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Dumping the contents of her pack onto her bedroll, Rhian finally found what she was looking for: the bracers she’d picked up the day prior.
To some of her companions’ annoyance, she had taken to grabbing anything that looked particularly useful in their travels, leading to a less-than-organized supply of bits and bobs.
There’s been significantly less complaining when she’d managed to barter with one of the traders in the Grove though, handing over less of their gold in order to get supplies they actually needed. Although, Gale had been particularly opinionated in her organization, or lack thereof, finding her storage of alchemy ingredients especially appalling.
Now that she’d completely upended her bag, and everyone else was still meandering about camp in the early hours, she decided to actually sort through some of it.
It wasn’t long before Karlach wandered over, standing over her shoulder, close enough Rhian could feel the heat radiating off her, the main indication it was the tiefling who stood beside her. After a moment, she took Rhian’s silence as enough of an invitation, crouching beside her and scanning the various stacks of things Rhian had laid out.
“Quite a collection you’ve got,” she remarked.
Rhian shrugged, focused on her task, “Never know what might end up being useful. I know we’ve a decent group, but I’m not going to pass by scrolls and potions and whatever else. Might get into a pinch later, y’know?”
“Hey, I get it, always have a back up plan,” Karlach agreed, “Or… seven.”
Despite herself, Rhian snorted. Karlach hadn’t been traveling with them for long, and already Rhian could tell she liked her. Quick and to the point with a lot of things, she definitely had a more straightforward and direct approach than some of her other allies. Not a bad thing, in a fight especially— she’d more than held her own at the tollhouse against the so-called paladins. Rhian was more than happy to have her on their side.
“So, hey, I’ve been meaning to ask,” she heard Karlach drop down, sitting on the ground beside her, vaguely gesturing across camp, “What’s her deal?”
Glancing up, Rhian saw she’d indicated Shadowheart, sitting across the clearing on a dead log, patiently watching and waiting for the rest of them. Ignoring the way her heart jumped, Rhian asked her to clarify. “Her deal about what?”
“Y‘know, the whole quiet, secretive, mystery thing she’s got.”
Oh. That.
“She’s Sharran,” Rhian deadpanned.
Stunned, Karlach turned to her, clearly taken aback. “She tell you that?”
“No,” Rhian returned her attention to the remainder of her supplies laid out; she left her pair of bracers out, needing them for the day, and started packing everything else back up.
“Then how in the hells…”
“There’s murals, in the druid grove’s inner sanctum. Dark Justiciars, felled in a battle against the Emerald Enclave and the Harpers a century ago. The symbols on the helmets of the Justiciars there,” Rhian tossed the last couple of potion bottles into the top of her bag, shoving to her feet, Karlach following, “match the very one plastered across the top of that.”
Surreptitiously, in case Shadowheart was paying them any mind, she nodded in the direction of the cleric’s tent, posted up away from the rest of camp. Luckily, Astarion called over to get Shadowheart’s attention for something, since Karlach was nowhere near as subtle in looking over. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Rhian shouldered her pack, sliding her bracers down over her forearms and using her teeth to help tie them snug, “Besides, she’s a supremely shit liar. I asked her why the interest in the murals, and she said she liked the art. Also, who in the hells calls Selûne a ‘moonwitch’ aside from a Sharran? She’s taken every sign of her like a personal affront, between the village, the shrine. She’s hardly been quiet about it.”
Karlach studied Rhian, like she was seeing her in a new light, “Can’t say I took much note of any of that. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Rhian shrugged, “Her faith is her concern. So long as she doesn’t plan on making any of us a sacrifice to the Dark Lady, I don’t particularly care. And me running around telling everyone is just going to cause problems. She’ll come clean about it when she’s ready, and for now, I’ll keep quiet.”
Rhian snuck a glance at the cleric, arms folded across her chest, entirely uninterested in whatever conversation Astarion had initiated; she’d grown fond of her, and despite piecing together her faith and her allegiance, it was hard to ignore the other, arguably more important, aspects of her. “And besides, she might be Sharran, but I knew her as Shadowheart first.”