? Fifteen?" Morven asked, feigning ignorance when Brygg knew that Morven was anything but.
Brygg didn't respond.
Morven continued as if Brygg had confirmed Neva's age. "Gorgeous dark skin, shiny brown curls, doe eyes, full lips. She will be a beautiful woman one day, right Brygg?"
Please please please please please
"She's still too young for my tastes," Morven lamented. "But fifteen is right up your alley, am I correct, Deovin?"
"Possibly, if she's as pretty as you say," Deovin responded with disinterest.
Morven stood. "Allow me to show you."
He walked around his desk, stopping to turn the chair with Brygg in it so he could see what was going to transpire. Morven nodded to one of his guards at the door while moving to stand behind Brygg. The guard opened the door, showing another guard and a scared girl that matched Morven's description. The inside guard grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her into the study, shutting the door behind her. He pushed her into the middle of the room.
"Neva!" Brygg cried out. He tried to stand so he could go to his daughter's side but Morven put his hands on Brygg's shoulders and forced him back into the chair.
"Father, what's going on?" Neva asked him her voice shaky as she looked around the room with wide eyes.
Deovin stood and walked over to Neva. He looked her up and down while circling her, clearly pleased with what he saw. He turned his now flushed face to Morven. "She's prettier than you said, Morven." Deovin's voice was breathy as he ran a hand over his chest, looking back at Neva.
Morven smiled again. "Indeed. Words cannot do her justice, as you can see."
Suddenly Brygg knew how Morven was going to punish him. He slipped from Morven's grasp and hit his knees, bowing as low as he could to Morven.
"Please, Lord Bidri. Please spare my daughter. She is innocent!"
"My my, Brygg. No one's going to hurt Neva," Morven assured him.
Deovin licked his lips as he circled Neva once more, looking at her backside. "Who could ever hurt such a beautiful young lady?"
"In fact, Deovin is going to help Neva. She's going to travel with him and he's going to teach her all the things that a woman should know."
Brygg felt tears sting his eyes. He looked up at Morven, not bothering to try to hide the grief on his face. Celix stepped to Brygg and roughly helped him to his feet.
"But I'm not heartless," Morven said. " I can only imagine how hard it is for a father when his child is ready to leave the nest. So you have a choice."
Celix turned Brygg so that he was again watching his daughter.
"You can say goodbye to Neva here and now then continue to work for me. Or you can go with Deovin and your daughter. If you go, you'll be able to keep an eye on her and everything that's happening." Brygg felt sick as he watched Deovin smell Neva's hair. She started trembling, tears spilling down her face.
Brygg knew what Morven was getting at. He could stay and work like normal, leaving his daughter to Deovin. Or he could go with them, but would always be painfully aware of what was being done to her. And there would be nothing he could do about it unless he wanted to be killed, therefore leaving her all alone. As much as it made him want to vomit, he needed to go with Neva. Maybe there would be a chance to rescue her later.
"I'll go with Neva," Brygg told Morven quietly.
"A decision that any decent father would make," Morven remarked with a smile. "Deovin is leaving almost immediately so I'm afraid neither of you will have time to gather anything."
Brygg said nothing.
"But before you go, Celix will have to break your arm," Morven told Brygg, his tone no different than someone commenting on the Elf Song's newest wine. Brygg's head snapped up, meeting Morven's smiling gaze. "You're a capable fighter, Brygg. We can't have you harming my new friend in a misguided attempt to save your daughter."
"No, please!" Neva shouted, trying to run to her father. But Deovin snaked an arm around her, stopping her as she kicked and screamed.
"Neva, stop!" Brygg said to her quickly, afraid that things would get worse for her if she carried on.
"One more thing before Celix gets started, Brygg."
Brygg looked at Morven, fear etched across his face.
"Say, 'thank you.' After all, I graciously convinced Deovin to take you in, in spite of your failings with what is mine."
Brygg met Morven's stare for a brief moment before letting his gaze drop. "Thank you, Lord Bidri, for allowing me to accompany Neva," Brygg responded, his gaze and tone empty.
Morven gently placed a hand on Brygg's shoulder and squeezed. "Brygg, it is my absolute pleasure," he replied with genuine sincerity.
Morven stood up straight and nodded to Celix.
Celix stepped forward. He grabbed Brygg's right arm and pulled it straight. He then lifted a club high in the air before bringing it crashing down onto Brygg's arm, the bones snapping.
Brygg screamed before blacking out.