I stay with Astarion in our private little camp until the small hours of the morning. By the time we make it back, most of the camp has gone to bed, except for Bex.

She's holding several papers in her hand, watching the dying embers flicker.

Astarion gives me one more kiss and joins Rooster in their tent. They've taken to bunking together.

I sit across from her. "Bex, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but I was going over your contracts, and I found something I want to discuss with you."

"Couldn't this wait for tomorrow?"

Her mouth hangs. "I tried. I can't sleep."

I get a closer look at what she's holding.

The Harvesters' contract.

My lip twitches. "...Let's take this to my tent."

She joins me, pulling up a stool as I sit on my cot.

She clings tightly to the stack of papers, as if she'll never get them back if she lets go. "I understand what you're doing with Bridget, though I'm not necessarily comfortable with it. What's done is done. But you cannot compensate the Harvesters per viable body."

I straighten.

"Vash, what's stopping them from poisoning a well? Or spreading a plague?"

"The contract clearly states they are not to kill anyone."

"How is that being enforced? Are you expecting them to hold themselves accountable?"

I tap my knee. "It's a logistical issue I'll need to address."

"It won't be good enough." She runs a hand along her face. "Gods. This is what you do, isn't it?"

"I am not a frivolous killer. There is always a reason."

She drops her hand. "Then explain why Alfira had to die." She steps up to me. "What grand important reason did you have for taking my friend away from me?"

I lift my brow. "It's called a deathstalker sacrifice. She was not the intended target. Because of my amnesia, I did not know I was running on a clock."

"A clock? What clock?"

"I must sacrifice a victim to Father once every tenday, or I am driven mad with bloodlust." I curl my nose. "A very convenient way of keeping Bhaal's children in lockstep with their divine heritage."

Her brow grows tight, and she stares down at me, lips curled. "How many people have you killed to keep us safe from you?"

My tail flicks behind me. "Twenty-six."

She takes a breath, and my hand twitches, anticipating a slap. Instead, she kneels next to the stool and lowers her head. She's quiet for a while, and I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

Her eyes flit open, then she turns back to me. "If the Harvesters cull a village of one of our allies, and word gets out that you're the one lining their pockets, your reputation will be destroyed."

"I will not back them if they stray from what is written-"

"It doesn't matter!" She stands, her dark eyes welling with tears. "You can have all the flowery language you want, it won't negate what happens because of people who are directly under your command!" She pauses, and her voice grows quiet. "It won't give anyone their family back."

I shift back, and the cot creaks as the implications land like a stone. I slowly get to my feet.

"Bex... this is why I need you."

She gives me a small nod.

I grab a few sheets of paper, an inkwell, and a quill from my pack. I sit back on the cot, drag her stool between my knees, and lay everything out, then begin to write.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"They will be paid a flat rate. I will incentivize anyone who remains in my service for a full year."

Her head drops into her hands. "Oh, thank the Gods."

I finish and hold it up to her.

She's shaking, and a few soft sobs escape her.

I pull it back. "Bex, are you alright?" I stand and tentatively touch her arm.

She takes a few deep breaths and wipes her eyes. She sees the paper in my hand. "Is that the new arrangement?"

"Yes."

She takes it and wipes her eyes once more, reading it over. Her shoulders fall. "Thank the Gods," she whispers. She removes the old page and burns it in her hand, sliding the new compensation outline in its place.

She stares at the contract in her hands. "I think I can sleep now."

My lips press thin. I have no words for her.

She holds the papers against her chest and steps out.

I don't sleep well that night, and morning does me no favors. My thoughts are fogged. I pull a small bag of terazul from my coat and take a dose. I collect Doni and Sazza and we head back to the duergar camp.

Lurgan meets us at the dock, along with a drow dressed in cultist robes. He has long white hair and a pinched face. His thoughts are on edge.

Lurgan approaches us. "You seen Gekh? He never came back last night."

"Yes. Unfortunately he fell into the lake. I was not inclined to retrieve him. He got pulled under fairly quickly."

Lurgan grunts with a short chuckle. "Surprised that didn't happen sooner. Well, it seems your friend Nere is here, so we're ready to ship off."

Nere stands with a stiff dignity. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"True Soul Vash. This is my son, Doni, and Corporal Sazza."

Nere curls his nose. "Sazza. Of the Sharp Teeth Tribe?"

"That's right!"

He lifts his chin. "I see." His gaze travels across me before he forces a smile. "Well. What good company. I'm eager to leave. Let's ship out as soon as possible."

My eyes narrow as I feel the edges of his thoughts. The word Boss hums in his mind over and over again.

The man is a bad liar. I place my arm around Doni. I watch Nere, leaving a silence that makes him shift where he stands. "Sazza, tell the others we're ready to sail."

She salutes. "I'll be right back, B-"

"Ser!" I snap. "You'll address me as Ser."

"Oh. Right! S-sorry, Ser." She shifts back, gives a bow, and scurries off.

I close my eyes for a moment.

Lurgan walks toward the boat. "Others?"

"Yes, I have six others in my company."

He stops and turns to face me. "Six. You never fucking mentioned six."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes! We can't fit twelve people on one vessel! We'll have to split the crew in half." He finds Garmor. "Oi! Prep Diana! We've got more cunts to take. Just my fucking luck," he grumbles.

Garmor hops onto the dock with a hard thud before boarding another vessel and loosening the sail ties.

The waters of the Ebonlake are dark and calm. We occasionally hear the slap of something breaching the water's surface. I can't determine what it is. Doni sticks close to my side. The voyage across the lake is mercifully uneventful. As we approach the base, large statues tower over us and Shadowheart stares up, mouth hanging open. "My Lady..." she murmurs. She climbs to her knees and lowers her head in prayer.

The same one she always prays.

Gates rise as we enter the marina. The boat drifts to a dock and I hop off, taking the mooring line and pulling the boat in, tying it down.

We are greeted by a half-orc dressed in the same cultist robes.

"Nere. About time you made it."

"I was cleaning up Minthara's mess. The goblin camp is completely abandoned. I confirmed Ragzlin is dead and..." he hesitates and glances at me, turning his back. He leans into Z'rell and mutters. "I'll debrief you on the rest later."

"I heard there was a cave-in that needs clearing," I say.

The half-orc turns her focus to me and her mind reaches out to mine.

Her thoughts slide across my mind, and I'm able to pick up a few images.

Z'rell.

She learns how to kill with a mere thought...

My fingers drag along my lapel. Then I feed her the memory of my battle with Lae'zel, and exactly how it ended.

The connection stutters out.

A wide grin spreads across her face. "A new True Soul? Lord Bishop has become a little more discerning." She inches closer and pulls on the edge of my coat. "You seem sturdy. Perhaps you can give me a private demonstration of your fight with the Gith."

"Gladly." I match her smile.

Nere brushes back a stray lock. "Z'rell, this is True Soul Vash."

"Vash, noted." She drops her hand. "You're right about the cave-in. I think it's best if you see it before we make any decisions on how to proceed."

I turn to my companions. "Shadowheart, take the others and explore the area. I'm sure our hosts will be happy to give you a tour. Doni, Sazza, stay with me."

Shadowheart's thoughts have been racing since we landed. They're scratching at my brain. I need to get rid of her so I can focus.

She clutches a fist tightly against her chest, looking around. "Yes..." she says absently.

I glance at Karlach, and she gives me a nod. "We got her, Spooks."

"Good."

Z'rell's gaze travels across them as they disband. "What exactly is your rank, Vash?"

My tail flicks and I carefully tuck my hand in my pocket. "I am part of a new unit under Lord Bishop. I operate under a separate command structure."

Z'rell lifts a brow. "Interesting... Are you under General Thorm's command?"

"...that's not something I can disclose."

"I am his Senior Lieutenant. I should be aware of anyone operating within the cult's hierarchy."

"Then you should have no issue getting what you need to know from someone higher up."

Nere hasn't taken his eyes off me since the start of the exchange. I meet his gaze. His mouth closes. He looks away. The word Boss is now cluttered with confusion and a sudden pang of regret.

He regains his poise. "Let's head to the cave-in. We know how important the forge is to Lord Priest Bishop. It would only make sense that he sent an operative."

Her jaw draws tight. "Right... Follow me, then."

She leads us out of the marina toward a series of hanging iron platforms. Doni and Sazza stay close by. Lava flows slowly beneath us. The heat rises through the soles of my boots. Doni and Sazza are holding hands as we walk.

"Don't look down," I say.

Doni blinks a few times and grips Sazza's hand tighter.

She looks up at him. "I got you, kid!"

We step down into an open cavern with a ruined altar and a broken polished black disk. Sharran, of course. If Rooster's little bar song had any merit to it, then the Absolutists may have actually found the damn forge.

"What's that?" Sazza rushes over to the altar and digs something out of a shallow pile of rubble. She spits on it and polishes it off with her shirt.

Doni and I step behind her, staring down at it.

"A devil mask," she says, placing it over her face. The mask is gold, dulled with age, but it could shine beautifully with a proper polish. "Heh. Strange thing to find way out here."

"It's a merregon mask."

Doni tucks his chin in, tugging on his tunic. "Merregon?"

"Soldiers from the Hells. It's a strange thing indeed."

Sazza hands it to him. "Try it on!"

He places it over his face. It fits him near perfectly. Slightly too big, but even so.

Doni looks around and he laughs. "I like it!" He adjusts it and his normal hunched stance straightens. His shoulders become slightly more square. "May I keep it?"

"It's yours, kid! Ain't no one coming back for it now." Sazza beams.

Z'rell approaches with a dwarf at her side. "Vash, this is Sergeant Thrinn. Our contact with Clan Flameshade."

"Sergeant to the Absolute, or Sergeant to the Clan?" I hold out a hand.

"The Absolute." She takes it and gives me a firm shake.

"A pleasure."

Nere walks over to the wide mouth of a tunnel. Z'rell takes a torch from a large brazier sitting nearby. I snap a flame into my hand. Doni does the same. The blue flame off the gold of his mask.

We walk through the cavern until the darkness closes around us. Then the tunnel begins to narrow and I have to duck my head to continue forward. I slow my breathing. A chill runs up my spine and my brow begins to sweat.

Fuck.

I stop.

Doni looks up at me. "Father, what's wrong?"

I grip his shoulder. "Nothing, just... stay with me for a moment." He settles next to me and I close my eyes.

The only thing my body is reacting to is the concept of the enclosed space.

When I close my eyes, it is the same.

It doesn't matter if I'm crouched in a corner or standing under the stars, it is the same.

Calm.

Careful.

Move.

I open my eyes. Doni keeps one hand wrapped around my forearm. I anchor myself to him and step forward.

A dim light appears in the distance, and as we draw closer, we see a lantern sputtering on the ground next to several gnomes. They're chipping away at the cave-in with pickaxes. I try to steady my hand as I hold up my flame.

They turn to face us, shielding their eyes as we arrive.

Sergeant Thrinn walks up to one of the older gnomes. "You haven't made any progress. What's the holdup?"

"The stones are packed too tight. We're not going to make it through."

She kicks the man to the ground and places a boot on his chest. "You can't make it through with pickaxes. You refuse to use smokepowder. Give me another option, Beldron!"

"We can't make it through! I've told you!"

She glances at Z'rell. "Nab him."

Z'rell snatches the arm of a gnome who was mid-swing. He drops his pickaxe as she drags him over to Beldron. He struggles to hide the pain as he hangs from Z'rell's grasp.

"No! No, please. Just give us more time."

"Beldron, don't!" he says through gritted teeth.

The man winces as Thrinn leans her boot further into his chest. "Quiet, Lunkbug," he wheezes. "This is not your decision to make!"

Doni grabs my coat and whispers. "Father."

My lip twitches. I look down at him, then back to Lunkbug.

"How much more time do you fucking need? It's been days!"

"Uh..." he grunts. "Uh."

"Let me try to blast it," I say.

"You can't, Ser, you'll only make the cave-in worse!" Beldron cries.

"You've made it clear, Beldron. You have no solution. Time for your people to step aside."

Z'rell drops Lunkbug's arm. "Huh. Useful." She looks at the gnomes. "Alright, clear out! If there's going to be another cave-in, we only need one bastard dying. Move!"

The gnomes scurry out. Thrinn releases Beldron, and Lunkbug takes his hand. They run out together.

I look at Doni and Sazza. "Go ahead. This shouldn't take long."

Doni fidgets. "But father..."

"Go on, Doni. It's okay."

Z'rell and Thrinn clear out, and Sazza takes Doni's hand. "Come on, kid." Sazza glances back at me and shakes her head as she leads him out.

I am alone.

I sit in the darkness for a moment. There is something oddly comforting about quiet in this moment. This may be the last quiet moment I get. I cherish it for perhaps a moment too long before I get to my feet and press my hands against the packed stones.

Father, I'm about to die.

Every ounce of Weave I can reach is pulled into my hands, the force swelling beneath my palms. I detonate. The thunder rattles the stones and something shifts and begins to fall. I throw my hands over my head as stones drop around me. The wall sinks ever so slightly. A light peeks through. Then everything falls quiet.

My arms slowly drop and I press a hand against my face. My heart is racing.

Gods...

It didn't collapse on me.

Tymora's blessed tits.

Doni's voice rings through the tunnel, choked. "Father?"

I take a moment to gather myself before I hear it again.

"Father!"

"I'm okay, Doni!"

I look through the small hole, trying to make out what is on the other side. Heat flows through the hole, and I see a stone platform, crumbled, but beyond it appears to be a large apparatus. Anvils, furnaces, bellows, and tools are strewn about.

"Bhaal bless me," I mutter, then turn. "Sazza! I need Sazza!"

The sound of pattering feet comes down the tunnel.

"Bo-..." She pauses. "I mean... Ser! Are you alright?!"

I crouch down. "Keep your voice low and listen carefully."

"Right," she whispers, focused firmly on me.

"I need you to climb through that hole and look at what's on the other side. There is a forge..." I grip Sazza's arm. "No one must know. Understood?"

Her shoulders grow tight. "Y-yeah, Ser."

"I want to know if it's accessible. The condition it's in, and what in the hells that apparatus is. If you don't know, I can accept that. We'll work on finding someone who does."

"Right."

She moves, and I grip her arm again. "If this is the ancient forge, we must take control of it. The other True Souls must not have a claim. Clan Flameshade must not have a claim. The Absolute guided us here for a reason. Trust no one."

Sazza straightens her shoulders. "Right, Ser. For the Absolute!"

"Good girl." I let her go and lift her toward the opening in the wall.

She climbs through. Not without several expletives.

I wait, and after some time, I hear people approaching. I quickly pick up a large stone and cover the hole.

Z'rell and Thrinn break through the darkness.

I hold out my hand. "It's not stable!"

Thrinn stops.

"You shouldn't be back here. I'm trying to stabilize the tunnel so I can try again."

Z'rell approaches and studies the cave-in.

"Seems stable to me."

"For now."

She shifts back.

"Give me more time. I'll come out and report my findings shortly."

"Where is Sazza?"

I hesitate. "I sent her back to get one of my company. You didn't see her?"

"No," she says flatly.

"I need you to send in the gnome slaves to assist."

She grunts. "Good luck with that."

"I don't need luck. I only need them to have faith in me."

"They're slaves. The last thing they need is faith."

"Slavery certainly has its place, but the flock scatters when a wolf nips at its heels. It moves to the pens when shepherded."

"Hm... you certainly are one of Bishop's. Same old self-righteous metaphors."

I balk. Self-righteous? Truth.

She sighs. "Fair enough. I'll let you handle it. I could use a break from this disaster."

"For the Absolute."

She turns and heads back out, Thrinn trailing behind.

I wait until the lantern light goes dark before pulling the stone free.

"Sazza?"

I hear her pattering feet again, then she pops up on the other side of the tunnel.

"Ser! I thought there was another cave-in!"

"Z'rell and Thrinn came sniffing around. What have you found so far?"

"Well. There is a forge! No doubt. Lots of bodies lay'n about. Dead a long time. Some floor is miss'n. Crumbled away. We won't be able to reach the forge without fix'n it."

"And the apparatus?"

"It's like a giant hammer. That's all I got for yah."

"That's good enough. How does the cave-in look from that side?"

"Hold on." She ducks out of view for a few moments. "Not as packed on this side, Boss!"

I stare at her.

"Oh, Ser. Sorry."

Chains drag along the ground as the coffle approaches. The gnomes shuffle along, heads low, pickaxes in hand. A few gnomes lift their gaze to see the light shining through the wall.

They remain quiet, though their mouths hang open.

I get down on my knees as they approach. "A very good evening."

One of the gnomes grunts, shifting his attention from the hole to me. "You don't have to play nice, True Soul. Just tell us what to do."

"Your name?"

"Beldron."

My mind is racing. I try to collect my thoughts. "Firstly, is my son okay? He's on his own out there with gods know who."

He shifts. "He's fine. He's sitting by the broken altar polishing his mask."

"Good." My tail flicks lightly. "Very good." My gaze travels across them. "I know deep gnomes are highly specialized when it comes to mining operations. No doubt, you could have cleared this rubble long ago. You're stalling. Why?"

"Bold assumption." He laughs. "We've done everything we can."

"And yet..." I gesture to the opening in the wall.

He folds his arms, shoulders tight.

A voice carries forth from a gnome in the coffle. "Wait. I know you." He shuffles forward, eyes narrowed. "You're that brigand who saved me from the windmill!"

Beldron holds his arm out. "Don't get too close, Barcus."

I lean in. "Barcus, is it? I can't say I'm surprised to see you here, running off on your own like that."

"I have my reasons. Very important reasons." He narrows his eyes. "I always wondered how you managed to fight off the goblin horde. But now... Were those goblins yours?"

I tap my fingers on my knees. "Yes. They were. Though I was not the one who ordered your captivity."

"Do you know why they captured me in the first place?"

"No."

He grunts. "Seems your own cult has been keeping you out of the loop."

"Be that as it may, I need your help."

"What exactly do you want us to do?"

I gesture to the hole in the wall. "Survey the other side of the cave-in. See if you can manage to clear it from there. Safely."

Barcus and Beldron share a glance before Beldron clears his throat and steps forward. "You're still a True Soul. Whatever is on the other side of that wall... if it is the forge... no. That won't do."

"Don't challenge him, Beldron! He's still a slaver!"

"We cannot let an asset like the forge fall into the hands of the cult!" Beldron snaps.

"I am not interested in forcing you to comply," I say. "I want to work with you, in good faith." I lower my voice. "I am not loyal to the Absolute. I am an informant for the Emerald Enclave."

"How are we supposed to believe that?"

I look down, running through what I can offer. "Beldron... I have confirmed that the forge is, in fact, on the other side of that wall."

"...what?"

A few gnomes murmur among themselves.

"Once I gain access, I will be assigning a tiefling refugee named Dammon as forgemaster. He is neither loyal to the Absolute nor to the Emerald Enclave. The forge will be a neutral utility. One I would be happy to share with you."

"A lot of good it will do us, being slaves."

"Once we have access to the forge, I will speak to Clan Flameshade regarding your freedom."

Beldron balks. "That's... not at all what I expected. Who are you that you could arrange such a thing?"

I settle my fist across my chest. "My word is my honor." I give a soft bow.

"I am Ser Varrick. The Shepherd."