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Nalia found herself pacing once more and skidded to a stop. Swearing to herself, she trudged her way over to the remnants of a neglected tree and sat beneath it. There. No more pacing. |
She remembered when this tree had been lush with green foliage. |
Then again, she remembered having a living father too. Things didn’t always survive the tests of time. Things like her self conviction, apparently. |
Closing her eyes, Nalia allowed herself to really dig into the self indulgence of the moment. She pictures what it would have looked like if she had never left. |
Death. They all would have died without the companions she had found in the Copper Coroner. |
But what about after that? Once the keep had been liberated, what if she had forced herself into the vacant seat her father had left behind? |
Death of a different kind. Even if she had wrestled power away from those who sought to strip it from her, there was no way she could have maintained it and remained herself, not as she was back then. She would have made concessions. She would have buckled. Everything that made her her would have fallen apart under the pressure of ruling before she was ready, and her morals would have gone with it. |
Perhaps it was lucky, then, that things had not turned out that way. That she had been given the opportunity to travel, to learn, to grow - to fight and die, to slay dragons and topple demigods alike. The things she had seen, the things she had done... |
She was better for it. For all of it. Her magic had grown and so had she, and some combination of the two had spurred her to return here to set things right. |
Magic was her greatest strength, she thought. When you knew how to stop time, reclaiming your birthright shouldn’t seem as impossible as it had all the way back then. |
So why did it still feel off? |
Nalia eyed the Roenall banner flying high above the keep one more time before getting to her feet. Screw it. If she was going to do this, she was at least going to do it in clean clothes. |
She abandoned the path and skirted around the keep walls instead. The abandoned guard fort to the south would make as good a place to change as any. She’d just have to figure out how to wash her hair first. |
Somehow she had never learned a spell for that. |
The guard outpost was looking even worse for wear now than it had during the actual siege. Clearly Isaea Roenall had not prioritised the safety of the people under his care, but she had known he wouldn’t. If he had - if he were a different person entirely - then she wouldn’t be here to depose him. Yet here she was, walking around the stumbling palisade with anger in her steps, righteous fury in her heart, and too many thoughts to keep up with. |
She had barely entered the outpost’s only building when a voice sounded from within. |
"Fuck." Nalia only stopped herself throwing fire at the sound when she caught sight of who it was. Crouched on a beam in the rafters was someone in leather armour and a hood drawn up over their face. The hood, along with the shirt she wore beneath the armour, was pink. |
"Imoen," Nalia breathed, still trying to calm her elevated heartbeat, "What in the nine hells are you doing here?!" |
"Well, I’m here to help, obviously." She leaned forward and gave Nalia a little salute. "Where do we start?" |
Nalia blinked at her, not quite keeping up. "Start with what?" |
"Storming the keep! For a while there it looked like you were going to rush the front gates all by yourself. You could have taken them, though," she added with a grin. "Easily." |
For a moment Nalia just genuinely didn’t know what to do with the fact that Imoen, of all people, had chosen to follow her all the way. It was practically a compliment, she thought, considering the last person Imoen had chosen to follow. After all, Nalia had done the exact same thing. |
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Nalia managed, calmer now, "but I’m not rushing my own people." |
"Well that’s perfect too! Because I have a better idea." Imoen jumped down to the floor, landing softly and springing back to her feet with an agility Nalia almost envied. No, scratch that, she did envy that. Nalia had to remember that even though she had dabbled in sneakery when she was younger, Imoen had lived it for much longer. |
"I did some snooping," Imoen announced, pushing back her hood. Her hair, still pink, fell loosely around her face, and she looked genuinely pleased with herself. "Get this; there’s a secret entrance to the keep just a little bit north of here. I know, I know, impressive right? You can save the applause till later. I’ll show you where it is." |
She was already moving for the door before Nalia could properly react. "Wait," she said quickly. "Imoen, I already know about that." |
"It’s just up by the - what?" Imoen’s head snapped around, frozen in her tracks. "What do you mean you already know?" |
"Of course I already know about the secret door to my own home. I used to sneak out of the keep all the time!" |
"To do crimes?" Imoen purred wistfully. |
"To help the poor." |
"Oh, you’re no fun," Imoen said, but she was smiling as she shoved Nalia’s shoulder. Honestly, you’d never guess she grew up in a library. "So, that’s the plan then? We sneak in the secret entrance and fireball Roenall while he sleeps?" |
More than tempting. She had considered it more than once. She had combed through that thought night after night, gently imagining it from every angle. |
But was that how she really wanted to play this? Taking her own home by force? It was already hers by right - they never should have been able to take it away from her in the first place. But if she took it back the same way it had been taken from her, was she truly any better than the Roenalls in the first place? From the trolls who had slain her father? |
Was this how she helped her people - with fireballs and lightning bolts? Would nobility really serve the needy better when dead than when alive? |
Some, perhaps, but not all, and that was a dangerous way to begin her claim on the land. Nalia had been witness to no shortage of people forcing their will on the world through the force of their magic alone, and look at where it had gotten them all. If Irenicus and Bodhi weren’t enough of a deterrent, then surely The Five, surely Amelyssan. She had helped take them all down, but was she better than them? |
And... she was. She knew she was. She just had to make the reality of her actions match the facts she knew in her heart. |
"No fireball," Nalia said firmly. |
Imoen’s face dropped. "No fireball?" |
"Not even a little fireball?" |
"Absolutely not." Imoen made to speak again but Nalia cut her off. "No magic missile either!" Imoen clicked her mouth shut. "No magical deaths of any kind. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m not here to assassinate Isaea Roenall, even if he deserves it." |
Imoen practically pouted. "But why? Isn’t he an unjust ruler who deposed your family illegally? Isn’t he cruel? Isn’t he evil?" |
"Well, yes, but..." Nalia trailed off. Then she sighed, looking around for something to sit on. The only thing left in the worn down building was a bundle of hay stacked against the wall. It was close enough. She sunk down onto it, sifting through her own thoughts carefully to find a good way to explain. |
After a moment Imoen joined her, sitting at her side and watching her carefully. It was nice to have her here, Nalia decided, even as eager and playful as Imoen was. She meant well and she acted accordingly, and that was worth a thousand others who acted proper but neglected to help anyone else with their power. And Nalia counted her own family within that. |
"Isaea Roenall is incorrigible," Nalia admitted, "And worse than just a bad ruler. He’s involved in slavery for one, and paid off all the right people to get away with it for another." |
She might have expected more jokes if she had known Imoen less well than she did. Instead Imoen chilled, any playfulness evaporating from her demeanour. "And you’re opting not to kill the bastard?" |
"Not this bastard. Not like this," Nalia said. She thought for a moment longer, then leant towards Imoen, picking out the words to explain herself. "If this was any other slaver we had stumbled across anywhere else in the realms I wouldn’t hesitate to slay him myself. But this is my home. I need to do this differently." |
Imoen glanced out the window, beyond the palisade, towards the keep itself. "I suppose your home has already been through a lot." |
Nalia shifted. "Well, yes, but that’s not quite what I mean." |
"Sure it is," Imoen continued. "You’re not here to kill him, you’re here to fix your home and help your people." Imoen looked back at her then. There was something in her gaze then that let Nalia know that she did get it. "This isn’t about Roenall at all. You’re not here for him, you’re here for you. This is about the rest of your life." |
"That’s exactly it," Nalia said, feeling the tension leave her. She was surprised at the difference it made to know she wasn’t lost in some abstract campaign, that her motives made sense to people she trusted. "If I take the keep by force I’ve already started my tenure with the violence that the nobility have been getting away with for far too long. I want to make a change - not just here, but everywhere. I want it all to be better." |
"So, fireballs are out." Imoen sounded disappointed by this, but Nalia knew her well enough to know when she was teasing. |
"Fireballs are out," Nalia agreed. "And I think I have to do it alone. I want to prove to myself that I really can make this better for peasants and nobles alike, and that I don’t just think I can." |
Imoen placed her hand on Nalia’s then. Nalia met her gaze, wondering at the warmth of that smile. "You really are better than any of them." |
"I should hope so! Otherwise I’ve spent all this time sleeping in the wilderness for nothing." |
Imoen’s smile widened. "A joke? From Lady Nalia De’Arnise?" |
Nalia tilted her head. "Stranger things have happened." |
"That they have," Imoen agreed. She got back to her feet then, moving towards the entrance. When Imoen leant against the doorframe and looked back at Nalia there was some indecipherable thought playing out across her face. "Ok ok, I get it. No assassinations, no fireballs, no magically teleporting Isaea into a pit of crocodiles." |
"That last one is appealing," Nalia admitted. |
"I’ll stand down and let you do this on your own. But you have to promise that we’ll stay in touch." |
Nalia paused over that. "I wasn’t intending to ignore you after this, Imoen. I consider you a dear friend." |
But Imoen was shaking her head. "Not like that. Let’s... Hang on, the word escapes me. We should - oh, got it! Let’s form an alliance." |
And alright, that peaked her interest. "An alliance? Between you and my noble house?" |
"No, I mean a secret alliance between the noble with a heart of gold and the mystical and tantalizing - maybe even voluptuous, I haven’t decided yet - archmage who runs her own thieves guild." |
Now it was Nalia’s turn to stand up, though mostly in shock. "You’ve started a guild?" |
"Well, not yet," Imoen admitted, almost coy now. "But I’m gonna. And I want to outdo all the others while I’m at it." |
Nalia took another note of Imoen’s clothes then - it was rogue attire, despite the bright colour. The lack of mage robes was a deliberate choice then, even though both of them had acquired more than their share of enchanted robes over the years. Perhaps the choice of pink itself was a statement? Imoen had chosen her own path too, and she wanted the world to notice. |
Nalia cocked her head. It seemed like Imoen had thought this out more than she was letting on, but Nalia was failing to see the grand plan she must have in mind. "I can take voluptuous into consideration," - Imoen snorted, - "But are you really saying you want me, before I even retake my family’s political seat, to join a criminal organisation and be corrupt from the start?" |
At this Imoen rolled her eyes. "No, silly. What I’m saying is that what you’re doing with the nobility is what I want to do with the criminal underworld." |
And there it was. "Alright, I’m listening." |
Imoen spread her hands in a wide shrug. She probably would have spun around dramatically too if there had been room for it, but between them and the haybale there luckily wasn’t quite enough space. Instead she seemed to settle for an emphatic little hand gesture that Nalia wasn’t sure even meant anything. "You’ve seen the state of the Thieves’ Guild in Athkatla. They’re just as bad as Roenall, but competent enough to pull it off - the slaves, the torture, all of it. And I may be a thief, but I’m not that kind of thief. They’re making the rest of us look bad." |
"Worse than just "bad’." |
"Exactly! Evil," Imoen emphasised, and Nalia admitted it was probably a shame that Minsc wasn’t here to hear this speech of hers. "It’s all so much more insidious than any kind of evil I could have imagined, even back in Baldur’s Gate. What’s the difference between what the Thieves’ Guild is doing and what Irenicus did, except they do it quietly? I want to do better than that. I want to take them down." |
"By being a good thief?" |
"By being the best thief," Imoen said. "Cut out all the rot and just do the fun stuff. The actual sneaking and the thieving, but for good, you know? Rob the corrupt rich, save all the poor orphans. Redistribute the wealth, be a socialist icon, whatever! I can make a real difference in the world. I can make the thieves of the Sword Coast better than they are. If...If, you know..." |
Suddenly she seemed to be struck with something that almost resembled hesitation. Imoen looked to Nalia, as if searching for something she didn’t quite know how to ask for. "I mean, that’s the idea in a nutshell, but does it sound like crazy talk?" |
It would be a big task, that was for sure, but Nalia knew that if anyone was going to do it, it would have to be someone as genuine and well-meaning as the person standing before her. There was too much evil in the world, in every level of society, and after everything they had gone through with facing the children of Bhaal...? Well, Imoen was an archmage in her own right. And so was Nalia. |
They had gone through many of the same things and faced the same challenges, and now they wanted the same thing too. Maybe Imoen was right. Maybe their goals really weren’t that different. |
"It sounds like the crazy talk that the world needs to hear," Nalia said. |
The look of relief on Imoen’s face was immediate and clear, though she seemed to try to play it off as confidence. That might have worked with someone else, but not with someone who had fought alongside her for so long. Nalia moved closer to her then, taking Imoen’s hands in her own and allowing herself to smile. Somehow, it wasn’t hard with her. "Together I think we can afford to be a little bit crazy. With both of us working in unison? I think we can make something beautiful." |
"Up and down the Sword Coast," Imoen said, smiling too. "Above and below." |
"For the needy." |
"For good," Imoen agreed. Then she winked. "With a few fireballs, just for good luck." |
"Oh more than a few, if you’re facing the Thieves’ Guild." |
"I don’t know which of us will have the harder time," Imoen said then with a laugh. "Which class of crooks will be the hardest to change, yours or mine?" |
Nalia didn’t know the answer to that, but if they shared their determination in this then maybe they could do it. Or if not, they could raise hell to bring it as close as they possibly could. They had BEEN to hell, after all. They knew where the doors were. |
"Thank you," Nalia said then. "For coming here. For me." |
"Thank you for not laughing in my face," Imoen said, moving away to stretch her arms. "Not many of our companions would have had the same restraint." |
"The right ones would have," Nalia said, and Imoen nodded her agreement. Then, before Nalia even knew what was happening, Imoen had pulled her into a hug. She yelped at the suddenness of it, but when she heard Imoen’s gentle laugh she relaxed into it, just a little. |
Once they separated Nalia offered her hand out, pseudo-officially. "An alliance, then, between the future matriarch of the De’Arnise legacy and the beautiful and mysterious mage who will redeem the thieves of the land, whether they like it or not." |
Imoen took it eagerly, shaking in that rough way Nalia could never imitate but immediately knew she would miss dearly. "The pact has been sealed," Imoen said, before bowing with a wink. "Good luck with your keep, my lady." |
"And you with your crookery, O Voluptuous Sorceress," Nalia replied with a curtsy. |
And then Imoen was gone as fast as she had appeared. Nalia leaned out the doorway to try and catch which way she had gone, but either through magic or stealth she had vanished from sight. She really did have nothing on Imoen when it came to sneakery. |
But she wasn’t here for that, in the end, was she? She was here for something much greater. Or perhaps just as great, but on the opposite side of things. There was room to change it all on both sides of the law, and if Imoen was working with her... |
Well, it sure beat Yoshimo. |
In the end, Nalia improvised. |
She was not going to liberate her home in the garb of an adventurer, nor was she going to arrive in the robes of an archmage. She was Lady Nalia De’Arnise, and she was going to look the part. Or at least, her version of the part. |
She had several changes of clothes stowed in her bag of holding, mostly kept for comfort during the days she wasn’t travelling across the countryside, but little of what she had spoke to the noble title she was here to claim. She had various gems and jewels she had collected in her adventures, and it would be relatively easy to fashion them into a necklace or headpiece with the right spell. But at the same time Nalia could so easily picture the kind of extravagance her aunt had embodied on a daily basis - all while letting the poor starve. She loved her aunt, but Delcia Caan was a far cry from the kind of nobility Nalia wanted to become, and was in fact a large part of the reason Nalia had rebelled against her upbringing in the first place. So why dress like her, if she embodying something different? She needed something to bridge the gap, to close the distance between the airy heights nobles liked to hold themselves at and the grounded reality of everyone else. |
Nalia thought Imoen had the right idea of it - to appear to the world like you wanted to be seen. So Nalia settled on simple - an ordinary dress she had procured on her last visit to Athkatla. The fabric had a comfortable sheen to it, blue and yellow balanced throughout, but no fanciful stitching or embroidery that would speak of wealth before she even opened her mouth. She donned steady, non-enchanted boots and a solid belt that easily could have supported a weapon strung to it, but didn’t. She dithered over a taking staff - would it look like a symbol of office, or be taken as a weapon? - but in the end she tossed it with the rest of her equipment back in the bag. The look was simple. It was nothing any noblewoman she had met would ever be caught dead in. |
It was perfect. |
This time when Nalia approached the front gates it felt right. She wasn’t a runaway child returning too late. She knew what she was doing and how she was going to do it. Moreover, she knew she was acting with the integrity she intended to stick by, and that she was not alone in her morals. It made it easier to know she wasn’t blinded by the same hubris that afflicted most of her class. |
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