Chapter 12 - City of Coin

That morning, after nearly having his head bitten off by Lucian after trying to wake him up, Aven headed downstairs for breakfast.

He followed the sound of chattering voices and pushed through a great pair of wooden doors into their mess hall. A chandelier of deer bones hung from the ceiling overtop four long wooden tables where the Mindulgulph ate. Their bellowing laughter, cackling, cawing and roars filled the room as they tore at their food.

As soon as Aven entered the mess hall - for a moment, conversation stilled. Voices died. Eyes turned towards Aven, in curiosity, in suspicion.

There was a pause in Aven’s step as so many eyes befell him.

“Aven!” He turned his head. Jorak sat with his gnoll woman and nodded to his table. “Get over here!"

Aven flushed and squeezed between a pair of lizard folk to sit down at the table beside them. “Mornin.” The table was filled with bread, broth, meats and mugs of ale. The aroma made Aven’s mouth water.

"Well, boy?” Jorak snorted. “Don’t just stare at it, dig in!"

Aven was happy to do so. He picked up a piece of bread and chewed on the end - before he felt something at his feet.

He yelped, kicking back from the table so fast he nearly fell over in his chair. A rust coloured, insect like monster rested under the table, its antennas brushing against his legs. "Don’t mind ol Rusty! He’s harmless.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aven snorted, scooting back up. “I’d rather not be attacked while eating breakfast.”

“Aye, you’ll be fine. She only has an appetite for metals. Best keep those axes out of sight,” he nods to the weapons hooked to Aven’s sides. “You two are going on your mission today, yes? I hope-"

"Sooo?” Roxsha leaned forward, ears pushed back against her skull and gave a wink. “How was last night?"

"Roxsha!” Don’t embarrass the boy.“

"Oh, I wouldn’t dare! It was just a simple question.” Her smile was wicked and fangs glittered in the morning light.

Aven snorted, chewing into his food. “You’d think he belongs among you with how much of a jackass he is. Even in the most tender of moments."

"Ha!” Roxsha slammed down her mug with a shrill hyena laugh that turned several curious heads. “Among us? That primped up Prince doesn’t belong here. I’d sooner kick his little ass back to whatever land you two come from."

Aven sighed. "You’re right. But part of me isn’t in too much of a hurry, either.” He paused. “I like it here."

“Of course you do. You belong with beasts, not with men.”

“Unless his Prince returns home,” Jorak purred.

“For now, the plan is to follow Lucian,” Aven confirmed with a nod. “And…I doubt he’ll be staying here for too long.” He stabbed at his meat dejectedly.

Jorak’s eye softened. “Ah, a bunch of mongrels and beasts are nothing compared to the excitement that boy will bring,” he eases with a smile. “Don’t you worry your head about it. Now.” He plucked a grape up and rolled it between his claws. “I have the details for your mission.”

The mission to begin the journey home. Aven sat back. “I’m listening.”

Jorak snapped the grape in half with his scarred beak.

"North of here is the city of Athkatla, on the shore of the Alandor river. There’s a ship on the docks - the Blue Nixie. It’s the one under our command, and the one you will be taking."

Aven was quick to follow. "So we board the Blue Nixie, wait for the pirates to find us and let them bring us to their hideout where we free your friends. I still don’t know how many enemies to expect. And..” he paused. “I’m not sure what Lucian knows about battle. He’s been rather..” He chewed over his words. “Secluded.”

“I know little of this foreign prince. But he’ll be fine, I’m su-"

The doors to the mess hall burst open.

An aarakocra tumbled in with an anxious burst of crimson features. "The foreigner!” She panted, spear in hand. “He’s in a fight with Darranus, in the courtyard!”

“He what?!” Aven stood. “I can’t believe this.” He looked to Jorak in exasperation. “I’m traveling with a child who can’t be alone for five seconds!"

"I don’t trust Darranus to not cut him in half,” Jorak said grimly. “Let’s be sure the boy doesn’t get himself killed.”

Jorak and Roxsha were hot on Aven’s heels as he burst out the doors and into the fort’s courtyard. A crowd was gathered, the atmosphere excited and cautious. “Do you see them?!” Aven hissed, looking over their heads.

“How dare you!” The voice bellowed, deep, low and horribly angry. Aven pushed out a sigh and navigated through the crowds - and saw Lucian, standing before a centaur. The same centaur whom Aven had met in the dungeons was now charging Lucian, sweeping all ten feet of steel towards the Prince who dove out of the way. “You impertinent human!"

A gnoll at his side cackled. “What happened this time?”

Another shook its furry head. "The fool boy was boasting about how horse meat tastes fine with roast duck after Darranus approached him.”

Aven’s eyes were locked on Lucian with a look that could kill. His stomach coiled with rage and fury. A hiss passed his lips in fleeting adrenaline and he looked to Jorak. “If harm comes to him, your friends lost to the slavers will be doomed.” He pushed through the crowd towards Lucian and Darranus. “Excuse me.”

The centaur charged. Features furious and longsword in his grasp, his four hooves smashed into the ground, kicking up dirt and stone.

Aven’s muscles tensed and sprang to the side as Darranus passed, slamming the blunt side of his axe against the centaur’s legs. Darranus’ legs tangled and were thrown out under him, landing on his side with a grunt. Dust flew. The crowd roared with delight.

Another slash was deflected by Aven’s axe and the barbarian backed up several paces. “Stop this!” Aven growled, both axes in hand.

The tip of his sword pointed to Aven. “Stay out of my way, human!"

“Darranus!” Jorak snapped out. The tiny kenku picked his way out between the two, eyes locked on the centaur. “I will remind you that they are Lady Bloodsword’s guests! We do not raise steel against those we’ve invited into our home!”

Darranus’ shoulders heaved. He snarled and sheathed his sword, glowering down to Lucian. "One day,” he hissed. “You’ll need the aid of more than your guard dog, boy. And when you do, you will find no one there.” He spat at Lucian’s feet, shoved through the crowd and disappeared into the keep.

“Dumb brute,” Lucian murmured, folding his arms. “Good work, Aven.”

Aven’s bubbling anger and anticipation popped. He snarled and turned on Lucian. “Are you fucking crazy?!” He lashed. “Not even I’m cocky enough to challenge someone like him!"

Lucian blinked in surprise. The surprise was swiftly replaced by a scowl.

"He started it!” He snapped back. “He assumed he knew everything about me! He called me destructive."

"You blasted apart a barn because you didn’t want to sleep on the straw!"

"That’s not what I mean.” Lucian’s fists were clenched at his sides. He didn’t look at the gathered crowd paying far too much mind to their outbursts. “He said I come from a line of ruinous tyrants. So, I told him that ruinous tyrants at the very least knew how to cook horse meat well. That maybe his kin had at one point been a delicacy on my table."

"Lucian, for fuck sake, of course he attacked you."

"I could have handled him.”

Aven ground his teeth. He cleared the space between them in seconds, hands reaching to grasp Lucian’s. “Please,” he groaned in the smallest of begs. “Do you have no instinct for self preservation? You aren’t untouchable here, Lucian. Everything you say and do has consequences."

"I understand there are consequences, do you really-"

"I need you to be on the same page as me!” Aven sighed. “For just a moment… think as if your life hangs in the balance of everything you do. Because it does. No matter what you think you can do, it’s not enough to keep you alive.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. He ripped his hands away and stepped back a pace. “That’s because you’ve never given me a chance to show you what I can do,” he growled. “But for the sake of avoiding conflict…I will…try…” he had to push the words out, like it was painful. “To be more considerate of what I do.”

“Fight me.”

“…what?”

“You heard me,” Aven murmured. He stepped forward and drew his arms around Lucian’s waist, voice low. “We have a crowd. You say you haven’t had a chance to show me what you can do. Here it is.”

Lucian’s eyes searched him in shock. Then, a slow smile drew over his features. “I’ll try not to embarass you,” he purred.

“Oh, don’t hold back on me,” Aven snickered. He backed up, drawing his axes. “Embarrass me all you want… if you even can.”

Lucian drew his sword. It was nothing like Aven’s massive, sharpened axes. A rapier, it was a lithe weapon, built for attacks in opportune moments. The crowd cheered, and Aven could hear Roxsha’s signature hyena laugh. “Aven, knock his priss ass to the ground!”

Aven had to make it real. If he held back, he’d be cheating Lucian out of a true fight. His eyes were focused, axes gripped in his fists as the Prince and slave circled one another.

Aven moved with powerful speed, the attack met with a shield thrown up in front of Lucian. The Prince’s cocky smirk was speared off his face as the flat of Aven’s blade connected with his shield. A blast of magic hurled him backwards ten feet and hit the dirt, specks of blood splashing across the sand.

The gathered Mindulgulph’s laughter echoed. Lucian cringed and slowly pushed to his feet, cheeks red and eyes narrowed to slits.

Aven flinched. His axes hesitated. “Don’t just rely on your magic to shield you,” he whispered. “I know you. Level the playing field, then come at me with your blade.”

“I’m just getting warmed up,” Lucian panted out. He sprang forward, uttering an incantation and his body glowed an emerald green. Sudden pain lashed down his Aven’s arm.

Lucian’s motions, his strikes, his strides - all were lightning fast. Dust kicked up as Lucian rounded on him again and again, moving faster than Aven’s eyes could follow.

Despite it all - Aven smiled. His grin was wild, a gleam to his eyes. “That’s more like it,” he growled.

With both axes in hand, he surged towards Lucian.

His axe swept towards the Prince. His blade connected with midair as Lucian duck, spun and grammed the butt of his rapier into Aven’s side, forcing the barbarian to double over.

Lucian backed up, putting much needed distance between them. Sweat dripped down his face. His blue eyes were narrowed in focus and he threw out his hands, eyes glowing bright blue. There was a ripple in the air - and three identical visages of himself materialized at his sides.

Aven’s head swam. His brown gaze flicked from visage to visage, trying desperately to pick out the real Lucian. The Prince didn’t give him an inch. Rapier out, he drew his fingers down the thin blade, coating it in ice and sprang back at Aven’s side.

It was like back at the arena. Aven couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd. Couldn’t see Roxsha and Jorak cheering for him. His focus narrowed on one thing, and one thing only. “You’re quite the swordsman,” Aven purred. His eyes flicked from Lucian’s mirror images and expertly brought up his axes to deflect the Prince’s blow.

“You sound surprised,” Lucian panted. “Of course I am. I’m the Prince of Aeliorn. My father,” he lunged forward and Aven sidestepped the blow. “Took on the greatest swords masters in the land to teach me.”

“There’s no better teacher than experience.” Aven swiped his axe. It passed through one of Lucian’s images and it winked out of existence. “Raw training won’t be enough to save you.” Aven’s boot was out, connecting with Lucian’s chest - the real Lucian - and the mage was sent to the ground. Another two expert swipes dissipated the remaining visages.

Lucian ground his teeth. He pushed to his feet, wiping the dirt and snow from the edge of his lip. His blade struck out towards Aven, again and again. His rapier struck Aven’s axes, his bracers, the very air - anything but Aven’s skin.

His rapier’s tip skidded across one of the barbarian’s axes, and the other swept up, striking Lucian’s chest and he staggered back with a gasp. Sweat dripped down Lucian’s brow.

“Tap out if and when you need!” Aven said, bringing up a bloody hand to his side. “We’ll work on this every so often."

He’d barely finished talking before he was having to defend himself against Lucian’s onslaught of strikes. With every passing lunge, the Prince grew sloppier and sloppier with exhaustion. Aven ground his teeth. His axe swept forward, touching air as Lucian whispered an incantation and launched himself into the air, slowly floating down until his feet touched the roof of the Mindulgulph’s barn.

A spear of ice materialized in Lucian’s grasp. He hurled it towards Aven and Aven’s axe knocked it clean out of the air.

“Lucian!” Aven called up to the Prince. “We can stop whenever you’re feeling drained, don’t push yourself!”

Lucian’s shoulders shook.

He wore an expression of desperate rage. He stepped towards the edge of the barn. "You’re just like all the others,” Lucian growled. His voice carried. “This whole time, you’ve acted like I’m some… fragile doll. But I’ll show you.”

“Lucian, wait!”

Lucian drew back his hand. Acid, ice, fire and electricity gathered in his palm. Aven drew his head away, axes up to protect himself.

The blow never came.

There was a burst of blinding white light, signifying the rampancy of yet another spell.

Aven heard the laughter. Roaring, bellowing laughter. Aven turned back towards Lucian, and his heart dropped into his stomach, blood cold.

Lucian was ass naked. His very clothes disappeared from his back, leaving him bare and exposed for the entirety of the Mindulgulph.

The Prince’s face was stark white.

His axes fell to the snow. Aven turned to the Mindulgulph. His dark eyes burned, the sudden shift in his demeanor terrifying. “Show’s over. Get the fuck out."

Jorak flinched. "All right, you mangy mutts! Clear out!” The kenku cried out. He ushered the Mindulgulph away and Aven turned back to Lucian.

“Lucian,” he pushed out. He staggered forward a step. “I didn’t mean-” Lucian met his words with a hateful gaze. He snapped his fingers - and he was gone, teleporting from sight.

Aven fell to his knees. Dread clawed at his stomach. His face fell into calloused hands and he heaved a shuddering breath. “Shit… shit, shit, shit.”

Where could he have gone? Lucian hasn’t been able to teleport for long. He wouldn’t be able to go far…

He had to find him.

—————————————————

When his search of the fort turned up empty, Aven turned his attention to the copse of trees a half mile from the Mindulgulph. A small woods used for hunting, it was the last place Aven could think to look.

A cloak was draped over Aven’s shoulders to protect him from the cool chill of winter as he pushed past twisted brambles and stepped over frozen creeks. “Lucian!” He called out. “Lucian, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean for that to happen! Please, come back."

His voice echoed into silence. Aven heaved a breath and tugged on his hair, picking his way further into the forest.

A thin layer of snow crunched under his boots. He thought his search to be in vain… when he heard it. Sniffles, coming from around a bush.

Aven surged forward, combing through the bush. And there he was. Lucian sat at the edge of a frozen pond, knees pulled up into his chest. His back was to Aven. "Lucian…” Aven breathed out, breaking the silence with a tender tone.

Lucian didn’t respond.

Aven dropped to his knees just behind him. “I’m…I’m sorry, Lucian,” Aven whispered. “I didn’t intend for all of that. I…” He swallowed down a lump. “I just wanted to give you a chance and…I wanted to see what you’ve been telling me this whole time. You surprised me.”

Lucian laughed. It was cold and humorless. “I suppose someone’s clothes disappearing off their back would be a bit shocking,” he muttered. His nails dug into his arm, chin resting on his knees.

“No, not that…” Aven shifted closer. His hand moved to Lucian’s shoulder. “I saw the most admirable fierceness in you. You did it. You found a way to counter my strength.”

Lucian recoiled from the touch. “To what end?!” He shouted. He sprang to his feet so fast he nearly tripped. “I can’t even cast a damn spell without something going wrong! I can’t fight, can’t survive like you, can’t cast, I can’t do shit!” His shoulders trembled. He lifted a hand to his mouth and pinched his eyes shut. “You were right, they were…right.."

"What am I right about, Lucian?” Aven hissed out. He stood and grabbed Lucian’s shoulder, turning him so their faces met. “I underestimate you sometimes. I do! But it’s only because I believe you haven’t had enough experience yet. You haven’t had to fight for your life."

"You don’t know what I’ve had to do to survive."

"Maybe not. But I still want to work with you. You’re not perfect right off the bat but you can be great."

“…give me your cloak.”

Aven eased the cloak off his shoulders and handed it over without question. As soon as Lucian drew it around him - the fabric turned immediately invisible. Lucian stared and groaned out. "Oh, for fuck sake!” He threw it back and face planted, bare butt sticking up from the snow.

“…do you want me to cover you?”

“No,” Lucian groaned into the snow. “It’ll fade, sooner or later. Once once it does, I can teleport us to the city for our ship.”

“All right..” Aven eased down next to him. “Then I’ll wait.” He paused. The edge of his lip lifted. “That duplicate spell…that was clever."

"It was Mirror Image."

"You’ve been learning new spells. When have you had the time to do that?"

"I study once you fall asleep.”

“Pretty nifty,” he purred. “Could come in handy in a real fight.”

It didn’t take long for the rampant magic to wear off. An hour later, his clothes rematerialized. “Fully clothed again,” Aven noted.

“Then it’s time to leave.” Lucian pushed to his feet and stretched. “Remind me again why we’re doing this again?"

"Because we don’t want to piss off a group of mercenaries."

"Of course. That little bit of business.” He brushed snow from his silver locks.

“We’ve already been to Athkatla, so I should be able to bring us close to it. Unless it… fails and I..teleport us into a mountain or into a tree and..kill us both.” Lucian hesitated. Red washed over his features. “…perhaps we should take our horses."

"No.” Aven took Lucian’s hands. “Don’t fear yourself. Cast it. What happens next is simply part of being a mage."

"Fine. But if I teleport us a half mile underground and obliterate us into a thousand pieces, it’s not my fault.”

Lucian’s chilly hands closed around Aven’s. His eyes eased shut. Quiet incantations fell from Lucian’s thin lips and Aven watched as a curve of silver magic flowed around the two. Their hair whipped about, a sigil of arcane script forming beneath them. Aven didn’t take his eyes from Lucian. His gaze burned with unwavering trust, hands tightening around Lucian’s.

The magic popped.

Aven was wrenched from his feet, suddenly tumbling through space and time - a disorienting feeling that nearly wrenched his breakfast from his stomach. As quickly as it began, it was over - and they were spat out into the middle of a road. Aven barely had time to recover.

His head spun. He turned to seek out Lucian when he heard a voice.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” A wagon was barreling towards them at top speed, a masked man in the seat while guards gave chase close behind on their steeds, crossbows out, locked and loaded.

Aven’s arms roped around Lucian’s side and tackled him out of the way.

“What in the sane hell?!” Aven hissed, looking back with narrowed eyes. “Are you okay?"

"I’m fine,” he grunted, pushing to his feet. Lucian squinted down the road and he gave a breath of relief. “We’re here."

Athkatla glittered like a jewel in the distance. Golden spires rose up above its stone walls, and the smell of a city wafted up over the grassy, snow laden hills. And yet, it seemed less imposing now that Aven wasn’t bound in chains and dressed in rags.

"You know, I studied this city when I was a child,” Lucian said, hands folded behind his back. “It’s known as the City of Coin. The wealthiest city in Faerun’s wealthiest country. They say the palace itself is built upon a foundation of gold and silver, with halls laden with platinum and sapphires. The nobles here are even rumored to have died from over indulgence."

"…sounds like I’m going to hate this place.“

Lucian grinned. "Oh, certainly. They have a practice known as straking. When one eats too much during banquets, they drink a toxin that upsets their stomachs and they regurgitate into bowls so that they may indulge in their meals once more until their taste buds have been satisfied.”

“I hate rich people,” Aven deadpanned. “If Kion were here, I’d let him practice his overindulgence on them.”

"I do hope you don’t mean all rich people.” Lucian waved his hand. A horse materialized, glowing a soft silver.

Aven flushed. “Obviously not all. Just…. most."

Lucian swung up onto the horse’s gold embroidered saddle and pulled Aven up behind him. "I’d like to spend sometime in the city before we go to the harbor. Athkatla is one of the many places I’ve been wanting to see should I ever visit Faerun.” The brooding lackluster was gone, instead replaced with a rare glimpse of excitement.

“Of course we can look around,” Aven said. “We’ll just have to be careful you aren’t recognized.”

“Indeed. And while we’re in the market, you can sell your collar and spend the gold."

"Sell it..?"

"That’s right. I only purchase the finest for my slaves. That hunk of metal is worth at least two hundred gold.” Lucian glanced back. “What you decide to do with it is your decision."

Aven hesitated. He drew the collar from his pack and held it between his fingers. His thumb rubbed over the gold. "Well,” he murmured. “Sentiment isn’t my forte and I don’t know how to navigate a market, so…“ he passed it to Lucian. "Here. You take it."

Lucian’s brows shot up. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Lucian shrugged. "Very well. Just be careful. The City of Coin just begs to be robbed. For every noble that lives in Athkatla, there’s at least ten more thieves."

——————————————-

Athkatla was unlike anything Aven had ever seen. He was slack jawed in its magnificence. Palaces that looked to be made of solid gold glimmered in the afternoon light, and pathways laden with silver cut through the city. There was a constant stream of voices calling out their trades, shouting, laughing. Men and women walked about in silks with stuffy fragrances and traders sold everything one could imagine, from silks and fabrics to swords and candles.

In the distance, golden spires curled upwards into the sky. Lucian pointed. "Those are the Goldspires. It’s where the Council of Five conduct their business."

"Aren’t they the ones you were meant to speak with during your mission?”

Lucian nods. “Yes. Though, they’re likely allied with my uncle at this point. Come, the market is this way."

The market was built in a massive, colosseum type structure. It was so crowded, Aven could scarcely breathe as they navigated their horse through. Hundreds of stalls rubbed up against one another, filled with trinkets and strange items, and dozens of voices all called out their wares at once.

"Fish, fresh fish!"

"Jewels for your lovely lady!"

"Fine smelling candles!"

Aven grimaced at the chaos. He turned his head away to block out the noise - when a man’s voice cut clean through. "LEWD TOYS FOR YOUR MIDNIGHT DEBAUCHERY!”

Had Aven not been holding Lucian’s waist, he would have fallen clean off his horse.

A slow grin spread over his lips and he touched Lucian’s shoulder. “Do we want something for our midnight debauchery?” He laughed.

“In your dreams.” Lucian slid down from the horse. “My hands are quite enough, thanks. Entertain yourself for an hour, I have something I need to do."

Aven hesitated and gave a nod. “…all right. I’ll meet you back here.”

Lucian waved over his shoulder and vanished into the crowds. With nothing else to do - Aven sat on a nearby bench and twiddled his thumbs. His eyes roamed over the crowds of people pushing by. Busy little bees, all buzzing their way about. Women holding newly pressed dresses while escorting their children. Men walking down the road smoking pipes and booming with laughter. None of them gave Aven a second look.

Aven scowled and sat back. Aeliorn. Faerun. It seems it was the same everywhere. The clear, defining line between nobility and peasantry.

He’d let his eyes slide closed for a moment when he heard a voice rip through the town. "Please, please, he’s just a boy!"

Aven snapped his head up.

A woman was on her knees at the foot of her doorstep, tears streaming down her face as she reached for the sobbing child being dragged away by a pair of guards.

“Quit your wailing,” a guard sneered. His steel gauntlet grasped the boy’s wrist. “It’s for his own good.”

“It was just an accident!” The woman cried out. “Please, he doesn’t know what he did wrong!”

“Momma!” The little boy grasped for his mother, their fingers only just brushing before he was yanked away with a sob. Aven’s gut coiled with fury. Stay still. The last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves.

Yet… the sounds of his wails. The fear, the panic… the question of why.

It was something familiar, seared into the back of his mind. Aven watched as the little boy was dragged away. Rather than comforting the woman, the people of Amn skirted around her as though she held the plague. Her sobs echoed as she collapsed to the ground.

“Aven,” Lucian approached. He held a new bag. “I’m finished. It’s time we…” he slowed. His eyes locked onto the woman. “What’s happened here?”

“Her son was taken.”

The blood drained from Lucian’s features. His eyes glanced up and down the road, and his hand touched Aven’s shoulder, easing him to his feet. “I know you want to help. But that means we have to go.”

“What do you mean?” Aven hissed. He cast the woman one more look, and followed Lucian as the Prince hurried down the street. “Why do we have to leave? Do you know why the boy was taken?”

Lucian waited. Waited until they were out of earshot of guards and nobles. He looked about anxiously, and drew Aven into the quiet of an alley.

“I told you that magic is illegal in Amn. That boy was likely a deviant mage.”

Aven frowned. “They’d take people even that young?” He hissed. “Where?”

Lucian chewed on his lip. “It might be best if I show you.”

Lucian drew Aven through the chaos of Athkatla’s market towards the docks. A trade city, it was incredibly busy, with dozens of great ships in the harbor and hundreds of people carrying crates and barrels up and down the wooden walkway. They walked down to the edge of one of the docks, and Lucian pointed.

“Look out there. See it?”

Aven squinted against the sun, and the colour drained from his face. “What the hell is that?”

On a rocky island several miles from the coast - was a castle, dark spires cutting into the low hanging clouds. “Spellhold Asylum,” Lucian said. His voice was cold. “It’s a prison for the mages they find here. I haven’t the faintest idea what they do on that island, but it can’t be good.” Lucian hugged himself. “We must be very careful. No one must know I am a mage, Aven.”

“Why are they so against mages, anyways?”

He shakes his head. "I don’t know. It’s explicitly illegal, dating back to a royal decree by King Dhanar centuries ago. Only the High Houses of Amn and the Cowled Wizards are allowed to use arcane magic. Oddly enough, divine magic is just fine.”

“Typical,” Aven grunted. “Hypocritical bastards.”

“You aren’t a fan of the gods?”

Aven shrugged. “People always talk about their divine miracles. I’ve prayed. Didn’t really work out.” He paused. “I don’t even think I’ve ever been in the house of a god.”

“What about right now?”

Aven spun on Lucian. “Excuse me?”

“We have a little time before we board our ship. I’m not sure it’s even in harbor, just yet. And there are plenty of temples in the Gem District.”

Aven was visibly uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Isn’t it not okay to simply… walk into a temple, even if you do not worship?”

“Churches and temples are often places of sanctuary and worship. And I’d like to investigate the religious hold on this city either way. Come on, it can’t be too bad.”

Aven relented with a sigh. “…all right. We can poke around, but I don’t want to stay long.”

The Gem District was easily the most opulent sector of Athkatla - which was quite a feat, considering the city itself was pegged the ‘City of Coin.’ Gold rimmed manors and great cathedrals and temples that stretched up into the sky, it was utterly breathtaking. It was clearly home to the 'new money’ families within the city. The inhabitants competed with their neighbors with ostentatious displays of excessive wealth - riding in carriages of gold and silver lain with jewels, traveling in fine silks and the furs of exotic beasts and dragging behind them delicate, petal like slaves in diamond studded collars.

Lucian was taking all of it in, talking as he walked with hands locked behind his back. “-several deities worshipped in Athkatla. Azuth, Ilmater, Selune, Tymora. I know Aeliorn is not very overzealous or religious but it’s taken quite seriously here in Faerun. However, there’s one temple in particular I’d like to visit."

"Oh? And which would that be?”

“The Dome of the Rose - the temple to Lathander.” He points. “Right here.” It was a slender, elegantly designed building that possessed a simple grace, lacking the gems, jewels that decorated its neighbors.

“This is it..?” Aven asked skeptically, drawing his gaze across it.

“They’re a humble people. Come on.” He was eager to investigate the temple, advancing swiftly through the temple’s massive doors. Aven hesitated on the threshold and followed.

The temple opened up into a great red dome, decorated with the figure of a man pressed into the stained glass ceiling. A mosaic symbol of a jeweled sun atop fields decorated the floor. Priests prayed before a statue of Lathander, heads bowed while others tended to the sick, wearing robes of silver and gold. A holy place. An unfamiliar place. Aven’s gut curled with unease and he pressed closer to Lucian.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lucian whispered to Aven. “We have nothing like this in Exthellion.”

“Sure,” Aven grunted.

“Welcome to the Temple of Lathander.” They turned. An older man approached them, features weathered and warm and wearing the robes of a Priest of Lathander. “How may we help you?”

“We’re just looking,” Lucian said. “In our homeland, we don’t see many religious temples often and I was curious.”

“I would be happy to educate you in the ways of the Morninglord, if you wished. But if you are short on time, perhaps a blessing?”

“I don’t see any harm in that.” He touched his hand soothingly to Aven’s arm and followed, with the barbarian stalking behind, brimming with discomfort.

“Lathander,” the Priest said as they passed by other servitors. “Is the god of creativity, dawn and rebirth. We are often called upon to bless the newly birthed."

"I’ve also heard that Lathander was the one who begun the Dawn Cataclysm,” Lucian said, eyes locked on the Priest. “He attempted to reshape the Pantheon in his own image. Several gods were slain."

The Priest’s nod was solemn. "You’re well taught in religion, lad. That’s right. He recognized his mistake, and sought to rectify it. And thus, we, the Dawnbringers, were born. To carry out his mission and help those we can. Here, we study art, liberty, nature, culture - the betterment of oneself.”

They passed by the statue of Lathander. Twilight streamed in through the windows in a faded golden and crimson light, striking the statue and lit him up in a heavenly sheen of gold. “And yet,” Aven said, voice cool. “There are slaves being bought and sold in the city, and you do nothing.”

“The reach of Lathander is only so far. We are not warriors. Here we are.”

It was a smaller room, with an altar to Lathander before a stained glass window decorated with the dawn and a table. "Please, sit.” Lucian heaved himself up onto the table. “You are not from here. From where do you hail, young man?"

"Further than I’m sure you’ve ever been,” Lucian purred. He closed his eyes as the Priest’s glowing fingers roamed over him.

“Have you come to Athkatla for shelter?”

“You could say that,” Aven snorted.

“Athkatla is a city of many flaws, but there is beauty here as well.” The priest paused in his blessing. His fingers stilled overtop Lucian’s skin, and the man’s brows pushed together, as though uncertain.

Aven frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No. One moment, let me draw some water for you boys.”

Aven’s eyes narrowed. They followed the man as he moved about the room. Something in his gut twisted. A stir in his stomach… he knew. Perhaps he picked up on some of Lucian’s mana while blessing him. And if he knew Lucian was a mage… both of them were in danger.

He panicked.

Aven’s fist slammed against the priest’s face. The old man stumbled back, lip bursting with blood and caught himself on the table. Lucian jumped up, eyes wide. “Aven?!"

"I’m sorry! He knows!"

The old man’s eyes were pinched closed. He gathered himself and drew his hand over his busted lip. "I wasn’t going to demand payment,” he hissed out. “There’s no need to mug an old man, boy.”

Aven’s face was white. “No! No- I- I wouldn’t, I’m just- I’m not mugging you, okay?"

"You’re concerned for your arcane companion."

At that, Lucian stilled. His eyes narrowed to slits and he slid next to Aven, hands lighting up with fire - when the Priest raised his hands. "You boys have nothing to fear from me.”

“Why?” Lucian growled. “The rest of this city seems eager enough to beat and incarcerate innocent mages."

"The rest of this city suffers from the intimidation and manipulation of others."

"You seem like a godly man,” Lucian said. “Why hold up in a shitshow like this place when other cities could make more use of your kindness?"

The old man had settled down into a chair, drawing a cloth up to his bleeding lip. "The dawn does not come when the sun shines, lad. Only after the long dark. In the dawn, beauty reigns, and the way is clear. We follow where there is darkness, and do our best to play our part.”

Aven wasn’t listening. His fingers curled into his hair. “…am I going to hell.”

The edge of the man’s lip lifted. “…there is a hell. And a man like you doesn’t belong there.” His fingers curve around a golden medallion with points emulating rays of a sun, drawing it off from around his neck. “Perhaps this could be of use to you.”

“How’s that?” Aven responded as the priest pressed the symbol into his palm, curving larger fingers around the cool metal.

“As a reminder, should you ever find yourself in need, young man. Lathander shall never deny aid.” The older man drew back from Aven, a look that couldn’t quite be placed lingering over aged features.

Aven highly doubted that, a frown touching upon his lips. He squeezed the symbol heavy in his hand before letting it fall idle at his side. He’d already punched the man, declining his kind offering even despite it wasn’t something he had in him. “Thank you,” he pressed out. His gaze sought Lucian beside him. “…But I think we should be on our way now.”

Lucian had been silent, calculating gaze locked on the Priest. “Yes, I suppose our ship should be here by now.” He smoothed hands down over his robes and turned for the door. “Thank you for your blessing.”

As the prince swept from the room, Aven awkwardly shoved the holy symbol beneath his buckle and moved to follow. He made it halfway out the door before the priest spoke again.

“You be careful.”

He didn’t linger to ask what it meant, the limits of his discomfort having been exceeded. And behind him, the door shut soundlessly, Aven quickly settling back in step at Lucian’s side.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Lucian asked, turning to Aven. “Why would I be mad?”

“….for punching a priest.”

“No. In fact, I found it quite hilarious. But let’s try not to punch anyone else before we leave the city. We’ve already drawn quite enough attention to ourselves. Come, I think I see our ship.”