A Land Far Away

Dear Father Richart,

I finally had the time to sit down and record the events that happened after the encounter with the spirit who appeared in the Song last week. After you and I, and she spoke, I took the fastest wagon I could to the Gate and then headed into the Cloakwood proper.

It was just on the outskirts I spoke to a farmwife who was out feeding her chickens. She had seen elder Mrs. Pyrelle and her son enter a week before. They had claimed they knew a secret trail into a safe place in the wood to gather rare herbs. So I followed assuming they meant to take the closest trail that comes out beside the Friendly Arm Inn. Not soon after this choice, I found myself in a rough camp with a hastily built cage. I approached the camp and found the dead body of Mrs. Pyrelle, mutilated and missing her heart, not whole as I saw her in apparition.

Then I heard whimpering and found goods in a few large gathering baskets. Before I could determine the source of the weak cries, I was beset upon by kobolds or what seemed to be Kolbolds. I stood my ground and the fight was won, but no without a cost in the store of my scrolls.

As I saw to the whimpering sound, I found an emaciated boy inside the cage of wood. But as I pried at the wood with my sword, the most appalling thing happened. The blood from the Kolbolds pooled up and they seemed to be laughing at me, as faces bubbled across the surface and formed up into a great black shadow. It's mouth dripped of blood.

And then it called to me to come fight it.

So I chose to ignore it and free the boy, then ordered Carridan to run fast as he could toward the Gate and to the farmhouses, and tell them to get the Ducal Guard or the Flaming Fist.

Unsure, I cried out to Lathander to bless this ground and guide me. I blocked it from chasing the child and raised my sword. Then I first tried to parlay with the creature, to consecrate the ground we stood upon first before we fought. It did not fall for my attempt to put Mrs. Pyrelle to rest before I might loose my life. It told me there that it served the "Lord of Murder" and it would tear my heart out for a sacrifice as well.

I cried out to Lathander again and then ran for one of the baskets, knocking it over, and grabbed a scroll of blessing I had seen earlier. It attacked me then, I took grievous injuries where my breastplate did not cover. But my resolve did not fail and I was able to heal myself, taking one more blow that nearly killed me, before I uttered the blessing to consecrate myself and the earth around me.

The blinding holy light threw the Shadow back and dazed it. And Father, then I did run away, most shamefully. I ran away from the creature, ran till the pain caused me to walk, and I found Carridan in the bushes, sick from running himself. Together we limped to the farm woman's home and told them to take their children and hide.

We made our way finally to the Ducal Estate and told the guard to bewary, for we were sure we were being chased. And as I spoke and bled, the great Shadow-thing crested the hill behind us and attacked again. He was of the Light and was better armed and better trained than I. Together we drove it back, the better blade of the guard banished it back to blood, and then into nothingness.

As I told you I left the boy with the guard and went back to get his mother's body for only half the mission was done. I wrapped her in my cloak, and tied her into a bundle. Then I beat and broke into the ground the rough bloody altar the Kolbolds had made for these unholy sacrifices. In doing so I found a blade buried into the ground as it's base; a blade of greenish steel and strange runes and designs unlike I have ever laid eyes upon. I took it up and as you know I brought it to you first after I had seen to the boy and his mother. And when I did look to the back of the chapel, the spirit was gone.

Though you pronounced it not infused with evil, it's true origin and the look of the sword tore at my heart's sense of the Light. I took it up to the Gate and brought it to a priestess of Selune' well known for her temple near Candlekeep; the Temple of Ruhel. She agreed with your approximation of the blade; it being a blade forged by the denizens of a hellish plane. However she also saw my point of view, that how could I, a servant of the Light, wield a blade forged by demonic forces and inscribed with it's infernal designs?

So we made an agreement. She would lock the sword away and together we would find a way to destroy it. And in turn she helped me find proper plate for a fair price to protect me for when the time comes again I needed to fight the darkness.

Please forgive me if it seems impertinent to work outside of the Song of the Morning. I like to think that He sent me on this mission and that he is guiding my heart, testing me even, to see if I can withstand temptation. Most of all, I believe the Dawnbringer is guiding me into the paths of those who can help me or those whom I can help.

Sir Holbretch sense his best regards!

By the Faith and the Light,

Squire Caine Kross

PS. You can tell the quartermaster to pass my armor order on to the next deserving person.

Dear Sir Holbretch,

In the span of the last two weeks of our training, I have found myself free to explore some outside missions. I wanted to inform you of the various happenings I have been exposed to as well as assure you that Venrator is getting the best care a horse could possibly get.

First and foremost, I have taken him nearly every day to the pens outside of the gate and let him amuse himself there with the mares. The horsekeepers there are more than happy to see a warhorse of his good qualities spread his seed among them. I do hope this is not a problem; I did not think you would consider his good qualities worth a monetary exchange. However, I did get a promise of a colt or filly if we stay long enough to see them born and enough survive.

As for my experiences in Baldur's Gate, there have been two major events worth remarking. As I told you and Father Richart before I unraveled a great mystery, I was investigating the loss of a child from a caravan that had been attacked by Wyverns not far out of Beregost. I was able to save a small toy bear from the wreckage and from that Father Richart was able to locate that the child had indeed been delivered safely into Beregost itself. As an agent of the church I went to Feldepost's Inn to make a safety check on the child. There I encountered Mr. Feldepost and convinced him I meant no trouble and that I just needed to converse with the finder of the child.

Upon the door opening I found a white-haired woman I had once encounter before and a child; a girl child in the room alone. They seemed to be afraid of me, but I offered the girl the bear and she recognized the toy then embraced it. In doing so she also fell into hysterics reminded of her parents demise, no doubt. I spoke to the woman, who is called Deva, then she assured me that if the child remembers her full name or if the child remembers she has living relatives she will come to the Song and tell the Father of this so we can see that she is returned to them or their names at least recorded to mark their graves.

I did wax thoughtfully at the situation. Is it proper to have a child living in an Inn room? Is the child being schooled and fed when her foster mother is not around? The Deva woman seemed to care for the child tenderly and that did calm me a bit, but again I wondered if she would be better off with a more stable home or even a place in the local orphanage among Lathander's most caring mothers of all?

The second thing, as a continuation of my troubles involving the Baatorian Blade, I and the priestess were led out by an agent of Selune' for there could be no other explanation for a white wolf incorporeal to guide us back to the Temple in Rheul. It was upon this wild dash that I was attacked and temporarily imprisoned by another blood-shadow creature, much larger than the one previously encountered in the Cloakwood. It wanted to play riddle games with the Lady priestess Theresa, but she soon found out there was no sense to this and drove forth smiting it to the ground with a Word of Creation. This was a disturbing moment for me because she asked me first if my heart was true and pure, and though I am sure of that, one wonders what sort of standards the Gods really set for that requirement? I risked a great deal but I would have given my life there as it was to see her safe and not punished for my misdeed in bringing a corrupt presence into her life.

She smote it well and it was dispersed into a puddle of seeping blood. Still we chased the white wolf right to the temple and through the gift of the Light, I simply felt this evil presence lingering below us, waiting for us to arrive. We rushed down to check on the children which fortunately were safe. Instead we found a strange man had somehow found passage into the treasure chambers held deep in the stone.

This strange man mocked us and said it wanted us to return the sword but it could not find it among the chest I most certainly was sure it was in. So I did not correct it and it spoke a great deal of nonsense but also a great deal of knowing until we could determine this was some sort of essence of Bhaal possessing the body of a unwilling young man. And in fact it attempted to kill the young man and trick us into committing some sort of evil act. However the lady priestess Theresa was too smart for that and simply knocked the man out. Thus the spirit fled due to the temple wards that now repelled it free from its human husk. The young man was stabilized and we took him to the infirmary there.

My thoughts on the experience was that at one point the spirit was being obnoxious and found myself compelled to lie to it in a most convincing way. I immediately felt great remorse for lying in front of the priestess and I will remedy my behavior to be more forthright in the future. It is very hard to know what to say to something so evil. It seems you always end up saying or doing something you'd rather not have. I also would note that i'd like to have some sort of recourse for when I am trapped by such a shadowed creature, perhaps a very bright light to blind it, or dispel it's evil. It was extremely unpleasant being restrained and even to have to be touched by those dark vines. I fear it will color my dreams for weeks to come.

So if you could advise me on sword work or even divine spells that might come in handy to avert the powers of a most evil God, I would be extremely grateful. I hope to catch up with you again soon and show you my new armor. It is very shiny. I am sure you will hate it.

Love,

Cousin Caine

Dear Cousin Sir Holbretch,

Where ever you are, I left this note for you with the hope you are still alive. I have been assured by your colleague, Sir Normandie Char, that these things happen from time to time.

First, will list some events that have happened.

1. I worked side by side with various individuals to solve problems in Baldur's Gate. This included helping some mercenaries with a giant attack being planned in the western Cloakwood. I nearly died. It was unpleasant. As well ,I helped clear an infestation of undead from mortuary of the City Watch with the priestess Calil, a bard called Rhodes, and a young warrior called Kross as well (no relation as far as I can tell but I have not seen him again to confirm this.)

2.I have continued my investigations on the wagon attack. Things have gotten rather intense. I can't say more; someone may find this letter.

3.I find myself constantly faced by a dark figure called Drake Venesheul.

This started when I was approached by another poor human cloaked in shadow at the Sword and Stars. It wished me to tell it where it's sword is. I did not comply, but I also refused to taste it's blood, or kill the human it inhabited. I offered up my life for the human's at one point, but it did not like that arrangement so I sprung at it and attempted to knock it out like Lady Theresa had done so elegantly to the other shadow-man-thing.
Again my strength faltered, the small space making it extremely hard, but also the shadow was too strong for me. I backed out of the room, only to find this Drake Veneshuel at the door. He engaged the shadow as it rose from the man, and dispatched it. He also was one of the mercenaries that sought out these giants. And most recently has taken an interest in my investigation in Beregost. Still, I barely can stomach the foul air he has about him. In this I think Lathander is testing me, but that does not make me throw caution to the wind, or ignore the faith of his companion priest.

4.I have made the acquaintance of a powerful Druid called Bu. I am not sure what to make of that friendship, but there more times than not that I need a tracker and scout badly. As well, Lady Theresa has become a kind ear to my little problems and troubles.

5.A most horrible thing happened in Beregost.

A dire bear chased (possibly this priest-friend of Drake's) a person of interest into Beregost. I was just a bit away from the ruckus, making my prayers to the Dawnbringer as the sun rose. By the Ulcaster ruins, I heard the bellows of dying cows and the cries of the guard, so I drew my sword and ran towards the trouble. When I crested the hill, I stood face to face with a bear the size of a granary and great matted spikes sticking from it's back. It ripped the head of a cow, in a great rage, like child would rip off the head of a doll. It was not hungry, but had just ravaged the flock. Then it set it's black eyes upon me then and charged so swiftly at me, I barely had time to run.

And run again I did, back to the outskirts of town, by the edge of the Song. I called for an alarm. I called for the guard to come help. And I ran straight up into Veneshuel and his priest. Only then I turned to face the creature again as it paused to rip apart a horse left tied up outside the Juggler. The guard gathered up beside me as did the two men, and we blocked the bear from the town. And then we took it down.

I do not feel I did my best. I am strongly conflicted in fact. Father Richart praised me. Still, I ran and I did not prevent the bear from leaving the Ulcaster ruins and it did follow my retreat. Thus, as the guard came to my aid, the Dire Bear killed Jules Unselstead and Robert Smoot as they stood their ground. I watched them fall like broken dolls to the ground. Robert was crushed under the bear and by the time we reached him it was too late.

I knew them both. Jules and I played together under the mossy oaks around Beregost as children. We would lay on the grassy hills, sucking on grass stems, and staring up at the clouds, naming their shapes. When we hit our teens, she turned toward the boys and chasing them wholeheartedly, and I just stayed the same. We grew apart after I started my training. I heard later her family had needed money, so she took up a shift as a town guard and we would always nod politely to one another when we passed.

Robert was our church prankster and spent a good deal of time in the corner for setting small garden snakes in the teacher's desk drawer or scribbling pictures in the books of learning. He grew up tall and strong, a friend to my brothers, and every year helped bring in the harvest of the Church. He grew out of his silliness, into a great strapping lad and chose to be a guard for Beregost.

I do not think that any of them expected to die that day. The dawn was rising, the town was sleepy as pots warmed and porridge was served. They had just gotten out the door of their homes, bellies warm with good food, and taken up their watch of the town with drowsy eyes. And then I came running up, sword drawn, and screaming for the alarm.

And then they died. And I wept for the first time in a great long time. I knew if I had stood against the bear alone, I would be lying there dead among the ruins, among the cows, and under the great mossy oak trees. Maybe it would be peaceful, staring up at those white clouds, the light of dawn shining, and the blue blue sky? Then this pain would end, this horrible guilt of living on for Him, in his Light.

I feel great pain. I am still not strong enough. I am not like you, but I wish with all my heart to be like you, so that I do not have to see the weak fall again to chaos, to untimely death.

Dear cousin, please seek me out in Beregost. Your friend, Sir Char, is waiting there for you as well.

Cordially and in Faith,

Caine Kross, your squire.

Dear Sir Holbretch,

I am leaving this letter at the front desk of the Red Sheaf in hopes when you recover from your ordeals you will be ready to listen.

It pains me in saying this, but as you probably gathered from last night, I cannot be your squire in good conscience. The things I have overheard and the thing you did unto me are unacceptable actions for a teacher or even a mentor. I was shocked and horrified. I had no words.

I can only wonder why Father Richart turned me over to you. I suppose it seemed sensible since you claim to be family and you were a Knight. Perhaps it even seemed fated. I did my best to make the best of the situation. I saw myself a beggar, a figure of shame, with little other choice but to accept this ill-matched pairing.

Nothing you have done with me has been by the book. You made no formal edict or pact between myself and yourself as Knight and Squire. I signed nothing. No formal ceremony was done in the church. No one marked my passing. No one but myself keeps Father Richart advised of my actions, but myself.

By using the privileged gift of the divine to harm my body in order to coerce me to leave the teachings of Lathander, those I have held since I was a child, you have broken my trust. His priesthood, guided by His hand, chose me to leave my home as a child and dwell within the sacred halls of the Song. I will not give up what I know to be true in my heart and soul. I will not give up the Light.

What I know of my faith is clear as spring water and as pure as sunlight. Using the gift, to harm others who have done no wrong, is an utter aberration, a complete misuse of the will of the Gods. I cannot accept that.

So I will take on more shame and admit to the Father I have failed at being a Squire because I could not resolve or redeem our last meeting. You may still find redemption, but it will not be with by my presence.

My trusting heart is simply broken by your actions, and I nothing I know at this time will regrow that. I can forgive, but I will not forget.

Sincerely,

Caine

“He is family, Mama. But what he did, was such a deviation from everything I know to be good!”

Caine sat with her head in her hands, her cornflower blue eyes uncharacteristically filled with tears.
Elizabeth Caine, was a small woman, her body all curves and softness, her long mouse brown hair, twisted up into a simple bun at the nape of her neck. Her oval face was set with a broad nose, and she shared those same cornflower blue eyes with her daughter. Her lips pursed as she reached down to smooth Caine's long hair from her eyes. Caine had come to her, her hair unbound from the long tight braids. Golden waves fell around her boyish face+ softening the hard lines normally exposed. Elizabeth whispered softly to her daughter, “Cousin Holbretch strongly upset you, I see.”

She grumbled sullenly, “Yes, of course he did. He treated me like a naughty child for refusing to agree with him! Had he slapped me, I'd have been nearly as shocked, but I'd have accepted it. I should have struck him back.”

“But you did not. He is an old man and your elder. We raised you to respect him.”

“I did not stray. But for that moment, it was as if the Light inside me, briefly dried up. I did not feel forgiving, I did not feel kind, and I did not feel anything but shame. So much shame, Mama.”

“Why don't you go outside and help your sisters with their chores. Maybe it will clear your head?”

Caine gave her mother a brief kiss, tied her hair in a messy ponytail, and headed outside. She grabbed a bucket and filled it with cracked wheat, and clucked her tongue expertly. The red-feathered chickens, the white ducks, and the gray feathered geese looked up from their scratching and waddled over to her, fighting for dominance. Caine clucked again and threw out wide swaths of grain, looking side to side for her sisters-in-law. The barn doors hung open and she could hear the contented moos from inside as well as the swish-swish of milk pooling in the metal pail.

Her old brown work tunic chafed against her unbound chest. The armscyes were very tight at her shoulders, her arms fit tightly into her sleeves, and her thighs bulged tight in her old chore pants as well. If she had made a few motions, as if she held her sword, her mother's hand-sewn seams would burst apart. She flexed her muscles involuntarily and for a moment, felt a sense of pride in the results of her training. Then she dumped out the grain at her feet and stepped out of the cluster of poultry.

Then she moved to the barn and leaned on the door frame. There among six spotted cows, worked her sisters, each a sturdy lass of various size and composition. It was true while her brothers chose differently, they each had chosen unwittingly for the familiar. As Caine smiled briefly, each one had an aspect to them that only reminded her more so of either her mother, or her grandmother, and even her father. She bobbed her head to the nearest sister who was milking energetically, her mouth in a firm line of concentration.

“Sister Caine, will you say a prayer for us?,” her sister Elwynne, chirped brightly from behind her cow.

Caine nodded, a small pit of pain welling up in her stomach. She did not feel worthy to speak his name. She had failed. Still, they had all paused, expectant faces turned to their elder sister. She took a deep breath and raised her hands together.

Greetings to the Dawnbringer, father of fathers; the maker of this day. Bless us with your Light. Let our hands not stray from the path of you set before us. Let our hands not be idle. Let no child hunger.

Oh our glorious Lathander! Our giver of life, our remover of all pain and sorrows, the creator of new life, most luminous. Oh exalted and destroyer of sins. We meditate upon thy Light. May your dawning inspire, enlighten, and guide our hearts in the right direction.

We pray blessings too from Chauntea, mother of mothers! Bless our animals with fertility by your grace. Bless the seeds we plant as the rise toward Greengrass beings and guide them to be fruitful. Please bless our matings and pairings so we are harmonious as yours. Bless us oh, earth-mother, and sun-father.


“Sister, do you have a suitor?,” Calesta, asked her youngest brother's wife,who was barely a woman herself.

Caine blushed, “I do not sweet sister, but I am not allowed to, by my Knight's orders.”

“There must be someone who turns your eye.”

“I am not blind. I work with warriors and priests all the time. Still, I can say sisters, I am content to look on, admire, but I cannot content myself with the pleasures of courting. Instead I can love from afar what I cannot have.”

“That sounds rather terrible.”

“And boring!”

The girls laughed and Caine's frown brightened up. She walked over and took up their pails one by one and filled the milk cans expertly, screwing the lids on tight. Then she took up the butter churn, filled it with fresh milk, took up the dasher in both hands, and popped both seams of her sleeves in the first few churns, as her sisters laughed on.

Time had passed.

Squire Caine Kross walked faster as the mail bag's weight pressed into her shoulder.

There was that same lump of rocks, that same jut of crystal.

And then came the crossroards to the Lyon's way.

Then the great lake.

Then the High Hedge.

Ooh! A mushroom.

Onward she trekked.

Her plump lips made a hard line.

"I want a horse," she said to herself.

"You can't have a horse 'till you are a proper Knight and can afford a horse."

The voice in her head countered.

"But you'll never get to be a Knight because you have NO proper Knight is sponsoring you. They just forgot all about you! No one cares."

Caine shook her head as her blond cornsilk ponytail whipped side to side. She settled again into her armor and concentrated on taking brisk steps, foot after foot, to lessen the burden on her legs.

"Someone cares. He cares about me. All this is in His plan. Maybe I am here so I am free to go and dig rocks out of the fields of Rhuel, to bring hands and hearts to help in the planting, and teach the children along side of His chosen? If that old grump Sir Holbretch was here, he'd have me working at some horrid task. Perhaps he is even dead? I can't sit around and wait for a dead man to return."

Caine bit her lip thoughtfully as she crested the hill into Beregost. A good deal had happened since her Knight disappeared. She had saved a few lives, that was for sure. She caught that Cyrite murderer in the Sharpteeth with Morgan. She had made stronger friendships with those that followed the Light.

"Ugh, you are SO boring and predictable. Why don't you do something for yourself for once. Go to the baths. Get a massage. Eat a half-pound of fudge. Go kiss someone. Do something to prove you are alive other than constantly taking responsibility for everyone's problems!"

Caine raised her eyebrow at looked around briefly. Her eyes caught the noon shadows in the alleyways and through the town's trees. She looked side to side at the passersby, most she knew since she was a child. They nodded politely, some warmly even, as she stood there, the mail sack worn across her chest, and her lips still set in a hard line.

"I won't be a Knight anytime soon. So why not have a little fun? And I can still help people. Right?"

Caine looked up at the sun. It glinted on her silver and bronze chased armor, she closed her eyes, and waited.