Adrian: Baldur's Gate

Adrian sucked in a breath of somewhat chilly air, given what time of year it was, and looked up. He had never expected to come back here. Hadn't wanted to, really. Aside from Gorion and Imoen, this place held no friendships for him. There was only one other person in this whole miserable place who didn't hate him, though that one didn't exactly trust him, either.

As Edwin and Xzar had suspected, he had seen the gleam of ambition in Tiax's eyes. Had been on the lookout for such ever since Safana had revealed Edwin and Xzar's plot against him. He was merely waiting for Tiax to make his move.

Those two mages, for their part, had been cowed. Though each, no doubt, planned to use the fame of their exploits in his company to further their own respective standings in the Black Network and Thay respectively. This did not bother him.

Kagain, of course, was purely in it for the gold. In some ways he and Adrian were very alike; in others they were different as night and day. For Kagain, gold was an end in of itself. For Adrian, it was merely a means to an end; creature comforts, quality food and living conditions, better weapons and so forth. And eventually, the means with which to set him self up as a mercenary lord, selling out the services of underlings to the highest bidder.

Absent friends...Jessa, Besheridan, Kirya, Rakal, Imoen. He had a feeling they would all travel with him again together at once, if only briefly.

They had passed Gorion's grave on the way here. Adrian had pointed it out. Viconia had touched his arm gently. No one had spoke.

Yes....Viconia. He knew what she was trying to do. After Safana, he had been mindful of such things. Indeed, Viconia herself had warned him of it, back on the Pirate Isles. He would do what he needed to do to break her manipulations yet retain her services. When the time came. He just hoped it would not end their relationship as well.

He was a master planner, a schemer, a tactician. But sometimes it took all of his iron will to hold down the flaming, seething rage of his father's bloodlust. He had clamped hold of it, twisted it into a tool for his own purposes. But it never stopped trying to un-twist, to revert, and take him with it. It was a constant struggle.

One of the other gifts that Adrian had inherited from Bhaal, though he was not aware of it, was the ability to think faster than most people. It was part of what made him so frighteningly effective on the battlefield. What it meant here and now was that this whole mass of introspection had taken less than a minute.

They stood in the outer courtyard, where the stables, inn, and guard compounds were. Something felt different. Strange. And not the simple fact that he had not lived here for several months.

"You brood, lover," said Viconia. "No warm homecoming?"

Adrian smiled without humor. "As you yourself have said, Viconia, home does not welcome me."

Viconia nodded her understanding.

"Well," said Edwin, "Are we going to stand around all day?"

Adrian had no interest or plans to visit the various guard compounds and such scattered around the outer fence. He had no time for such trivialities. Even so, he did feel eyes watching him from such places. Strange eyes, alien eyes.

"Dopplegangers," whispered Tiax.

Adrian did not dismiss this or sneer at it. Like Xzar, Tiax had moments of usefullness in his insanity. "Are you sure?"

Tiax nodded. "Here and there, a few in each place."

Adrian nodded thoughtfully. "Well if we need to mop up after Reiltar, so be it."

Despite his urgency, he did take the party to the inn and book rooms for them, ignoring Winthrop's insults.

"Tethtoril wants to talk to ye," the fat old bastard had sneered.

"And I to him," Adrian said evenly. Tethtoril was the only other person here that Adrian could really speak to. He was no friend, but he might not be an enemy. If approached correctly.

He handed Winthrop a few gold coins as bribe. "How long have the Iron Throne representatives been here?"

Winthrop's expression softened a little, and not just because of the gold. "Is that why yer 'ere?"

"Mostly, yes."

Winthrop nodded. "Slippery bastards, the lot of em. If yer after em, then at least yer good for sumthin'. They got here day before yester, and a couple more yestereve. They seem to be busy, they'll be talkin with them pompous Shield arses for several days yet."

"Good," said Adrian. "That means we have time." He did not want to stay overlong here--Candlkeep would always be a place of cloistered hatred for him, too many bad memories--but he did want a night's rest in a proper bed before dealing with half of the Throne. Sarevok, to his mind, was the other half.

He was probably here too, but Adrian doubted that this would be the place and time where they squared off. He had cooled down considerably since their near miss in the Throne tower. He would be ready to take his brother down when the opporunity presented itself, and he would do it with cold logic and planning, not white hot fury inspired by Bhaal.

They feasted well that night on roast chicken. After dinner Adrian had a quiet word with Tiax and Kagain, and the mages. All approved; the mages would render the Gnome and Dwarf invisible, and they would sneak around, assasinating the Dopplegangers that Tiax had sensed earlier.

Sarevok chafed in the heavy robes he wore, and still more at the illusion Winski had forced him to wear.

"I can't fight Adrian in this," he muttered.

"That is rather the idea," said Winski. "Now is not the time or place. Avoid him if at all possible. If you do meet, the magic resistance of the illusion will boost your own powers in that line to protect you until the guard comes running."

Sarevok rumbled in frustration. He was dressed like a monk, and the glamour Winski had placed on him made him look as he would have done if he had never gained his golden eyes. The illusion gave him back the long brown hair of his childhood, and brown, brooding eyes. It could not, however, disguise his build. Winski had tutted and ignored his protestations.

"Remember, Sarevok," said Winski. "It is not without reason we have come here. Adrian will confront Reiltar. One of them will die, Reiltar most likely. Adrian will be framed for it, forgetting this is not like the wide-open Baldur's Gate, and be put in chains, so we can take him back to Baldur's Gate for execution. Which will be part of your coronation as Duke. Angelo will see to it."

"And if Reiltar kills Adrian instead?" Sarevok asked, though his own tone indicated he doubted it himself.

"Then the major threat to us will be removed, and Reiltar will be lulled into a false sense of security."

"Besides," Winski went on, "Don't you want to see Reiltar die?"

"True," Sarevok murmured. Neither of them had quite been able to beleive it when, in a drunken rage, Reiltar had managed to kill the dark and beautiful Jelena. To this day Sarevok rather suspected someone of providing Reiltar with the garrote, and perhaps of having spiked his normal wine with some potion of rage and strength. In any event, after having done it, Reiltar had sobered somewhat and become a more cunning adversary. Eliminating one of their foes with the other had become a keystone of their strategy, and Sarevok knew it well. That was why Winski had stopped him slaying Adrian on the tower, aside form the odds.

But he would not be stopped from fulfilling his father's nature in that way ever again. By anyone, including Winski.

They had taken quarters inside the main castle library itself, rather than the inn where Reiltar's cronies were based. Reiltar himself slept not far from the conference room with the Knights of the Shield.

"And besides which," Winski went on. "This way you can study the prophecies some more."

Sarevok smiled.