Chapter Text
Grand Duke Gortash Launches the Steel Watch to Keep Baldurians Safe!
That’s what the headline read. Was that what the writer of the Baldur's Mouth article really thought, or were they just being paid off by Gortash?
Neither Wyll nor Karlach were aware of everything those metal monsters could do, and they weren't keen on finding out. If their need to get out of the city was urgent before, then it had become critical.
Karlach picked up the paper a patron of the Elfsong Tavern had left behind and read it as she walked from work to the apartment she shared with Wyll. By the time she arrived home, she knew what they needed to do.
"I have an idea for how we can get out of the city," Karlach told Wyll. Then added, "you're not going to like it."
"I don't like living in Baldur's Gate right now."
Karlach placed the paper down in front of Wyll. It was opened to an article recounting the disappearance of Magistrate Astarion Ancunín on the 200th anniversary. "His sister is still promising a reward for anyone who can find him."
"This is a bad idea."
"It's the only one we have. We can't stay here, but we don't have the funds to get out of Faerûn."
Wyll didn't look sold on her idea yet.
"I hate it too, but desperate times.”
"We are not that desperate," Wyll insisted.
"Wyll, I ran away from my job at Gortash's side when he tried to sell me off to buy the favor of a general, and you're the son of the Grand Duke he deposed. His steel watchers aren't going to care that your father disowned you. We are exactly that desperate!"
The following night, Wyll was walking to the Elfsong to meet Karlach as he finished her shift. Wyll had taken the whole day to consider the plan at hand, and the one flaw in Karlach’s brilliant plan was that neither of them looked like Astarion. So, they needed to find someone who did. Then, they had to convince this person to leave everything behind and pretend to be a long disappeared (probably dead) magistrate. Not to mention, they had to do this all on a tight schedule. This was a bad idea.
As Wyll was taking a shortcut down an alley, he was run over by a man who had run around the corner at the same time.
“Hey!” Wyll exclaimed, annoyed as he turned to look at whoever ran into him to have more words with them. However, when Wyll looked at this guy, he could see this man was terrified (even with his lack of darkvision) by his wide eyes and trembling hands. Wyll’s demeanor and tone changed entirely. “Hey, are you alright? Do you need help?”
The guy didn’t answer; he just got back onto his feet and pressed his back against the wall, listening. Wyll heard footsteps.
The other man whispered “shit” to himself.
Wyll, without giving it much thought, grabbed the man’s wrist and broke into a sprint with him toward the Elfsong. The man let himself be led, which told Wyll whoever (or whatever) he was running from had to be bad.
Once inside the Elfsong, Wyll released the man but gestured for him to follow him deeper into the bar (if he wanted) with a nod of his head. The man complied following Wyll to the bar, he risked a glance at the door when he sat down on one of the stools, checking to see if they were followed, before he relaxed.
“Thank you,” the man said, relief evident in his voice as much as his posture.
“Don’t mention it,” Wyll replied. “My name is Wyll, by the way.”
“My name is Astarion,” the man, Astarion, replied.
Wyll took a closer look at the man. Astarion. It wasn’t like Astarion was an uncommon elven name, but now, in the light of the tavern, Wyll realized that the guy looked so much like the portrait in the paper (if not a bit older, possibly 200 years older, given how slowly elves aged.)
Astarion continued, “let me buy you a drink for helping me out back there.”
Wyll smiled. “That’s not necessary.”
“I insist. It’s the least I could do.”
“I’m not going to let you waste your money, I’m friends with the bartender,” Wyll assured Astarion, making eye contact with Karlach and signaling her to come over. Not that he needed to. She was already on her way with a pitcher on the house.
“Hey, Karlach,” Wyll said as Karlach put the pitcher down between them, then pulled out two glasses.
“Heya, Wyll, who’s your friend?”
“His name is Astarion. I just helped him out of a tight spot with some people on the street. I’m sure he could use a drink,” Wyll responded, pouring beer into the 2 glasses.
“Well, any friend of Wyll’s is a friend of mine. Enjoy your drink,” Karlach said to Astarion. She glanced over at Wyll, she only met his eyes for a second, but Wyll knew that Karlach had realized the same thing she had about Astarion.
“So, who were you running from?” Wyll asked, trying to get a little more information about their potential new companion.
“Oh, no one special, just pissed off the wrong person and his friends,” Astarion shrugged.
From the way Astarion wouldn’t look him in the eyes, Wyll assumed he was lying, but rather than call him out, Wyll just nodded along. “Yeah. Most people in Baldur’s Gate are nice, but every now and then I come across someone I don’t want to cross.”
“I shouldn’t stay too long,” Astarion added quickly, mostly just shifting the glass around in front of him. “I’m leaving Baldur’s Gate in the morning.”
“So are we,” Karlach said quickly before Wyll could form a reply. She was already putting her plan into action. “We’re heading to Evereska.”
“Me too!” Astarion replied.
“Oh yeah?” Karlach asked. “Perhaps we could travel together.”
Astarion shrugged, “sure. Why not? Couldn’t hurt to have some extra people around in case I run into any more unsavory folks.”
Karlach’s shift soon ended, she clocked out, and decided to sit at the bar with the boys.
When talking with Astarion, one thing became clear very quickly: he did not like talking about himself.
“Listen,” he said after Karlach asked him one too many questions, “I know this is going to sound strange, but I don’t know that much about myself or my past.”
“You don’t? How can that be?” Wyll prompted, not entirely believing this guy.
“Amnesia as a result of head trauma.”
“How long have you had memory loss? Do you need help finding your family or your life or something?”
“Right now, I’m just focused on getting out of this city. Once I get to Evereska, I can plan what I want to do.”
“Yeah, we’re kind of in the same boat, trying to get the hells out of this city. Then, anything will be possible,” Karlach agreed, pretending to stare at Astarion like she was actually trying to place his face. “You know, has anyone ever told you that you look like Astarion Ancunín?”
“No. Also, who is that?”
“He’s a noble’s son that’s been missing for like 200 years. Every couple of years, his sister gets the paper to remind everyone her brother hasn’t been found on the anniversary of his disappearance,” Karlach explained as she swiped a paper off the closest empty table, opened it to the article about Astarion, and showed it to him.
Astarion looked at the paper but didn’t seem to notice the resemblance. “You think I look like this guy?”
“I think you look like him and you have the same name,” Karlach told him.
Astarion laughed, “next thing you’ll be saying you think I am him.”
Karlach and Wyll didn’t say anything, and Astarion’s laughter quieted down, clearly catching on to what was being said. “Oh. . . Oh, no.”
“No?” Karlach asked.
Wyll stayed silent.
“You expect me to believe I might be this rich lady’s long lost twin brother?”
“I’m saying it’s possible. You don’t remember what happened to you, and you’re heading to where his family moved to.”
“You are one crazy tiefling,” Astarion said, shaking his head. “Thanks for the beer, you two, but I need to be leaving.”
Astarion made a hasty retreat, paper still under his arm.
Karlach, unfortunately for her, couldn’t try and stop him without drawing unwanted attention to herself. They were forced to watch him leave.
The next morning, the pair went to the train station to get out of town. Whether they had Astarion or not, whether they could get that reward or not, they still needed to get the fuck out of here. They could try and find something out on the way.
However, when they got to the station, they found Astarion out in front of the station waiting for them.
“You’re late,” Astarion said.
Wyll was punctual; he knew he was on time. “We didn’t think you’d be waiting here for us.”
Astarion shrugged. “Well, I’ve given it some thought, and I think you could be right.”
“You do?” Wyll wasn’t sure if Astarion really had a change of heart or if he saw how much the Ancunín sister was offering as a reward for her brother's return. Still, he didn’t stop Karlach from handing Astarion his ticket
“I do. Besides,” Astarion continued, “if I’m not, Avriana will know and we’ll leave. No harm, no foul.”
To her wallet, maybe. Clearly, there was no taking into account the emotional damage this could wreak. Despite this, Wyll stayed silent as they boarded the train.
The train ride was pretty uneventful. Quiet, very beautiful scenery.
Wyll, Karlach, and Astarion were walking from the dining car to their train car to sleep as the overnight train pulled up to the last stop of the night. Once the doors opened, Astarion grabbed the two of them and yanked them off the train, pulling them into the darkness of the outside of the station. As the train pulled away before they looked at him expectantly.
“Why in the hells did you do that?” Karlach asked, clearly annoyed.
Wyll was too. They weren’t going to be able to afford another ticket for an overnight train to Evereska, and walking was going to take them a few days.
“I-I- uh,” Astarion stammered, checking around them again just to be sure they were alone, “I thought I saw someone. Someone dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Wyll asked, quickly exchanging a look with Karlach.
“Dangerous how?” Karlach asked.
“I can’t really get into the details right now. Just trust they’re not someone we want to be caught by.”
Karlach and Wyll’s annoyance was just exacerbated by that answer, but they were too exhausted to press the matter. It wasn’t like they could get back on the train anyway, and they chose not to leave their packs on the train car, so they still had everything they needed on them. Good thing there was an inn right next to the train station that they could stay in for the night.
The owner of the inn had one room available, which they took without question. When they got into the room, they found it only had two queen beds. Luckily, it also had a couch, which Karlach eagerly claimed. Astarion dropped himself onto one of the beds. Leaving Wyll to take the other one.
“I’m going to get us some food,” Karlach said, breaking the silence of the room.
“We just ate,” Astarion replied.
“Yeah, it’s for tomorrow, fancy boy,” Karlach added.
“Thank you, Karlach,” Wyll said, before she was out the door.
Now, it was just Wyll and Astarion waiting for her. Astarion decided to pull a book out of his bag and got comfortable.
Wyll, sitting across from Astarion in the adjacent bed, pretended not to notice the bruises on Astarion’s side that were revealed when his shirt rode up as he bent over to reach into his bag. Instead, he focused on what he could catch a glimpse of inside the bag. Along with a dagger, there were a few other books.
“You like to read?” Wyll asked.
“I may not remember much, but I still remember how to read,” Astarion told Wyll as he opened the book.
“What are you reading?”
“The Princess Bride.”
“Really?” Wyll asked.
“Problem?” Astarion shot back.
“Why would it be a problem?” Wyll asked. “It’s a really good book.”
“You’ve read it?”
“I have.”
Astarion perked up, “You have better taste than most people I’ve known; none of them have read it.”
“No one else you know likes epic tales of action, adventure, romance, and comedy, with a big giant guy? They are missing out.”
“I’d have to agree. What other books do you like?”
“Romance mostly,” Wyll admitted. “Or adventure. It’s good escapism.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
"In that case," Wyll said, before recommending some books to Astarion. All newer titles, but Astarion hadn't heard of them yet. A fan of the classics, Wyll assumed.
When Karlach returned, Astarion went back to his reading, but he took a book out of his bag and put it on the nightstand between himself and Wyll.
"Be careful with it."
“I’ll guard it with my life,” Wyll assured him.
Wyll had fallen asleep while reading, he realized when he woke up with an open book on his chest. He put the book on the nightstand as he listened for the sound that woke him, gasping and whimpering. Someone in trouble?
Wyll sat up quickly, taking a look around. Karlach was still passed out on the couch, her arms twisted around her head in a way that didn’t look comfortable, but somehow must have been as she wasn’t waking up. Wyll then looked over at the bed next to him. It was Astarion. He was having a nightmare. . . Or reliving a bad memory? (Wyll wasn’t completely sure how elven trances worked.)
Wyll sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the elf on the adjacent bed as he tried to think of what to do. Should he wake him up? Should he just wait for him to wake up himself? He didn’t know him, not really, Astarion might not appreciate being awoken.
As he was trying to figure out what to do, he could hear Astarion speaking softly in his sleep between the noises.
“Let me go. . . I want to go home. . . I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
That settled it for Wyll. He slipped out of his bed, kneeling next to Astarion’s so he wouldn’t be towering over the elf when he opened his eyes, and put his hand on the elf’s shoulder.
The minute Wyll’s hand touched Astarion to rouse him, Astarion’s eyes shot open. Wyll quickly pulled his hand back as Astarion looked around the room with wild, panicked eyes. Once his eyes settled on Wyll, Astarion relaxed. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Are you okay?” Wyll asked.
Astarion pushed himself upright and asked, confused, “I’m fine, why do you ask?”
“You sounded like you were in pain or maybe having a nightmare?”
“. . . Yeah, something like that,”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. I’d rather just go back to bed.”
Wyll nodded. “Alright. Goodnight.”
Astarion hesitated a moment before saying, “Wyll?”
Wyll looked at Astarion.
“Thank you for asking.”
Wyll smiled, “of course. I hope you have a more peaceful sleep.”
The next morning, Karlach had to wake Wyll. Wyll had trouble getting back to sleep and was tired. Astarion looked as tired as Wyll felt, and made him wonder if he had gotten back to sleep at all.
Despite this, the trio had to keep moving to make it to Evereska, and Astarion seemed all too happy to stay on schedule.
The three walked for a while, Karlach and Wyll were talking to each other rather than just walking in silence.
At one point, Astarion decided to cut into the conversation. “Do either of you even know anything about this missing Astarion?”
“Why did you ask?” Wyll asked in place of answering.
“Well, I figured if you knew something about him, you could tell me, and maybe it will jog my memory since we all believe I’m him.”
Ah, that felt pointed. So, Wyll wasn’t hiding the fact that he didn’t believe Astarion as well as he thought he was. In that case, might as well come out and say it. “Or are you doubting that you are him?”
Karlach shot him a glare just as Astarion did, but before either of them could say anything, he spoke again, “I know a little about him.”
A little was an understatement. Wyll’s father always wanted his son to be the next grand duke (he forgot to ask Wyll if that’s what he wanted.) As such, one of the things Wyll was tasked with learning was all about the city's nobility, as they would have a lot of power and he would be meeting with them often. It was awful! He honestly found learning about the Caldwells, the Jannaths, the Szarrs, and all the others very boring. Then, there were the Ancuníns and, well, who doesn’t love a good true crime mystery? Wyll learned a lot about the missing Ancunín son as he delved into the case as if he meant to solve it himself.
Astarion was listening intently, repeating some of the things Wyll was telling him, probably to try and make it stick. Wyll was just continuing to list facts about the family, really anything he knew. “Astarion went to Baldur’s Gate Academy with his sister for school. After school, they took extra lessons. Avriana was into archery while Astarion took embroidery lessons. Once he finished school, he continued on to Waterdeep University for law school before returning to Baldur’s Gate to work. The family never had any pets. After-”
“The cat.”
“Huh?” Wyll asked.
“They had a cat.”
“How did you. . .”
“A stray taken from the streets and kept as a secret.”
“I never read about any cat.”
Wyll knew for a fact that wasn’t in the article. He thought for sure the Ancunín’s didn’t have any pets, but Astarion wouldn’t just make a lie about that if it wasn’t true. Which led Wyll to wonder, how exactly did Astarion know that?
“Their parents didn’t want a pet,” Astarion said before asking, “what else can you tell me?”
Wyll continued to tell Astarion different facts about Astarion and the other Ancuníns, and every once in a while, Astarion would chime in with something Wyll didn’t know. Then, Wyll went on to talk about her family’s ties to other families, such as the close ties they had to the Szarr patriarch. Cazador Szarr actually helped the family a lot after Astarion went missing: holding fundraisers to support the search and helping get word out across Baldur’s Gate as well as the surrounding cities to name a few. However, as Wyll told Astarion these things, he noticed Astarion getting quite angry.
“Are you okay?” Wyll asked.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Astarion asked. “Cazador Szarr, one of the good and great of Baldur’s Gate, doing everything he can to help the Ancunín’s find their son! Who could be mad at that?!”
Wyll hesitated. “Maybe we’ve done enough Ancunín history for today.”
Astarion just nodded in agreement.
When they stopped at the inn for the night, Astarion left after dropping his pack on one of the beds.
“Where are you going?” Karlach asked.
“I need a drink,” Astarion replied, and then he was out the door.
“Someone should follow him,” Karlach said as soon as the door was shut.
“Why?” Wyll asked.
“Our amnesiac has a penchant for pissing people off, or do you not recall how you met him?”
Since Karlach wasn’t making any moves to go after Astarion, Wyll gave in to her request. “Fine, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get himself hurt.”
Wyll stepped into the hallway and managed to catch sight of Astarion just as he . . . went upstairs? Why would Astarion be going up if the bar was downstairs?
Wyll quietly followed Astarion as the man made his way onto the roof. Astarion took a seat near the edge of the roof and gazed up at the stars as Wyll went to sit next to him.
“I suppose a little time alone was too much to ask for,” Astarion said, but there was no heat behind it.
“No, not particularly. I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Wyll told Astarion. “We can sit up here quietly if my company is bothering you.”
“It’s fine. I guess I’m not used to talking with people much. At least the people I was around didn’t want me to talk.” Astarion looked over at Wyll, “what would you like to talk about?”
“You said you had gotten brain damage, that’s what affected your memory?”
“Yes,” Astarion replied.
“But how did you get brain damage?”
Astarion turned his gaze back to the sky, “I was attacked, I don’t remember by whom or why, just that they almost killed me.”
“Did you ever try and find out who you were before the amnesia?” Wyll asked.
“I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”
“Couldn’t,” Astarion repeated.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about why, but I promise I’m here for support if you do.”
Wyll may not have liked Astarion’s willingness to go along with this scam (even if Wyll was going along right next to him), but it was clear that Astarion was also running from something, something bad, and Wyll wished he could help him.
“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” Astarion said. He paused briefly before speaking again, “after I was attacked, I was 'saved' by a man who kept me as a prisoner . . .” Astarion's gaze seemed unfocused, as if he was looking at something Wyll couldn’t see. “Until now, my amnesia was the least of my problems.”
“And now?” Wyll prompted.
“And now, I’ll do whatever it takes to never go back.”
“Even lying and scheming?”
“You still don’t believe I’m the lost son?” Astarion asked.
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” Wyll sighed before changing the subject, “you had quite the reaction when I mentioned Szarr.”
“Did I?” Astarion asked.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“You seem to care an awful lot about what I want.”
“I want you to be comfortable and content while you’re traveling with us.”
“I don’t know how much you know about the nobility of Baldur’s Gate, but many of those who pretend to be good philanthropists and care for the less fortunate have a dark side. It’s all a cover. Cazador is the worst of them.”
“He’s always felt the slightest bit unsettling under all the carefully crafted care and poise,” Wyll admitted. “I just thought I was a bit mad since nobody else thought so.”
“Slightest bit unsettling is understating it.”
“I’m sure. I don’t know even a fraction of what he’s like behind closed doors.”
Astarion, it seemed, was done with that area of conversation if his silence was anything to go by.
“Karlach and I are running from Baldur’s Gate too,” Wyll offered.
“Oh yeah? Which high and mighty from the Gate did you piss off?”
“Gortash.”
“The new grand duke? Shit.”
“Karlach used to work for him, and I’m the son of the man he just usurped power from.”
“Well, go big or go home, I guess, and you two can’t go home.”
Wyll let out a half-hearted chuckle, “that’s one way to look at it.”
“Thanks for talking with me and for listening,” Astarion said.
“Of course, Astarion. I’m happy to listen,” Wyll assured Astarion.
They both stargazed for a little longer before going back inside and going to sleep.
There were no nightmares that night.
The next morning, the three were getting ready, but before they could leave, Wyll turned to Astarion, “I realized, there’s one more thing I should teach you before we get to Evereska.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
Wyll held out his hand to Astarion, “Astarion knew how to dance.”
“You can not be serious.”
“I’m very serious.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You did.”
Astarion didn’t protest anymore, just reluctantly took Wyll’s hand.
Wyll hummed softly as he led Astarion in a dance. It did take Astarion a moment, but he soon fell into step with Wyll like he’d been dancing his whole life.
This kind of dancing, Wyll knew from experience, didn’t come naturally. It had to be taught. Wyll could have stayed dancing with Astarion for the rest of the day, but they had to keep moving.
As they got closer to Evereska, Wyll noticed, not for the first time, Astarion spinning a ring that was on his finger, probably a nervous tic. When Astarion noticed Wyll looking at him, he took the ring off and stuffed it in his bag.