Chapter Text
Just hours after Wyll joins the strange group of individuals who helped him slay the horrid goblins that attempted to break through the boundaries of the grove, he's already wiping harpies blood off of his sword. Despite that, he does not feel very surprised by the turn of events. The group had come in covered in blood looking extremely unfriendly- especially the leader of their group- Clytestra as she introduced herself.
She had a almost constant haunted look in her eye, a scowl that almost never seemed to go away, and yet such a way with words it sounded as if she was a completely different person when she charms her way through a crowd of Teiflings and Druids in the heat of an argument. He would be lying if he wasn't a tiny bit interested in where his new travelling companion came from.
Maybe that was why he decided to join them, it was most definitely a reason for his company- not excluding the fact they all share the same little buddy growing in their minds. Joining them was a lot better than Wyll's plan to just try to ignore it, help as many people as he could before the infection took route and killed him.
Even if Clytestra doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to get rid of the parasite.
Almost every minute since he had joined the group had been constant idle chatter between the locals. With all of her unnerving energy that she gave off she seemed ecstatic to talk to one of her own kind- almost as if she had never even gotten the chance to before this moment. The thought worried Wyll, but he dare not bring that kind of thing up.
Not when their leisurely stroll through the grove led to them being put face to face with the winged horrors of harpies trying to lure a small Teifling boy into the waters to die. Wyll wasted no time trying to rescue the boy from the monsters clutches. So did the others, with less enthusiasm than he would've hoped, but he opted not to comment on it.
Once again, Clytestra stood out in the crowd, the way she used her magic to bring the monsters to their demise was terrifying, the pure happiness on her face once an enemy had fallen almost made Wyll think this was the one thing that gave her joy. The red staining her dark dress and head covering clothes and skin so deeply it looked as if it would never come off. In the end, she stood victorious among the dead, shamelessly digging through the belongings for anything that may be of value. And if Wyll saw her grab one of the harpies severed fingers and pocket it with glee then that's nobodies business but hers after all.
Anyway, Wyll would rather just use the time to try and clean some of his belongings of the stains he had acquired over the past week than interrogate these strange people.
"Remind me why we're here?" One of his new companions- Astarion if he remembered correctly- whined. Shaking some of the blood off of his clothes, "Aren't we supposed to be looking for a cure for out tadpole friends?"
"Not," He motions to the child still cowering near the rocks, "Babysitting- god's these Teiflings cannot keep letting their kids run off."
"Careful Astarion," Shadowheart interrupts from her place near one of the bodies, "You're starting to sound like you care about these kids."
Astarion looks appalled by the very idea. Something Wyll is starting to understand about his new acquaintances is that they don't seem to like to do anything that doesn't benefit them, "Of course not! It would just be a lot easier if we didn't have to step into help them every five seconds- though that is more of our friend Clytestra's fault for forcing us to do this work."
Finally, the Teifling decides to add her own two cents into the conversation, looking up from the body to glare at Astarion- the blood covering her face making it hard not to feel unease at the sight, "Just enjoy the bloodbath. It's always a joy to see the purity of water dissolve into the red of blood before your very eyes."
The smile that forms on Astarions face does nothing to stop the annoyance growing in Wylls gut, "Oh, you know just what to say to get me to forgive you."
The Teifling doesn't respond.
Such a plain display of blood lust was uncommon for Wyll to witness, even with the amount of devils he spent his time hunting. To take such joy in taking someones life was reserved to monsters only and while this may be one the pure extent of Clytestra's love for it was alarming at best, downright monstrous at worst. And Wyll would hate to have to fight his newest companion.
So, he bring his sword back into his belt and turns to the others, "We should turn our attentions to the child rather than the blood spilled here, should we not?"
They all turn to face the boy, surprised that he's still here and not already run off to his parents. That's if he has parents, Wyll knows just how devastating the experience in Elturel had been for the Teiflings, most of all the children. He does not recognise him from the training he was giving to the children, must be apart of the little collection that refused his teachings.
Clytestra was the first to move, jumping down from the hill with surprisingly quick acrobatics. The boy cowers once again but she seems undisturbed, not stopping till she's kneeling in front of him.
Uncaring for the sight she makes, bloody and tired, she speaks, "The harpies are gone. You can run off to wherever you came from."
After a moment spent trying to find his voice, the boy speaks, "I can't. I was sent to get their jewels. I can't leave till I get that or Mol will have my head."
Wyll can't help expressing his shock, "What kind of parent orders their child to head into a harpies nest?"
The boy makes a disgusted noise, "Mol's not my mom, she's my boss."
Before he could once again question why this child has such a exploitative boss, Clytestra holds out some gold for the boy to take, "Here's what I found. You can bring it back to your boss."
Instantly the boys nerves disappear, he take the gold with enthusiasm, "Thanks ma'am. You should come and meet Mol, she'd love you. Maybe even give you a job, I'd love to work with a real hero!"
The tensing of Clytestra's shoulders is small, small enough he almost doesn't notice it at all. But he does. Other than that there is no other physical reaction besides a slightly more harsher tone when she responds, "I'm no hero-"
"Mirkon!"
"Mirkon… I'll go and speak with your boss soon," She turns towards the chunks of magic energy seeping through the clouds, all coming from where the druids were working on the ritual. The magic put Wyll on edge, it seemed corrupting as it flew through the air shifting the blue hues into a sick acid green, "Where are they based?"
Mirkon smiles, a wide smiles that can only truly been seen on a small child. Every time Wyll sees a smile such as this it reminds him why does this. Why he's the blade of frontiers. He marks on Clytestra's map just where to find their hide out.
Clytestra takes it and nods towards the bubbly child with comical seriousness. It's a strange way of interacting with children, not infantilising them as many people do but not delivering the energy and enthusiasm a child craves. Yet, she does not do any of this out of cruelty but a almost endearing kind of awkwardness that could only been seen in someone who has never interacted with a child within their lifetime.
Eventually Mirkon leaves them, running off with the gold clutched tightly in his clawed hands, and while Astarion complains about selling off their hard earned treasure Wyll can't help but interrupt, "What exactly do you plan on doing with our visit to Mirkon's boss?"
Clytestra's head snaps up, the annoyance her face had held bleeding away sightly to reveal a more calmer expression underneath. It almost makes her look normal. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts, a common occurrence he is finding. As if she has something going on in her mind yet could never grasp it long enough to makes sense of it, "I want to meet his boss…find out why she wanted to risk sending a child into a harpies nest."
Wyll nods, he's fairly sure by now that this boss that their talking about was a child just like Mirkon himself. Even if Clytestra was not. But the woman seemed painfully unaware of the dealings of what usually goes on in the wilderness. If she wants to meet them there's not much harm she could do, even with her violent nature in battle he was sure that she wouldn't hurt something as helpless as a child.
At least he was fairly sure she wouldn't.
After a few more conversations with the locals and Tiefling refuges Clytestra leads the group towards the hideout for the gang. The boy, a small thing constantly staring off into the distance as if listening to a immersive song- a frightening sight- but she pays it no mind, giving the password she had been gifted and their all being led down a secrete hold hidden in the druids own grove.
It seems almost impossible, the huge looming cave that greets them when they emerge from the darkness, stone pillars dropped from the ceiling sit in the middle, splitting the cave into sections. Sections the group of children have all fashioned into their own private spaces. Further fuelling Wylls idea of a small group of orphaned Teiflings making a gang to try and survive the journey to Baldurs Gate on their own.
Among the group there's a Teifling girl commanding them all. Her skin as red as the fires in the Hells he had ventured through, her scar as prominent as the ones seen in on his travels. Her clothes hang off of her thin frame, more so than the others and the scowl on her face is eerily similar to the one he's seen on Clytestra's face when in battle. It softens once she looks to Mirkon, taking the money with care, yet comes back full force once she spots them standing on the edge of the entrance.
It's only when she motions for them to come in that Clytestra moves, her feet planted at the door as she takes it all in. Now they were further in Wyll could spot training dummies of their own made for them to use, even worse for wear then the ones he used- which left much to be desired for actual training, the druids couldn't care less about helping the Teiflings here. Even the children.
The girl, Mol most likely stands proud observing the group with an eye far to suspicious and calculating for a child. But such is the way of life for these people. With the missing eye and the scars covering her lip it's not hard to imagine the horrors this girl has had to face at such a young age. It makes Wyll sick.
As usual Clytestra shows no concern for the child, meeting her gaze with a similar critical expression on her face. Once again, she does not soften her voice when she asks Mol, "Mol I assume? You're the leader of this group."
"Of course I am," Mol answers an air of pride in her voice, Wyll knows well enough it's not out of arrogance this girl announces this. She cares for helping these kids just as much as he does all things less fortunate then him, "My kids say you've been busy since you got here. Mirkon says you got him out of a tight spot with some harpies. Gotta say I'm impressed."
Her gaze drops to the floor, voice taking on an almost nervous tone, "And you saved Arabella from those druids. Don't know what those bastards would've done."
Still Clytestra's calculated gaze doesn't drop, "I wouldn't have had to save them if you didn't send kids to steal and rob people who'd likely kill them without a thought."
"Hey," Mol snaps, the thankful energy gone in an instant replaced with a dangerous protectiveness, "I don't appreciate being judged for keeping my kids safe. Not a lot a kid can do for work around here besides stealing but please if you have any idea I'd be happy to listen."
Clytestra's brow furrows, she doesn't look offended at the comment but Wyll can't place the expression well enough to know what she is feeling. The only hint they get is the edge of softness thrown into her tone, "I'm not ordering you to stop stealing- I'm warning you about picking better targets. I can't say sending anyone into a harpies nest for money is a good idea, stick to the humans. They're angry but nobody likes them enough to put up with their bullshit for long. They'd rather fake ignorance. Makes it easier to get away with doing things to them."
Behind him Astarion snickers, Wyll saw the man at the gate coming through the grove holding his nose ranting about some Tiefling dick who thought she was better than him. At least now it gives him a bit more context on what that was about.
But this kind of advice wasn't one he'd wish to impart on a child, "How about we don't go informing children on how to steal better?"
With the way Clytestra rolls her eyes it him, it's safe to say she does not care all that much for his opinion on how she interacts with kids. Mol however perks up at the sound of his voice, "You're the guy who was teaching the kids how to fight."
Wyll nods, "I didn't notice any of your kids at the session, why?"
After what Mol had been saying it makes sense for her to want her kids to have a chance with the goblins, why they weren't involved in the training doesn't makes sense.
"We don't need it," Mol announces motioning over to the make shift training dummies along the fallen rock, "We got our own training taking place."
The training in question was crude at best. The children taking large swings at the dummies but failing to keep themselves steady, eventually they just give up and use their claws. What could be an affective strategy if they had wearied their opponent down enough with the swords or even just could be used as a last resort. But from the state of things, those children weren't going to survive the first fight.
Clytestra, a dangerous fighter herself looks upon it with a mix of bemusement and annoyance, "I appreciate the violent fighting style, it's always good to see someone so young partake in bloodshed, but this won't last you one battle. Have Wyll teach you."
"Pardon?" Wyll asks, not expecting to be brought into training once again. Not when they had so much to do.
"You trained the children," Clytestra explains, looking to Wyll in confusion head tilted to the side her jewels lining her horns shaking, "Do you not wish to do so with them?"
Before Wyll could respond, explaining that he did want to train the children but was confused as to why Clytestra would so easily throw away precious time needed to battle mind flayer symptoms to help some kids. Mol answers for him, "He's asking why you'd take time out of your day to help some criminal kids you've just met."
The question stumps Clytestra for a long time. Her white eyes fazing in and out of focus as she cobbles together a response so unsure it sounds like a question, "I don't want to see children taking out by goblins. It would be a waste of perfectly good meat to turn into worthy fighters when they get older."
It's times likes this that Wyll realises why her and Lae'zel are such good friends. The sentence disturbs Mol, with the way she recoils back but she's quick to recover from it, turning to Wyll in question.
Despite the multitude of quests they were still in the process of completing Wyll would be a fool to try and deny these children of protection they so desperately need when venturing into the world to Baldurs Gate, "If these children need teaching there is no one more fit for the job than the Blade of Frontiers."
Clytestra once again rolls her eyes, she does not seem to be too fond of the name, "Is The Blade of Frontiers also known for this speed? Because we still have many thing to attend to after this."
The mocking tone does not go unnoticed by Wyll, but it does go unacknowledged by him. he bows his head towards Mol who watches with amusement and excitement, "I shall be as quick as a I can manage to be, these children need as much help as they can get."
Mol smiles the tissue on her scar wrinkling as she does so showing the gums above her fangs, "Let's see if you're all you say you are Mr."
Clytestra returns the smile, taking her place leaning against the rocks to observe as Wyll walks to the dummies, "Yes lets."
A small amount of nervousness claws at Wyll when they meet each others eyes, calculating plain white irises meeting his dark mismatched ones. The moment seemed to go on forever, Wyll desperately trying to figure out what the Teifling wants from him, while she gives nothing away. Not even who she is. Someone who helps people sure, but there was a darkness to her that only came out occasionally, it made her volatile and rude at best. Something to be feared at worst. And yet this did not feel like either of those moments, it felt- Wyll didn't know just yet. Only that it was different.
Unlike what he had said, Wyll did in fact take up most of the day training the kids. Much to everyone's dismay. These things couldn't be rushed after all. In the end, most of the group had made their own way back to the camp- save for Clytestra herself who still didn't look to pleased to be stuck here for so long. But then again that might just be her face. He's not entirely sure.
Despite how long it may have taken, these kids were extremely adept at fighting, at least for their age. A sad but helpful fact he used when teaching them, and they were all enthusiastic enough to put their full attention onto the training. Even Mol, who had meant to stick to the sidelines as she made sure the kids didn't step out of line, joined in the lessons once he went onto slightly more advanced strategies for them to use.
"And always remember," Wyll reminds the children as he shows one last move to them, nothing too complicated or strength based as to accommodate the smaller children here, "The aim is never to bring your enemy down it's always to by enough time to run away. I don't think Mol would appreciate any of you getting hurt."
"That's right!" Mol yells to her little gang of followers, a stern look Wyll's seen on parents time and time again, "If any of you get killed I'm bringing you back to yell at you for being an idiot."
The kids smile back, but it's easy to tell just how serious Mol is about this threat. He's seen leaders of countries be less protective of their people than Mol is to her kids, it's honourable in a way Wyll doubts would be appreciated if he was to compliment her on this fact. This is the type of protection that comes from desperation, of too much loss breaking somebody so much they cling to what they do have for safety.
Clytestra moves closer to the group now that the training has finished, she does not attempt to try and cover the annoyance on her face. Wyll finds the honesty refreshing rather than offensive. She regards the kids with little interest now instead focusing her gaze upon Wyll, "We've spent enough time here, we have to head back to camp."
There wasn't much Wyll could do beside nod in agreement. Anymore training would take far too long for them to all learn effectively and he had spent the past few hours doing nothing but fighting- he's eager to try and relax after this exercise in patience, "I've taught them all that can be done for now." Wyll turns to Mol, "Unless you wish for me to come back?"
Mol lights up at the question, her fangs on full display, "I'll take whatever training I can get! Those warlock powers were sick."
"You should be focusing on your own skills rather than the blade of frontiers, no matter how great they might be." Wyll laughs.
"How humble," Clytestra rolls her eyes. her fingers are twitching now like she's got some kind of itch she desperately needs to scratch but is trying to ignore it. Wyll doesn't comment on it, "We'll try to visit soon- if I can find the time."
"Perfect," Mol says, she's bouncing slightly on her feet, as if containing her joy. It's a small childish quirk that does well to remind them just how young she is, "We're gonna be seeing more of each other anyway. If you take me up on my offer I might just make you both "
"We'll see." Clytestra answers before Wyll could get a chance to ask. And the glare that's sent his way after is enough for him to get the message. It's probably what her and Mol where talking about when he was first starting to train the kids, and as much as he does want to pry, he won't risk their new found common ground on helping these kids so early into their- friendship.
So, they say their goodbyes to the Teifling kids and made their way to their own camp. The scattered light from the torches place around the grove and the thousands of stars lighting there way were the only company the couple had as they walked the dirt path. Wyll found himself enjoying the small moment of silence, of quiet after all they had been through these past few days. Clytestra kept her head down to the ground, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.
Yet, when they passed the threshold of the grove, it was her who broke the silence. Gone was her usual neutral tone replaced with something softer- or more closely and attempt to be softer like someone had heard that softness spoken to them years ago and was trying to replicate it after years of not hearing it, "You're good with them…the kids I mean."
After Wyll gets over his momentary surprise, he smiles in thanks, "You're…alright with them as well, my friend."
Clytestra perks up at the word friend, a openness in her face not seen, but he doesn't get the time to decipher it before it shifts to confusion, "Alright with them?"
"Well," Wyll starts trying and failing to keep amusement out of his voice, "You would be good with them too, if you didn't look as if you were seconds away from slicing their throats."
For a moment it looks like Clytestra was going to defend herself, but then she gives a sigh of defeat and almost pout on her face, "If I was going to do that to anyone it'd be the so called Blade of frontiers- to claim his title for myself. Or that god awful excuse for a bard Volo."
Wyll laughs, and it's not too long before Clytestra joins in too. A small chuckle, barley a real laugh but it's one of the most earnest things he's heard from the Teifling since meeting her.