Chapter Text
An emissary arrived at first light in the camp, quiet as a mouse, standing right above Arin as she barely sensed his presence. Just because she didn't need sleep per se, doesn't mean she wouldn’t try giving her brain a break between fighting gods and bringing down cults. Flaming fist armour didn’t really fit the grim, expressionless face of a rather tan half-elf, unaffected by the now alarmed campers each rushing to their bedride swords or whatnot. Arin was ready to command the man to get on his knees, but seeing he missed the beat for assasination, she raised her hand to halt the rest from attacking. As on que, the man only opened his eyes a bit wider and handed out an envelope as any other. Maybe except from the
From Lord Gortash
To Arin and her merry band
The addressee cautiously took the envelope and watched as the ‘Fist’ left, all the way until he disappeared behind the rocks. Now with the entire camp up and running, some already getting their more complex armours on, she sat down in the middle within everyone’s earshot.
“Anything out of the ordinary?” she handed the sealed thing to Astarion, hoping he’d be able to notice whatever paper-piece-sized trap could be in it.
“The wax on the seal is rather high quality, shimmery and all. And the seal itself is shaped like a netherstone. A bit on the nose if you ask me, but harmless as far as i can tell.” He shrugged as he gave the envelope back, along with the dagger from his shoe. “It may not be a proper knife for the job, but playing along with the fancyness of it may be fun.”
Arin shot him a look from under her eyebrows before carefully slashing the thing open. Thankfully without a cloud of smoke appearing or a mysterious deadly powder inside, she produced the letter. The party gathered around their token storyteller to listen to the message.
“My dear True Souls
I welcome you to Baldur’s Gate. My city.
Allow me to formally invite you to my inauguration. It is a special day for us all, as the city will witness the rise of the first ever Archduke. And you, the Prism Bearer, slayers of the dread General Katheric Thorn, are a special bunch of guests. I have great plans not only for the city, but for you all as well. There’s much to be done, by both yourselves and I, and it turns out, some of this ‘much’ aligns.
Frankly, I’d like to discuss a possible alliance, and I’d like to do that in a proper setting. Thankfully, an occasion presents itself in the most fortunate way. Four days from today, at sundown, in the ceremonial halls of Wyrms Rock, the coronation is set to take place. You’ll have a chance to experience this city's most famous hospitality and festive traditions, with Duke Ravenguard appointing me Archduke as a cherry on top. Arrive at the coronation on time, enjoy the party to your heart's content, and in due time, I’ll call for you to my office to discuss the relevant matters. I’d place great value on following the instructions, as this is a formal event, and everyone is expected to treat it as such. You’re no exception. Thus I expect you to attend and enjoy what the party has to offer in full, while showing proper manners.
In the meantime, visit the seamstress right here in the passage between Rivington and Wyrm’s Rock - Carm’s Garms. The owner expects you. Feel free to browse and pick up something appropriate for the occasion for everyone. Let this be a show of my generosity. I can let slide of a person or two in armour as the escort, but no amount of armour will help you against the steel watch if you choose to misbehave. This is my one warning.
Let us enjoy this bountiful time for the city, as it is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion.
I’ll see you all there.
“Signed Lord Enver Gortash.” Arin takes a deep breath after this near endless monologue. “PS to your fanged friend. While many esteemed guests will be present, his Master forewarned me that someone will be there on his behalf, so he may rest easy. Every one of you is welcome within my halls regardless of past histories and affiliations.”
Astarion tsk’d at that last part. “He really did think of everything. Cazador never acknowledged Gortash, so I hope these two don’t have any particular plots ready.”
“So now we’re invited to play dress-up and play-pretend for his big day?” Karlach was already radiating with rage. “The absolutely AUDACITY of this fucker. No way in hell we’re going to follow along. Right?”
Arin gave it a thought as her company bantered behind, more or less the same notion of Gortash being an entitled prick for suggesting that and how absurd of an offer it is.
It certainly is a power play. A good one too. He shows up like nothing at your camp, throws you instructions, and sounds so sure of himself that you’ll obey his command. Giving him what he wants would only further this notion of you playing right into the villain's hand, and yet…
You should play along. For now. The Emperor’s voice speaks above all else. Right now you have two incredibly powerful enemies pitted against you, but their alliance is brittle with you having one of the Netherstones. Use it. Play along, see what Gortash offers. Following his instructions now doesn’t mean you must do as you’re told forever.
He pretty much just said what Arin thought faster than she could form words.
“I think we should go.” Arin immediately shut up the rest of the debate with this statement. At least for a fraction of a second, before it resumed twice as loud.
“There’s NO way you just said that.” Karlach gasped “Have the tadpoles eaten all through your brain for good?”
“We cannot give a fanatic like Gortash what he wants.” Lae’zel was better at hiding her burning eyes. But still not great. “As much as I hate to admit it, he can slaughter us like cattle in there with a snap of those golden fingers.”
“Can he really?” Wyll doubted “It's a formal event, all the city's nobility will attend. My father, even if tadpoled, will be there. I don't think he's powerful enough to just make a slaughter of a historical event. Not yet at least.”
“It's not like being surrounded by the Steel Watch means we're suddenly completely helpless” Gale added in favour. “Maybe we won’t be ready to crash those tin cans all at once, but when push comes to shove we could manage to at least flee.”
“We need every advantage we can get against Orin, and having two chosen as our enemies at once isn't exactly working in our favour.” Arin explained, eyes jumping between the party, trying to discern who’s in favour and who will need convincing.
“Mad tyrant he may be, Orin if too unpredictable to face alone. Whatever help against her is waiting at that party is worth looking into.” Minthara agreed easily enough, satisfied with the prospect of gaining advantage over Orin.
“So what, we just go get some fancy clothes and march straight into the lion's den?” Karlach saw she was slowly being outvoted. “Hells… you’re really serious about this.”
“I for one have been dying to put on some fine clothes ever since we were kidnapped.” Astarion sighed in his way of showing favour to the idea. “Especially if they’re free and of an archduke’s quality.”
“I'm sure you were” Shadowheart smiles, no hard objection.
“Where do you guys stand?” Arin queried the druids that stood silent so far.
“Big celebrations like these are far from my favourite environment,” Halsin brought a hand to his chin in thought. “but I think there's more to be gained here than to be lost. I know it may be a lot to suck up, but we should try.”
“Gortash isn't the only potential ally that will be attending." Jaheira picked up with her usual aura of a mother that knows best. “My Harpers are a small force in the city, the Guild is in disrepair, we could use any helping hands we can get, even if just for a moment. And those at the coronation might be our best shot for now.”
Most nodded at that, while Lae'zel and Karlach scoffed respectively and looked conflicted. Not that it was surprising really, the only surprise was that Lae'zel didn't insult the ceremony at its core yet.
“I’ll come only if I can be part of the escort.” Laezel said with pride. “I will not humiliate myself with this istik ‘fashion’”. The occasion is humiliating enough.” Right on que, Arin smirked.
“I won't walk among celebrating cultists unarmed either.” Minthara was firm and Arin saw she didn't stand a chance at convincing either.
“Wait if we're to play along, then that's both escort spots taken.” Karlach said in building disbelief, as those unopposed to the idea shrugged in agreement with her. “There's no way I'm gonna walk between Gortash’s lackeys like I belong there. Those times are long gone. C’mon, tell ‘em soldier." She turned to Arin.
She stared back, mouth in a thin line and visibly unsure, as she knew that neither soldier would fold but still not wanting to hurt Karlach by pushing too hard. “Minthara and Lae'zel are the most professional soldiers among the group, even if you served your part in Avernus. And unlike them, you are from Baldur's Gate.” Arin spoke slowly, wording each part as carefully as she could. “You won't become a lackey again just by attending, we’re all here to make sure of that. And who knows, you might just meet someone decent that you used to know.”
Arin could feel Karlach’s burning hot anger at her hair's ends, but she continued. “Maybe someone that needs to be freed from Gortash like you back then.” She prayed to all the gods above that it wouldn’t cross the line. Karlach, still burning, was looking for any ill intent that would be behind this wild suggestion of attending. All she could find was genuine hope to get something out of it and not hurt the tiefling along the way. As far as Karlach could tell, Arin was saying this from the bottom of heart. The rest of the party was looking at them, in a perfectly tense silence.
She noticed the moment Karlach broke, anger making way for simple disappointment.
“Not you too Arin.” the gods listened. Karlach took a deep breath, and then another, her exhale making a bit of steam on the humid air of the still-early morning. “Ugh fine . But you owe me big time for this or I’m taking you out along with Gortash at the end.” Back to her normal self she was. More or less.
“No one is happy to be a part of this Karlach.” Shadowheart reassured, while Arin swallowed heavily when the attention finally wasn't on her for a moment. “But we have to work with what we have. I can stick to the shadows with you when we're there, if that's any help.”she added with a playful smile. Karlach looked up at that, mood lifting ever so slightly.
“Thank you Karlach. Truly.” Arin added softly. “And since we're all on the same page, I suggest tomorrow we go visit the shop mentioned in the letter. Unless some of you have formal wear along with you already?”
“My outfit from the kidnapping could probably pass but I'd rather pick up something new for the occasion.” Astarion added, all too eager to switch the subject to clothes shopping. Arin couldn’t blame him, he was good looking and the fighting attire didn’t exactly fit as well as suits and doublets did.
“Do you think a tailor like any other will have something with enough heat resistance for me?” Karlach tried her best to play along, fighting her mixed feelings. “Or do you think Gortash already took that into account like he did with Cazador?”
“I’ll bet that he did, considering that he decided to put down a carpet this red in front of us already.” Jaheira shrugged. “And if not, you’ll come as an escort regardless of what the little tyrant instructed.”
Conversations finally took a lighter turn, Shadowheart and Karlach going off to chat about how they’ll be the mysterious duo at the back of the party, like something from a novel. Gale started inquiring to Wyll about the differences between the formal parties here and in Waterdeep, Wyll all too happy to share how he should remember the secret passages in Wyrm’s Rock from his teenage years. Sneaking a glance at Halsin, he was murmuring some prayer for the trails to come, before joining Gale in listening to the story. Jaheira went to give a lecture to the future ‘escort’ about the etiquette of their jobs and surprisingly, neither took it as an insult, which Arin appreciated. It was a serious job but they were trained for such occasions clearly, even if the exact circumstance was new and rather uncomfortable. That left her to sit down and scroll over the letter once more, just to make sure it was still as disgustingly prideful.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to wear for the coronation my dear?” she didn’t even have time to process when Astarion appeared behind her. Probably has to do with the fact that he didn’t cast a shadow when he was behind her.
“That’s really the only thing you’re worried about?” she raised an eyebrow.
“What use is there worrying about anything else? Pretty much every one of us has a bigger, more personal reason to be wary of that occasion than myself, so why waste energy worrying about the same things twice?” yeah , Arin remembered that he’s very much NOT a detailes person. “Instead, I choose to worry about my plus one looking good by my side.”
He smirked like the cat that got all the cream. With the way he eyed her, following the neverending neckline of her casual drow-style outfit, it seems he already has some ideas in mind.
“If the invitation is anything to go by, you’re my plus one at best.” she waited for him to meet her eyes again, which took a second. He was staring more than usual and it’s Astarion she’s talking about.
“I think my experience with dressing up for high end events will be enough, thank you very much.” She got up and started folding the letter, and Astarion followed. “But don’t worry, I am open to any feedback you might have. We don’t want to look odd next to each other do we now?” she said coyly.
“No we don't, my darling.” He mimicked her tone. The cat somehow got more than all the cream and left satisfied to prepare for the day. Arin put away the letter, giving it a final look of resentment. Please don’t make me regret this.