I'll crawl home to him

“Nott will be here, in the log,” Beau repeats, one last time, pointing at a small stick on their makeshift battle map, “waiting. As soon as they stop and Keg gets Lorenzo’s attention, Nott will sneak into the nearest cart and try to unlock as many cages as she can.

“Molly and I will be hiding in the bushes here.” Beau gestures to the hills on either side of the path. “Once the caravan is stopped, we’ll flank and incapacitate the cart drivers before focusing on Dwelma. Nott, if you can take a shot as you sneak in, do it, but be careful. Getting to the cages unnoticed is the top priority, got it?”

Nott nods, fiddling anxiously with her flask. Beau musters up the best reassuring and confident face she can and makes eye contact with Nott, Keg, and Molly in turn.

Now is the time to say something encouraging, something that will bolster everyone’s spirits for the battle to come. Instead, “Don’t fuck it up,” she orders. “Our friends are counting on us to get them back.”

Keg nods once, terse, watching the southernmost horizon. Nott simply takes a swig from her flask, but Beau can see the fierce determination in her eyes. Molly salutes, sarcastic, but it’s chillingly offset by the uncharacteristic somberness of his expression.

Beau exhales, long and sharp. “We don’t know how early they’ll start moving. We’ll set everything up tonight, take watches while we sleep. We can do this, guys.” They have to.

+++

Beau doesn’t notice Nott dart from the log to the center cart, but she does see the crossbow bolt sink itself into the stomach of the cart’s driver. There’s a grim smile on her lips as she darts out of the bushes and down the hill, pulling out two throwing stars as she goes. They both hit their mark on the driver of the first cart; one in his chest, the second scraping across his neck before embedding itself in the wood beside him.

Skidding the final distance between herself and Dwelma, Beau cracks her knuckles. The half-orc towers over both her and Molly, but when Molly engages, the flash of the Summer’s Dance comes away tinged with blood. Beau’s smile stretches into a humorless grin. For one moment, between ducking Dwelma’s spells and attempting to land her own attacks, she allows herself to hope that, for once, they won’t fuck up.

Of course, that’s when everything goes to shit.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beau sees Keg frantically throw two javelins at Protto. Both miss. Lorenzo says something too low for Beau to hear and, instead of snarking back or attacking, Keg turns tail and runs. Beau hisses a curse through her teeth as Dwelma lands a hit on her ribs.

“For fuck’s sake,” Molly mutters under his breath, eyes skipping from Dwelma to Keg and back. Beau huffs in agreement and raises her fists.

“Move away!” Lorenzo calls in that same moment, voice booming across the battlefield.

Dwelma looks between Beau and Molly, tusks baring in a snarl. She goes to step back, away from Lorenzo. Beau locks eyes with Molly. They move nearly in sync; Beau cracks her elbow against Dwelma’s temple as Molly’s scimitar pierces into her side. The half-orc crumples. Relief that at least one thing has gone right flashes through Beau’s mind as she turns towards Lorenzo.

She has one second to register the dangerous smirk on his face before the air crackles and freezes, cold rushing from his spread hands. Shards of ice force both her and Molly to stumble back, panting. Keg hadn’t said Lorenzo could to magic. Fucking balls, Beau thinks, irritation rising as she regains her footing.

Lorenzo spares one glance at Dwelma’s body before turning back to Keg. “Am I going to have to make a lesson here?”

The shudder that crawls up Beau’s spine has nothing to do with the still-lingering cold of the spell.

“Shall we?” Molly asks, already heading towards Lorenzo. He’s limping.

“After you,” Beau agrees, pulling out another throwing star.

Satisfaction flashes briefly through her when she realizes the drivers of the front two carts were also caught in Lorenzo’s spell; both of their bodies are now ice statues. It’s a little creepy and a lot ominous, but that’s also two fewer people they have to worry about. Quickly changing targets, Beau sends the throwing star towards Ruzza. She doesn’t wait to see if it hits, but the grunt of pain is answer enough.

Lorenzo doesn’t move, simply smiles as he watches them approach. The blade of his glaive glints in the weak morning sunlight pushing through the clouds. Molly opens his mouth, the beginnings of an Infernal word on his lips until an arrow pierces his thigh. He stumbles, magic curse fading into simple profanity. Beau spins and manages to catch the second arrow before it can hit. Protto yelps when she sends it back at him, sinking it into his shoulder.

Despite the arrow in his thigh, Molly makes it to Lorenzo before she does. He raises his sword with a snarl on his lips; this time, the Infernal comes out uninterrupted. The veins around Lorenzo’s eyes run black and at the same time, blood begins to drip from Molly’s ears and nose. He tumbles to the ground, unconscious at Lorenzo’s feet. Beau bites down on a panicked curse.

Time slows as Lorenzo tilts his head down at the unconscious tiefling. His lips curl into a cruel smile and he glances back at Keg, then towards Beau, before his eyes return to Molly. He raises the glaive.

“An example it is.”

The words barely exit his mouth; the glaive lowers by a mere inch before a beam of burning red streaks across the battlefield from down the road.

It whistles as it tears through the air. Lorenzo notices it first, but Beau follows his gaze when he turns. She has perhaps two seconds to wonder about this new player - a mage or sorcerer, by the looks of it, but they’re too far away to see properly - before a fireball explodes above the battlefield. It detonates high enough that it only hits Lorenzo, but the heat settles in the surrounding area, chasing away the lingering effects of the ice spell.

Lorenzo stumbles, the glaive impacting scant inches from Molly’s prone form as he turns, snarling, towards his attacker. Beau catches a harsh, relieved exhale against her teeth when Lorenzo pauses, tilting his head before he steps around Molly’s body, around the carts, and down the road.

Beau rushes forward, keeping one eye on Lorenzo and the new arrival while she drags Molly away. Keg arrives beside her in a clank of armor and Beau bites back admonishments and questions in favor of taking the offered healing potion. She sits Molly up and forces his mouth open as the new arrival raises their hands. Fire sparks to life in their palms, dancing between their fingers,  but they don’t attack.

Molly jolts back into consciousness with a gasp, coughing down the potion’s dregs. “What—?”

Beau shushes him, hauling him to his feet with Keg’s help. “We gotta go. We’ll talk about what a dumb fucking move that was later, when we’re not in danger of being stabbed or possibly fucking incinerated at any moment.”

“Incinerated?”

“Later,” Beau grits out.

There’s a clang and Keg yelps. Beau glances back, cursing under her breath when she sees Protto reloading his bow. She hands Molly’s full weight off to Keg, pulling out a throwing star as she turns around.

“Get behind the hill,” she orders. She has no idea how they’re going to make it out of this alive, even with this new maybe-ally, but some cover is better than being out in the open.

Keg grunts. She and Molly continue limping around the hill. Beau narrows her eyes at Protto and Ruzza; she sends the throwing star at the latter just as the former releases an arrow. She catches it and sends it back, grumbling when it misses Protto by a few inches.

Ruzza, at least, looks somewhat injured from the two throwing stars sticking out of her body. She raises a hand, curling her fingers in a complicated-looking pattern. Beau blinks and suddenly her vision is replaced with beautiful, swirling colors. She raises a hand to touch a streak of teal twisting past her face, only to be abruptly snapped back to reality when an arrow slams into her shoulder. Ruzza growls at Protto, who doesn’t look sorry.

Beau glances over her non-arrowed shoulder, breathing out a relieved sigh when she can’t see Keg or Molly. Drawing on her ki, she focuses and gets the fuck out. Another of Protto’s arrows whizzes past, impacting uselessly in the dirt. Beau skids around the hill, stumbling to a stop beside Molly.

“What took you so long?” He grumbles.

Beau rolls her eyes at him, debating between pulling the arrow out of her shoulder or leaving it in. She eventually decides to leave it for the time being, seeing as she has no healing potions and isn’t looking to bleed out any time soon. The arrow doesn’t feel poisoned, which is nice.

Before she can respond to Molly’s question, Nott rushes around the corner. They all tense, waiting for someone to follow, but nothing appears.

“Guys, they’re leaving,” she gasps, more a question than a statement. Her fingers are still curled tight around her crossbow, frustration tugging on the corners of her mouth. “I couldn’t unlock any of the cages, and then there was that cold spell - did Lorenzo cast that? Because what the fuck, you never said he had magic! - and then there was a fireball,” she cuts herself off for a second to catch her breath, “but then the wizard or whatever just said something to Lorenzo and he turned around! And left! I barely got away from the carts without getting trampled by horses!”

“Woah, what?” Molly says, straightening. He winces, then continues, “What wizard? There was a fireball? I was only unconscious for a few seconds, what the hell happened?”

Beau grimaces. “Some wizard showed up, fireballed the hell out of Lorenzo - saved your dumb fucking ass.” She turns to Nott. “You said he just said something to Lorenzo and they left?”

Nott nods, somewhat frantic, and points around the hill towards the north. Sure enough, when Beau looks over, she sees the Iron Shepherds’ caravan rushing down the road.

Keg mutters confusedly under her breath. “The fuck?”

Before Beau can respond, the crunching of grass under multiple sets of feet - two people, probably - catches her ears. She spins, raising her quarterstaff while at the same time, Nott readies her crossbow.

Sure enough, two people round the hill, hands raised. Beau narrows her eyes. The first person, a scruffy, probably-human man who looks like he hasn’t slept well in days, pauses out of range of Beau’s staff. He’s easily in shooting distance of Nott, which he’s either ignoring or somehow unaware of.

“Hallo,” he says. He has an accent - Zemnian, maybe?

Beau blinks at the woman behind him, nearly does a double-take. Instead of skin, she seems to be covered in short, dark brown fur. Her nose is wide and flat, as are her ears, which are also long and floppy. Trivia from half-remembered lessons with the Cobalt Soul tickles the back of Beau’s mind: a firbolg.

“Who the fuck are you?” Beau snaps.

Despite their raised hands, she doesn’t lower her guard. If one of them is indeed the wizard, which is very likely, she’s not taking any chances. The man’s lips curl into an almost-smile.

“Ah. My name is Caleb Widogast, and this is,” he gestures to the firbolg woman, who smiles hesitantly.

“Hello. I am Nila. We are here to help you.”

Beau raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t have to look behind her to know that the rest of her group is equally as suspicious and wary as she is.

“I am sorry we did not get here sooner,” Nila continues.

Caleb clears his throat. “We are, ah, tracking the same people as you, I think.” He tilts his head to indicate up the road. “They have...taken people from us, as well. Assuming you are continuing on your journey to pursue them, it would be more advantageous if we were to work together. Strength in numbers, ja?”

Beau squints at him. “Sure. How do we know you won’t incinerate us in our sleep or something? We’re not exactly the most trusting, and it’s not like you’re super trustworthy, y’know?”

Something dark flickers across Caleb’s expression, but it’s gone before Beau can even attempt to parse it out. He nods to Molly. “I saved that one, did I not?”

So he’s the wizard. And he’s got a point, kind of, but, “We had them there, we could’ve gotten people out. You seem powerful, maybe we could’ve fought them. Why’d you make them leave - also, how?”

She’s aware it’s not the best point, but it’s been a rough morning. She trusted the first person they encountered walking down the road; look where that got them.

“I assumed it would be better to retreat, given the circumstances. We could not have fought them and won, I do not think, not here in the open.” He doesn’t answer the question about how he’d gotten them to leave.

Beau continues to study him for a moment, looking for cracks in the calm, sincere mask he’s presenting. She eventually gives up with a sigh when she can find none.

“Fine. Maybe you’re right.”

She looks back; at Molly, slumped against a log, still looking far too close to death for her liking; at Nott, whose eyes are narrowed, though her crossbow has lowered hesitantly; at Keg, eyes on the ground, fidgeting with the charm at the end of her battleaxe.

Beau watches her for a second longer than the others before continuing, “We know they’re going to Shadycreek Run. We can follow them there, come up with a plan along the way.” She pauses, then adds, “We have some business we need to attend to there, as well. It might get us some allies, might not. I’m not really sure what exactly our contact will need with us, to be honest.”

Caleb nods, lowering his hands. “I will follow your lead...”

Right. “Beauregard. You can call me Beau.”

“I will follow your lead, Beauregard.”

Beau sighs, even as she lowers her guard and settles back onto the ground beside Molly. Doing so jars her shoulder and she winces; she’d almost managed to forget about the arrow in there. Damn it.

Nila steps forward. “I can help with that,” she says, gesturing to the arrow. “I do not have any bigger healing spells prepared today, but I can create some berries that will help. Tomorrow I will prepare spells that can do more.”

“Thanks,” Beau grimaces, pulling out the arrow in one sharp tug. She presses her hand to the wound and accepts the berries Nila hands her.

They’re surprisingly sweet, and Beau can feel the aches in her body easing slightly as she eats. Caleb appears beside Nila with a bundle of bandages and, after checking that he or Beau can handle binding the wound, Nila moves away to deal with the others. She apparently deems Nott and Keg stable enough, because she only hands them one berry each before handing the remaining five to Molly. He takes them with a grateful nod and a charming smile.

“What else can you do?” Nott asks. “Can you fight?”

Nila smiles. “I can turn into many different animals; I think the most dangerous one I can do is a crocodile. I also have many spells that can be used for healing or for fighting. When we find the people that took my son and my partner, I would like to summon lighting and hit them again, and again, and again.”

It’s very unsettling to hear such a violent act described in Nila’s soft, calm voice. Beau kind of likes it. It’s hardcore.

Nott’s eyes go wide. “Woah.”

“I am sorry to interrupt,” Caleb says, stepping back after he helps Beau bind her shoulder, “but I do not believe I know the rest of your names.”

Ah, fuck. Beau knew there was something she was forgetting.

“Keg.”

“Nott the Brave.”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends,” Molly finishes, doing the best flourishing bow he can while seated and still injured. He covers up his wince with a smile that Beau can easily see through. “I hear you saved my life, so I suppose I’m in your debt, Mister Caleb.”

Caleb’s lips curl up, barely. “It is no big deal. I am sorry we did not arrive sooner, but I’m glad that you are not dead, Mollymauk.” He glances up at the clouded morning sky, briefly, and then down the road. “Shall we continue?”

Beau pushes herself up with a groan. “Ugh, fuck. Yeah, c’mon, our horses are over here. We’re gonna have to double up, though.”

“That is alright. Lead the way, Beauregard.”

Beau rolls her eyes, offers a hand to Molly, and then starts off towards the horses once she’s sure the tiefling is steady on his feet. It’s going to be a long two days to Shadycreek, she can feel it.

+++

Beau corners Keg later, when they’ve stopped to feed the horses and stretch. None of them are that enthusiastic about the break, as they all want to continue pushing forward, but everyone has to admit it’s necessary.

Keg looks up when Beau approaches, cowering slightly when she sees the furious look on Beau’s face. She’s had hours on horseback to think, and her anger hasn’t lessened. Everyone looks over when she slams Keg into the ground, but none of them intervene. Even Nila only makes an aborted step forward.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us Lorenzo was a fucking magic user?” Beau snarls. “That would’ve been really fucking useful to know before he almost killed Molly!”

“I didn’t know!” Keg protests. Beau growls. “I didn’t, I swear!”

“If you will allow me,” Caleb offers quietly, stepping forward. “I have a spell that will allow us to know if she is telling the truth and if she has been holding anything back.”

Beau studies him over her shoulder. “Go for it.” She leans back but doesn’t release Keg.

Caleb dabs his thumb into a pocket on his belt and swipes it over his lip. His eyes spark with arcane energy. “I suggest you tell us everything you know about these people that either would have been useful earlier or will be useful for our coming fight. Repeat things you have already told them, if you must, and tell us what details you held back, if any.”

Keg breathes in a shuddery breath. “There are usually five of them; Wohn is a human barbarian, but she wasn’t with them. She’ll probably be at the Sour Nest; she’s not as bad as the rest of them, but we should still be cautious. Protto is the shitty little halfling rogue. The one Beau and Molly killed, the half-orc, is Dwelma - a druid, I think. I’m not sure what Ruzza is, maybe a sorcerer. She’s charismatic as hell.

“That’s it, that’s all I know. I never— I didn’t know Lorenzo had magic. I never saw him use it before today.”

Caleb nods, satisfied, and looks to Beau. After a second longer of glaring down at Keg, she relents and stands, stepping out of Keg’s space. Keg pushes herself up a moment later, guilt still lurking in her eyes and the corners of her mouth.

“If I’d known, I would’ve told you,” she says. Even without the influence of Caleb’s spell, it rings sincere.

Beau scrutinizes her for another moment before turning on her heel, stalking back towards the horses. “Let’s go.”

+++

“Hey,” Beau says, slumping onto the rocky ground beside Molly. Their shoulders bump, but neither moves away. “How’re you feeling?”

“Oh, you know.” Molly shrugs, a grin appearing easily on his face. “Could be better, could be worse. Could be dead. I suppose we have our lovely new travelling companions to thank for that, huh?”

The half-assed attempt at a joke falls flat when Beau shudders, glaring out of their tiny cave into the snowstorm. Molly has barely opened his mouth to say something else when Beau spins, landing a furious punch on his shoulder. She’s careful not to jostle any of his remaining injuries, but she doesn’t pull the attack, either.

He splutters, indignant. “Hey!”

Beau jabs a finger at his chest. She can feel everyone else watching them, but she doesn’t care. Her eyes are red with both anger and tears, and she forces herself to not care about that, either.

“Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” The words come out rough; she clears her throat and continues, “That dumb fucking move could’ve gotten you killed, and then what? If they hadn’t shown up,” she throws out a hand to indicate Caleb and Nila, “then fucking what? Keg, Nott, and I couldn’t have fought the Shepherds alone! And if we somehow did manage to save Yasha and Jester, only to have to tell them you were dead? You can’t do that to them, to Yasha!”

Her voice breaks, and quieter, she adds, “You can’t do that to me, asshole. We need you, got it?”

Molly blinks at her, stunned. For a moment, long enough that everyone at least pretends to go back to minding their own business, he says nothing. Then, mouth stretching into a teasing grin, he says, “I didn’t know you cared so much, unpleasant one.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Beau groans.

She stands with a grunt, flipping Molly off as she retreats as far as she can into the cave. Nott scoots over to make room for Beau to lay her bedroll down. She runs through her stretches as best she can in the cramped space, keeping up a stream of annoyed muttering the entire time. Molly at least has enough sense to look ashamed.

Later, as Beau tries to force herself to fall asleep, Molly slips in beside her, settling into the small space between her bedroll and the cave wall. He does his best to not crowd her too much, but she doesn’t pull away when his tail curls loosely around her ankle.

“I truly am sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ll try not to do it again, but I happily would if it meant you’d be safe.”

Beau sighs. “I’d kill you if you died for me, you know that, right? I can punch ghosts. My fists are magical.”

Molly chuckles. “I know. Go to sleep, unpleasant one.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Beau mutters back, but the cold is less abrasive with Molly radiating heat at her back. Slowly, she relaxes into the dark emptiness of sleep.

The night they get to Shadycreek Run, Caleb barely sleeps. The room he’s sharing with Nila and Beau only has two beds, so after setting the Alarm spell, he settles into the corner with his bedroll. Nila is already asleep when he snaps owl-Frumpkin into existence. Beau raises an eyebrow and mutters something that’s probably along the lines of, “What the fuck?” under her breath, but she doesn’t question him. Caleb is thankful.

He eventually drifts into unconsciousness sitting up, his fingers buried in the soft feathers at the base of Frumpkin’s head.

The next morning, he wakes to Beau standing above him, nudging his leg with her toe.

“Hey,” she says, the hint of a frown on her face, though that could just be her usual facial expression. “C’mon. We’re eating and then heading out. We gotta talk to Ophelia Mardoon before we do anything else.”

She steps back, giving Caleb space to stand and pack up his bedroll. Frumpkin hoots as he’s jostled, flapping from Caleb’s knee to his shoulder. Caleb scritches him one more time on the head before snapping him back to his pocket dimension.

When he turns around, Beau is watching him, bemused. “You have a magic owl?”

“Ja, that is Frumpkin. He is my familiar. Usually, he is a cat, but an owl has been...more useful to me, lately.”

“Huh.” Beau turns, leaving the door open behind her as she exits the room. “Let’s go, Widogast. The others are waiting downstairs.”

Caleb follows, shaking his head.

+++

“I am sorry, who exactly is this Ophelia Mardoon that we are meeting with?” Caleb mutters to Nott, who is walking with him at the back of the group.

Nott shrugs. “I don’t really know. The Gentleman told us to head up here to help her. Apparently she requested his aid for something, so we’re hoping that if we help her with that, she’ll help us against the Iron Shepherds.”

“I see.”

“The Gentleman is this weird, sweaty, blue guy in Zadash,” Nott explains. “He lives below this bar, the Evening Nip—”

“Ja, I have heard of him,” Caleb interrupts.

He is questioning, not for the first time, the merits of working with this group. Either they don’t understand the dangers of willy-nilly mentioning the name of who Caleb thinks is a crime boss, or they’re just...naive.

“You have?!” Nott shrieks, causing everyone else to turn around. “Caleb has heard of the Gentleman, too!”

Keg and Nila both continue to look confused, but interest dawns on the faces of both Molly and Beau. Caleb fights the urge to sink further into his scarf and coat.

“Really?” Molly asks, slowing slightly so he’s walking just in front of Caleb and Nott. “Have you?”

“Oh, uh, ja. I have never met the man, but we— I have taken jobs in Zadash that led me to the...less trustworthy parts of the city, if you will. I have not met him personally, but I have heard of him.”

“You’ve been to Zadash too?!”

Caleb winces, leaning away from the shrill excitement in Nott’s voice. “Ja, that is where I live when I am not on a job.”

“Huh,” Beau says. “Small world.”

+++

Caleb stays in the back, beside Nila, while Beau and Molly lead the discussion with Ophelia Mardoon. He half-listens to the conversation, just enough that he’ll have it memorized in case they need to reference it again for whatever reason, but the rest of his focus is on studying the body language of both Ophelia and his companions.

Like him, Keg and Nila are both staying back, out of the conversation. Nila looks slightly intimidated by the grandness of Ophelia’s home and Ophelia herself. Nott, too, is looking around with wide eyes, though Caleb gets the sense that she’s more admiring than anything else. And, from what he’s learned of the goblin through their few days of travelling together, she’s probably looking for something shiny to steal. Caleb sincerely hopes she finds nothing, or that at the very least she’s good enough to not get caught.

Keg simply looks uncomfortable and out of her depth. Caleb can relate to that.

On the other hand, Molly is charming and charismatic, picking up the slack from Beau’s abrasiveness. He’s respectful, too, or at least acting like it; he’s doing a much better job at the charade than Beau is, if that’s the case. Despite the fact that she seems to be the leader in this ragtag group, her charm leaves much to be desired.

Luckily, Ophelia doesn’t seem offended by Beau’s lack of decorum. She exudes an air of serene confidence and power, but her aloof mask is difficult to read.

Caleb doesn’t trust her, but Caleb barely trusts anyone, so it probably will not go too badly.

“Do you have a cleric you wouldn’t mind lending us?” Beau asks, the straightforwardness of her question jolting Caleb from his observations. Beside her, Molly twitches, tail tensing and curling. “It’s just that we got pretty beat up the lasts time we tried to fight the Shepherds, and we don’t really have a healer.”

It is difficult to see where exactly Ophelia is looking because of her pupil-less eyes, but even from the back of the group Caleb almost shivers at the intensity of her gaze as she studies Beau’s face. Her lips curl up into the barest hints of what could be amusement.

“If we did, it would be for family only, little girl.” Beau opens her mouth to object and Ophelia continues, “But, our priest is not the only one. If you’re looking for help, you could look to the Blooming Grove.”

“And where and what is that, if you would be so obliged?” Molly asks, forcing all the polite charm he can into his words and his well-made smile.

“It’s a little farther from here, about six miles northwest of Shadycreek Run. It’s a burial grove, but there is a temple there with some strange hermit of a priest. The family that once looked over that grove has slowly dwindled as the years have gone. Most folks are spooked of them, but try that.”

“Thank you,” Molly says. “We should be heading out, then, if that’s everything sorted.”

Ophelia nods. “We'll lead you out the back route. Eyes on you leaving my estate would be unwise.”

She gestures to the two guards, who nod. Partway up her ascent of the stairs, she pauses and turns. When she smiles, her teeth are bared bright white against the darkness of her skin, and there is nothing kind about it.

“Do not disappoint me. I can be very frustrated when I'm disappointed.”

The guards lead them out.

Beau waits until they’re out of view and earshot of the estate before exhaling loudly. “We need to figure out what we want to do. We could head straight to the Blooming Grove, but we also need to do recon on the Sour Nest, and if we do that first then it’ll take even longer to get to the Grove.”

“Ja, that is true, but it is still early,” Caleb points out. “We could do recon now and then head to the Blooming Grove to see if this priest will help us. By the time we return to the Sour Nest, it will be past nightfall. It will be best to attack late, perhaps an hour or so after midnight, when most people are likely to be asleep.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s smart. You know how to get to the Sour Nest from here?” Beau asks Keg, who nods. “Lead the way.”

+++

Caleb watches through Frumpkin’s eyes as his familiar drops mouse-Nila into the Sour Nest’s courtyard. He circles the stronghold a few more times before a crossbow bolt from one of the guards forces him to dodge into the treeline, but it’s enough for him to get a good idea about the exterior layout and guard positions.

He waits 45 minutes, giving the guard enough time to cool down before he sends Frumpkin back out. Frumpkin circles for a minute or so before diving, catching mouse-Nila in his claws. They have to dodge another crossbow bolt on their way out, but neither of them are injured and the guards don’t seem too suspicious, so Caleb counts it as a win.

Nila transforms back into herself and begins to explain all that she’d seen. Caleb studies the map she draws in the dirt, the beginnings of plans already swirling in his head. Partway through her explanation, he has to stop himself and recalculate when he realizes he’s falling back into years-old strategy. 

Strategy he’d learned in school; most of it is far too ruthless for what he thinks these people are comfortable with. He digs his fingernails into his palms to redirect his train of thought.

Nila sighs. “I wish I knew if there was another entrance or exit underneath that trap door. I couldn't get in, but I heard the voices and I heard many people under there.”

“If I know anything from my time in the criminal underworld, it’s that these people always have secret passageways in and out,” Beau says. “Let’s do a perimeter walk, see if we find anything suspicious. If not, we can head to the Blooming Grove, see if the priest there will help us.”

“After you, then,” Molly agrees with a sweeping bow.

Beau rolls her eyes but sets off. The rest of them follow behind. Caleb snaps Frumpkin out of existence and takes up the rear.

They barely make it twenty yards into the forest before Keg curses, tumbling to the ground with a loud clatter. Everyone freezes.

“Hey!” The guard’s shout is distant but still clearly audible.

Keg curses again.

Beau locks eyes with Caleb and shrugs, a look of “fuck it” clear on her face before she turns northwest, towards the direction of the Blooming Grove. “Run!”

+++

It doesn’t take them long to outrun the guard, but they keep going for another mile or so before slowing. Nila ends up at the front of the group to guide them. Beau falls back to walk with Caleb, and though he can sense her wanting to ask something, she doesn’t actually say anything for nearly an hour.

Finally, soft enough that the others can’t hear, she says, “You said the Shepherds had taken people from you and Nila. I know who Nila is fighting for; who’d they take from you?”

Caleb sighs, fiddling with a loose thread on his coat sleeve. He can feel Beau studying him, but he focuses on the ground so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye.

“They took someone...very important to me. I was going to get him back whether or not I found allies, so I suppose it is fortunate I stumbled across you all. I am not sure how I would have fared on my own.”

This is not entirely true.

Beau hums. “You must care about him a lot then, huh? I mean, I know you’re powerful; you detonated that fireball so it only hit Lorenzo and then you somehow got him to leave - you didn’t answer my question about how you managed that, by the way, don’t think I didn’t notice - but taking on the Iron Shepherds by yourself? That’s a suicide run. Either you’re way too cocky, you’re much more powerful than you’re letting on, or you don’t particularly care if you survive. Which one is it?”

Caleb counts the seconds he is silent; he gets to 176 before he can respond around the sudden lump in his throat. Beau’s gaze burns into the side of his head.

“He is very important to me,” he repeats. “I am prepared to do what it takes to get him back.”

Beau scoffs and Caleb gets the sense that she is rolling her eyes.

“Right, okay.” She waits for him to elaborate, and when he doesn’t, she says, “Cool. Great talk, Widogast.”

They do not speak again for the rest of the trek. Eventually, Beau moves back up towards the front, near Molly, and leaves Caleb to take up the rear.

+++

It takes just over five hours before the overgrown purple-grey of the Savalierwood gives way to a green clearing. Blocking it is a fence covered in thorns and vines the same unnatural color as the rest of the forest. When they stop, Caleb sends Frumpkin into the air and watches through his familiar’s eyes as the owl circles the area.

There are two walls, similarly overtaken, beyond the first. The center of the grove is notably warmer and its vegetation is green and lush, surrounding grave markers that range from ancient to new. Between them, the grass is dotted with a myriad of vibrant flowers. At the center of it all is a stone building, windowless and overgrown with verdant vines and moss.

Caleb leaves Frumpkin to circle and returns to himself to report all that he’d observed.

“We could throw me over?” Keg offers, studying the wall with a challenging glint in her eye.

Molly and Nott both look delighted by that idea. Beau shakes her head, but she’s smiling, too.

“We could probably climb this,” she says. “Help me find some branches that have fallen.”

It takes them a minute, but eventually, they have a small collection of softer branches and vine. Caleb does his best to not touch them for long; the grey bark is freezing to the touch.

Nila shifts, eyeing the pile. “This corruption is not natural; I do not feel safe using these.”

“I would not touch them for too long if we can avoid it,” Caleb agrees.

Even as the words leave his mouth, Beau and Molly begin laying the branches against the wall, blocking out the thorns to give them a mostly-stable ramp. Caleb sighs.

“Hey, nice!” Nott cheers.

Keg adds, “Good job, Beau. We could still throw me, if we wanted— or maybe it would be better to throw Nott, I don’t know—”

Caleb, against his own logic and warnings, begins to climb the wall. He goes slow, careful to keep the thorns from catching on his skin or coat, but he makes it to the other side without issue. The others follow suit, some more nimbly than the others, and they all make their way past the next two fences.

The change is clear once they step into the Blooming Grove. Beyond the fact that everything is bursting with color, it’s much warmer in the clearing, and the ambient noises of frogs, birds, and insects are suddenly audible. The stone structure sits across the grove, the grass between it and them dotted with gravestones and beautiful, strange flowers. Even though they’re illuminated by golden sunlight, Caleb can barely make out the fading carvings of what look like two holy symbols: a wreathed shepherd’s crook and two crescent moons back-to-back atop a jagged cross. The sun rays soak through Caleb’s coat and into his bones as he studies the symbols. His head feels clearer than it has in days.

Glancing around, he notes that the gravestones are marked with a mix of mostly Elven languages. A couple in Sylvan stick out as legible, as well as one in Celestial. Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb sees Beau mouthing the Elvish chiseled into a marker a few feet away.

Nott darts forward through the graves, possibly heading towards the single arched window visible on the side of the temple they’re on. Halfway there, the corner of her cloak catches on a thorn, and she slams into the ground with a startled yelp.

Everyone freezes.

After a few seconds of tense silence, the warped wooden door at the front of the building creaks open. A tall, gaunt, light grey firbolg with a vibrant shock of pink hair steps outside, teacup in hand. He blinks at them all.

“Huh. I think I’ve only got three more cups. Hold on.”

He goes back inside, leaving the door ajar. Caleb exchanges looks with Molly and Beau; Molly is delighted and intrigued, but Beau looks like she’s readying for a fight. It isn’t all that different from how she’s been since Caleb met her.

“It’s a firbolg! He is a firbolg!” Nila exclaims.

Nott bounces back up and dashes over. “Do you know him?” She shouts. “What’s his name?”

“I do not! But he is a firbolg! He is one of my people. He is a firbolg. This will be good!”

The firbolg reemerges with a kettle and tripod, which he sets on the ground. He pulls out a carved staff with a large chunk of amethyst set in the top. After tapping it against the kettle a few times, he wanders into the graves to, apparently, collect flowers.

“Can we tag along? Do you need any help? What’s your name?” Nott asks.

“Mr. Clay. Caduceus Clay, and nah, I’m fine. One second.”

He returns to the kettle with a pile of purple-red flowers that Caleb remembers seeing on the grave Beau had been observing. 

“This is from Casala,” Caduceus informs them as he grinds the petals up. “Textile family generations ago, but they make very good tea now.”

He pulls out three more cups and gestures to the ground around him. “Sit.”

“Hi,” Nott says, staring at him with wide eyes. She stays standing.

Molly shrugs and flops onto the ground across from Caduceus. Nila sits beside him. Everyone else moves closer but stays standing. They wait in tense silence as Caduceus pours tea into his three extra teacups. 

“You have to share, I apologize.”

“I’ll pass. Booze is fine,” Keg says. Nott nods in agreement.

Molly picks up a cup with a wide grin. He takes a sip and hums, seemingly pleased with what he tastes. Beau waits for a second and, when he doesn’t show signs of being poisoned, sits next to him on the side not occupied by Nila. She takes the cup when Molly hands it to her and drinks, surprise flashing across her face.

“I would love to try your tea,” Nila says. Caduceus hands her a cup.

“Please, let me know what you think.”

Caleb settles hesitantly next to Nila and takes the third cup of tea. 

“It is delicious,” Nila breathes, smiling wide.

Caleb takes a sip. She’s right; it’s some of the best tea he’s had in a long time. The warmth of it spreads through his chest and settles pleasantly in his stomach. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings and odd company, something about it is comforting.

“I would like to hug you,” Nila says.

Caduceus smiles. “Oh, please. Come.”

Nila carefully sets her cup down and stands; Caduceus follows suit. She wraps him in a large hug and he relaxes into it, smile widening.

“I haven’t had one of these in a long time. This is nice.”

Nila releases him and settles back onto the ground, careful not to jostle her tea. “I am from the Guiatao Tribe. Do you know us?”

Caduceus shakes his head. “No. I'm sure they're wonderful, though. That sounds great. That sounds wonderful. Friends!” He sighs. “You have come. Please, let me know what I can do for you. Usually when people come here, it is because of some great tragedy. How can I alleviate your pain?”

Caleb shifts, wrapping his hands around the warmth of his cup. “Oh, well, Herr Clay, we do not come to you with a great tragedy but rather because we are hoping to prevent one and were wondering if you could assist us.”

Caduceus tilts his head. “Assist you? In what way?”

Beau leans forward. “Have you heard of the Iron Shepherds?”

Caduceus scrunches up his nose, thinking. “No, I'm sorry. I really don't get to leave very often, especially these days.”

“How often have you been alone out here?” Caleb asks.

Caduceus sighs. “Been 20 seasons now, 18 seasons? I try not to count, it just gets in the way of more important things.”

“How many seasons has it been since someone has knocked on your door like we have?”

“It’s been about two seasons, I suppose. Little bit of business, but it’s been slow.”

Caleb nods.

“Do you only gauge time in seasons?” Beau asks.

Caduceus shrugs. “It’s the only time that seems to matter.”

“That’s fair.”

“I agree,” Nila says.

Caleb interjects before they can stray further off track, “You are the owner of this place, ja? The caretaker?”

“I suppose you could say that, yeah,” Caduceus agrees. “This is exciting, most people who come here know what this place is. I’ve never had to explain it to someone before.”

He gestures to the graves around them, all covered in beautiful, vivacious flowers; some of them Caleb recognizes, most he does not. 

“This is a place where we take the dearly departed who have done well and the people who have lived good lives and we put them into earth that has been touched by the Wildmother,” Caduceus explains. “In turn, She grants them with beauty and splendor and sometimes tea.”

Beau glances at her cup. “We’re drinking dead people tea?”

“Aren’t we all?”

“That is a very fair point,” Caleb muses.

“Very true,” Beau agrees, somewhat begrudgingly. “But you're cultivating dead people for good tea?”

“Aren’t we all?” Caduceus repeats.

Beau hands the teacup to Molly and settles back, resting her weight on the palms of her hands. Molly leans forward, tail flicking back and forth with excitement. “You, sir, are wonderful.”

Caduceus blinks at him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “So are you, Mister....”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends. Your hair is absolutely incredible, Mr. Clay.”

“Aw, thanks.”

Caleb cuts in before Molly can continue charming Caduceus and before Beau can punch the tiefling for flirting with the person they’re supposed to be recruiting.

“As we said, we are looking for help. We are about to go do something very dangerous to rescue people who have been taken against their will. It is very likely that we will need a healer. I am aware it is not a very...promising proposition, but is that something you would be able to help us with?”

“There are firbolgs in this group, too, that need help,” Nila adds.

“Including a firbolg child,” Molly continues.

He’s followed by Beau, who says, “And they might not have long to live.”

“They’re being held by the Iron Shepherds,” Keg offers.

“Who are the bad guys,” Nott clarifies. “We're good guys. Well, we're sort of bad guys, too.”

“We’re working on it,” Beau argues.

Caleb sighs. “We are not bad guys.”

“We’re working on it.”

Nott spins to Caduceus, who is blinking at the sudden clamor of voices. “Are you a bad guy?”

Caduceus hums. “You know, honestly, I don't think I've had enough experience to have an opinion on that. I'm a good gardener.”

“What do you grow, other than dead tea?”

“I grow bramble, and mushrooms, and moss. I think I grow mushrooms the most. The flowers only grow from the graves,” Caduceus explains. “Or I have to plant them. When I Decompose animals that die in the grove, they become mushrooms. Sometimes I use them for tea. Sometimes I use them for other things—”

“Like drugs?” Molly asks.

Beau cuts in before Caduceus can answer. “I'm going to take a guess: you don't leave here very much, do you?”

 Caduceus considers it. “I’ve left a few times, I suppose. It's been a while. I've been on my own for a while. It makes you get a little rambly.”

“You’re stationed here?” Nott asks. “Are you allowed to leave?”

“That's a bit of a story. My family has run this temple for generations, and I'm sort of the last one left holding the fort down.”

“No cousins or anything?”

Caduceus shakes his head. “No cousins. A couple of sisters, a brother, my parents, an aunt, but they’ve all wandered off to help try and fix what's been going wrong.

“I'm sure you've noticed, and I apologize if I'm breaking some terrible news to anyone who didn't, but the forest beyond my little patch of earth is a little unsavory,” Caduceus explains when Nott opens her mouth to ask. “It's dark. It can be a bit dangerous. Don't recommend going out alone. It has been overtaking our temple for the last hundred years, and recently has breached the walls again.”

“So your family is trying to fix that?”

“The last one to leave was my sister. She went east.”

“Now it’s just you,” Caleb says.

“Now it’s just me,” Caduceus agrees.

Beau frowns at him. “Why do you stay?”

“Honestly, because it's a little dangerous for a lone person to leave. I figured I'd sit here with a kettle and wait for someone to come along, and maybe see if I can make my way out of here and figure out what's been happening in this place.”

“Well, you are lucky we came. Will the grove survive without you here, or do you have to water everything every day, or—?” Caleb asks.

“I mean, if you guys aren’t in a serious rush, I’m sure I could figure out something with your help—”

“Maybe after,” Beau interrupts.

“We’re dealing with a pretty time-sensitive situation,” Molly agrees. “You said you’re looking for people to leave with?”

Caduceus hums, nodding. Keg crosses her arms.

“I feel like it's only fair to warn you: if you were to come with us, we’d be asking you to go into a situation that's not very safe,” she says.

“Ja, Herr Clay, we should be very honest with you,” Caleb says, setting his now-empty teacup on the grass. “We are intending to do good by people who deserve it. A young one. Good people. But we are going to do very difficult business tonight or tomorrow.”

“Well, I don't know if I think that anyone deserves anything, but I don't like cages, and I'm mostly interested in trying to take care of the natural order of the world and nature itself.”

“Does murder end up on that checklist?” Keg asks.

“Have you ever been in nature?” Caduceus gestures all around them. “Yes. Violence is extremely natural.”

Keg considers this. “Tight.”

“So you are willing to come with us?”

“Oh, yeah.” Caduceus stands, collecting the teacups and kettle. “I’ve actually already packed; I’ll go get my things.”

“What?!” Nott exclaims. Then, “Wait, what would we owe you for this?”

Caleb nods, standing as well. “Do you require anything?”

“I do. I may ask for it later.”

“Money?” Nott wonders.

“Firbolgs do not need money,” Nila says.

Caleb looks at Beau, who shrugs and nods. He inclines his head back.

“You’ll have it,” he informs Caduceus.

Caduceus smiles and disappears inside, again leaving the door ajar. After a few minutes, he returns, this time with his pack. Nila gasps at the sight of his armor: a chitinous-like, turquoise breastplate that shifts between green and blue as the dying sunlight hits it. He has a matching shield and bracers, as well as the same amethyst-topped staff as before. All of it is covered in lichen a similar vibrant pink as his hair.

“That’s bloody amazing,” Molly mutters under his breath, sounding fascinated.

Nila’s smile is excited and near-blinding. “I have not come across a firbolg with green beetle armor!”

“Thank you. My sister made it, I’m very proud of her.” Caduceus sighs, tilting his head to soak up the remaining rays of the setting sun. He begins to wander the grove. “Give me a minute,” he calls over his shoulder.

While they wait, Caleb settles onto the ground and pulls out the incense and charcoal needed to change Frumpkin’s shape. He ignores the raised eyebrows from Beau and Keg and begins the ritual. By the time he is finished, Frumpkin has changed from an owl to a spider - “Better for infiltration,” Caleb explains to Beau’s raised eyebrow and silent question - and Caduceus has returned. He meets Caleb’s eye and offers him a hand up.

“All right,” he says. “I'm ready to leave. This is going to be a little much, but I think I can do it. I'm ready.”

Caleb nods at him in both thanks and support. 

Nila leads the way out of the Blooming Grove and into the Savalierwood. The journey back is shorter, especially with Caduceus’s help, but also more dangerous once night falls. They begin to approach the Sour Nest just after nine. Beau stops them a handful of yards away from the clearing.

“We should wait for a while longer,” she murmurs. “Figure out what we’re doing. That sound good?”

The others make various sounds of agreement. Caleb exhales slowly, curling his fingers around his component pouch in an attempt to smother the flames itching up and down his forearms. 

“If we are doing this, I feel we should wait until it is later, and wait until we see these guards change, and then wait a bit further for the old guards to go to sleep,” he offers. “There will be a lot of sitting and waiting and not moving. I know we are all very anxious, but we should wait until that happens, if it does, and then strike.”

“Okay,” Beau nods. “Until the next shift change. We can use that time to strategize, figure out our game plan. I could use a short rest anyway.”

“Ja,” Caleb agrees.

He settles onto the ground against a tree and digs his fingers into the fabric of his coat so he isn’t tempted to scratch at his forearms. Focusing on the dull almost-pain this brings his fingertips, he runs over all the things he learned in school and forces himself to discard the strategies he defaults to, even if they would be easiest.

It is going to be a very long night.

Their plan, for once, does not immediately go to shit.

Knock on wood, Beau thinks, mostly sarcastically. She lightly raps her knuckles against the side of her quarterstaff as she continues her rounds in place of the guard now lying dead on the outside of the wall.

She and Nila had very effectively killed him two minutes earlier. Judging by the fact that she saw the other guard disappear only to be replaced a moment later by a slightly taller version of “himself,” Keg and Nott were able to take theirs out as well.

Now, Beau and Caduceus are waiting for the others to give the signal. From her place atop the wall, Beau can see the group as they creep through the shadows towards the back door. Otherwise, she’d have no idea they were there. Even Keg’s armor is silent, and Beau wonders absently if it’s because of Nila’s Pass Without a Trace.

It probably is.

The group pauses once they get to the back door so Nott can pick the lock while Caleb does that weird thing where he goes catatonic and sees through Frumpkin’s eyes. Molly glances up when Beau passes them by on her round. She nods down at him, relatively certain that he can see it because of his darkvision, and he salutes back. A minute later, everyone slips inside.

And then Beau waits.

She’s completed her round and started another when, from inside the keep, there’s a loud clatter. It almost sounds like when Keg trips, but it also sounds like pots shattering, so Beau hopes that’s what it was. She pulls out a firecracker, lights it, lobs it towards the front door, and sprints across the wall towards the back.

She gets there before Caduceus, who is also running but noticeably slower. Beau pulls her staff off her back and jumps down, landing in a roll. The back door is ajar, dim firelight creeping through the opening. Beau heads towards it.

The room she steps into is crowded; Beau can barely see between Nila, Keg, Molly, and Caleb, but they seem to have cornered two guards. Nott is nowhere to be seen. Beau decides that the four of them are probably in good shape and turns left, through the doorway and down the hall in search of Nott and/or a way to get to the basement.

Beau rounds the corner at the same time Nott turns into the hallway. She yelps, instinctually raising her crossbow before she recognizes Beau. Beau waves, jogging forward.

“Oh, hi,” Nott says.

From Nott’s corner, out of sight, there’s the sound of stomping footsteps. Nott spins back around.

“Shit!” She pulls out a moldy tart and crumbles it, pointing at whoever’s behind her. “Oi! I’m thinking of removing my spine because it’s only holding me back!”

Beau suppresses a groan. Apparently Nott’s spell works, though, because there’s a thud followed by a clang followed by horrible, choking laughter. Beau cringes and continues down the hallway to peek around the corner. Halfway there, she notes an alcove that veers off from the main hallway. Judging from what Nila had said earlier, it’s probably the place they need to go.

Beau stops behind Nott and peers around the corner, over her head.

A large, beefy woman is convulsing with laughter on the floor in front of the front door. Bitterness curls in Beau’s gut when she recognizes the sword lying on the ground. The Magician’s Judge is only free for a second before Wohn grabs it in her rolling and cackling.

“I took out the barbarian, guys!” Nott cheers.

“Well,” Beau amends, “she’s prone.”

From the direction of where Beau had left everyone else, there’s a whack and a groan followed by the familiar sound of a body crumpling to the ground.

“I got Phil!” Keg calls.

A second later, she appears in the entrance hall. Her first attack against Wohn misses, cracking into the stone floor. The next two hit. Wohn’s laughter dies.

“Fuck!” Nott says.

Wohn pushes herself up, snarling.

“Shit,” Keg says.

She books it back into the other room. The Magician’s Judge clangs harmlessly against the back of her armor, but Keg stumbles the last few feet into the room.

“Do you need to get to the thing? To pick the lock?” Beau hisses to Nott, pulling them both around the corner out of the barbarian’s sightline.

“Yeah! I think it’s around this way?” Nott says, gesturing down the hallway they’re in. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, I think I know where it is. Come on.”

Beau turns and begins jogging back down the way she’d come. Nott yelps and scrambles to keep up. They duck into the alcove and come face-to-face with a wooden door. Beau tries the handle; it’s locked.

“Shit.” She backs up, gives Nott space. “Can you check for traps before I kick this in?”

Nott nods. It only takes her about ten seconds to confirm that this door, at least, isn’t trapped. Just locked. Beau shoos her back and assesses the door for a moment before kicking just above the doorknob.

It’s a very solid door, but Beau feels the tiniest of cracks beneath her foot. She kicks it again; the wood cracks some more but doesn’t budge.

“Fuck, okay. Give me a second.”

She brings up her staff and slams the end of it into the door, where she’d been kicking. It still takes a few more hits, but it’s better than fucking up her foot, and eventually, the door splinters open.

“I could have just picked the lock,” Nott points out.

Beau sighs, shaking out her arms. “Yeah, yeah.”

The room is dark, but with her darkvision goggles, it’s easy to see the trapdoor in the center of the floor. She scoots over so Nott can get to it.

“Here, do your thing. And check for traps!”

Nott kneels down and pulls out her lockpicks. “I know, I know!”

Beau bounces on her toes as she waits, fighting the urge to dive into the fray she can hear happening through the walls. She curls her fingers tight around her quarterstaff in an attempt to relieve the anxiety that washes over her every time she hears a pained yelp or the clang of metal against metal.

It takes Nott longer than usual to open the trapdoor; clearly, the Iron Shepherds haven’t slacked on this part of their security. By the time Nott has picked the lock and moved on to disabling the trap, everyone has gathered in the doorway. They all look a little worse for wear, but no one is grievously injured as far as Beau can tell. Molly has the Magician’s Judge leaning against his leg; it’s probably too heavy for him to carry for extended periods of time, at least on his own. Beau wants to tease him for it but the words stick in her throat with relief.

Nott disables the trap with a click. Caleb steps forward, his fingers tinged dark with soot.

“I will send Frumpkin in first,” he offers, snapping the spider into the ground in front of the trapdoor.

Nott opens it just enough that Frumpkin can slip through. Caleb leans back against the wall, his hand groping blindly for support. Beau grabs it and sets it on her shoulder. It’s almost uncomfortably warm through her tunic.

“There is just one guard in this room, with one a cage,” Caleb narrates. His eyes are unsettlingly opaque and blue. “I cannot see who is in it. There is a hallway leading into another room with two more cages, each with at least one figure. Protto and Ruzza are guarding it—”

His fingers snap suddenly and he jerks back to his own vision with a sharp inhale. Beau steps back.

“They saw Frumpkin, but I bamfed him out before they could do anything,” Caleb explains. “I am going to go scout upstairs, just in case. I did not see Lorenzo, though there was another hallway and presumably at least one more room. He could be down there or he could be upstairs, but we should be sure.”

Molly worries his lip for a second before leaning the Magician’s Judge carefully against the wall. “I’ll go with you. Just in case.”

“Be careful,” Beau warns, ignoring the iciness prickling up her arms at the thought of them separating. She glances around the rest of the group, settling on a guard who’s probably Caduceus. “Caduceus and I will go down first, since we’re still disguised. We’ll see if we can lure the guard up, ambush him here.”

“Sure,” Caduceus agrees, stepping forward.

Beau opens the trapdoor. She leaves her staff with Nott and descends first, holding her breath. The guard is standing near the cage, but he looks up when she appears.

“It’s all clear,” she says. “We got Keg.”

The guard nods. “All right, I’ll get back to work.”

Something cold curls in Beau’s gut. “We could use your help up here if you’ve got a second.”

“I’m going to finish up.”

A child starts to scream. The cold twisting in Beau’s gut freezes.

“Hey man, wait, it’s—” She almost says Phil before remembering that that’s just what they called the guy. They don’t know his actual name. “—Wohn. There’s something wrong with Wohn, I think she really needs our help; she’s just lying on the floor cackling, it’s fucking creepy.”

The guard growls and pulls back from the cage. He’s holding a spike heated orange at the tip. Beau clenches her fists, digs her nails into her palms, and does her very best not to break the guy’s neck then and there. Caduceus turns and makes his way back upstairs; Beau can hear him warning everyone that the guard is coming up, but she doesn’t move until she’s sure the guard is finished with the cage.

As soon as his head pokes up from the trapdoor, he’s bludgeoned from all sides. Nila’s shillelagh whacks him directly on the temple while Caduceus slams the butt of his staff into the guy’s cheek. Keg cuts into the junction of his neck and shoulder with her battleaxe. Nott sinks a crossbow bolt into his chest.

The man is dead before he even knows what hit him. Beau catches his body before it can go tumbling back down the stairs and, with Keg’s help, pulls him into the room.

Caduceus sighs and touches the guard’s uninjured shoulder. His body crumbles into mulch and dirt, which begins to sprout mushrooms. Beau gapes. It’s one thing to murder a man before he realizes what’s happening; it’s a completely different thing to entirely decompose his freshly-dead body like you do it every day.

“What the fuck?” Keg says, aghast. She sounds a bit faint. “I think I’m gonna go join Molly and Caleb upstairs.”

She goes, wiping the blood off her axe. Beau picks her quarterstaff back up and slings it over her shoulder.

“That’s brutal, man,” she tells Caduceus.

“It’s the way of life,” he informs her, shrugging. “Though usually, it involves less murder.”

“Fair enough.” Beau glances at the stairs, now a bit bloodier than they had been previously. “I guess we just go, then.”

She heads back down. This time, she actually enters the room, just barely managing to step over a tripwire in front of the final step.

“Hey, watch your step,” she warns. “There’s a trap at the bottom of the stairs. Nott, can you—?”

“Yep, give me a second!”

Beau helps everyone else step over the wire so they’re not all stuck in the stairway while Nott disables the trap. Immediately, Nila rushes to the cage in the corner, and Beau’s heart clenches. There are two firbolgs inside; a teary-eyed child and an unconscious adult.

“Asar,” Nila breathes.

She reaches through the cage to touch her son’s face, sending a small burst of healing magic through his body. After running her thumb over his cheek once more, she pulls back and braces her hands on the bars. They begin to creak open slowly, miraculously.

Eventually, there’s a hole large enough for her to lift Asar through. He clings to her arms and Nila kisses his forehead before regretfully setting him down to turn back to her mate. Asar curls up against her leg, watching everyone else with wide eyes. Beau looks away.

Nila sends another pulse of healing magic to her mate. He groans, shifting slightly before one eye opens. The other is still swollen mostly shut.

“My mate,” he murmurs, looking around the room when he notices Asar’s been freed. He tenses when he sees everyone else.

“It's okay, they're safe,” Nila assures him. “They came to help. Can you get out?”

He stands with a grunt; the cage is too small for him to straighten out fully. “Help me,” he rasps, setting his hands against the bars that Nila has already warped.

Together, they manage to open the bars enough for him to squeeze through. Something pops in his shoulder as he pushes, loud enough that Beau can hear it from the other side of the room, but he barely winces before continuing to force his way out.

The first thing he does once free is embrace Nila. Once he releases her, he looks down at his son, pain and exhaustion and relief mixing on his face. Despite it all, he stands with pride and silent strength that Beau recognizes from watching Nila these past few days.

"I do not know by what grace you've come to us, but thank you,” he says. Beau inclines her head.

“Well, we relied a lot on your mate here. Couldn’t have done it without her.”

“She’s very impressive,” Nott pipes up, standing, the trap safely disabled.

“That she is,” Nila’s mate agrees, petting the back of her head. The corners of Beau’s mouth twitch up.

“Now, if I was you, I’d run,” she says, smile dropping quicker than it came.

Nila frowns, leaning down to pick up her son. “What about your friends?”

“You have a child with you. You need to get him out of here. He's suffered enough. We've got it from here.”

“Thank you,” Nila says. “Clay?”

Caduceus looks over. “Yeah?”

Nila smiles at him. “We'll go back to your temple. Will you help these people— will you help these friends?”

Caduceus nods. “Yeah, I like what’s happening here. Here, come on.” He opens his arms. “Give me a hug.”

Nila does, handing Asar to her mate so he doesn’t get squished. Caduceus smiles at the kid over Nila’s shoulder. He pulls away, searching in his pockets for something.

“Here,” he offers, holding out a small bag. “Some tea for the road. I’ve got a bit of it left.”

“Thank you,” Nila says. She turns to Beau, untying a brilliant red feather from her necklace. Beau takes it, a bit hesitant in her shock.

“Four of these feathers were people from my tribe who were taken,” Nila explains. “One feather was for me, for leaving my tribe to find my family, and I took an extra one because I thought I would find friends who might help me. I will give it to you. If you ever need our help, you can come back to the temple. If by chance we’re not there, we’ll be in the Crispvale Thicket. Just go where the moss is thickest, and I’ll be there.

“Thank you for everything. Thank you so much.”

Beau nods. “We’ll find you again, Nila.”

“Thank you.” Nila turns to her son and mate. “Let’s go.”

They begin to head back upstairs. Nila’s mate turns around and catches Beau’s eye over Nila’s head.

“Good luck.”

Beau inclines her head to him and watches as they disappear up the stairs. She exhales, slowly, and tucks the feather into one of her belts, where it won’t get lost.

After Nila leaves, it takes another two minutes before the others return.

Molly and Keg descend the stairs. There’s no sign of Caleb; Beau exchanges a concerned-confused look with Nott and pushes down the worry curling around her throat.

“Where’s Caleb?”

“I am here,” Caleb’s voice says from beside Molly. Beau looks over; there’s no one there.

“He’s invisible,” Keg explains.

“Ah,” Beau says.

Before she can say more, a streak of black darts down the stairs. It hovers in the air for a moment; Beau blinks and it’s gone. She tenses, spinning around. There’s no sign of it.

“Did anyone else see that?”

Nott frowns. “What?”

“There was this weird black streak that flew through the air, I dunno. It was weird.”

“I saw it,” Caduceus says.

Caleb says he saw it, too. Everyone else is silent and confused. Beau exhales slowly.

“Okay,” she says. “Cool. How are we going to do this? Stealth forward, charge in, something else?”

Caleb clears his throat. “I, ah. I think I should go first, for this.”

The man has a point. He is, after all, invisible. Beau nods. “We’ll go after you, then.”

She doesn’t get a response, which probably means that Caleb is already gone. After a second, she follows.

“I’ll stay back,” Keg says.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Nott agrees.

She, Caduceus, and Molly follow Beau into the hallway. As they go, there’s a faint, barely-audible hum. The black blur darts past them into the room. Beau exchanges a look with Caduceus, who shrugs and shakes his head. They pause outside the door, pressed against the wall so they aren’t visible. 

“I guess we’ll wait for Caleb’s signal, then?” Beau whispers.

From inside the room, Ruzza says, “Are they coming or not? I’m getting impatient.”

“Yeah, maybe we should poke one of them,” Protto agrees.

A second later, there’s a muffled yell of pain. Beau bites her tongue to keep from cursing. From inside the room, there’s a soft jangling of chains before silence falls once more. Then,

“Well, I don't know about you people, but I'm tired of this stabbing feeling.”

Beau bites her tongue harder. Holy shit, she thinks. No way. Beside her, Nott and Molly are nearly vibrating in silent excitement. Beau looks at them, eyes wide. Almost as one, they peek their heads around the corner. Caduceus joins them.

Caleb, of course, is nowhere to be seen. Beau notes the two slumped bodies in the left cage, Protto and Ruzza standing guard in the center of the room, and then she looks towards the right.

Sure enough, Shakaste is straightening, rubbing his wrists. Protto and Ruzza both turn when he speaks, but before Beau can do anything, something short and metal slams into her back. Protto and Ruzza spin back around.

“Sorry!” Keg curses.

“Shit, they’re here! Back up!” Ruzza yelps. She and Protto begin to retreat into the second hallway, across the room.

Nott raises her crossbow, but they’re already gone. Shakaste’s Spiritual Weapon appears in the hallway, this time another powerful-looking woman that Beau doesn’t recognize. He sends the Weapon spinning towards Protto, who dodges out of the way with a yelp. Shakaste curses under his breath but doesn’t stop picking the lock on his cage. A few seconds later, just as Nott’s second crossbow bolt hits Protto’s arm, the door to Shakaste’s cage opens. He steps out smiling.

“Freedom, baby! Man, is it good to see some familiar faces.”

Nott darts into the room. “Shakaste! You’re here, too?”

“Unfortunately so, darling,” Shakastse says. “It’s good to see y’all. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He turns to the hallway and raises his hand, readying his Spiritual Weapon for another go. Beau steps forward to join him, Nott, and presumably Caleb in the room.

Of course, this is the moment Protto yells, “Quick, send it down!”

Ruzza pulls some sort of lever. With a loud, grinding sound, bars slam across both hallway entrances into the room. Beau jumps back, the portcullis clanging into the ground an inch from her face.

“Shit!”

From the other hallway, Protto pulls out his bow and aims at Nott, who dodges a second too late. The arrow scrapes across her side before clattering to the ground. Beau glances around for a lever on her side of the gate and, finding none, looks at Keg.

“Help me lift it?” She says, keeping one eye on the fight in the room. Keg moves forward to wedge her hands under the bars.

Meanwhile, Ruzza calls out to Shakaste, "Oh, I'm sorry. Were our bedding arrangements not good enough for you? We can arrange for a much better place to sleep, about six feet beneath this."

The spell’s energy cracks through the air, but Shakaste just chuckles. “Darling, you just put one more obstacle between us. You know I'm going to knock that one down, too.” 

He sends his Spiritual Weapon banging up the hallway, but Ruzza ducks out of the way and out of sight. After a second’s pause, Shakaste walks forward and sticks his middle finger through the bars of the other gate. Radiant energy shoots from his finger, but judging by the way he shakes his head, Ruzza dodges that, too.

“Next time, I’ll use the other finger,” Shakaste mutters.

“Get a room, guys!” Nott yells. 

Keg says, voice tight with exertion, “I think they’re in love.”

Behind them, Molly snorts. “No, there’s definitely sexual tension.”

Beau rolls her eyes but doesn’t dispute it. With that, she and Keg manage to lift the gate. As they do, a table flips over and moves underneath the bars, jamming them in place. Beau ducks under, Keg and Molly hot on her heels.

“Thanks, Caleb...?”

“Ja, that was me,” Caleb agrees. 

He yelps when an arrow meant for Beau presumably almost hits him. As it is, the arrow flies past her and clatters to the ground when Molly swats it out of the air with his sword. The next one nearly hits its mark, but Beau catches it and sends it back towards Protto. It doesn’t make it through the portcullis on his side, but Beau wasn’t really expecting it to, so it’s okay. Instead, it bounces off the bars and lands near Shakaste. He turns to it, confused.

“I got this for you,” Beau says. He chuckles.

“You’ve always been so thoughtful.”

Beau goes to respond, but a deep, chilling voice interrupts.

"It's rare that the meat carries itself right to your table,” Lorenzo says. Beau can nearly feel the slimy smile in his words. Beside her, Keg shivers but stands tall.

“We gotta follow them, right?” She asks. Beau nods.

“Here, let me—” Nott says, flicking her wrist. Her Mage Hand appears and floats through the gate. A second later, the bars begin to rise. “Yes!”

She darts down the hallway. Beau shrugs and follows, nearly bumping into invisible Caleb. Shakaste, Keg, Molly, and Caduceus follow her, but she stops them before they get to Nott, just behind the corner. Nott notices and heads back to join them.

“Wait. This feels like we're being lured right into a trap, right? It does, doesn’t it?” Beau hisses.

“Where’s Caleb?” Keg asks. “Caleb?”

They wait. Nothing.

“Great. Now what?”

Just then, there’s a slam from the room around the corner. Everyone freezes, readying themselves, but no attacks come. A few seconds later, there’s a disgruntled sigh ahead of them in the hallway.

“They killed my cat,” Caleb mutters.

“Caleb!” Nott exclaims. “You’re not dead!”

Beau obviously can’t see Caleb’s face, but she would bet all her gold that he’s the perfect picture of polite bemusement. She snorts.

“Nein, I am not,” Caleb agrees.

“Caleb? That you, baby?” Shakaste asks. Beau blinks. Holy shit, these two know each other?

Small fucking world indeed.

“Ja, hallo,” Caleb says. “It is good to see you, my friend, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“I’d say the same to you, but....” Shakaste grins. “You’ve gotten more powerful than the last time we saw each other.”

“I suppose I have,” Caleb allows. He clears his throat. “Before they killed Frumpkin, I was able see to into the next room. There’s one more cage in there, as well as a door leading to another staircase. Protto, Ruzza, and another guard presumably went through there once they saw me.”

“So this is definitely a trap,” Beau surmises.

“Ja, most likely. Shall we continue?”

Beau grins and starts down the hallway, Molly hot on her heels. Nott darts ahead of them to check the door. When she finds a trap, she flaps a hand behind her to get them to stop. They all wait in tense silence until Nott steps back and opens the door, trap disabled. Beau follows her in.

Sure enough, as Caleb had reported, there’s one cage tucked into the corner of the room. On the far wall, a door obscures the entrance to the stairway down. The door itself is wood, but its frame is reinforced with metal. Next to it, a brazier lights the room in a flickering orange glow. As Nott and Shakaste set about freeing the prisoner, Beau catches Keg’s eye and walks forward to inspect the door.

She is not expecting the brazier to suddenly flare and shoot a column of flame at her. Despite the fact that she jumps back as quickly as she can, her left side is still singed.

“Fuck, ow,” she hisses, gingerly touching her face. Could be worse, she decides.

The brazier’s flames have died down to embers. 

“Hey,” she calls to Keg. “We’ve probably got some time before these are up again if you wanna come break this door down.”

Keg blinks and steps forward, raising her battleaxe. It goes wide, crashing into the doorframe. Keg winces. She pulls back to swing again.

"What are you planning to accomplish?” Lorenzo’s voice booms. “You've killed a few bottom-barrel goons, but you're in my domain now. I had first planned to make you into premium contraband when finished. However, I may just keep you all as my own personal pets."

At the door, Keg shivers and squeezes her eyes shut. Her knuckles tighten around the handles of her weapons. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and bares her teeth.

“Eat shit, fucko!” She yells.

The door splinters with the combined force of her battleaxe and her warhammer. Beau steps up beside her, nodding appreciatively. Molly whistles, impressed.

“Damn,” Beau breathes. 

“I like your fire, Keg,” Shakaste says. He and Nott are currently tending to the man they’d freed from the cage.

“Thanks,” Keg pants. “I’m going through some shit.”

Beside Beau, the brazier flares again. She curses and goes to pull Keg back, probably a second too late, but the flame never reaches them. It gets an inch or so out of the brazier before it redirects, pulled towards something behind them.

When Beau turns, everyone has stopped to stare at Caleb, now visible in the center of the room. His teeth are clenched with effort, fingers curled at the fire like he’s beckoning it towards him. His eyes nearly glow with arcane energy. By the time the brazier dies down, flames are curling around his hands and up his arms, licking harmlessly against his skin and coat.

Caduceus steps forward and taps his staff against the side of the brazier. The flames die entirely.

“I think we’ve learned our lesson here,” he says calmly, like Caleb isn’t standing in the middle of the room easily controlling the fire now that it isn’t fighting against him on where it wants to go.

Shakaste watches Caleb knowingly with something like concern at the edges of his mouth. He doesn’t say anything, though, so Beau doesn’t call him out on it. Caleb grimaces.

“We should scout down there before we go in, but I no longer have my cat.” He turns to Shakaste. “Could you—?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

The humming black blur of the Grand Duchess zips into the stairwell and disappears. While they wait, Caduceus walks over to Keg and places a hand on her shoulder. With a pulse of healing magic, pink lichen grows over a cut on her cheek, crumbling away to reveal nothing but a scratch.

Keg blinks up at Caduceus, a little nonplused. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Miss Keg,” Caduceus assures her.

“The staircase curves on the way down,” Shakaste reports suddenly, startling Beau. “The room is kind of like a T; there’s a wide entryway-like section before the room itself. There’re two barred doors at the far end of the room, leading to what I’m going to assume are the rooms where your friends are being held. At the center of the room, there’s a single table covered in what looks like a leather sheet of some kind. The place looks empty, although I’m sure it’s not.”

“Do we want to create a diversion of some kind before we go in?” Nott asks. There’s a moment of silence as they all contemplate what kind of diversion they could make, before she goes, “Ooh! I could make a Silent Image of Keg walk down the stairs and into the room! It wouldn’t have any sound, but maybe they’d think it was actually her and they’d attack it or something. Maybe it’ll draw them out!”

“I could use Thaumaturgy to make armor sounds,” Caduceus offers.

“You can do that?!”

“I can do a lot of things.”

“That’s a good plan,” Beau agrees. “Once we draw them out, we’ll charge in. Sound good?”

She looks around at their ragtag group; Keg, fierce determination lining her face and posture; Shakaste, who probably got captured trying to free people; Caduceus, risking his life for people he’s just met; Nott and Molly, all traces of joking gone from their faces, knuckles clenched tight around their weapons; Caleb, flames still wreathing his arms, his eyes hardened with dangerous ruthlessness. They all nod back at her.

Beau smiles humorlessly, more a baring of her teeth than anything else. “Let’s get our friends back.”

Nott and Caduceus are the first to head down. They stop just before the stairway turns and opens into the room. Everyone lines up behind them; Beau can feel the heat of Caleb’s flames on her back. Nott creates the illusion of Keg beside them on the stairs and, after checking that Caduceus is ready, sends it in. Caduceus’s armor sounds don’t sound exactly like the real thing, but it’s close enough that Beau figures they have a chance.

Illusion-Keg rounds the last few steps and enters the room. Beau creeps forward, peeking over Nott’s head to get a vantage point. Like Shakaste had said, the room seems devoid of life.

But, sure enough, an arrow flies out from beneath the table, followed by a dagger thrown from somewhere beyond the archway into the main room. Both projectiles sail straight through illusion-Keg and clatter harmlessly to the ground.

Beau pulls out a firecracker and lights it. “Now!” She hisses, throwing the firecracker towards the table.

She doesn’t wait for confirmation that anyone is following her, she simply runs. Nott skids to a halt beside the staircase, raising her crossbow to fire under the table. Whoever’s under there - probably Protto - beats her to the chase. An arrow sticks into her arm and she curses, abandoning her position to dart forward. Keg follows. They reach the table just as Protto flips it in an attempt for cover; it doesn’t do much, seeing as Nott aims over it and Keg just walks around.

Beau hears a whoosh of flame as, out of the corner of her eye, Caleb turns to the left and sends the fire circling his arms at whoever he’d found. He’s rewarded with a pained yelp. Beau hesitates for a split second but when Molly steps over to join Caleb, she continues in the direction of where the dagger was thrown. Stepping through the archway, she nearly comes face-to-face with the third guy Caleb had said was with Protto and Ruzza.

Beau greets him with a kidney punch and he doubles over, groaning. When he straightens, he’s pulled another dagger from somewhere. Beau can’t dodge fast enough and it slices across her ribs, shallow but long. She kicks him in the balls and he doubles over again. 

She’s reaching for his wrist to disarm him when Caleb calls, “Beauregard, duck!”

Beau barely manages to press herself against the wall before four bursts of flame streak from Caleb’s outstretched fingers. The guy she’d been fighting isn’t so lucky; all four of the rays hit him and he crumbles to the ground, mostly incinerated, with a cut-off scream. Beau cringes.

“Damn, Widogast!”

Caleb doesn’t get a chance to respond. The second the words leave Beau’s mouth, the air at the top of the chamber flickers and Lorenzo appears, bigger and blue and demonic and flying. What the fuck, Beau thinks. Then, Why the fuck. Then, Shit, ow, because Lorenzo’s glaive, which appears to have grown with him, scrapes across her shoulder before she can dodge it.

A sharp, sadistic smile creeps across Lorenzo’s face. “Don’t kill them,” he orders. “They haven’t earned that mercy. Let them bleed and bring them in chains.”

Nott hisses up at him, dodging a swipe from Protto’s shortsword. Caleb steps forward, repositioning so he can see Lorenzo. He raises a hand, eyes burning. Three more streams of fire burst from his fingers; one towards Ruzza, one towards Protto, and one towards Lorenzo. All three hit, but Lorenzo just chuckles even as the flames curl up his arm. He pats them out carelessly and turns towards Caleb.

“That was a clever trick you did earlier,” he informs Caleb, who doesn’t have time to dodge before Lorenzo swings the glaive down.

It slices across Caleb’s side. He winces, trapping a scream behind his teeth before his face goes suddenly, eerily blank. The only reason Beau knows he hasn’t been charmed is that his eyes are still furious. He raises a hand, fingertips sparking, but Lorenzo smiles and goes invisible before Caleb can complete the spell. The firebolt impacts harmlessly into the ceiling.

Beau pushes herself off the wall. Caduceus and Shakaste make their way into the room, towards the barred doors at the back; Caduceus pats Caleb on the shoulder as he goes. Pink lichen crawls across Caleb’s side, closing the wound a little, but he barely seems to notice.

Beau stumbles towards Keg and Nott just as Keg sinks her axe into Protto’s chest. He goes limp. Beau is turning to see if Molly needs help when Lorenzo reappears, hovering in the air above her. The air crackles and freezes as he spreads his hands.

Beau has just enough time to think, Oh, fuck, before ice shatters across her skin and the world goes black.

She wakes up with Shakaste’s voice in her ear, telling her to “Get up and fight, baby.”

Healing magic courses through her veins and she stands, cracking her knuckles. Lorenzo is hovering in the middle of the room, out of reach for Keg, much to the woman’s annoyance. Beau judges the distance between him and the floor and smiles.

“Keg!” She yells. “Help me up, here!”

Keg, thank the gods, understands immediately. She grins back and crouches, knees tensed. “Oh, hell yeah!”

Beau pulls her quarterstaff off her back. Running forward, she uses Keg’s back as a springboard as she leaps into the air. Lorenzo turns, snarling, just in time for Beau to slam the butt of her staff into his sternum. His eyes widen when his muscles tense and go stiff; his stunned body stumbles to the ground. He barely manages to land on his feet. Beau kicks him in the head on her way down, landing another hit with her staff as she regains her footing.

“Fuck him up!” She screams to the room.

Keg charges forward. Lorenzo catches the handle of her battleaxe on her first swing. He leans down.

“Try it,” he leers.

Keg swings with her warhammer, but he catches that, too. With a growl, Keg pulls her axe free. It sinks into Lorenzo’s thigh. He chuckles, injured but still standing.

“Nice try.”

Keg rolls her eyes. “Oh, fuck off!”

Caleb steps forward, hands raised and smoking. His face is a mask of flat, dead anger.

“Keg, it would probably be best if you moved out of the way,” he warns.

Keg jerks her weapons free and, with one last glare at Lorenzo, retreats. Caleb approaches Lorenzo slowly, head held high to look him in the eyes. He places his hands almost tenderly against Lorenzo’s chest and side.

A scream tears itself out of Lorenzo’s throat. Caleb doesn’t react, doesn’t pull away until Lorenzo crumbles to ash beneath his hands. Only then does he exhale, slow, and frown down at the pile of Lorenzo’s remains.

“Holy fuck,” Keg breathes, sounding somewhere between awed and terrified. After a moment, when she can apparently suppress it no more, she falls to her knees and starts sobbing.

“Yeah,” Beau agrees sympathetically. She turns away to give her a modicum of privacy.

Caleb blinks down at the ash pile. “You should not have killed my cat,” he mutters, monotone.

“I need a drink,” Shakaste says after another second of stunned silence. He walks over to the cage on the right and pulls out his lockpicks. “Nott, darling, could you get the other door?”

Nott is already on her way there. Even with the way her hands are shaking in relief, it only takes her a few seconds to get the lock open. She darts inside. Beau hears her say, “Case closed,” sounding a little teary. She’s about to follow when Molly’s voice catches her attention.

“Hey. Mr. Caleb?”

Beau turns.

Caleb is still standing in the center of the room, soot-covered hands limp at his sides. His face has emptied entirely of emotion and though he’s still looking down at Lorenzo’s ashes, his gaze is unfocused and distant.

Molly waves a hand in front of his face. “Caleb? You in there?”

No response.

The room smells like burning flesh and arcane residue.

Caleb tears his eyes away from the smoldering pile of ash at his feet, but his gaze stutters and freezes on the many torture implements scatted around the room. He blinks, vision going fuzzy for a moment before it splinters into a different time entirely. The scene before him is overlaid with memories, and he can’t—

This room, these smells, the power still thrumming through his veins - they’re all so horribly familiar. Caleb wants to scream, wants to bury his hands in his hair and crumple to the ground, but he can’t. He’s suffocating, paralyzed. He can’t breathe through the smoke—

Someone is saying his name, possibly. The crackling flames drown it out. The screams that would fit all too well in this room drown it out; the screams that he had caused drown it out— Caleb can’t hear—  

“—there? Caleb!”

Molly’s words are accompanied by a sharp slap to the face. Caleb jolts back, instinctively raising a hand to defend himself before his vision sharpens and focuses on the vibrant tiefling in front of him.

Caleb’s cheek is tingling. “Was—?”

“Welcome back,” Molly says, stepping away. There’s something concerned and questioning in the scrunch of his eyebrows, but instead of pushing, he waves a hand towards the left door, now open. “Nott and Shakaste are getting the doors open. You never really told us what your friend looked like, but there’s a half-orc in that one—”

Caleb is moving before Molly finishes the sentence. He stumbles forward, nearly tripping on the overturned table in the center of the room in his haste to get to the cell. Beau backs up with a raised eyebrow; she pats him on the shoulder before making her way over to the cell on the right. Leaning against the doorway for support, Caleb briefly registers Nott, who is curled over a young blue tiefling, as his eyes dart around the room, searching for—

“Fjord,” he breathes like he’s been punched.

He rushes forward, sliding to his knees on the hard stone floor. His hands hover hesitantly over Fjord’s bruised face, afraid to touch. Fjord’s eyes blink open, bleary.

“Caleb...?” His voice is rough and his own, not a facade.

Caleb chokes down a sob. “ Fjord,” he repeats.

His eyes skip from Fjord’s face to his shackles, then over his shoulder at Nott. She’s still preoccupied with the tiefling, whose own bindings have already been opened. Caleb is loath to break up their reunion, so he reaches out a hand to cast Knock.

The resulting sound that echoes through the chamber nearly obscures the clatter of Fjord’s chains falling away. Nott and the tiefling both spin around, eyes wide, and Keg pokes her head in the door. Caleb winces.

“My apologies,” he says, waving a hand to dismiss them all.

His eyes never leave Fjord’s face, though he does back away to give the man space to sit up.

“Are you alright?” He asks, then shakes his head. “Nein, that is a stupid question, of course you are not...I am sorry it took me so long to get here.”

Fjord frowns, rubbing his wrists. “Caleb, you’re one man; to be honest, I’m surprised you came at all. How’d you find me— us?”

He plants a hand on the ground, wincing as he attempts to push himself up. Caleb pulls Fjord’s free arm over his shoulders to steady him. Together, they limp slowly out of the cell and Caleb gestures to the others: Nott helping the tiefling stand; Beau and Molly fretting over an unconscious woman in the other cell; Shakaste and Keg hovering on the sidelines; Caduceus heading upstairs with a nod to start cooking something for them all.

“Well, I was not alone.”

Fjord grunts in surprise. “Shakaste?”

Shakaste inclines his head. “They captured me trying to help people escape. These folks were kind enough to free me and so of course I joined them in their fight. I’m glad you’re alright, but I’m gonna be heading out; I gotta check on the folks upstairs, get them to where they need to be.” He turns to Keg. “You’re always welcome to come with, unless you have somewhere you need to be...?”

Keg shakes her head and glances uncomfortably around the room; she relaxes slightly when she catches Beau’s eye. “I think I’m gonna stick around here for a bit longer, actually. Maybe we’ll run into each other on the road.”

Shakaste nods. “Take care of each other,” he calls to the room at large, turning to follow Caduceus.

Beau looks up. “Shakaste,” she calls at his back. “Thank you.”

+++

Eventually, everyone stumbles their way back to the main floor. Caleb leans against a wall and slides to the ground, unable to hold himself and Fjord up any longer. Fjord sits beside him, pressing their shoulders together in silent, mutual reassurance. A few feet away, Beau, Molly, and the other tiefling settle the now-unshackled, unconscious woman onto the ground. Molly perches himself cross-legged at her head, methodically untangling and rebraiding her black and white hair. Beau and the second tiefling sit beside him, leaning on each other for support. Nott curls up in the tiefling’s lap, fingers clenched tight around her flask.

Keg hesitates for a moment on the edges of the group before disappearing to help Caduceus. Caleb stares tiredly after her and turns back to find the tiefling watching him. Her eyes are striking purple and exhausted; it’s only crack in her otherwise concerningly well-put-together mask.

“I’m Jester,” she says. Her voice is too cheerful. “Who are you guys?”

Caleb blinks at her. “Caleb Widogast.”

Fjord nods to the group. “Fjord,” he says in Vandren’s drawl. Caleb glances at him but says nothing, and Fjord squeezes his wrist in thanks.

“Right,” Beau sighs. “Forgot you guys didn’t know each other. It’s been a long fucking day.” She waves a hand in the direction of the kitchen. “I dunno if you saw him, but the tall firbolg with pink hair is Caduceus. He’s a cleric, too, we found him in a graveyard. The dwarf woman is Keg; we met her on the road the day you guys were taken.”

Despite the casualness of her words, it’s easy to hear the pain in her voice. Jester nods.

“How’d you meet Caleb?”

“He saved my life,” Molly says, not looking up from the unconscious woman’s face. “At least, that’s what I hear. I was not conscious at the time.”

“He saved our asses when our first ambush on the Iron Shepherds failed miserably,” Beau elaborates. “Fireballed the hell out of Lorenzo, gave us enough time retreat before he somehow got them all to leave.”

She raises an eyebrow at Caleb as she says it, clearly still expecting an answer to her silent question. When he yet again doesn’t give her one, she sighs and rolls her eyes.

“I heard that,” Fjord says, turning to Caleb. “That was you?”

Caleb clears his throat. “Ja.”

“Woah,” Jester breathes. “You must be, like, super powerful, huh?”

“I would not—”

“He is,” Fjord agrees. Caleb blushes at the blatant admiration in his voice.

Fjord’s gotten used to Caleb’s magical talent since they’ve been travelling together, but he will always be free with his compliments.

Caleb is saved from having to respond when Caduceus enters the room, tea kettle in hand. Keg follows behind him with a stack of cups.

“You’ll have to wait a while for the food,” Caduceus apologizes. “And I’m afraid I’m all out of magic for today; you’ll have to wait until I rest if you need healing.”

With a bright grin, Jester holds her teacup up to be filled. “That’s okay! I haven’t been able to use my magic at all, so I can heal anyone who needs it. No one’s bleeding out or anything, right?”

She glances around. When it’s clear that no one is in imminent danger of dying or passing out, she nods and takes a large gulp of her tea. Caduceus wanders around the group, filling everyone’s teacups before returning to the kitchen. He shakes his head at Keg’s offer to help and pats her on the shoulder as he goes.

“He makes dead people tea,” Beau stage-whispers to Jester just as Fjord takes a sip.

Fjord chokes. “He what?”

Caleb pats him consolingly on the back. “He grows flowers from the graves in his home,” he explains. “Those flowers turn into tea.”

“It’s quite good,” Molly says.

Fjord looks from his teacup to Molly and Beau to Caleb, then back to his cup. “Huh.”

They drink in silence. Once she finishes her tea, Beau sets the cup aside and pushes herself to her feet with a groan.

“I’m gonna go loot upstairs if anyone wants to join me,” she says.

Jester bounces up. “Okay! Nott, Molly, Keg? Caleb? Fjord? Do you guys wanna come?”

Nott and Keg both stand. Caleb exchanges a look with Fjord and shakes his head. Molly, too, makes no move to get up.

“I’m gonna stay down here with Yasha,” he says. Caleb assumes he means the unconscious woman.

Beau nods. Jester grabs her arm and pulls her up the stairs, Nott darting along behind them. Keg follows a few feet back, still unsure of her place in the group. Caleb watches them until they’re no longer visible. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the wall.

Some small amount of time later - three minutes, according to Caleb’s never-quiet internal clock - Fjord clears his throat and nudges Caleb’s foot with his own. Reluctantly, Caleb opens his eyes and turns his head. Fjord’s face is full of quiet concern that makes something in Caleb’s throat clench.

“Hey, uh,” Fjord says, soft enough that Molly can’t hear it, “You killed Lorenzo, didn’t you? It’s kinda fuzzy, and I was real out of it, but I thought I heard fire and then I think it was him that I heard screaming. I just— look, Caleb,” there’s no judgment in his voice, just worry, and Caleb closes his eyes again so he doesn’t have to look at Fjord’s face. “I saw all the things down there and I know you did, too. I’m worried about you, okay?”

Caleb sighs. “I killed him,” he answers. The words taste like ash on his tongue. “I burned him until there was nothing left, and I looked him in the eyes while I did it.”

Fjord doesn’t respond, but Caleb can feel the weight of his gaze. After a moment, he just sighs and shifts, throwing an arm around Caleb’s shoulders. Caleb doesn’t fight it; he leans into Fjord’s side and allows himself to breathe for the first time in days.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Caleb?” Fjord murmurs.

Caleb doesn’t have an answer to that.

+++

Caleb must drift off at some point because he wakes to Jester and Nott’s barely-muffled cooing. Beside him, Fjord’s chest rumbles as he stutters over himself. Caleb goes to pull away but winces when the cut on his side pulses with renewed pain.

Jester’s pestering cuts off abruptly, as do Fjord’s attempts at words.

“Cay- leb, ” Jester sighs. “You didn’t say you were injured!”

Caleb shifts away from Fjord’s side with some difficulty. “It slipped my mind,” he grunts.

“Really,” Beau says, in an unimpressed tone that Caleb is quickly becoming used to. “The big-ass cut on your side ‘slipped your mind’?”

“It is not bleeding, at least,” Caleb argues, avoiding eye contact. “Caduceus healed it when we were fighting.”

“Yeah, barely!”

Nott turns to Fjord, who Caleb is also not looking at. “Does he do this often?”

“ Yes,” Fjord says. “We’ve talked about this, Caleb,” he adds pointedly. “You’ve gotta stop ignoring life-threatening injures just because you—” he glances at the others. “—just because they’ve stopped bleeding as much.”

Jester steps forward and leans down so she can pat Caleb on the head. A warm wave of healing magic washes over him, smelling slightly like cinnamon sugar, and he feels the wound on his side close. He smiles weakly.

“Danke.”

She smiles. “Of course! You should have told me, silly, what if it got infected?” She goes to spin away, back towards Molly and Yasha, when she seems to remember that she’s holding a leather bag in her hand. “Oh! I almost forgot; Beau said you’re a wizard, right?”

Caleb nods slowly. “I am.”

“Sweet! Can you identify this?” She holds out the bag, which Caleb takes after a moment’s hesitation. “Nott and I couldn’t get anything out of it but it feels like there’s stuff in it, so it’s probably magical.”

“Ja, okay, give me ten minutes.”

+++

“It is a Bag of Holding,” Caleb announces.

“Sweet,” Fjord says, in the tone of voice he most often uses before he fucks with something he maybe shouldn’t. Caleb hands him the bag.

He sticks his arm in nearly up to his shoulder and turns the bag inside out. Teeth, coins, a rusted meathook, four sets of manacles, a red gem, and a sealed envelope clatter to the ground. Fjord sets the bag aside with an interested hum.

“Nice.”

“Ooh,” Jester says, plucking the envelope from the pile. She flips it over to look at the seal and the coin pressed into it. “Hey, I recognize this!”

Nott jumps up so she can see what Jester is looking at. “The coin?”

“Yeah! It’s called a galley, they’re from the Menagerie Coast.”

Caleb glances at Fjord, who nods. Jester slides her nail under the wax to break the seal. She hands the coin to Nott, who tucks it into her cloak. With a flourish, Jester pulls the letter out and begins to read, stumbling a bit over pronunciations.

“‘...Marius LePual at the Wayfarer’s Cove,’” she finishes.

“Where’s that?” Beau asks.

“It’s one of the main shipping yards in Nicodranas,” Fjord says. “I’ve been there a few times.”

Jester spins to him. “No way. Really!? I’m from Nicodranas, too!”

Fjord coughs. “I’m actually from Port Damali, but I was a sailor for a while on a merchant ship. We stopped in Nicodranas from time to time.”

“I totally could’ve seen your ship at some point,” Jester muses. “Woah. Anyway, then it says: ‘Tell him you have a gift for the Captain.’ And it’s signed ‘Avantika.’ Do you know an Avantika?”

Fjord shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Jester hums, turning back to the letter. “There’s a weird orb drawn on here, too, I think that’s what the Cloven Crystal is.”

“May I see?” Caleb asks.

Jester hands him the paper with a cheerful, “Sure!”

Caleb scans the letter quickly, committing it to memory. He pauses when he sees the Cloven Crystal. Fjord, reading over his shoulder, freezes, and Caleb can pinpoint the exact second he recognizes it as well.

“That’s not—” Fjord starts, hand coming up to absently pat his chest.

Beau squints at him. “What? You recognize it?”

“I—”

“Holy shit, you have it, don’t you?” Nott exclaims. Fjord’s mouth opens soundlessly. “Oh my gods, you do!”

“Well....”

“That is kind of a complicated answer,” Caleb says. “He has it, but it is not exactly...in his possession.”

Beau raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fjord buries his head in his hands.

“It’s inside me,” he mutters.

“It’s what?!”

“It’s inside me,” Fjord repeats, raising his head. “We found it and we didn’t know what it was, so Caleb was gonna identify it. Except I touched it before he could and it was like I was compelled or something...when I came back to myself, the orb was gone and Caleb was staring at me like I was crazy.”

“He picked up the orb and pushed it into his chest,” Caleb offers. “It disappeared without a mark; we checked.”

Fjord hesitates for a moment, then summons the falchion. It appears in its customary splash of seawater and Jester and Nott step back with a startled yelp. The eye stares out, unblinking, from the hilt of the sword.

“Huh,” Molly says, squinting over his shoulder. He’s still curled around Yasha’s head.

“The eye appeared in the hilt of my sword after that. Caleb and I think it might be connected to my— to how I got my powers, but we’re not really sure.”

“Huh,” Beau echoes, frowning at the sword.

Fjord gives them all another second of gaping before he opens his hand; the falchion dissolves into seawater before it makes it to the floor. He leans back against the wall.

“Are those people - Captain Avantika - is she gonna come after you if you don’t deliver the orb to Marius LePual—” Jester stumbles over the pronunciation and makes a face “—by Quen’pillar?”

“Well, I don’t know how I’d deliver it, seeing as I don’t know how to get it out of me,” Fjord points out, “but I dunno. This is the first I’ve heard of other people knowing about it, so.”

Jester hums, considering this. Caleb clears his throat.

“I am going to start identifying all the things that were in that bag,” he says. “It is going to take me a while. Beauregard, do you have the shackles that were on Yasha?”

Beau nods. “Yeah, hold on.”

She jogs around the corner, back towards the staircase to the basement. A moment later she returns with the shackles, which she drops at Caleb’s feet with a clatter. He nods at her, sets his spellbook on the ground, and gets to work.

+++

Sometime in the hour or so that Caleb spends ritual casting Detect Magic and Identify, Fjord wanders away to sit with the others while they eat the food that Caduceus provides. He always stays within easy view of Caleb. Though he’s only aware of the room for a few moments at a time between his spells, Caleb is grateful.

In the pause between determining that the red gem is magical and identifying what exactly it is, Jester appears beside him with two plates of food. She sets one in front of Caleb and sits beside him with the other.

Caleb watches her for a moment, waiting. After a minute of silence, he’s about to go back to his spellbook when she says, “Thank you for saving us.”

“I— ja, of course.” He clears his throat. “I did not expect to find Nila or your friends, but I am glad I did. They made it much easier than if I’d had to do this myself.”

Jester hums. She’s still the most upbeat of them by far, so much so that it must be an act. Still, something about the way she’s holding herself feels subdued. Caleb cannot blame her, but he hopes the trauma heals sooner rather than later. He reaches for the plate of food.

“You must really care about him, huh?” Jester asks suddenly.

Caleb scrambles for the correct thread of conversation. “Was?”

“Fjord,” Jester clarifies. She nods across the room towards where Fjord is hesitantly grinning at something Nott is saying. “You must really care about him if you were planning on storming this entire place by yourself to get him back.”

It’s uncomfortably close to what Beau had asked him on their way to the Blooming Grove. Caleb blinks, momentarily stunned, and Jester hastens to add, “Or maybe you weren’t! But that’s what it sounded like, kind of, and I know Beau and Molly and Keg and even Caduceus said you were really powerful, but—”

“You are not wrong,” Caleb interrupts. “That was my plan. I realize it was a pretty shitty one, especially now that I have actually fought the Shepherds, but. That was what I was going to do. And,” he clears his throat, glancing once again towards Fjord, “of course I care about him; he is my closest and only friend. He— I could not let him get taken.”

Jester hums again. “He is really handsome, you know.”

Caleb nearly chokes on his bite of food, coughing as he flounders for a response to the sudden change in topic. “I— ja, I suppose he is?”

He’s never actually thought about it beyond the obvious; Fjord is attractive to many people, which is something they’ve used to their advantage before, when needed. They do it less now that Caleb knows how uncomfortable it makes Fjord. The fact that Fjord is good-looking is just another fact in the long list Caleb has about the man.

“Why do you—?” He tries.

Jester giggles at him and slaps his back a few times in an attempt to help with the coughing. She’s much stronger than she looks and all it does is probably give him a bruise, but Caleb appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

“Oh, you know,” Jester says, and then doesn’t elaborate.

Okay, Caleb thinks.

He goes back to his food. Thankfully, Jester doesn’t ask him anything else; they both sit in almost companionable silence while they finish eating. Jester is collecting their plates and standing when Caleb remembers—

“Do you have a glass bead? It can be cheap, it doesn’t really matter; I just need a glass bead.”

“Uh, probably? Hold on.”

Jester darts into the kitchen with the plates. When she returns, she’s working on prying out a fake gem from one of her many rings. It pops out a few seconds after she reaches Caleb and she gives a little cheer before handing it to him.

“Will this work?”

Caleb studies it for a moment before tucking it into his pocket with a small smile. “Ja, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Caleb,” Jester sings, twirling back over to the others.

+++

Later that night - morning, technically - Caleb sits awake in the dome. He’s sitting up, leaning against the wall again to make more room for everyone else. Beside him, Fjord shifts and rolls over. After a moment, he sits up as well and scoots until he and Caleb are shoulder-to-shoulder against the wall.

“Caleb,” he murmurs in his own voice, low enough that no one else in the dome can hear, “are you alright?”

Caleb snorts softly. “I think I am the one that should be asking you that, Freund.”

He looks at Fjord out of the corner of his eye. It’s dark, but the sunlight creeping below the doors and shutters is enough that he can see the small crease in Fjord’s brows.

Fjord sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’m alright, or at least I will be. It’s just...I got cocky. Shouldn’t have let my guard down.”

“You cannot blame yourself when you are taken advantage of,” Caleb points out. “It was not your fault.”

Fjord chuckles humorlessly. “Thanks, Caleb. I’m not sure if I believe that, but...thank you. For that, and for saving me. I— to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you would come. I mean, I know we’ve known each other for nearly two years now, but—”

“Fjord,” Caleb interrupts. “Of course I was going to come. You are my best— my only friend,” he admits, horrified to find himself choking on a sob. “I thought you had left me, at first, because the thread was unbroken. But then I realized your stuff was still there and I— it was so much worse when I realized you’d been taken. There was blood, as well. And tracks, which I followed until I found allies.” He gestures to the sleeping forms curled around each other in the dome. “I—”

Caleb inhales shakily, but his voice is stony when he says, “I would have burned down this entire place and everyone inside it to find you.”

Fjord shifts, reaching out a hand to cup Caleb’s cheek. His thumb gently brushes away the tears he finds there. Caleb closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the terrifyingly sincere fondness on the half-orc’s face. For a long moment, neither of them speak.

Then, “Caleb,” Fjord repeats, softer. “Are you okay? This is...not a good place for your memories.”

Caleb clenches his teeth but a bitter, slightly hysterical chuckle still escapes. “Nein, it is not,” he agrees.

He curls his fingers around Fjord’s wrist and squeezes. Fjord shifts his hand so their fingers are entwined and squeezes back.

“Get some sleep, Caleb,” he murmurs. “It’s been a long day.”

Caleb doesn’t fight it when Fjord gently pulls his head to rest on his chest. He exhales slowly, still a little shaky, and tucks his face into Fjord’s neck. Eventually, they each drift off into uneasy sleep.

Beau expects Fjord and Caleb to leave once they all exit the Evening Nip, but she somehow isn’t surprised when the two of them follow the group to the Leaky Tap. They don’t leave then, either, even though nobody pays them much attention; Fjord seems content to watch Jester and Nott enthusiastically regale Caduceus with a highly-embellished tale of the manticore near Alfield. Caleb, leaning slightly against Fjord’s side, is thoroughly engrossed in a book he’d pulled from somewhere beneath his coat.

After a while, Beau moves to their side of the table, rolling her eyes mostly fondly when Molly’s tail nearly whacks her in the face. The drunk tiefling pays her no attention, curled up half in Yasha’s lap so he can better fawn over her hair. Yasha accepts it with her usual sereneness, but she meets Beau’s eyes with a rare smile when she passes them by on her way to Caleb and Fjord.

Caleb’s eyes flick briefly to her when she sits down, but he otherwise doesn’t acknowledge her. Fjord nods politely.

“I’m honestly kind of surprised you guys haven’t left yet,” Beau admits, leaning forward with her elbows on the table so she can study their faces.

Fjord shrugs. “We don’t have anything better to do, and y’all are nice enough. We’ll need to check up on some things in the morning, but it’s good to relax.” He exhales, slow and exhausted. “It’s been a long week.”

Beau laughs humorlessly. “No shit. We have things we need to do, too, maybe if some overlap we’ll you can tag along with us.” A thought strikes her and she sits up a bit straighter. “Hey, do you guys know Pumat Sol?”

That seems to catch Caleb’s attention; the book stays open, but he does raise his eyes. “Ja, we do jobs for him occasionally. That is actually one of the things we’ll need to take care of; we were on a job for him when...everything went to shit.”

“He’s quite the character, isn’t he?” Beau asks, sidestepping the loaded latter half of Caleb’s statement.

“Well, I would not say he is one of a kind,” Caleb agrees. Fjord snorts. “He is a good man - men? - though. He has helped us tremendously.”

“Yeah, same.”

The conversation falls into an almost awkward lull after that. Caleb returns to his book and Fjord goes back to listening to Jester and Nott, who have moved on to the Harvest Fest; Caduceus looks intrigued, if not slightly intimidated by the sheer amount of exuberance from Jester and Nott combined. Beau splits her attention between them and Molly, who has trailed off, content to let Yasha mess with his hair and jewelry. His tail curls and uncurls languidly and Beau lets herself drink in the sight of him, alive and happy.

“I remember that fight,” Fjord says, startling Beau from her thoughts. It takes her a second to backtrack and remember that Jester had just finished describing their fight against the troll in the Victory Pit.

Fjord nudges Caleb. “We watched that, didn’t we? It was mighty impressive.”

Caleb blinks for a moment, eyes going distant and darting back and forth as he tries to follow the thread of a conversation that he had completely tapped out of. Fjord must realize that he has no idea what’s going on, because he elaborates, “The Victory Pit.” He turns to Beau. “The Mighty Five, was it?”

“Ja, I remember,” Caleb says. “It was a very impressive win, especially against a creature of such magnitude.”

“Thanks,” Beau says. She’s pretty sure the compliment is genuine; it’s kind of hard to tell with Caleb. “You guys were there?”

Fjord nods. “I kind of wanted to enter, but Caleb pointed out that there were only two of us and it probably wouldn’t have ended well. In hindsight, that was a great idea.” Beau snorts.

“Yeah, I hate to say it, but you guys probably would’ve been pulverized.” Then, after thinking for a moment, “Gods, it really is a small world, isn’t it? We’ve been in the same places so many times without ever knowing it.”

“Quite a series of coincidences, huh?” Fjord agrees. “Maybe it’s fate.”

Beau hums, glancing across their little - though larger than what she’s used to - group. “Could be.”

+++

The tavern is mostly empty by the time Jester and Nott’s enthusiasm has dwindled. Beau is drifting off on Yasha’s shoulder with Molly’s tail curled loosely around her wrist when Jester exclaims, “Hey, you guys should totally join our group, because we go on adventures, and I think you go on adventures, so together we’ll be like! Super-duper powerful and cool.”

When Beau looks up, Caleb has emerged from his book and both he and Fjord are staring at Jester, clearly startled by the offer. Jester shrinks a little, her excitement dimming.

“Or not! That’s cool, too, I totally understand.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Fjord hastens to assure her. “I was just...shocked, is all.” He looks at Caleb, who shrugs. “I mean, why not?”

“We will need to take care of some things, but ja, I would not protest.”

Jester cheers and Beau can’t help but smile at her joy. Warmth curls in her gut. She resolutely blames it on the alcohol and the late hour.

“Wait, we’ll need a new name, won’t we?” Jester muses. “There’s way more than five of us now. Anyone have ideas?” She turns her bright grin to Caleb and Fjord. “Do you guys have any suggestions? It’s your group now, too, after all.”

Caleb frowns. “Nein, I—”

“The Mighty Nine?” Nott interrupts, louder than Beau thinks she means to.

“Ooh, I like it! And it fits with the theme still! Good idea, Caleb.”

“The theme?” Fjord asks.

At the same time, Caleb protests, “ Nein , it’s Zemnian—”

Jester ignores him. “Yeah! Because, like, we were the Mighty Five because there were five of us, but when we first started using that name Yasha wasn’t there so everyone was super confused. And now there’s,” she pauses to count, “eight of us, so they’ll always be confused!”

“And that is...a good thing?”

“Yeah!”

Caleb blinks. “Okay.”

A bit belated, Caduceus says, “Oh, I get it. Ha.”

Nott catches Jester’s eye. “Welcome to the Mighty Nein!” they crow.