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In the fast-paced life of an adventurer, there had been little room for things to hold onto, like ‘coin,’ or ‘company,’ or ‘love.’ All of those were fleeting enjoyments to remind Leon why he wanted to help others in the first place. The coin would buy him a bed and hot meal for the night. The company would aid him and pass the long hours trudging through the hills with conversation. The love would be seeing a man returned to his child, crying and shouting their gratefulness, or a gentle gaze shared between a couple as he sat in a common room.
Love that ever had to involve him was only a body underneath a set of writhing limbs. He did love those people who allowed him to share in themselves so intimately, and who sometimes even asked him to stay. But he loved them the same way he loved everyone—the way he loved people. His heart would still for no one person, so he couldn’t stay. And, through his years of traveling and being a protector, he didn’t.
One quest saw him seeking out a dangerous sect of Beshabans north of Tethyr. They had been terrorizing local villages, and the village leaders had requested help in dispatching the sect. Leon had faith in his abilities as a sorcerer to handle fights, but he lacked the details on how to find them. To this end, he had been joined by a Tymoran, Cecilia.
He and Cecilia made short work of the sect, destroying its base of operations and having its agents scatter. Upon their return to Cecilia’s village, they celebrated, and the two spent the night together after admitting their undeniable attraction.
On that dark bed, Leon remembered looking Cecilia in the eyes, brushing her hair from her face, and kissing her gently. The smile she gave him caused an unfamiliar sensation within him, like his ribs were constricting his chest. He had started coughing, and Cecilia, startled, had asked him what was wrong. When Leon told her, she stared at him, then burst into laughter. ‘You silly man,’ she had said. It was only the next morning, when Leon was going to roam again, that he realized he wanted to stay. With her. And she wanted to stay with him too.
Seven months after that night, Leon and Cecilia were married. Their marriage was good luck, Cecilia had said. Seven was a lucky number. They said farewell to her village and moved north, setting up a small consultation practice in a town along the Coast Way. Leon offered his services in magic and Cecilia advised adventurers and thrill-seekers. It was a comfortable, modest life that Leon took some getting used to. Cecilia would tease him about his constant pacing around the fields or asking if their neighbors needed anything. When he started babbling about ‘just being friendly,’ she would stroke his hair and hush him with a kiss.
It was strange for Leon to think of anywhere as ‘home.’ When he finished a day’s work, he would go to the house. Was that his home? He liked his fellow townspeople. Did that make the town his home? No, it was that Cecilia was there. Cecilia was what he wanted to hold onto, and she wanted to be here, and that’s what made it home.
She approached him after a year of marriage and asked if he was interested in the idea of children. ‘Children?’ he had asked. Leon had never considered the idea, and that he could even have children barely crossed his mind. He didn’t know what he would do with a child; he didn’t know very much of his own father, so he could only base his image of fatherhood off those he had seen. Those crying fathers when their children were lost, or dead, or returned. A father, to him, was always crying.
Having a small, vulnerable creature that would make him cry didn’t seem appealing to him. But Cecilia asked him many times despite his indifference, and she wanted it so badly that he finally agreed. She was overjoyed.
They were not fruitful for a long time. No matter the old wives’ tales they followed or the amount they prayed for luck or even with the spells Leon cast, it would not take. Maybe his lack of appreciation for long-lasting connections for so long caused his body to cease that function. It was a creeping thought that maybe he had doomed himself by forgetting what made him human—that he had forgotten how to love, and that made him unworthy of having a child. But he loved Cecilia, so that couldn’t have been true. He wanted to make her happy more than anything.
On a bright spring morning, Cecilia slammed open the door and jumped on Leon, giving him wet smooches all over his face. ‘What’s gotten into you?’ he had asked. She had been to the physician’s earlier for a sickness, and he had confirmed her suspicions that she was pregnant. Her elation was evident, and Leon was glad for her, but he was only that, and Cecilia could tell. The mounting realization that Leon was not as excited to be a parent as she was caused Cecilia to grow frustrated and dreadful. She thought that she was going to be effectively a single parent with just an extra guardian for her child.
The stress eventually became too much, and she woke Leon up one night a couple months later with a scream. He held lit a candle and rubbed his bleary eyes to find runny spottings of blood on the bed and on Cecilia’s legs. The horror he felt was nothing like he had ever experienced before.
The subsequent visit to the physician’s was painful. He could not bear to see Cecilia wailing in her chair, inconsolable by anyone. At home, neighbors came by with advice and well wishes, but still she wouldn’t respond. It was months like that, where Cecilia lay on the settee or in their bed, despondent. On occasion, she would read a book or sit outside, but she was not the vibrant, playful woman Leon knew her to be.
Her consultations had to be halted, and their income slowed as a result. Leon had to take on extra work that would bring him farther away from their town, and he had to make the effort to come home every night to ensure Cecilia was taking care of herself. It was running him ragged, now being the only caretaker in the house. His mood was considerably lower than he remembered it ever having been before, and it made his work and his domestic duties even harder. ‘This must be what Cecilia thought she’d feel like,’ he thought.
The work was not so much a problem, as it was easier than adventuring by miles still. It was not even that Cecilia wasn’t working anymore that bothered him. Why had he become so miserable? He wondered on it, and then it hit him: this unknown feeling was grief. He was grieving his wife, and he was grieving their future, and he was grieving the child they could have had. When he got home and saw Cecilia in the bed, he knelt at her side and hugged her. And then he cried enough soak through her nightgown while she stroked his hair.
After that, they spoke about it. They aired their grievances and had a good cry together, with Cecilia asking him, ‘I thought you didn’t want to cry?’ out of her trembling lips. Naming his grief brought Leon a sharp suffering, but sharing in that grief with Cecilia made it seem manageable. It was hard, and they would miss their child, but they could try again for as long as it took. They would try. Leon wanted to.
And so they did, for years afterwards. It had happened once, so they knew it was possible. Lady Luck didn’t smile upon those who didn’t try. Cecilia had more than once screamed in frustration and might have broken a wall or two from slamming her fist against it. Leon could only hold her close and kiss away her tears, promising her that good things come in time.
He was right, eventually. More than six years after they had married, and over four since her miscarriage, Cecilia found out that she was once again pregnant. The physician had grinned as he delivered the news, and Leon had hugged the old man. Cecilia had a tentative joy, not wanting to get too attached again. But, as the months and her pregnancy progressed without issue, Cecilia allowed herself the excitement she’d had before. They would spend hours talking about names, sorting a nursery, and making other preparations for the baby. It was everything Cecilia—and now Leon—hoped for.
On the seventh day of the seventh month, seven years after they had married, Cecilia gave birth to their little girl. Last minute ideas flitted in the air, but they decided on a name they had both liked: Victoria. As Leon held the tiny bundle with a fluff of brown hair in his arms for the first time, he understood why fathers were always crying. This was his daughter. His Victoria.
By the time Victoria was starting to walk, Cecilia had decided that they needed to go somewhere with more opportunity. ‘So we can support ourselves better,’ she said. Cecilia waggled her brows. ‘And any other additions later.’ Leon wasn’t sure that they needed to move, but he could see where she was coming from, so he agreed.
The family moved to a modest house in the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate, which was due north of where they had lived before. Leon and Cecilia restarted the practice they had been doing for years, but it was much slower while they built up their clientèle. There was not so much need for a freelance sorcerer in the Gate, which housed all manner of mages and magics already in Sorcerous Sundries and other establishments. Many times, he was tempted to give in and work for those places, but Cecilia held firm that he shouldn’t limit himself to what other people thought he should do. At least the city was always in need of Tymorans.
Cecilia was in fact luckier than most in having the clothier Figaro Pennygood as one of her regular clients. He would ask her advice on matters of the market and new fashions, and he was pleased enough with her predictions that she often came home with an extra fat coin purse. Most of their living expenses were paid with her earnings, and what paltry money Leon made went to small luxuries—toys, sweets, colorful dresses—for Victoria. It was, overall, a more comfortable life than what he would have expected from the city. He and his family were stabler than they had ever been.
Leon hovered above Cecilia, kissing her softly during one of their many active attempts for another child. She crossed her arms around his back and whispered, ‘Things are looking up now, Leon.’
He stopped and searched for her eyes in the darkness. ‘What do you mean?’
Cecilia giggled. ‘I’ve gotten an offer from a man in the Upper City for my services. He says he will pay me a year’s cost—or more! Do you think I should take it?’
Leon had immediate suspicions. The grace of Lady Luck was valuable indeed, but what was so important for someone to be willing to pay that much? There was always a catch, and it was never a minor detail. ‘I don’t know, Ceci. Do you know what the job is?’
‘No!’ she said. But she knew he was going to question her, and being the good Tymoran she was, she already knew her answer. ‘It can’t be that bad though. He’ll want some trade predictions or to know whether Scornubel will be a good investment this year.’
‘Ceci, please…’
She put a finger over his lips. ‘It’ll be okay, Leon. This will be good for us. We deserve better.’ Cecilia dragged her finger, pulling his lower lip, and ended with her hand curled around his shoulder. ‘Dare all, and trust in the Lady.’
It was with the watchword that Leon knew she wasn’t going to argue; this offer was all but already taken. He couldn’t help but feel ill at ease, and had to tell Cecilia that he must not have been in the mood when she asked why he hadn’t finished.
A loud knock on their front door one day turned Leon’s attention away from the book he had been studying. Cecilia poked her head out from a corner and said, ‘I’ll get it.’
When she opened the door, four large men shoved their way inside their home, ignoring Cecilia’s protests and Leon’s calls of ‘Excuse me, you can’t come in.’ The men turned to Cecilia, and started throwing accusations at her that she vehemently denied. Leon couldn’t understand much of it, only gleaning bits, like ‘You’ve ruined our network!’ and ‘He was supposed to be dead!’ But it was far from any business that Leon had thought—or wanted—Cecilia to be involved with.
He tried to defuse the situation, too, but it had little effect. The men ignored him. It was when they slapped his wife that he took action. However, being a sorcerer by trade, he lacked any physical prowess to speak of, and they easily shook him off. He stood in front of Cecilia protectively, but they simply pushed him aside.
Watching them grab her by the hair, the red glow of a firebolt lit his hand. But he couldn’t use magic like that here, not when Victoria was sleeping upstairs. What if he set the house on fire? It was too dangerous, so the glow faded, and Leon instead grabbed an iron cooking pan, which he used to bash one of the men on the back of his head.
The others turned, looking quickly at their disoriented fellow, then to Leon. A snarl grew on their faces, and it only took one of them to snatch the pan out of his hands and wrest his arms behind him. With one hand, the man kept his wrists, and the other gripped around his neck. From then on, he could only watch and yell as the men battered his wife.
He had never felt so helpless before, not even during his most dire quests. Cecilia’s skin turned to bruises, then to blood. Her eyes became glossy as the men bashed her head into the wall, leaving cracks in the wood. She had been coughing up blood since they kneed her in the stomach again and again, and it was streaming down her chin. It was hard for Leon to see anything else as tears blurred his vision and turned the whole situation into a dream.
The men, after some time, dropped Cecilia to the floor. Leon could hear her wheezing, struggling to intake enough breath. He didn’t know who these men worked for, but they didn’t seem to want to take any chances, so they gave the same treatment to Leon. Through the punches and the bashing of his skull, he could only focus on Cecilia, clinging to life nearby.
Apparently satisfied that the couple would die, and likely not wanting to be there to see the actual deaths, the men left their home. Leon’s eyes were still blurred with tears, and now with the swelling of his eyelids. The floor and the walls were in shambles, with pieces of wood scattered and splotches of red that weren’t there previously.
Leon reached out to Cecilia’s limp hand and squeezed. ‘Ceci? I’m here, Ceci…’ he choked out. He felt the barest movement of her hand, trying to squeeze his back, but she lacked the strength to do so. Cecilia groaned in an attempt to say his name, but she couldn’t get enough air for herself, much less to talk. A sob rolled out of his throat.
Several minutes of Cecilia’s labored breathing and Leon’s quiet sobs as he held her hand went by. They were going to die here, and they could do nothing about it. Their future and their family would be gone in an instant. Their family. Panic filled Leon. What was going to happen to Victoria? She was still upstairs, and she was barely more than a toddler. No one would know to check for them since neither of them had a regular job, and, by the time the decay set in enough for someone to investigate the smell, Victoria would have starved or suffocated. As much as he didn’t wish for his wife to die alone, he wanted his daughter to live.
Leon gave Cecilia’s hand one last squeeze filled with all the love in his heart, then dragged his body towards the door. Just as he got within arm’s reach, the door creaked open. Leon looked up to see a man obscured by shadow with dark red eyes staring down at him. He shivered; this man was not of the same type as his wife’s assailants, but he was deeply ominous. This was the type of man to laugh at and savor someone else’s misfortune.
He did not laugh though. Instead, he showed what almost seemed like sympathy. He said, ‘Poor man. You should not have such an undignified end. I can give you a second chance. Would you like that?’
Leon could not believe it. This mysterious man was offering a second chance, but under what circumstances? His rational mind kept running through the possibilities and repercussions, but it was hard to think with the blood leaking in his brain.
What he did know was that he cared little for himself. He sputtered out of his bloody lips, ‘My wife… Cecilia…’ and tried to point to her. The man flicked his eyes to Cecilia’s body, then said, ‘Dear man, it’s a pity, but your wife is already gone.’
Leon near enough snapped his head to her, listening for the sound of her breathing. But there was no longer any sound—the man was right. He was right, godsdammit. At that moment, Leon wished he was the type of man to deny reality for his entire life so that he could believe Cecilia was simply elsewhere. But he wasn’t, and he knew she was dead. Another sob scraped against his raw throat.
‘And what about your poor daughter?’ the man asked.
Leon turned back to him. ‘Find someone… to…’
‘To take care of her? There is no one more fitting than her father, and he could be here for her. He could stay. He would just have to agree.’
Agree… to what? He kept trying to circle his mind back to that, but his desperation—his love—for Victoria superseded all of it. No matter what it was, if it kept him alive so that he could watch over Victoria, his daughter and living remainder of Cecilia, he would do it. There could be no Hell greater than this night.
Cecilia’s voice rang in the back of his mind: Dare all, and trust in the Lady.
So he took the man’s outstretched hand. ‘I accept.’
And then the man pulled him forward and bit into his neck.