I wake with Astarion in my arms. This time under slightly better circumstances. I pull him close, giving him a gentle squeeze.

He stirs, voice groggy. "Is it time for my morning strangulation?"

I laugh softly, burying my face in his curls.

We lie together a moment longer before he mutters softly. "Can I... ask a favor?"

"A favor?" I smile playfully. "Anything."

He sits up.

"What is it?" I note the hesitation.

"My back. My scars. You said they looked familiar." He glances back at me.

"Yes. They are infernal."

He turns to face me. "How can you be sure?"

I gesture to my horns.

"Right." He lets out a quiet breath. "Of course Cazador would be meddling with devils. I just don't understand why it needed to involve me. Do you know what they say?"

I sit up and brush one of his curls behind his ear, kissing his neck.

"Hoc inferius non iurare per ignis

Haec verba loquor

Et hoc mundo mutat"

"Do you expect me to know what that means?" He scoffs. "I swear, being irritating must be part of your oath."

"You're not entirely wrong."

"Oh? So you remember what it is?"

I smile and take his hand. "The markings say, I will not swear by fire below." I hold his fingers to my lips. "These words I speak." I gently kiss his palm. "And this changes the world." My kisses slowly climb his arm. "A fragment of a contract." I lean into him, pressing a wanting kiss into his collar. "I'm sure it's terrible, whatever it is."

He falls back and laughs softly. "Understatement of the century, and didn't we just do this?" He softly pushes my chest. "I'm supposed to be angry with you right now."

I lift my head. "Why?"

"You left me behind."

"Yes, and I corrected it. You're welcome."

He scowls at me. "Withers corrected it."

"Because I asked nicely."

He rolls his eyes before pulling me into a hateful kiss.

He breaks away. "Why are you smiling?"

"A silly notion. Bringing a dead man back to life. Were you truly resurrected, or merely reanimated? I'm not sure of the semantics."

"Gods, you're boring." He wrinkles his nose. "Maybe you can ask Withers later if it's so important to you. But for now, I demand your full attention. It's what I deserve after what you put me through."

We spend a long morning together. The whispers in his head have been quieter since his resurrection. I don't expect anyone could come back to life without being changed in some way.

His suggestion of speaking with Withers was more practical than he realized.

I find Withers drifting along the tree line, studying his ledger, as he always does. I approach and he slowly closes the book. "Ah. Dost thou needest another resurrection?" He whisks the book away in a crackle of Weave.

"Why did you really come here?"

"Would knowing help thee in thy quest?"

"No. Not likely."

He folds his hands behind his back and begins to walk. "In my wanderings since giving up my mantle, it was you who caught my interest in these trying time."

"Why? Why in the hells does everyone seem to know who I am? And yet, I still know next to nothing about myself."

"Thou art familiar with thy father?"

"Yes."

"Bhaal himself was merely human before he was granted powers by a very humble, very tired God."

I scoff. "Humble and God do not belong in the same sentence."

"...Thus, it was I who split my power among the dead three. Bane, Myrkul, and Bhaal."

I pause, focusing on the tattered corpse walking next to me. "You're Jergal."

"Correct."

"That's why you felt so damned familiar when you arrived. What little power I have... was once yours."

"Correct."

"Do you feel responsible for me?"

"I do."

"You needn't." I mutter. My mind drifts to Alfira once more. "Having given up your station, would the rules of fate still apply? Surely Ao wouldn't punish you for bringing Alfira back."

"If I am to use any power, there will be no subverting the laws that apply. As it should be."

My jaw grows tight. "Yes. The balance of all things."

We are quiet for a moment before a thought strikes me and I begin to laugh. "Jergal. By the gods, does this mean you're my Grandfather?"

Withers' lips curl into the faintest smile. "I suppose, in a sense that is true."

I hold out my hand and he shakes it. "I would like to apologize for fantasizing about dismembering you."

The wrinkles around his eyes deepen with his grin. "One can only be expected to do so much when haunted by the whispers of thine father."

My smile slowly falls and I tip my head toward him. "Thank you, Withers. ...for giving Astarion back to me."

His hands fold thoughtfully behind his back once again as we return to camp.

Shadowheart is fussing with a few garden plants she's managed to procure from the grove. Karlach sits on her stool watching carefully.

"What are they again?" Karlach keeps her distance, but leans in slightly, trying to get a healthy glimpse.

"Night Orchids. But they don't seem to be doing too well. I think they're getting too much sun. I may have to move them into my tent for them to propagate correctly."

She summons small rain clouds, watering them. The tiny purple sprouts peek from the dark soil.

I crane to see them. "I've never heard of night orchids before."

"They're not common. They thrive in the shadows, and even then they will only grow nestled near a tree." She pats her finger on the soil around one of the sprouting buds. "I love them dearly."

I smile, watching her fuss over them. "I'm glad you could work with the druids to procure a nursery."

"Of course." Her soft smile is welcome after the previous tension between us.

Karlach folds her fingers behind her neck and leans back. "All thanks to the Peace Bringer, am I right?"

I give her a weak smile. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about. Your engine."

Her face falls. "Right. That." She slumps.

"I neglected to mention it, but I may have a lead on someone who could help."

"You do?!"

I hold up my hands. "Don't get excited. This may be a dead end, but it's worth looking into."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What do you got, Spooks? Spit it out!"

"Among the refugees, there is a man named Dammon. He apprenticed as a smith in Avernus. He might know something about what's going on."

Karlach's eyes grow wide. "Spooks! I... Wha... Why didn't you tell me sooner?! Why are we just sitting around? Let's go!"

"I will not be joining you. Bex, Astarion, and I have business at Waukeen's Rest. I thought it might be best if the rest of the camp head back to the redoubt."

I hear a fluttering. "The redoubt? Must everything be spoken of in such martial terms?"

Tara sits with a regal poise.

"It is a redoubt."

"It's a grove, where real people live."

"Yes, people live in the grove. People also live in the hollow behind the walls of the redoubt." I was hoping to spend my fifthday bickering with a pedantic wizard. "Do the refugees simply not count?"

Tara scoffs at me, the tip of her tail twitching and flipping. "Point being, I encourage you to adjust your language."

"I cannot afford to speak vaguely."

"I am not asking you to speak vaguely, Mr. Neel. I am asking you not to speak so brashly."

I straighten my lips. "Very well." I turn to Karlach and take a breath. "I think it might be best if you pack, if you feel so inclined. Perhaps you can speak with Lae'zel when you're both available. She might still have the map to the grove. I don't think there is an easy route back, unfortunately. Your choices may only be the broken bridge, or the river crossing. You may be able to find a third way. Maybe some scouting is in order. It shouldn't be too much trouble to check each route to see what might suit you best. Either way it's your decision."

Karlach's mouth is hanging open. "Gods Spooks, that was awful. Do me a favor and never talk to me like that again."

"Go pack." I say with a long exhale.

Karlach gives a playful salute and jogs off.

I glance down at Tara. She's already wandering off, tail high.

"Tara."

She stops and barely turns back to me.

"Tell Gale the plan, will you?"

"Am I no better than a pigeon to you?"

"The couriers are not beneath you. They have a job to do, and they do it very well. You, on the other hand, have yet to pull your own weight."

"As light and delicate as I am, I have no intention of being reduced to a utility for you."

I give a soft nod. "Noted. I would, however, like to ask you a favor."

"Again, I am not here to do your bidding, Mr. Neel."

"I beg you hear me for a moment."

She sits, watching me, green eyes sharp.

"Our ox." I gesture toward the beast, grazing happily in a patch on fresh grass. "Loyal as he is, I'm sure you have sensed the Weave bending around him. I've tried speaking with him about it but he has yet to open up."

"The ox?" She turns to him, studying him with a single paw in the air. "Indeed, he is magical. He could be dangerous. I can't have Mr. Dekarious be caught off guard by such a creature. I must speak to the ox at once."

She promptly flutters off.

I turn to Shadowheart. She's gently padding down rich soil around another sprout.

"Shadowheart, I actually have a favor to ask of you as well."

"Do you?" She says, not looking at me, though a small smile peeks through her ambivalence.

"One moment." I jog to my tent and return with several pieces of paper, a quill, and an inkwell. "While you're at the redoubt, see if you can find a boy named Doni. I want him to have this."

"Doni. The mute boy?" She takes the bundle from me. "That's awful thoughtful of you."

"I'm curious to see what he does with it. Hopefully you can track him down. The boy belongs to a pack of urchins under the guardianship of a girl called Mol. Their hideout is called the Dragons Lair, but I was not privileged enough to know where it is."

Shadowheart laughs lightly. "The Dragons Lair? Perfect. I'll try to track him down and pass this along."

"It is appreciated, thank you Shadowheart."

Bex waves to Danis as the ox cart rumbles down the path. Tara is resting on the ox's back, speaking at him, rather than to him. The ox's skin twitches where she sits. He shakes his head and his tail swishes. He glances back at me briefly before disappearing down a hill.

"Ahem." We glance down to see a rat standing before us.

Astarion grins. "Oh, a snack? You shouldn't have."

The rat squeaks and promptly dashes back at least four meters. "No no! Not polite to eat the messenger! You come to speak with the Zhent, yes?"

"That's correct." I say.

"This way, this way. Don't dawdle. Tomm wants to be seeing you! Deals to be made! Lots of goods. Lots of them!"

He scurries off, maintaining a healthy distance from Astarion.

We're led to a shack past the burnt rubble of the Inn. Upon entering, stale dust drifts through beams of light that show through cracks in the roof. Shelves and boxes line the walls. Crates create a narrow pathway toward the back.

"This one." The rat puts his hand on one of the crates.

I push it aside to reveal a cellar door. I glance at Bex.

"Just don't blow yourself up if we end up fighting skeletons again." She says with a snort.

I smile and we climb down.

We see a human and a half-orc seated at a table. Aelar and Apikusis are already present, deep in conversation.

The human stands. "Peace Bringer and friends." She grins wide with warm eyes and a cold tongue. "Sit! Make yourselves at home. We have a lot to discuss.

"You must be Tomm." I say. I take a seat next to Apikusis who gives me a nod. I reach out and give Apikusis' hand a gentle squeeze.

"That's what they call me." Tomm says with a wily grin. "The matter at hand. We have weapons, but in the numbers you're requesting, they're not going to be the quality I think you deserve."

"Much of our militia is still green. I wouldn't want to waste coin on anything elaborate. We just need them armed."

Aelar grimaces. "It is the nature of war, isn't it?"

"Perhaps we can find someone who can train them more efficiently?" Bex leans on her armrest.

Aelar gives a brief shake of his head. "I have done what I can, but Zevlor and I aren't as young as we used to be."

Bex gives a thoughtful hum. "If we need fresh blood, then Karlach might be perfect. She was one of Zariels top assets. Her and Lae'zel enjoy the craft of combat. Though Lae'zel may not be as reliable since her... incident."

"Lae'zel." I mutter. "As much as I want to see her thrive, I might be barred from speaking with her. Gods forbid Gale get perturbed. He might strike me down again, or worse, sick his tressym on me."

Bex laughs lightly, though there is a sadness behind it. "I still don't know what came over him. We've agreed to keep an eye on him going forward, for your sake. Gale is such a kind heart, who knew he could be so volatile."

"It's often the kind hearts that are the most unpredictable." I glance at Aelar.

"True enough." He mutters.

The half orc is holding several weapons. Tomm hands me a standard issue short sword. It's light. Brittle. Over tempered. The balance is slightly off, but I suspect that is intentional. If it shatters during battle, they can fight with the shards. We need to be sure the militia is trained in close range combat, not just sword fighting.

We will need Lae'zel for that. Her skills are singular.

My eye drift to the half orc. His skin is thick, though if he leaves his armpit unguarded, I could slide this sword through his chest. It would be an effective demonstration of the sword's utility.

"Fifty swords." I say, almost absent mindedly.

"I'd recommend at least seventy five, given the size of your militia." Tomm pulls out a ledger and begins to write.

"Fifty swords." I repeat. "Thirty shields. Fifteen crossbows. Twenty long bows. Thirty five sets of leather armor. Twenty five sets of plate armor. Eighty daggers."

She looks at me and then smiles, scratching out a line. "All wise choices, but have you..."

"Ten spools of gut string. Forty bottles of linseed oil. Ten crates of cotton cloth. Three hundred yards of light weight rope. Three hundred yards of heavy weight rope. Make sure they are proper skeins, and not just hapless bundles for God's sake."

My fingers twitch, as I glance at the half orc's neck. "And twelve hundred arrows."

Tomm scribbles the list of items quickly before glancing at me.

I tip my head. "My companions can choose their own weapons from what you have available now."

"Not necessary." Aelar says. "The axe you gave me will continue to serve as my main hand weapon. And what about yourself? Your greatsword was destroyed."

"It was."

Astarion sighs wistfully. "My hero. Sacrificing his precious greatsword to save me and utterly failing anyway."

"I apologize, let me just take your resurrection back." I approach him, sword in hand.

He jumps from the chair and stands behind it, gripping the back tightly. "No, no, no. No takesies backsies."

I hold out my hands. "Are you sure?"

He snorts, not dignifying that with an answer.

I turn back to Tomm and hand her the sword. "We expect delivery within a tenday."

Tomm nods her head. "We better get started, then. I think you'll find this to be a very lucrative partnership."

Astarion reviewed the contract. It wasn't clean, as expected, but that was corrected.

After the meeting, we make our way back to the redoubt.

"We've completely lost track of Kagha." Apikusis says. "She passed through a gate. I think she entered the shadow cursed lands. Unavoidable, going from here to Cloakwood. I don't think she's going to make it through alive."

"A shame." I sigh. "Our plans will have to proceed without her. The odds of her making it were always slim to none. If it comes down to it, we can send Cherami."

"Good call. Since Cherami's return from her visit with you yesterday, she has been eager to deliver to you again. I've had half a mind to give her a blank just to appease her."

"I don't want to use her without cause. She may seem invulnerable, but I'm not interested in finding out her weaknesses. Those are best left unspoken." My face falls. "...and now I have a damned flying cat in my camp..." I mutter.

Bex puts a hand on my arm before turning to Apikusis and Aelar. "Let's meet tonight in the druid's chambers. Gather the advisors. We have much to discuss."

Aelar gives a soft nod. "It will be done."

We arrive at the redoubt as the sun begins to brush the horizon. Aelar and Apikusis return to the grove to gather the others while Bex and I walk toward the hollow.

"There he is! Wait right there!"

I am suddenly waylaid by a very energetic war machine. Karlach grabs my arm.

"Spooks," she's practically giddy, "Dammon stabilized my engine! It's not a permanent fix, but it feels so much better!"

I smile, "That's wonderful news!"

"I'm still too hot to touch, though, so I'm gunna need your cloak. Please. Please! I'll give it right back!"

I slide it off my shoulders.

"Yes!" She takes it and throws it on backwards, turning to Dammon. "I'm gunna give you the biggest hug!"

Dammon holds up his hands. "Karlach! Please!"

She charges and swiftly lifts him into the air.

He grunts but manages to pat her back. "You're welcome." His voice is strained but gracious. "Just remember. Infernal iron. Just a little more and I can finish up what I can."

A few daggers and a healing potion drop from my pockets. I collect them as she gushes over Dammon. I make a note to reinforce my damned pockets.

Shadowheart is laughing quietly to herself as the chaos unfold before her.

"You got it! Gods this is so exciting!" She gives him one more gentle squeeze before setting him down.

A stilted ringing rises as something taps Shadowheart's foot. She crouches to collect it, but her laughter fades as she picks it up.

"Thank you." I hold out my hand for Alfira's bell.

Something cold shifts in the air and Shadowheart grows still, though her thoughts begin to spin. "Oh." Her eyes are locked on the bell, her brow furrowed. She shakes it and slowly hands it back. "Odd."

I study her, taking the bell in hand. She says nothing more, simply focusing on Karlach.

Dammon gains his footing, rubbing his hands on his smith's apron, smiling. "Everything I went through in Elturel was worth it, then."

Karlach's face softens. "Don't say that. Everything you do is great. Not just fixing some poor sod's heart." She hands me back my cloak.

"Thank you, Karlach." Dammon and I say it at the same time.