Graham, apron discarded and fresh tunic donned, shut the gate behind them; he twisted the key in the keyhole and shook the gate, satisfied that it was locked. He dropped the key in his pocket, before gesturing down the sidewalk to their right.
“If you’d all follow me, please.” He said, before stepping from the gate. Serena, Pavel, Jo, and Cruck’aa quickly followed.
As they were waiting for Graham to finish cleaning the remaining dishes, Pavel had convinced them to bring their arms and armor along, just incase they could secure a spot to train that day. Thus, they stood out amongst the crowds that milled about on the sidewalk that late morning, Pavel and Jo decked in their splint mail and leather armor, swords and bow strapped to their bodies. Cruck’aa and Serena paled in comparison, Serena taking her new staff with her, while Cruck’aa followed with only the clothes on his back.
“Are you sure you two aren’t going to get arrested looking like that?” Cruck’aa asked, shading his eyes as he stared at Pavel and Jo.
Jo shrugged and gestured towards a plate mailed guard standing on a street corner.
“He’s got better stuff than we do. Plus, so long as we don’t do anything stupid, we should be fine. Right Graham?” Jo asked.
“Quite right ma’am.” Graham said, nodding to the guard, who returned the gesture.
Cruck’aa’s beak twisted into a tight frown.
“Yes, but you couldn’t wait until we got there to put everything on? The pair of you look ridiculous and –”
“I believe there’s a law that says you can’t be in a bad mood this early in the morning.” Pavel said with a grimace.
“Who said I was in a bad mood?!” Cruck’aa yelled, oblivious to the looks turned his way.
Serena rolled her eyes as the three of them began to slow their pace, falling into a familiar argument. She sped up and fell in line with Graham, meeting his smile with one of her own.
“No stomach for arguments?” He asked. Serena shook her head. “I can’t say I blame you. Correct me if I am wrong, but you were the one who was more…enamored with the city than everyone else, correct?”
Blushing, Serena nodded.
“Well, I think you’ll enjoy our walk then, we’ll see the –” Graham paused and pointed at the staff in Serena’s hand. “Pray, excuse my prying, but are you able to talk with only one hand?”
“Yes – but – hard.” Serena signed.
“Ah, well that won’t do. If I may, I would be more than happy to hold onto your staff as we walk.”
“Uh – sure!” Serena signed, handing it over. “Thanks! No one’s ever offered that before.”
“Truth be told ma’am, I just wanted some extra support.” Graham said with a grin, leaning on the staff. Serena laughed and turned her attention to the city around them.
Despite being in a new part of Waterdeep, much of it looked the same as before, streets crowded with wagons and carriages, sidewalks bristling with the late morning crowds. Not a single building looked different or out of place, much to Serena’s disappointment.
As she began to ask Graham if every part of the ward looked the same, the sidewalk began to curve; Serena turned her attention back to walking, moving around a large group of lethargic dwarfs, rubbing her shoulder against Graham in the process. As she raised her hands to apologize, Graham pointed in front of them with her staff.
“Ever seen a castle up close before?” He asked with a gleam in his eye.
Confused, Serena looked where he had pointed, and almost halted in her tracks.
Had she the ability to conjure the first thought that came to mind when thinking of a castle, that thought would have been perched on the edge of the street.
Towering over the typical buildings that stood across from it, the stone walls and battlements of the castle pierced the blue sky, tips of pointed roofs like upturned spears. Large circular towers stuck out from the walls at odd intervals and to Serena, it was as though they were slapped down at random. Tiny slits were cut into the stone walls and towers to form the smallest of windows, and at the very front of the castle, a small stone hut, not unlike a tiny house, was built into the wall, double wooden gate tightly shut. A solitary guard sat outside the doors, leaned idly on his spear.
Serena’s eyes remained on the structure as they strode past the staircase, still massive across the street from them, that led up to the hut. Despite the grandeur, not a single denizen paid the castle any heed, as though its existence was nothing more than a typical building.
“You’re slowing a bit, ma’am.” Graham called.
She ripped her eyes away and turned back to Graham, only to realize that he now stood multiple paces in front of her, patiently waiting amidst the crowds. The other three lagged further behind her still.
“Sorry!” Serena signed, catching up. “I was just –”
“Oh, I know, everyone has that expression first time they see that palace. They do always forget to look up though. I believe Castle Waterdeep to be much more beautiful.” Graham gestured with the staff as the curve straightened out, and they entered another part of the city that was more familiar, both sides of the road shielded by towering buildings. “I must say though, I regret taking us down Silk Street, but it is faster than the road to Fetlock Court. We’re missing a serene view of the ocean right now…we’ll have to come back the other way, I’d hate for you to miss it.”
“Is that what that castle was called?” Serena signed as they moved to the edge of the sidewalk, letting a large group of screaming children run by. “Fetlock Court?”
“Oh no, that’s the area near it. That road doesn’t have a name, but most of us refer to it by the square it connects to…which is called Fetlock Court. No, that castle would be Piergeiron's Palace, the house of one of the city’s more famous Open Lords, Piergeiron the Paladinson. Well, was the house, I should say. Piergeiron died many years back, but his family still occupies the castle.”
“Oh. I’ve never heard of him.”
“I would think so if you’ve never been to Waterdeep before. Though he was rather famous at the time.”
“How so?”
“Oh, what wasn’t he famous for? The man was incredibly smart, but seldom did he speak, and when he did, he spoke slowly, as though each word weighed ten pounds. He earned the nickname ‘Thickskull’ rather quickly, though he found it humorous. That quality, among others, earned him the favor of the previous Open Lord, Lord Lhestyn, who named Piergeiron his successor. He became beloved by the populace for his code of ethics, one that looked out for the common citizen over the interests of more powerful and wealthy individuals, and this was only furthered when he personally came to the city’s defense multiple times throughout his tenure. While I could go on for hours, Piergeiron is best known for personally slaying a Dracolich that rose to threaten the city, many years ago. His victory over the beast is still celebrated today, in a holiday known as Dragondown. We just had it about a month ago or so. Mock dragons are made, either physically or via magical means, and mass parades patrol the town in an effort to drive them off. It always proves to be an entertaining spectacle.”
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Serena blinked.
“Okay,” she signed, weaving around a small group of halflings. “did you get that from a book? Because it sounds like it was from a book.”
“Well, I have been in the city for quite some time.” Graham said. “Born here, raised here, received my education here, become Miss Torohar’s assistant here. I should at least know about the city I live it.”
“Can Werond say the same?”
“Oh yes,” Graham nodded. “in fact, she’s more knowledgeable about the city than I am. She went to a more prestigious college than I did, and they were very heavy handed when it came to history lessons. I was employed by her some time after she graduated, when she was, oh…twenty-three? I believe?”
Her heart jumped, but Serena pushed aside the excitement that bubbled in her chest; Graham wore a small smile on his lips, and as Serena glanced over, she realized that he held a faraway look in his eyes, one not unsimilar to the same look Serena’s mother had, whenever she spoke of her “olden days”.
“You’ve known Werond for awhile then, huh?” Serena signed, forcing her voice to remain calm.
Graham laughed. “One would say for too long. Two decades have we known one another. She’s changed quite a bit, you know, from her younger days. And I would say for the better.”
Serena’s heart jumped again. “I bet Werond would disagree.”
“Oh no, she’s agreed plenty of times!” Graham waved Serena’s staff around, appearing oddly threatening. “Miss Torohar, at barely twenty-three, was a menace. Highly devoted to her profession, and not a thing could shake her from it. At the time, she believed herself to be one of, if not the, smartest person in Waterdeep, thus she never thought out any of her plans or actions, as she simply knew they’d work. To her credit, half the time they did. But when they didn’t…oh, she’d stay up well into the night, drafting and working out solutions for issues that went wrong. Which, of course, didn’t always amount to much, given her impulsive nature. The first idea she had, she ran with it, and damned be those who disagreed with her,” Graham snorted. “Gods, how ridiculous she was. Her first payday, Miss Torohar blew it all on the best wine coin could buy. She purchased a whole crate of it! And when I asked how she planned on paying the mortgage that month, she snapped at me, calling me the idiot!” He shook his head. “I wasn’t paid that month. Took her close to a year to refund those wages. She’s lucky I cared for her above my typical job.”
“R-really?!” Serena asked, stunned; she had no reason to doubt Graham, but if what he said was true, Werond was nothing like she used to be. “I wished I could have seen that…hard to imagine Werond like that today.”
“Oh, I agree. And no, you wouldn’t want to see her like that. It took her nine years to mellow out, what with everything she’s gone through. She lost much in those years. Quite frankly I –” He swallowed. “I’m glad she came home with you lot. Been almost two years now that she’s entertained guests or had someone other than myself to talk to. It’ll do her good, despite the –”
Graham flinched as though he’d been slapped.
He halted at a T-section in the road and pushed Serena’s staff back into her hands, blinking rapidly as Serena took it from him.
“Goodness, I’ve been rambling again, I shouldn’t have said all that.” A weariness had crept into his voice, as though he were ashamed of himself. “Not to be rude ma’am, but no more questions on this topic. I discussed too much.”
“Oh, okay.” Serena signed. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault ma’am, no harm given. Now, lets keep going.” He glanced back at the trio still multiple strides behind, all three still locked in argument. “At the rate they’re going, our ten-minute walk will be an all-day event.”
Serena grinned as Graham took off, only for it to fade as she followed, this time some steps behind.
A part of her felt the heat of embarrassment creep into her chest at getting Graham to talk about Werond like that, but another felt not a shred of guilt. Serena knew next to nothing about Werond, and Graham’s tangents had given her more than Werond had ever given her over the course of the entire caravan trip.
And yet, while Serena expected something funny to throw at Werond, Graham’s words left her feeling uneasy. What did he mean by Werond “losing much”? Did that have something to do with why Werond wasn’t excited about coming back to Waterdeep?
Serena shook her head and tightened the grip on her staff.
She was sure that it was nothing. Nothing but the ramblings of an older man. She’d heard much the same back in Mirabar, from men older than Graham. It was probably nothing.
She grimaced.
But perhaps she’d ask anyways.
…
The door to the Yawning Portal slammed open, disturbing the peace for only the bartender at the far end of the room. Durnen blinked in surprise as his favorite patron stomped over to the bar, yanked out a stool and sat down, burying her face into her hands.
“Werond!” He said, setting down the mug he was cleaning. “Awful odd time to have you in here! What its…” Durnan looked around her and squinted out the windows of the empty tavern. “gods, can barely see…what, elevenish?”
Werond didn’t respond, hands gripping fistfuls of her hair.
“Uhm, Werond?” Durnan place his hands on the counter and leaned in. “You feeling okay? Did something –”
Durnan jumped back as Werond smashed her fists on the counter.
“Damnit Durnan, just get me something to drink!” She spat, voice horse. Her bronze skin was flushed, and her eyes, a wild look buried deep within them, had been rubbed raw.
“Hey!” Durnan pointed a finger at her. “Just because I like you don’t mean you’re exempt from the rules, no shouting at the help, me included!”
Werond shot up from her stool, causing Durnan’s heart to shoot up in turn. Her face twisted into a snarl, body tense, and for a moment, she looked ready to jump over the bar.
Before she could, Durnan hesitantly backing up, Werond suddenly deflated, shoulders drooping. She grimaced, eyes screwed up; she dragged a hand across her face and sighed.
“S-sorry Durnan, I…” She plopped back down onto the barstool and reburied her face. “Not h-having a good…” Werond choked before she could finish her sentence.
Durnan relaxed, but not fully; it had been some of years since he’d seen Werond like this, though he couldn’t remember what exactly had caused her last breakdown. He hadn’t a clue what it could have been now, but that was none of his business, or concern. If Werond wanted to drink, who was Durnan to turn her away?
“It’s fine, we all have those days.” He turned around and stared at the shelves of bottles behind him. “I don’t mind serving you, but are you sure you want to drink this early? That never turns out well.”
“Yes.” Werond said in a firm voice. “Top shelf.”
Durnan blinked and turned around, only for his words to die at his lips; Werond had slumped over and buried her face into the crook of her arm, her other hand grabbing a fist full of hair.
“Ah…alright.” He said.
He reached for the top shelf, one he seldom sold anything from, and pulled down a bottle of chardonnay, aged longer than he’d been alive. He placed it on the bar, bent down, and retrieved a small wine glass from underneath; with a grunt of effort, he uncorked the bottle, and poured half a glass.
“Now, this stuff is pretty expensive, but I can spare a bit if you’re in need. It’s been aged for, oh –”
Before he could finish, Werond straightened up – face red, eyes glassy – grabbed the glass, and downed it in a single gulp. She set it down and gestured towards the bottle, looking away from Durnan.
He sighed, and poured another glass, watching as Werond gulped it down without any hesitation, without any sign that what she drunk was stronger than her usual ale. She gestured for another, and Durnan obliged.
“Gonna drink down my best bottle.” He grumbled.
“I c-can…” Werond sucked in a shuddering breath. “I can pay.”
“That’s not really what I’m worried about.” Durnan said, watching her down a third glass.
Werond placed the glass down and gestured for more, tears now spilling down her face. Durnan poured another but placed his hand on the rime before Werond could lift it.
She shot him what would be a threatening look, had her eyes been dry.
“Twice now have you stomped into my establishment at a time where I turn people away and demand something strong. You didn’t talk last time, and I doubt you want to talk now.” He sighed as Werond nodded. “Fine. As your friend, I’ll respect that. But as your friend, I’m cutting you off after your sixth, and I’ll only give you more after this one if you promise to sit in here until the buzz wears off. Alright?”
Werond stared at him, eyes glassy, giving no indication that she had heard him.
“Alright?” Durnan asked firmly.
She nodded.
“Right.” Durnan released the glass; Werond immediately gulped it down and gestured for more. “Cheers then.”