Chapter Text
The trek through Zadash’s massive labyrinth of sewer systems had been long and, frankly, disgusting. Caleb and the rest of the Mighty Nein, now including a large barbarian woman by the name of Yasha, encountered odors they never could have imagined. The incredible smells appear to have saturated into their clothes, their hair, the very pores of their skin.
They wandered aimlessly for hours, mostly to evade capture, but also, because they had no fucking idea where they were heading. All throughout their journey, Caleb kept the artifact cradled close to his chest, wrapped within his black cloak. After Yasha had been shocked by simply touching it with her bare hand, they decided it best to keep it covered to avoid anyone else from getting injured, or worse.
With Zadash’s City Guard hot on their trail, they move as fast as their injured and exhausted bodies will allow. They take very few breaks throughout the day, choosing to remain below ground to avoid detection. Every hour or so, one of them would pop their head to the surface to search for familiar surroundings, and to find out how the city was reacting to last night’s attack. In short, chaos has erupted in the streets, and the guards were struggling to maintain order from devolving into mass hysteria.
Throughout their journey, Molly remains close to Yasha’s side, having taken a clear interest in her. He speaks softly to her, too quiet for any of them to overhear his words. Whatever he says seems to help keep her calm, which Caleb is silently grateful for. If she were to turn her weapon on them, the battle would be bloody and gruesome, and he is not so sure it would end in their favor.
Nott refuses to look at him, and goes to great lengths to avoid coming into contact with him. It is regrettable, but there is nothing Caleb can do about it. He longs to speak to her, privately, to explain himself, to help justify what she saw take place between him and Trent, but for the life of him, he has no idea where to begin. How can he explain to her what happened if he cannot justify it to himself?
Fjord only speaks when spoken to, keeping his eyes downcast. He did something to help get them out of that drow’s dark attack, but exactly what that was, Caleb cannot say. Jester seems to know or have seen something, as the looks she sends him are timid and maybe a little fearful. She also remains unusually quiet throughout their journey. Caleb had grown accustomed to her fanciful prattle and finds himself missing it.
Beau does her best to navigate them through the labyrinth that is Zadash’s immense and confusing sewer system. No wonder the Gentleman uses these tunnels for smuggling. With no natural light to navigate by, the journey is disorienting. Caleb can only hope she is not leading them in circles.
At long last, Beau pokes her head through a manhole cover, and recognizes their surroundings. They are about three blocks from the Evening Nip, and they all breathe a collective sigh of relief. However, before they make their way above ground, they discuss what is best to do with the artifact, which Caleb now knows as the Luxon Beacon. They collectively decide it best not to present it to the Gentleman just yet, for their own self preservation.
They stash the beacon in the basement of an abandoned house to keep it safe and out of enemy hands. He hides it with a concealing spell, while also setting up traps so he will be alerted if anyone comes snooping. Once they believe it is safe, they return to the Evening Nip under the cover of nightfall, tired, famished and filthy.
The relief upon seeing them alive and mostly well is palpable upon the Gentleman’s moist features. However, his face scrunches in distaste as the smell that permeates them hits his nostrils. Their little group practically collapses into the cushioned seats surrounding the large table in his meeting room. "Well, I suppose now I'll have to have those cleaned."
As they partake of a hot meal and some much needed rest, the Gentleman informs them what has transpired since last night’s attack. “Right now, the City Guard is looking for four of you.” He slides the Wanted Posters to the center of the table, with the images of Beau, Fjord, Caleb and Nott staring back at them.
Fjord groans at the sight of his poster while Jester pouts. “Aww! What about Molly and me? We helped get the thing too, you know!”
The Gentleman smiles slyly at her. “So, you did manage to acquire it.”
The group exchanges wary glances before Caleb sets down his fork. “We did.”
The Gentleman leans forward, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “Excellent! Where is it?”
“Not so fast,” Beau says, dropping her fork with a loud clatter. “How do we know you won’t rat us out the second you have it?”
Silence descends heavy and oppressive around the table. The Gentleman glares at her, taking a long drag from his pipe. Caleb places his hands underneath the table, preparing to light his flame should they need to run.
Eventually, the Gentleman settles back in his chair with a small chuckle. “Well, I can’t say I’m not…disappointed, but I see your point.” He takes another drag, clearly coming to a decision. “Very well. I will see you all get safely out of town, and you tell me where you stashed the relic.” He smiles smugly at them all. “Do we have a deal?”
Beau crosses her arms. “What about our payment?”
He reaches into his coat pocket and produces a bag of platinum. He throws it to the center of the table, landing on top of the posters. “Half now, and half once I have the relic in my possession.”
Caleb eyes the bag of money, never having seen so much in one place before. It is incredibly tempting, but his curiosity wins out over his greed. “And just whom do you plan to give the relic to?”
The Gentleman tsks disapprovingly between his teeth. “My dear wizard, you should know the Gentleman never reveals his secrets.” It is what all of them expected him to say. They will need to find out who his mysterious benefactor is before they agree to hand over the relic. It is far too powerful to allow it to fall into the wrong hands.
Beau picks up the bag and begins divvying out the platinum. “So when do we leave?”
“That, I’m afraid, is going to take some time.”
“What?” Nott squawks, slamming her mug onto the table. “Why? If you want this relic so bad, then get us the fuck out of here!”
If the Gentleman is perturbed by her outburst, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he smiles patiently at her. “As much as I would love to get my hands on it, there is too much heat to risk moving you at the moment. The entire city is on lockdown looking for you and a missing Archmage from the Cerberus Assembly. No one can come in or out.”
Caleb nearly chokes on his ale. “Which Archmage?”
The Gentleman takes a careful sip of his wine, peering at him over the rim of his glass. “I’m told it is the Archmage of Antiquities.”
Caleb lip curls in disappointment while Molly intakes a sharp breath. His red eyes are wide as he quietly asks, “Does anyone know what’s happened to her?”
Before he can answer, Caleb interjects. “And what of Trent Ikithon? Does he still live?” Out of the corner of his eye, Nott shoots him a disparaging look.
The Gentleman’s brow furrows at their urgent questions. “He is recovering from the whole ordeal within the walls of the Solstryce Academy. Rumor has it at least one of the drow that destroyed the Zauberspire has been captured, while many others were killed.”
“So it has begun.” All eyes turn towards the woman called Yasha. It is the first time many have heard her speak since their first encounter with her. “War between the Kryn Dynasty and the Dwendalian Empire.”
There is a heavy pause before the Gentleman answers her. “Yes.”
They finish their meal in silence while the Gentleman makes final preparations for them, each lost in their own thoughts. The question heavy on everyone’s mind is, why does it feel like this mysterious relic will determine the outcome of this war?