Chapter Text
He put a heavy hand against the scraggly driftwood branch and swayed dangerously on one leg. Tugging off his borrowed boot, he poured what could only be described as the whole of the Chionthar- beach, cliffs, forests and all- out onto the ruddy sand at his feet. He thought briefly of the old brick who ran his Watch training so many years back. Never had he met a woman more sure of the physical, spiritual, and moral ruination inside a wet boot. He quietly sing-songed 'ditch foot, dry boot, never the two shall meet' along in rhythm to a one, two, three knock of his boot on his shin. He felt a strange bubble of fondness for that terrible woman, before a more recently pressing rise of dread in his stomach. Sorry shape indeed to find 'comforting' and 'Sarmar Doolen' in the same house, he thought. He wondered if she was even still alive. Is anyone at all still alive in the City?
Balancing there for a moment, he looked across the beach, across the wreckage and gore and bodies, across the days since his- kidnapping, he supposed he'd call it, and he sighed. Weary. A tiredness that comes after the adrenaline has burnt off and there's still no expectation of rest. He'd sit down but he's not sure he'd get back up again. Laying down, he thought, would probably kill him flat out but his face softened at the thought. He felt a shifting, a motion, like a spasm but- in his eye? Perhaps whatever is behind his eye. He didn't know where he felt it but it made the hairs on his nape stand up and bile rise in his throat. He'd been in bad spots before but they tended towards the weapons he could see, he could outmaneuver. More over, as rare as the times were he even needed to draw his sword, those little dangers were over just as quickly as they began. Knock the knife out of the hand, push a body down with a jab of your shield, and, if needed, stab a body in a place that you hoped it could recover from. And it's done. This? He didn't know how to address a slow seeping poison like- what had the wizard called it? Haden watched meat-smelling smoke lazily drift in the distance as he tried to pull the word from his memory. Eh. Something worse than death, whatever the book word was, he thought. He blinked twice, willing the- motion to settle.
Inhaling hard through his nose, he pulled himself up to his considerable height, threw his boot on the wet sand with a unpleasant slutch, and tried to put more strength in his bones than he felt. Twisting and shoving, he rammed on his too big boot, stomped a few times to set his foot, and scooped up his bag of scavenged bits and bobs. The sun was already low in the sky and the others may need some of this garbage. A few pieces of leathers without too many holes and tears. A pair of boots that might fit slightly better. A handful of serviceable knives. Perhaps a vessel that could work as a cooking pot. Precious little of it was food but he'd been hungry before. The single bottle of something darker than water being the lone prize. He hoped for- He sighed and told himself to keep his expectations low.
"Haden! There you are! I was nearing close to sending out a search party- which would have been, admittedly, fairly scanty." The wizard was, in his estimations, harmless. He spoke big, he acted big, he wanted big. Having spent so long in the Upper City, Haden knew wealth when he saw it but he also knew how best to placate wealth while still doing his job. And, having worked The Wide enough, he knew how to make it look natural.
"I'm a big, noisy boy. Couldn't have been hard to find me." The wizard smiled, pleased to have his own false high spirits returned. He clearly thought of himself as one of those Common Folk wizards rather than the Your Betters types but all of them, in his experience, were rich whether they slummed or not. The one time he ever needed to enter a wizard's tower on official Watch business, the quantity of books alone was shocking. He couldn't remember whenever he'd ever seen so many in one place, much less under the ownership of one person. That seemed to simply be the general state of a wizard. He had trained himself to shove down his envy of these people and their seemingly endless resources but- Gods, all those books. He felt envy bitterly then. He had saved for two months to be able to buy a real leather bound copy of Lord G'rath's travelogue of Huzuz and here was this- He stopped himself. It's best not to think of it, he thought. He breathed in and out. He had no time for these feelings. The wizard was the very least of his worries in this group.
There was the Githyanki woman and the Shar woman. Neither doing a very good job at hiding their natures, he thought. He didn't mind them, in truth. They were all well past 'strange bedfellows' at this point and they both seemed clever and diligent. Two traits he admired- but the Shar woman. He wasn't sure. At least with the Gith, her heart was very much on her sleeve. He may not be able to read her face but she loudly, precisely made her stance of any issue exceedingly clear. That was a real relief amidst all these other uncertainties. But that Shar woman- oh, he just wasn't sure. She was clearly keeping her secrets but what worried him more was the information she wasn't keeping. Anyone who would wear That goddess' symbol on their clothes was so deep into the culture, fanaticism of Shar that they no longer saw her broader history. Or thought her broader history was a conspiracy of some sort. Or, worse, saw it all as plain as day and still believed. It's hard to trust someone making those decisions, making those assumptions, he thought.
"That you are, darling. Big, I mean. I hope."
Oh, yes. The magistrate.
He had prided himself handling the wizard with ease but, Gods, the magistrate. Insufferable in that way leisure and insecurity makes. He was something of a mystery in the way the others weren't. He held everyone at arm's length, in abject disdain, but seemed- needy. Was that the word for it? Perhaps not but he was certainly terrified. He hid it but Haden had developed a nose for people hiding things from him. What made it odd was this man didn't seem frightened of anything in particular. Just- everything, all at once. Scared and fake, he'd thought on that first night they all sat around a campfire, stomachs roiling. Scared he, at least, understood but the fake? Like he's so used to playing a person that he's not sure how to Not play him. Simply baffling, this one. Knew immediately he'd be trouble. He'd laugh his haughty laugh and smile his cruel smile but, when he wasn't doing his little act, the man looked like he was planning a prison break. Serious eyes. Tense neck. Forefinger and thumb idly rubbing together. Haden had seen these down-on-their-luck types plenty when he walked Lower City and they always made him hold his breath. They were the dangerous type of scared. Some folks would bite and scratch, anger, sorrow, what-have-you driving their hearts. But you could talk them down. Give them what they wanted- and that was usually an ear and some food, he learned- and they'd settle right back into their misery. But this one. Nothing to lose is dangerous but something to lose was much more so. Between the fear and falseness, Haden thought this magistrate might be the latter. He alarmed Haden to his toes and back. He hadn't taken off his scavenged armour since cobbling it together after the wreck and this magistrate was about half the reason why.
No surprise that he'd slept horribly. Between the armour, the people, the fear, and the- situation, he found himself barely able to close his eyes. As laying in his armor was all but impossible, he leaned against a rock or tree and tried hard to, at least, be somewhere else. He'd jolt up, time having passed, and wonder if he slept or just disassociated. The magistrate, with a strange snideness, went so far to chide him for staying up. "Even ogres" hand waving up and down his amoured, sagging body "need their beauty rest." He was infuriated but, if he was honest, he was also hurt. Old bruises, he thought. No need to give it more than it deserves.
Three days later, once they had found an awkward but much safer camp within a druid's grove, he hazarded to peel off his cobbled-together armour, telling himself it was for the good care of his tools. He had been fastidious with his Watch armour, cleaning it every fifth day, and polishing it every other tenday. It was very true that if you didn't gleam, you tended to get the Lower City beat but he also could never shake his father's voice. Boy, he'd say, that what is cared for well, works well. Of course, that was his voice before mother died and his heart went out of caring for anything, well or otherwise. Yet- it was still good advice. So he spread out the admittedly poor quality bits of armour he had been able to both find And squeeze into, put away his low spirits, and pulled the backplate into his lap. When was the last time any of these were last cleaned, he wondered. It would be nasty work.
"Don't you look- smaller now." The magistrate sat down next to him. He hadn't even heard the man approach. For a moment, he considered putting his armor back on. "Less mountainous. It suits you." He managed a look and the magistrate wore neither his cruel smile or his high chin. Something much more approaching neutral, his eyes carefully flat- which worried Haden.
"How can I help you, Astarion?"
"Oh, I'm simply delighted to see you finally coming out of your shell." He laughed at his little joke. "I thought you might have gotten stuck. We were taking bets, you know. I said, Haden's the-" Here there was a pause that clearly said I don't know how to say the truth without it sounding like an insult. "Earthy type of man who looks forward to bath day. Just you wait, I said. The first stream, creek, or wet puddle we find and he'll pop right out, quick as a snail." He leaned back, carefully, letting his shirt sag away from his chest. The magistrate smiled, not cruelly but not- Not friendly, he thought. "And here I am- Right!"
Haden sighed. The man wasn't wrong. He hated that the smarmy little man wasn't wrong. His hair was still damp and his one shirt was still dripping from his rough attempt at washing. He hadn't needed to tend his own clothes since he joined the Watch and it was apparent his washing up skills had dropped off a cliff. He tried to shave with his filched knife but he hasn't found a whetstone as of yet. He gave up not too long after starting. He hoped the nicks looked closer to handsome battle wounds than boyhood embarrassments. At least, he smelled of soap. Cheap lye soap but better than rotting sweat.
The magistrate, on the other hand, looked immaculate but when had he not? Hair swept up in a perfectly imperfect tussle. His clothes smoothed and clean. Fingernails similar. His clever hands looked soft and unused to effort. The elfish tendency towards low body hair left him youthful and dashing in a way that even the dark circles under his eyes complemented rather than marred. And he smelled like- like something familiar. Something pleasant on his tongue. Flowers? Candied herbs? he thought. His pale neck long, spreading into a firm- Haden looked to the fire and then back down to the backplate in his lap.
"And here I am." The magistrate said again, slower, deeper. "Right." Something in the air made Haden nervous. He could all but hear the magistrate grinning.
They sat like that for a moment, him studiously polishing his backplate and the magistrate studiously watching his face, that worrisome glee in his eyes. Before- "Well, I must grab a bite before bed. Can't look for a-" He huffed in obvious annoyance. "Little lost druid on an empty stomach. An army marches etc etc." He stood, dusting off his pants before leaning over, perhaps too close. "Sweet dreams."
That night he slept. He knows that much. He slept because he dreamed. He did not care for it.
A good tenday later, they were walking towards an inn. They had heard it was still running, despite- Anything. Everything. Take your pick of calamities, he thought. With their own larders all but barren, they desperately needed supplies. Especially now they've added another unfortunate to their sad troupe. This new man- he was supremely odd. Not in his mannerisms or heart. He seemed trustworthy if not a little histrionic. No, he, Gods- he called himself The Blade of Frontiers. You could hear him capitalizing the words as he said it, Haden thought. It was almost absurd. Like the dreadfuls the children of his little village passed around until the paper was worn through. He supposed a body is allowed some- flavor. Gods know we have quite the flavorful group thus far, he thought. All the same, more people meant more food and between the refugees, the Goblins, the Gnolls, and the Gith, everything was becoming scarce. Even game had seemed to vanish- but that may have been the druid's doing? Who can say with that lot, he thought.
So the magistrate, the wizard, and himself had drawn the inn straw while the others had drawn the Goblin straw. He was entirely relieved. He knew he, personally, was going to be hauling any goods they did manage to find. The other two men were hardly used to the walking, much less the brute labor of lifting and carting. But- and this was the vital part in Haden's mind- he wasn't in a Goblin camp. So he found himself smiling lightly as they picked their way through the overturned wagons and discarded boxes along their path.
"I wouldn't have suspected that you would find this type of work to your liking, friend. Given your previous profession." The wizard was halfway into a monstrous crate, before emerging again holding a broken bottle neck. "Phooey. It's all smashed. Waste of a surely sub-par bottle of wine. A pity says me!"
"I wouldn't be the first Watchman helping himself to something on the side." Haden pried open another crate for the wizard before moving to the next. "Although this is a much finer cause. People need to eat and these boxes are just crumbling away."
"Pragmatic! That's what I like about you, Haden. Never a- Ah! Drat, these are all- what are these?" The wizard held up a thin metal slug. Haden looked up and felt a pang of sorrow mixed with anger, regret. He thought of his father.
"Forks. Cutlery. Or they will be if they ever get to their smith. The good smiths can stamp out a box like that in a tenday. Nice money if you're poor." Turning it over in his hand, the wizard simply goes "Ah." Yes, Haden thought. A rich wizard.
"This is all trash." The magistrate had been sitting under tree, radiating irritation. "We might as well be off to this inn before the sun drops on our heads." He had pilfered exactly two bottles of some sort of spirit and exclaimed he had done his part. For all his tedious behavior, the man had found the lion's share of anything worth taking. Frustration was high and it was little wonder that he was snapping and snipping. But something Did seem wrong with the man. The magistrate was somehow even more pale than usual and he had stopped complaining about the 'time wasted' nearly three hours ago. Given what little he knew about the man, this all seemed- unusual. He had no other word for it. "Say-" The magistrate leaned forward with a start, a smile on his lips that Haden didn't like. "Let's stay a night. At the inn. Hells, can you even imagine a real bed?"
"I'm sure the others would like the option as well, Astarion. A good kip shouldn't be kept-" "Well, are they here? Am I asking Them?" What a prick, Haden thought. Sorry, Mother, he thought directly after. "What they don't know can't possibly hurt them, now can it? It can be our little secret! Team- Us. What do you say?" The wizard shot Haden a guilty look and something like longing tore through them all. Normality. A soft bed. No, a bed off the ground. A blanket pulled up to their chin like children. A hot meal they didn't need to cook, maybe complete with warm bread. Perhaps butter. Walls. Just- walls. No scrambling to all fit into their single tent when the rain came through. Gods, there could even be a hot bath. The pain of something so simple, so achingly boring swam through him and he hoped he wasn't swaying. Haden rubbed his eyes to keep them from watering. He sighed and nodded. The magistrate clapped and laughed and hobbled to his feet. The wizard gave him a small smile.