Again, sorry for the delays! Unfortunately, real life exists, and it can be a bitch. I'm very busy now, but I promise I will update this whenever I can. Thank you so much to everyone for the positive words!

Ch. 10 - A Paladin's Past, in which our heroine gets a mentor, our hero gets snippy, and Casavir reveals his past.

"If you don't put that gittern down I will silence it myself!" Sand glared at Grobnar, teeth gritted, as the gnome wandered in circles in the main room of the Flagon. He was, as usual, singing some nonsense song as he made it up; once Sand snapped at him, however, he stammered out an apology and quickly departed through the back door.

Sighing, Sand sat down at one of the tables. He felt rather guilty – the gnome was a lunatic, from all that Gwyn had said, but he wasn't a bad sort. Still, the wizard was in far from the best of moods – his sleep had been broken and full of ill dreams, and he was very out of sorts this morning. Eventually, he'd risen with one thing in his mind, and that was the reason he was at the inn so early – Gwyn's magical studies had to be resumed and he was the only one in their circle who could undertake such a thing.

He felt even worse when the gnome walked back in several minutes later with a tray and several mugs of coffee, one of which he set in front of Sand with a bow and another apology. Just then, Gwyn appeared in the doorway leading to the guest rooms – still in the process of pinning up her hair – looking surprised.

"Sand? What in the gods' names are you doing here so early?" She took a mug from Grobnar with a thank you and a smile, and Sand took that opportunity to bite back his automatically irritated response.

This is why I try not to spend time with anyone before midmorning. Especially after a night like last night.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded at her as Gwyn stood with a raised eyebrow, sipping her coffee. "You've a week off from patrolling, so we'll start today. If you're diligent enough, you should be able to silent cast by the end of the week."

She gaped at him. "Wait, what?"

Sand waved at her, looking a bit irritated. "Magic. Training. You've been away from your mentor for what, six months now? A year?" He raised an eyebrow and she nodded, still looking more than a little surprised. "And who else is going to teach you, Qara?"

Her mouth twitched a bit at this. "I'd rather take up sword fighting."

The corner of his mouth twitched in response, and he stood up. "Good girl – although that might not be a bad idea. Not that you'd need to handle a longsword – and I assume you already know how to use your dagger. But unless you've got Neeshka's dexterousness-"

Gwyn laughed. "You know better."

Sand gave a smirk. "Indeed, I do. Which means that a dagger really won't do much for you in close combat; it's really only going to be useful in the most dire of situations." He thought again about what Casavir had told him the night before concerning the false emissary, and his skin crawled. He cleared his throat. "But you should be able to handle a shortsword, and while you can't devote the time – or strength – to seriously learning swordplay, it is always good to have a backup plan."

She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "What do you use? I've never seen you with a weapon before."

He snorted. "My dear, I am rarely ever in combat. But I would not give advice I have not followed myself, and I can say that I have grown rather adept at the use of a quarterstaff in the past two centuries." He paused. "You could learn the same, of course, but I think that with your stature and build, a sword would have more utility. Now I'll just need to find someone to train you, because I certainly don't know the finer points of swordplay, and I'm not going to ask that oaf, Khelgar-" He tapped his fingers on the table, starting to sort through the people he knew and actually respected in Neverwinter, but before he could get far a voice spoke up from the front door.

"I can teach her the use of a sword, and I most gladly will."

Both Sand and Gwyn looked up and saw Casavir standing in the doorway; he was not dressed in his usual heavy armour but instead was just wearing a simple linen tunic and leather breeches and boots, with a plain vest embroidered with the symbol of Tyr. He had his sword at his hip and looked as if he'd just come in from his own training. He and Sand gazed at each other, and Sand felt the oddest sensation – almost as if for some reason this is a battle over territory. But he really is the best option. They won't be able to spare the time with the Watch, and who else would I ask? Bishop? Not in this lifetime.

Slowly and reluctantly, Sand nodded. "I would be obliged, then, if you would train her. I'll leave it to the two of you to work out the best scheduling; I myself will want to utilize most of this week to get her magical training settled, as that is her primary set of skills, and after that, I claim her evenings. She won't need anything fancy, but the more likely it is that she would be able to take a blade and gut her assailants, should the need arise, the better off she'll be, and the better I will sleep."

The paladin looked at him for a long time – why do I feel as if he's weighing me? – then nodded. "Of course, if she will allow me, I will certainly do so."

Gwyn blinked, and nodded. "Oh, of course. Thank you, Cas. We can talk about it when I come back, I suppose, as it seems that Sand wants to leave immediately." She looked back towards the kitchen, from whence the scent of bacon and eggs was just emerging. "Grobnar's an awfully good cook. Won't you stay for breakfast?"

Sand felt a bit disgruntled. So much for 'she missed my cooking'. "We haven't time; if you're hungry I'll prepare something at home." He turned to Casavir and gave a bow. "If you'll excuse us?"

"You're still whispering. Try it again!" Gwyn glared at Sand, then sighed, squared her shoulders, and focused on the signal words to summon her arcane shield. The swirling energies had just materialized when the wizard snapped, "Stop! You did it again!"

Sinking back into her chair, Gwyn rubbed her forehead. "Far be it from the pupil to challenge the master, but we've been working on this for six hours, Sand! The only break we've taken was for lunch, and that was barely a half-hour! If I am slipping, perhaps it's because I'm feeling a bit drained?"

"It's not my fault that you were left with only the most rudimentary of arcane training! We've got barely a week to get you up to standard before those idiots with the Watch start sending you back out to Mystra-only-knows-where. Now, try it again, and-"

"No, Sand." She leaned forward to give him a challenging look, but she knew the effect was somewhat lessened by her dark glasses and she gave a heavy sigh. "Look, I don't know what crawled into your beakers and died, but it's not my fault! You've been acting absolutely wretched ever since Cas came by last night, and I want to know why."

Sand winced at her tone of voice. She's right, you know. You have been an ass today. Does she really deserve that? Sitting down, he sighed. "I… apologize. I may have, perhaps, been taking my ill mood out upon you to some small extent, and that is unfair of me. But I've known the level of your training since we first met, and I should have thought to test you – at least somewhat – before you went out on such an unsafe mission. If you'd known this skill out in the mountains, you wouldn't have been in so much danger that Casavir had to rescue you."

Gwyn raised an eyebrow. "Not that I'm arguing – I certainly would have liked to have been able to strike him down immediately and not have needed anyone to rescue me – but that's sort of his job, Sand. He's a paladin. They help people. Besides, it wasn't quite as cut-and-dry as Casavir made it seem."

She's right, again. You still haven't actually found out what happened. Stop snapping at her for ten minutes, make tea, relax, and let her tell her story. He sighed. Really, whose side am I on today? Still, it was sound advice, so he stood up, turning towards the fire. "I will concede your point, so sit, rest, and tell me what did happen while I make tea. Perhaps then I can better identify what we should be working on."

It was a good thing his back was to her as she told her tale, because it was, if anything, worse than Casavir had originally made it seem. Having better weapon skills would not have aided her; he pressed his lips together in a scowl and determined then that by the end of the week she would be able to silent cast, and do it at a moment's notice. But not tonight. I need to be in a better frame of mine – as it is I'm getting frustrated, she's getting frustrated, and we'll be at each other's throats in no time. I may enjoy crossing wits with her, but in a legitimate setting, not squabbling like Khelgar and Neeshka.

Finally, he turned back to her with the mugs of tea; she took hers gratefully, sighing wearily, and he winced. "Well, we'll just work on your casting and spells; we certainly shan't quit at the end of the week, so give it a bit, and you'll be where you should be. You're certainly smart enough, and I've seen you cast, so I know you have the talent."

She looked grateful at the compliment, but a little apprehensive. "Sand – no more tonight, please-"

He raised a hand. "No, no more tonight. I am in a bad mood, and if we keep on tonight you will exhaust yourself, and my mood will only get more foul."

A frown crossed her face as she nodded. "I'm... sorry you're in such a bad mood. I will go, then, so that you can relax?" Her glance was questioning as she finished her tea and stood up.

He shook his head. "No, no. Stay. Intelligent conversation is actually likely to improve my mood, provided you're not going to tell me next that you faced a dragon or some such and just happened to 'leave it out' previously."

Gwyn flushed, looking embarrassed. "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to mock me, because I know my skills are lacking, and I know I almost died because I didn't know what I was doing."

Sand frowned, torn between feeling hurt and acknowledging that, yes, it was in character for him. He shook his head. "I may mock many things, but I hope I am not so shallow as to make light of a friend's life being in danger."

At these words, an odd expression flickered across her face, and she merely nodded, although she looked a bit sceptical. "Well, you know now, and I do appreciate that you're helping me. I just don't think I'm going to make a breakthrough in one night."

"I know, and it's unfair to expect that. You were doing well, and will probably do better after a night's rest. And dinner, for I seem to recall someone saying that they missed my cooking?"

A smile broke out across her face, although her cheeks were still a little pink. "Well, I certainly need to keep my energy up, and I will say – Grobnar's breakfasts are spectacular, but he's got nothing on your steak and kidney pies."

The two ate and talked and laughed, and for the first time since she'd returned it seemed to both of them that things were back to normal. Sand brought out another of his "good" bottles of wine, and they shared some of it, as well – although he made very certain to not drink more than two glasses. His inattention to his studies last night had been an aberration, and he wanted to be sure that nothing inadvertently slipped from his mouth tonight that might give her the wrong idea. I very certainly am not jealous of Casavir, but I can acknowledge that, to someone unfamiliar with my ways, I might seem so. Really, it's just concern for the dear girl's safety.

They started a conversation about some of the things Sand had been set to 'discover' for Nasher and Nevalle – perhaps not something either of them would like me to bring up, but I know I can trust her, and I'm tired of being a good little lackey. They were still discussing some of the lesser known 'secrets' around Neverwinter on the walk back to the Flagon, and he found himself telling her that the Moonstone Mask – a merchant-district club for 'higher-scale ladies of less than sterling repute' was actually a haven for revolutionaries and plot-spinners, and that Ophala, the 'house matron,' was also a spy for the crown who spent her time separating the noble-born fools who thought they were 'free-thinkers' from those who truly threatened Neverwinter.

No sooner had they stepped inside than Casavir – who seemed to have been sitting at the window to watch for Gwyn – rose from his seat to walk towards them, a relieved look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak when Sand was struck with the remembrance of from just where he recognized the paladin. Without even meaning to, he blurted out, "That's right! Ophala! You were the one who-"

At the woman's name Casavir turned white, then red, then spoke up with a very uncharacteristically sharp, "Past is past and there's certainly no reason to bring it up. Now that I've seen that Mistress Gwyndeth is safe, I will be retiring for the night, if you'll both excuse me." He turned quickly, walking off, leaving Gwyn with a look of absolute confusion on her face as Sand smirked, although he felt a little guilty. After all, he hadn't meant to say it, but he'd been trying to place Casavir's face since they'd met the day before.

Gwyn looked at the wizard in more confusion, and he was about to elaborate when a thought struck him. If it were me, would I want someone spreading my secrets around? Gwyn knows them now, but I certainly didn't want her to know, did I? He then shook his head, carefully, and although she prefaced it with a look of speculative disbelief, she gave him a shrug. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Sand nodded. "Bright and early, I'll make breakfast, bring eggs."

She nodded, and with a small wave went into the back rooms. He turned to leave just in time to see Casavir come back into the room. He approached the wizard, who looked surprised, and gestured to the door. "If you're going home, may I walk with you?"

Mmm, is the paladin going to try to rationalize things, I wonder? He merely nodded, however, saying nothing aloud. I have no idea what he wants to say – even if I can guess the topic – so I'll let him start.

They walked the first block in uncomfortable silence, and it was obvious that Casavir was organizing his thoughts. Finally, as the sounds from the Flagon finally faded away – ohhh, Grobnar – he cleared his throat.

"I had wondered, upon coming back to the city, if someone... well, how much do you know?"

Sand raised an eyebrow, his tone wry. "Considering that one of my specialities is information, I dare say I know most of it, if not the whole thing." He paused, looking up at the not-so-full moon, and shrugged. "Public consensus is that the event itself was a regrettable, if necessary, accident. Your leaving Neverwinter, however, is what people are going to – and have – taken offence to. If you are declared to be a Betrayer, that would be why." He looked over at the paladin, who flinched at those words. "But I know some people – vaguely, you understand – that are already keeping an eye on Gwyn's situation, and-"

Casavir turned sharply. "If you're thinking of turning on her-"

Sand cut him off, sounding – and feeling – very annoyed. "While I appreciate that you've got the dear girl's best interests at heart, I really wish everyone would stop assuming the worst about me! I am trying to keep her safe, thank you very much. If it hasn't occurred to you, having gith magnets – like those shards – wandering around is not something calculated to make those in power very happy. It took quite a bit of persuading to get them to even let her stay." He huffed, as Casavir took this in with a bemused blink.

"I beg your pardon-"

Sand waved it off. "No matter. But as I was saying, I can speak with someone to make sure that no one decides to bring you in on charges of betrayal."

The paladin blinked again, looking affronted. "I beg your pardon-"

"-you said that already," Sand murmured. Casavir did not hear him, which was probably a good thing as Sand was not sure of what sense of humour the paladin actually had.

"– but if my punishment is to be tried as a Betrayer, then I will face it."

By now, Sand was thoroughly annoyed. "And precisely what good would that do? How exactly do you plan to protect Gwyn if you're hanging from a noose? If you'd actually committed a crime, then I'd be the first to turn you in. But there are times in which you have to be willing to bend in order to do the right thing. You don't seem stupid, so I hope you recognize my point."

They'd reached Sand's shop by then, and Casavir had the grace to purse his lips and nod. "A... point, I grant." He paused. "Will you not tell Gwyndeth? If from anyone, she should hear it from me."

Sand waved a hand. "I am not a gossip, nor do I find gossip intriguing. But you probably should tell her, especially as you seem to be rather fond of her."

The paladin flushed at this, but merely bowed, with a quiet, "Thank you." He turned to go, and Sand shut the door behind him. Why am I helping him, again? He's gloomy, and he takes up too much of Gwyn's time with trivialities.

Because you're not as much of a viper as Duncan suggests?

Well, of course I'm not.

Also, if a knife-wielding maniac comes after Gwyn, you'd rather have someone in full-plate there to intercept it?

All right, that's a point I can accept. He closed the door, sighing. Mystra, it's been a long day.

Gwyn had finished her bath and was combing her hair when she heard a hesitant knock at her door. Cinching her sash – wondering just who it would be at that hour and hoping it wasn't Grobnar – she opened it, blinking when she saw Casavir. He was still in his casual clothing, and he wore a look of resigned thoughtfulness on his face.

When he saw that she was in her dressing gown, he flushed. "My apologies, milady. I will come back at a more reasonable hour." He turned away, but she sighed and touched his shoulder. It's not like my normal robes aren't actually more revealing than these.

"Cas, be sensible. It's not too late, and I'm not in bed yet, so really, it's fine. Come in, sit down." He nodded, slowly, and followed her into her room.

Gwyn bustled around, filling the kettle and putting it to heat. She said nothing more until the tea was ready, and that gave the paladin time to settle down and rid himself of his embarrassment. Once she was seated as well, he took the proffered cup and gave a sigh, turning to look at the fire.

"What... Sand said earlier... was true, as much as it pains me to admit it. There was a time in which I was... fond... of the Lady Ophala, and we were close. I thought she felt the same; perhaps she did, but my reluctance – for I could not easily balance my duties to Neverwinter with the desires of my heart – left room for others to encroach... I assume Sand told you of her – many professions?" Casavir looked up, and Gwyn nodded.

He sighed, looking away again, and after a long drink of tea, continued. "Her 'profession' did not bother me much, for I knew what secrets lay behind it. But she took a lover – whether she was truly smitten, or whether she needed to get close to him for information, I do not know – and for everything I knew, it was over between her and I." Pausing, he put his forehead in his hand, and Gwyn just sat, listening. It was a surprising story, but she had assumed there must have been something of the sort in his past, or he would not have been so stiff with Katriona, and even herself. Finally, he continued.

"A time later – indeed, time enough for me to have re-evaluated my oath to Neverwinter, and find it wanting for all of the reasons I mentioned before – I received a note from her, asking me to come see her with the utmost haste. Of course, I went. To this day, I do not know why she summoned me – whether to formally end our relationship, to ask for help, or something wholly different. What I do know is that her paramour was a vicious, vile brute. When I arrived, he was there, and when he saw me, he began to... torment... the lady, to the point that I physically removed him from her presence and demanded a duel. He conceded – likely because, as is the way with such blaggards, he overestimated his skill – and we met the next day."

He paused, his voice sounding strained. "It is the nature of such things to end at first blood – I did not call an end at the first wound I inflicted, and only stopped when he lay, begging for mercy. Unfortunately he had waited too long, and I learned the next day that he had died during the night from his injuries."

Casavir's voice, by this time, was flat, and he shook his head. "I was wracked by so many ghouls – demons of my own guilt and ill choices – that I could not bear it. I should never have let my feelings for the lady affect my judgement. I gave into jealousy, and rage. Putting my own heart forward lead me to that pass, and the more I thought about it, the more lost in despair I became. I fled the city, determined to find a place where I could do real good – honest work – not the false goodwill that Neverwinter engenders. I sought somewhere with no emotional entanglements, and finally I found Old Owl Well. You know the rest."

He lapsed into silence, and Gwyn could only sit there, blinking. Eventually, he turned to her. "If you no longer wish my service after this, I will understand."

This helped her find her tongue and she looked at him. "Do you really think I would ask that? Your past is past, Cas. I'm not so convinced of your 'guilt' as you seem to be, but that is your own truth to find, and I cannot do it for you. You are a friend – I want your aid and companionship, not your service – and while I appreciate your telling me this, it does not affect our friendship in any way."

Casavir blinked at her, a flush on his cheeks, and she mentally cursed. If I'm not careful, I'll just keep encouraging his attentions to me, but dammit, it needed to be said. Of course, this explains why he hasn't even looked at Katriona.

Standing, he gave her a very deep bow. "You are very wise, and very kind. I thank you for easing my heart – and my conscience at hiding this from you – and I will leave you now to your rest."

He left after another grateful glance, and she sat back with a long sigh. Oh Mystra, how do I deal with this? And who would have expected Cas to have a past like that? Add it to Sand's Host Tower lover – especially now that she's back to haunt him – and I don't think I'd be surprised to find that Neeshka used have a yuan-ti paramour or something. Ayree prrp'd, jumping up into her lap.

Makes me wonder if I shouldn't come up with some sort of past for myself – a drow lover, perhaps, or a dryad – to keep apace. Her familiar gave a sigh that didn't even need to be translated, and Gwyn grinned, ruefully.

Aye, true enough. It would only come back to haunt me when Grobnar started asking questions about logistics.

As always, all characters belong to Bioware except for Gwyndeth Farlong and Ayree, who belong to me.