Chapter 32: Damage Control (part 1)

Jaheira was staring into the fireplace, her head in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “If there is one thing I hate more than an ambush, it’s a frame-up.”

They were seated or standing. Nyx was draped over the sofa, her legs wobbly from the polymorphing.

Astarion tapped his chin. “So, everyone in the Counting House saw that it was, uh, fake you and Minsc that robbed the place?”

She nodded.

“Well, Orin has certainly done a number. Why isn’t the guard breaking down the door as we speak?”

Tav rubbed her forehead, and Gale supplied casting a sympathetic look at Jaheira, “By smuggling the real Jaheira out as a rat, and fancy footwork from our silver-tongued lucky charm.” Tav gave him a small smile.

Wyll’s brows were knit. “And Minsc is alive... although tadpoled. Perhaps there is something to his miniature giant space hamster companion.”

Lae’zel harrumphed. “They are for eating not miniaturizing.”, garnering her a few confused and dubious glances.

Nyx was reclining backwards over the armrest of the sofa, trying to stretch out her spine; it felt compressed and she was sure it was psychosomatic more than anything else. With her eyes closed, she asked, “How do we fix it?”

Jaheira sighed, taking a swig from her bottle. “Glitterbeard and his guards are still after me. Regardless of laying eyes on the other shapeshifters for themselves, and still they did not believe me. Anything other than dragging Orin in front of all Baldur’s Gate, and forcibly demonstrating her fake Jaheira trick; I don’t see anyone taking my word for it. Gortash is dancing on High Hall’s wall tonight.”

A chair scraped against the floor as Tav took a seat at the table. “Then we do damage control. I’ll start sending missives. The rest of you, get some rest.”

“Or drink,” Karlach grumbled, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll be wallowing with Jaheira.”

The veteran Harper raised her bottle in the air. “No complaints here; the more, the wallowier.”

--- --- ---

Try as she may, sleep would not claim Tav. Her stint in bed turned into tossing, turning and an unwelcome visit by the Emperor. His ill timing and her ill temper made for poor bedfellows. She asked him directly - or rather accused, "You were the cause of her stroke. Duke Stelmane’s. I read her caretaker’s diaries, Shadowheart confirmed it was unnatural. You said she was your ally, not your puppet."

Oh, and how quickly, and with finality; his façade fell.

“Make no mistake. You are my puppet too, unless you’d prefer to be the Elder Brain’s. You have no choice, but to do as I say.“

She bit back so many words, since at the end of the day they needed each other, but Tav would not be his puppet, nor anyone else for that matter.

The floorboard creaked as she dragged her feet to the common room, and then to the stacks of reports on the table. Everyone else had given up on using the table for its intended purpose. She might as well attempt to thin the growing mass of papers. Instead, her hands reached for her journal.

1 Marpenoth

 

Leaffall is upon us, and the Archduke has announced that celebrations for Highharvestide would be grander than years before, lasting a full week. I would have rejoiced in such an announcement from Duke Ravenguard, strummed songs and enjoyed the merrymaking with a full and settled heart. But my fellow Baldurians cannot see what lurks behind the gesture, and I cannot tell them. It is disheartening to know that they would view the truth as treason. It is a play that we cannot risk. Not now.

 

We ventured straight into the latter of his design. A sleight of hand that has disabled the Harpers from operating openly in the Gate and nullified our potential alliance with the Guild in a single stroke. Jaheira framed as an accomplice to the Stone Lord. Who had been Minsc; captured, tadpoled, and turned against everything he had ever fought for. The parallels to Ketheric’s methods are not lost on me. He too had dismantled opposition not only through open confrontation, but through the quiet corruption of its members by turning loyal fighters into instruments. Gortash proves himself a faithful student of Bane.

 

The Harpers are forced underground. I have yet to hear from Keene about my proposal. There is no love lost between the Guild and the Harpers, but legend has recorded that necessity brokers the strangest of arrangements, and I have learned not to underestimate what a shared enemy can accomplish. We have firsthand accounts of Orin working with the Stone Lord; their connection to Gortash and the Absolute remains a formality awaiting evidence. I have yet to find it.

 

One way or another, it amounts to miles of paperwork and an evening of restless worry, and I find I am less certain about the odds than I have permitted myself to appear.

 

Tymora teaches that luck is a coin with two faces, and I know this. I have held to it across the Shadow Cursed Lands, across Moonrise, across every table where the dice have not fallen favourably. But tonight I find myself staring at the coin rather than flipping it. The rug pulled from under us by the dual efforts of Orin and Gortash, the curtain lifted from a once-close ally. I cannot pretend the cumulative weight of these setbacks sits lightly. Florrick trained me to read the board as it stands, not as I would wish it. As the board stands tonight, I would not be foolish enough to call it favourable.

 

And yet. We have freed Shadowheart and her parents, allied Rolan and Ramazith’s tower to our cause, and secured access to the Harbourlight Archives’ restricted sections. From the Cloister of Sombre Embrace we have a name - a diabolist - and only their location remains between us and the Orphic Hammer. Counselor Florrick and Aedric have proven more amenable to the shape of our shadow network than I had dared hope, actively looking for ways to expand without overplaying their hands. Our people are still in place. The network did not unravel; it bent. There is a difference, and I must not lose sight of this.

 

I will wait for tomorrow, when new winds blow in from the Chionthar. As Karlach would say: “Let them come”. We have found another way until now. I must hold to the faith that we will do so again... Even when tonight, I cannot quite see how.

Tav’s hand went to her forehead, accidentally striking a stack of papers. It, along with Mohan’s package, toppled from the table. The ruffle of papers glided across the floor, including a rattle of something else. She sighed at her meticulous filing reduced to a mess on the floor, sliding from her chair to the floor to recover the reports. A blue glow caught her eye in the table’s shadow and lifting the papers on top revealed a pair of spectacles. She picked them up; the glow was now gone.

Are these Dagna’s?

A streak of orange darted across the lenses, and Tav squinted through them. She gasped as every report was outlined in one of three colours. Orange; light blue and the latter's darker counterpart. With the spectacles firmly on her nose, she searched for Mohan’s parcel and rummaged through the box. She withdrew a bracelet, and a note outlined in light blue.

A special (and rather expensive) requisition. Dagna swore by these. I’m sure you’ll find them to your liking.

Light blue: original, penned by the author

Dark blue: faithful replicate of original document

Orange: counterfeit

She placed the bracelet around her wrist and picked up one of the light blue reports. The tingle against her skin and the buzz of the bracelet made her whoop and she clamped her hand over her mouth. The scent of ink and parchment became amplified at the activating spell. Several papers rustled on the ground and some of the stacks on the tables. Disturbing none of it, the papers lifted into the air and suspended themselves before her. A quick scan revealed that all the reports, snippets, and notes were related. Tav blinked away the tears welling in her eyes.

Oh, Dagna and Mohan. Tymora bless you!

With fire in her belly, she sorted through the papers, discarding the counterfeits into the low burning fireplace and ploughed through the stacks. Quill in hand, she penned and sorted the relevant files into Dagna’s folio. Keen on finding new or overlooked leads.

A gentle hand on her arm shook her awake. By the time Gale found her, she was draped over the Dagna’s folio and had fallen asleep, spectacles and all.

He chuckled at her incoherent noises and took in the cleared table. Exasperated, he said, gawking at her results, “You’ve gone through all of it!?”

She gave him a sleepy grin, gripping the spectacle’s temples and shook loose her bracelet. “Gifts from Mohan. Filin’-a-breeze.”

His eyebrows bobbed. “In that case, you are due for a long and well needed rest. I have just the thing.” He guided, or rather half-carried her back to their room. One Angelic Slumber potion later and Tav was gone to the world.

--- --- ---

They were under strict instructions: today was a ‘personal day’. Nyx snorted at the confused faces around the common room. Most of their group sat at the table, breakfast temporarily forgotten, and Tav clarified, “We need to lay low until our network has sorted the fallout from last night.”

Karlach scratched her good horn. “So, we get to do whatever we like, yeah?”

Astarion was bursting. “I know exactly where I’ll be. I didn’t submit myself to wanton humiliation for nothing.” He fanned himself with the pass to the Harbourlight Archives’ restricted section.

Karlach scrunched her nose. “Ugh, boring!”

A deep frown creased Tav’s brow, and she retrieved her own pass. Her eyes widened. “We were only supposed to get a one-day pass.”

Nyx fished out her own pass and glanced at the writing; it permitted full lifetime access.

How did he pull that off? We were personally handed the one day passes.

Astarion’s face split and he said in a tone dripping with delight, “Darling, we’re more than worth it.”

Tav narrowed her eyes at him, and shrugged. “I’ll join too.”

Gale and Nyx seconded with the same reply, “Me too.”

The others opted for a visit to Garynmor stables, along with Scratch and Bean. Bounding on her toes, Karlach suggested a check in on Dammon too. This suggestion garnered interest from those going to the library, and Karlach was provided with a ‘shopping list’ for Dammon.

---

“Harpers and Stone Lord grand larceny! Read all about it!”

A crowd surrounded the news sheet boot. Jaheira and Minsc’s likenesses plastered on the front page and notice boards. Prominently featured in the ‘criminals’ section next to the Ironhand gnomes.

As soon as Tav purchased the Baldur’s Mouth she had disposed of it, stating it to be, “Nonsense propaganda and fear mongering.”

Either way, seeing Jaheira and Minsc's faces on every corner had a taste of finality to it. Tav and Jaheira had the foresight to act quickly, moving the Harpers from their usual spot to a temporary safe house until a more permanent alternative could be arranged. Fortunately, Nyx and her companions weren’t implicated, and she wondered how long that holding pattern would last while they proceeded to the Archives posthaste.

Bright expressions greeted them at the library and ushered them through to the restricted section upon inspecting their passes. No questions asked, much to Nyx’s relief and a knowing wink from Astarion. They followed the librarian to the lower floors, where the arching hallways of white maple gave way to fluted columns streaked with brown and reinforced with metal beams. Bookshelves were replaced by massive display cabinets and glass panels shimmering with wards and other magic. The restricted section was an entire library unto itself, and the librarian led them to the reading area.

Light played against the walls and the interior took on a blueish tint. The source of which greeted them behind a set of doors. A gasp escaped each of them as they marveled at the sight, the librarian clasping her hands together and wrinkling her face in proud amusement.

Tav said, her eyes drawing upwards to the ribbed roof, “Its like being inside a bubble!”

A large manta ray glided through the water overhead, casting a flying shadow over the tables and chairs. Ripples of light and shadow danced over every visible surface, and the calming movements of sea creatures were akin to a dream. Nyx wanted to set up her tent in here and wake to this ocean view every day. The library didn’t have an aquarium; it was one, jutting into the harbour itself - a window into a realm Nyx wouldn’t have otherwise been able to visit.

The librarian cleared her throat and grinned at them, snapping them from their reverie. After giving them a quick indication of each topic covered by the bookshelves and display cases, she wished them ‘happy reading’ and departed. Nyx retrieved her list of subjects she wanted to research, her fingers twitching at finally getting ahold of the information. Tav and Gale had already dispersed in opposite directions while Nyx orientated herself. Before she could wander off, Astarion cleared his throat and gave her an expectant look.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Alright, let’s settle our deal first.”

---

Opposite the reserved section’s entrance was the ‘donations’ booth. It also handled dangerous texts. Nyx greeted the receptionist and flourished her patron card. The woman disappeared into the back room and returned with a giant ledger book that required two arms to carry. She paged to the appropriate section, ran her finger down the list, and paled at the entry.

The young woman swallowed and asked in a high voice, “You - you want to take out this book?”

Nyx gave her a sympathetic smile. “No. I’m requesting access for my companion over here.” She gestured to Astarion, who looked like the cat that got the canary.

“Oh, I, uh. Let’s me get the application and card.”

Several signatures later, and Astarion was asked to wait while the warded reading room was prepared. He tutted when she left and said, “The poor dear is near fainting.”

“Well it isn’t everyday people take out books on Drowic torture methods. If it were me, I’d be concerned about us too.”

“Hah! It’s for purely academic reasons.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

He tilted his head. “You’re not joining?”

Nyx held up her hands and blurted, “No. Once was enough. I got I needed from it to survive those techniques. I’m not interested in revisiting them for ‘academic reasons’.”

A door creaked open down the corridor, and Astarion was invited for the reading session. Nyx waved him off and saw herself to her own book hunt. She shook her limbs out after a prickling shudder ran through her body.

I’ll try not to think too much about what he’ll do with the information in that book.

---

Nyx’s head felt like it had been stuffed with gauze, soaked in water and mixed with a spoon. Her mind dizzy with information. Blood diseases, vampire biology, sunlight resistance in the undead, abyssal demons, and theories on the Abyssal plane. Strategies, connections and patterns linking them were swimming around her head like the school of circling fish above.

She puffed out her cheeks and leaned back in her chair, staring at the swaying motion of the colourful corals, where equally colourful fish darted between hiding places. Taking a break, she went in search of one of the others and found Tav studying at a cartography desk, magnifying glass in hand.

With an elongated neck and standing on her tippy toes, Nyx gleaned the outlines of a blueprint and caught the name; ‘Tumbledown’. She cleared her throat and said, “Great minds.”

Tav straightened and flashed a mischievous look, “Well, it’s like you said: ‘Luck favours the prepared’.”

Nyx inclined her head, and pointed to the pile of maps on the table. “Need some help with those?”

“Yes! I was going to ask a big favour.” Tav pulled out one and handed it to Nyx. “Could you make copies of this one in particular?”

As Nyx unrolled the parchment. The first thing to reveal itself was the name printed in large dark blue letters: ‘The Szarr Estate’. Farther down, Nyx spotted a small annotation at the bottom, and a sly smile split her face. She said, “No favour at all. I’ll gladly make as many copies as you want... We’ll need the River veins too.”

Tav grinned, but feigned a cringe and asked with one eye closed, “And what about the Upper City and a few other places too?”

“Add them to the pile.” Nyx pulled up a chair and collected her drawing tools.

Beaming, Tav gathered the maps and deposited them on Nyx’s desk. They continued in companionable silence while Tav brought additional books to her own desk. Glancing at their spines, they covered topics such as the Nine Hells, devils, Githyanki, and mindflayers.

I don’t think one day is going to be enough for any of us.

Tav grinned at Nyx’s interested expression and said, “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

“Deal.”

Divide and conquer.

That reminded Nyx, and she made a note to send a special requisition to Dammon once she gets back to the Elfsong.

--- --- ---

“Useless!” Astarion slammed the tome shut, its title glimmering in the magical lights of the archive: ‘Infernal Rituals & How to Summon Devils’. The thump had disturbed both the Codex and the gemmed book with the gaping maw; whispering ensued between the two. If only Astarion could understand their prattling, which had been enough of a general disturbance that he was sitting inside a cone of silence after being shushed by the other patrons several times.

His eyes drifted back to the tome before him. A contact... Cazador’s contract with a devil... Could it be Raphael? No matter. I should find something on infernal contracts.

He rose to scour the books and returned with a handful of tomes. Setting them down to the company of whispers. After a moment, he realized he was staring at the Codex and had tangled his fingers by fretting. He huffed, straightened and rummaged through his pack instead; retrieving the stronger potions of mental and physical fortitude he had asked Nyx to brew for him, as well as the remove curse scroll he got from Shadowheart.

No more delays.

He had to know. Soft mint dominated his senses while drinking the first potion. The physical fortitude one wasn’t nearly as pleasant, and the overwhelming taste of iron and dirt made him choke. Before he could think twice about it again, his hand snapped up the Codex and he flipped it open to the index page. Nothing happened.

How delightful.

He grinned while scanning the page and ran his finger down the subjects on display. The gaping book’s whispering increased tenfold at one particular line: ‘The Necromancy of Thay’. It shouldn’t surprise him that the book was written by none other than the Red Wizards. A flurry of turning pages later and he couldn’t believe his luck. Until he nearly fell off the chair in a fit of swooning and an oppressive weight settled on his chest. His body slid to the floor, and he was sure he would have suffocated if he were still in need of breath. A gasp left him nonetheless when the sickness lifted for a moment and he snatched up the scroll, slurring the incantation in the first attempt. Clarity and strength returned to him slowly, and by the third attempt, the magic of the scroll activated, bringing with it sweet relief.

Astarion groaned from his hunched position and wrestled himself back onto the chair. He sighed as the sickness abated. Suddenly his body was lighter than ever before; a sense of achievement surged through him. Almost as delicate as when he realized he was no longer under Cazador’s control.

The trove is finally open!

He devoured the accessible contents of the Codex and swiftly moved onto the book of Thay; its incessant spirit interference reduced to a mere nuisance of background nagging. Between the details about the ritual for Ascension, and infernal (and necromantic) contracts; a new opportunity had revealed itself.

What if by taking Cazador’s place, I inherit the protection from the contact? An immunity of sorts.

A diabolical thought indeed, not beyond the scope of what Cazador would do to secure the ascension. Giddiness seized him next; perhaps he’d been overcomplicating it all this time. He would be the Ascendant Vampire; free to walk in the sun indefinitely, free to do as he pleases, free from any master. But. A cautionary voice surfaced and Nyx’s warning rang in his mind, doubt creeping along his scalp. He can’t know for sure without the contract in his hands. And yet, claiming the ritual and extending both protection and power to himself...

Tantalizing.

---

He followed his nose and found Nyx at a table with the best view of the sea above. Astarion spared it a curious glance, his attention focused on the play of waves over Nyx’s skin. It painted her neck in dancing light, tugging at him and he licked his lips.

“My sweet.”, he said softly past her ear and gripped the back of her chair. She shifted to greet him, but was cutoff by an appreciative hum as he kissed a line down her neck. Cautious of the temptation of the moment. Her body rose, and she pressed her neck into his mouth. The tugging increased tenfold, the lingering mint and iron replaced by the forest, rain and smoke. Temptation won.

The teasing nip drew a sharp breath from her. He moved, placing one hand on the table and leaning over her to capture her lips. He consumed her moan while her hands glided up his chest; one gripped his shoulder and the other the back of his head, pulling him in. He indulged in the taste of her flushed lips, and before they could get carried away, he straightened. She looked otherworldly in this light, and he breathed, “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

He was rewarded twice over when her blush reached her cheeks, and he gave her a fanged grin.

--- --- ---

Nyx was practically squirming under his prolonged and very close attention.

Goodness, he still reduces me to a blushing teenager.

The faint whiff of mint tickled her nose. She cleared her throat and said, “Mr smooth talker. I take it you found what you we’re looking for here? Good news?”

He made himself comfortable to the right side of the table and announced with a flourished gesture, “More like phenomenal, my love. The Triachaite Codex and the Necromancy of Thay have spilled their guts to me.”

Wide-eyed, Nyx shifted back in her chair, the implication dawning on her. Of course, the mint!

She was both impressed and alarmed; then a frown creased her brow. She placed a hand over his. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have made sure you were alright.”

A moment of realization flickered over his features and tilted his head. “I should have... I got caught up in the moment.” His smug grin snapped back.

She patted his hand and said, “Fair enough, and you do certainly seem alright.” Looking him over, mischief in her gaze. “If that greeting was anything to go by.”

It was as though his gaze took on an even brighter red. She hadn’t seen him this excited before, and her grin was already matching his. She said, “You’re holding out. Tell me! Is there a way to stop the ritual?”

“Unfortunately, no. We’ll need to workshop a solution to that.”

She deflated somewhat.

“But, there is this.” He produced a piece of paper out of thin air.

With her interest perked, she read the contents. It listed ingredients, several of which made Nyx’s eyebrows climb into her hairline. She narrowed her eyes at him, while he basked in whatever knowledge he’d discovered. These ingredients were very expensive, dangerous, hard-to-come-by, and ritualistic in nature. “Astarion?“

“A way for me to gain an advantage over Cazador. And I would need your help on this one too, my sweet.”

She pursed her lips, wondering what she’ll be signing herself up for this time. With a beckoning hand, she confirmed in a flat tone, “No living sacrifices involved.”

He placed a hand on his chest. “No, nothing like that. Entirely divorced from the Ascension ritual. This one is a binding ritual. It will empower me to summon the ‘Agents of the Apocalypse’ in whatever endeavour I see fit.” He preemptively answered with a corrective finger before her next question, “A willing binding, mind you - I’ve checked all your cautionary boxes.”

Nyx scrunched her nose. “‘Agents of the Apocalypse‘? Sounds ominous.”

“Sounds like 'just what I need'. They’re the necromantic equivalent of summoning Elementals. Only much more powerful.”

“Ah.” She regarded the ingredients again. “Alright, I’ve a shopping list for the apothecary too.”

“So,” he gave her a sidelong look and a smirk, “That’s a ‘yes’?”

“I’m game.”

“Delightful.“ He leaned forward to kiss her once more. “Thank you.”

Astarion worked through the specifics with her. She would be lying if she said she was happy or comfortable with a ritual proposed by the Red Wizards of all people! But its terms were excruciatingly clear. It had the hallmarks of a summoning spell; one that Astarion would be able to use on demand, and the ‘assistants’ were indeed assisting of their own volition. One caveat was that it required a full moon, which would give them a few more days to prepare. And for Nyx to wrap her mind around what she had just volunteered for. She added the ritual’s requirements to her own notes, finished up the rest of her research, and then they notified Tav and Gale of their departure. Tav waved them off, “See you later, have fun.”, while they passed Wyll and Shadowheart on the way out.

___

The Bonecloak Apothecary was another place Nyx wouldn’t mind setting up her tent, or if she ever felt inclined, wouldn’t mind working in such a place. A range of herbal, medicinal, and alchemical ingredients were available for purchase. Either loosely with a scoop from giant jars or as bundles hanging from drying racks affixed to the ceiling. One would expect the intermingling of so many strange and wonderful ingredients would become the scent equivalent of blending together too many colours of paint. Instead of smelling flat and brown; it was a glorious mixture of fresh greens, uplifting florals, chalky blues, and yellows with zingy undertones. Much like her own aromatic oil kit.

Astarion was browsing a collection of bright powders. Colours of every kind heaped into tall cones, housed within an eclectic collection of bowls.

Nyx was at the counter, waiting for one of the assistants to fetch the more, erm, ‘delicate’ ingredients from the back of the store. Another assistant appeared, and Nyx called them over too. “Good afternoon,” she said, retrieving a jar from her pack. “Would you be interested in buying these off me?”

The assistant face lit up and she clapped her hands together. “Most cenrtainly!”

Afterward, Nyx handed Astarion his ingredients, and he fished for his coin purse. She held up her hand, and he arched an eyebrow.

Smiling, she said, “They owed me money.” Jingling her profits before stashing them away.

He asked exasperated, “How many Underdark mushrooms did you pick?”

She chuckled. “Not quite. I sold the Mesmerfang glands.”

He blinked at her, and a slow smile split his face. “Very enterprising. How much, exactly?”

“Well, one was a bit damaged by the odd displacer beast bite mark, I only got two for that one. So, it was five in total for both.”

“Thousand?”

She nodded.

“Hells. We should find more of those beasts. Are people really that keen on them?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. And no thanks; harvesting dead ones is one thing, taking on a nest is quite another.”

He stowed his bounty and coin purse. “In that case, let me treat us to a night on the town. Your pick.”

A sharp rush coursed through her chest and caught in her heart. The answer wanted to burst from her, but she asked coyly instead, “A date?”

He took her hand and kissed the top of her palm. “Long overdue, don’t you think?”

She nodded and made a show of thinking it over. “How about the Singing Lute?”

Still holding her hand, Astarion made a small bend at the waist. “It would be my pleasure to be your suitor for the evening.”

She made a quick curtsey in return, grinning like an idiot.

If he carries on like this, I’ll be giggling like a teenager before the night’s end.

---

The streets were bustling with activity; the extended Autumn festival drawing people from their homes. Several stores remained open well past their usual closing times, and the restaurants were packed. Decorations in green, white, and gold were interspersed with dried arrangements in palettes of autumn. Pumpkins that reached the height of Nyx's knees stood proudly between the displays. Tonight was warmer too, with the nip in the air having abated. Nyx and Astarion strolled past the Counting House jetty, everything quite as though nothing had happened the previous evening.

Upon rounding the corner, Nyx remarked, “Oh, seems they've expanded.”

The Singing Lute sat between the Counting House and the Temple of the Water Queen’s jetties. It would seem that Henk and Honk had taken inspiration from the jetties themselves, and extended the dining terraces to hover over the harbour waters.

Astarion pointed to the roof, “We’re on the top terrace, away from the crowds.”

“Very cosy”, she said, spotting silhouettes sitting among warm ambient lighting.

Seated at their table, Astarion and Nyx admired the view of the harbour. A waiter, other than the Tender brothers, arrived to take their order - yet another new addition to the establishment. Astarion gave Nyx a quizzical look over his wine glass when she ordered the pumpkin stew as main course for herself, and a salad for him. She winked around her juice glass.

When the food arrived, Nyx pointed with her fork to his plate and said after the waiter had left, “No need to churn through it. I’ll get to it after this.”

“Keeping up appearances?” He picked up his fork and poked at the tomatoes.

She shrugged, and a flare of light illuminated the sky. Someone at the next table cheered, “Felogyr’s show is starting.”

At the top of the fiery comet’s trail, there was a soundless explosion. A flaming cascade of birds swooped overhead, their feathers trailing sparkles in a myriad of emerald hues. They fizzled out over the Upper City, and Nyx said, “I remember it being a lot louder.”

Astarion took a sip of his wine. “I prefer it this way. My ears were usually ringing for days after.”

“Hmm, perhaps you weren’t the only one. It certainly doesn’t lack without the noise.”

Two more trails shot up in opposite directions and a pair of swans unfurled to circle round each other as though dancing upon a lake of stars.

Nyx and Astarion enjoyed the display, trying to guess what the next firework would be.

--- --- ---

Astarion’s gaze flitted to Nyx, and he relaxed into his chair. Her expression was soft and thoughtful.

It’s surreal, isn’t it? One can almost forget everything else.

This was a far cry from his usual haunts or activities for a night out. He gestured to the waiter for a refill of his glass and found ‘his’ salad replaced with her empty plate. The sky lit up again and a herd of deer were prancing from rooftop to rooftop. He said, “I could get used to spending our evenings like this.”

“Oh? Not too dull?”

“Hmm, I am a bit more accustomed to nighttime debauchery, but”, he didn’t want to linger on the past anymore, especially not tonight and continued in earnest, “I’m sure we can do something equally delectable, if the mood takes us. For now, surprisingly, I’m content with this.”

She gave him a warm smile and nodded. “Me too”, reaching out to him, and he took her hand without hesitation. She asked, finishing her salad, “Is there anything else you’d want to try? After all our current business is finally said and done?”

His spine straightened, pausing and schooling his face. He’d never considered anything beyond Cazador, or beyond the brain for that matter. It feels as though doing so would challenge to gods to rip it away from him.

When Cazador was this close? Would I be allowed to dream of something more? He was on the brink of something great; he might just as well. “Is it even possible to? Dare I to jinx our chances of success?”

She considered that more seriously than he intended, sitting back and crossing her arms. “Alright, for the sake of the ‘fates’ listening in. Let’s make it one of Gale’s... what did he call it... thought experiments.” She tapped her chin. “In a hypothetical lifetime where we aren’t dealing with everything we are now. What would you be doing?.. In mine, I’d like to think that I would move to an inn closer to the harbour - one with a view like this. Then I’d take that course in landscape painting at the Collegium that I’d been meaning to for years.” She leaned forward to set her elbows on the table. “You? Something for yourself.”

“Alright, I’m game.” He also gave it serious consideration and settled for the only thing that came to mind. “I’d like to have a garden.” At her surprise, he amended, “Or perhaps a few pot plants to start.”, and his mouth kept on blabbing, “Cazador’s estate is depressing and the décor even more so. Not a single green thing in sight inside. The gardens are sparse at best.” He sighed. “Travelling like we've has given me new appreciation for the beauty of nature. Especially, after that stretch in the Shadowcursed lands... Sans the bugs of course.”

Nyx nodded sagely and said, raising her glass, “More greenery it is and I won’t mind joining in, if you’d have me.”

“Of course.” He clinked his glass against hers.

“Ooh, I would also not mind getting lost in the Harbourlight’s restricted section for a few more days.”

He quipped, “Books and plants?”

And she agreed with a smile bright enough to rival the fireworks show. “That would be wonderful.”

Surely it was not too much to hope for? Gods, what he wouldn’t give to have it. All he needed to do was get rid of a few thorns in his side, and it would be as good as his.

Nothing a little stabbing can’t solve.

For the rest of the evening, however, he was looking forward to enjoying her company.

Who said you can't forward the plot and have some downtime at the same time?