"What the hell are you doing?!" Shoved back a few meters, Alka glared angrily at Ethemon, struggling to charge forward and pick a fight with him, only to be held back tightly by her companion.
"Well, well, it looks like the Absolute has sent me a guardian. Are you going to kill him too?" The goblin danced about excitedly, relishing the scene of infighting.
"Calm down, Alka! He's the one who helped us kill the goblins today!"
"What?!" Alka was on the verge of exploding with rage, disbelief written all over her face. "And yet you're stopping me from killing this goblin? Move aside!"
Ethemon stepped forward, grasping Alka's face and forcing her to look straight at him. His blue eyes were steady and serious. "Alka, you know as well as I do. Even killing this goblin won't avenge Gann. Nothing will change that."
Alka struggled fiercely to break free, but his hand gripped her face like a vise, immovable. Finally, she let out a roar of sheer frustration. "I know, I know! Damn you, you're right! But Gann is dead! I don't have a little brother anymore, and I can't even avenge him?! Why do you care so much whether some goblin lives or dies?"
"Because vengeance will consume your very soul. The moment you let your anger out indiscriminately on this entire race, you're handing the goblins two victories today." Ethemon loosened his hold, and the female Tiefling slumped limply against her companion. "Take her back to get some rest. She's far too emotional today, and Zevlor probably wouldn't want word reaching him that his people are running off to execute prisoners in secret. I'll watch the post for you—take her back and talk some sense into her."
"Thank you. I'll go get Zevlor to take over the shift. Sorry to leave you watching for a while."
Menos hurried away with the deflated Alka, and Lae'zel made to follow them, but Ethemon called her back. "They'll be here soon. Wait a moment."
Then, turning his gaze to the female goblin who had been watching the spectacle all along, he said, "Hello. I'm Ethemon."
"A bit late to be making friends, aren't you, Elf?" The goblin spat in his direction, cackling as Ethemon frowned and dodged aside. She suddenly lunged at the bars of her cage, pressing her face against the gap until her features were horribly distorted and twisted, her foul yellow teeth exhaling a sickening stench. "I don't care why you're protecting me, but it doesn't matter anyway—my tribe is coming! Maybe I can grant you a merciful death after the fight. You've got good muscles; I bet you'd taste amazing roasted over a fire, hahaha!"
She didn't seem to recognize the name Ethemon at all.
Ethemon felt a twinge of disappointment, but masking his revulsion, he asked, "Who is this Absolute you're so fond of? Is it some god you worship?" Ordinarily, goblins worshipped Maglubiyet, their own goblin deity.
"It is a goddess." Mentioning this goddess sent the female goblin into an even more fanatical frenzy. "We will make her name sweep across the world like wildfire! She is gold gifted by the heavens, she is blessed by the tempest, and she is the tempest itself!" She muttered on and on like she was reciting some kind of prayer.
"Oh, how fascinating. Since you're so devout, do you carry her holy scriptures with you?" Ethemon rolled his eyes inwardly, feigning deep interest.
"Want to know more about the Absolute?" The goblin's eyes rolled craftily. "If you really want to find out, you'll have to come to my tribe. The Goddess blessed one of our own—Priestess Gut. She even built a laboratory and brews potions that can pull the half-dead back from the brink. She could probably stitch someone back together even if you cut their head off. Such powerful *booyahg*."
"You've piqued my interest. I do believe I'd like to meet this priestess."
"Oh? You want to see her?" The goblin raised an eyebrow, dropping her voice to a whisper. "If you're willing to... let me out of here, I might just take you to see her. What do you say?"
*I'll think about it.*
Before Ethemon could voice the thought, a noise echoed from outside. "Hey, is anyone there? I'm here for the shift change."
Lae'zel immediately strode forward. As the prison door slammed shut with a heavy thud, a man's voice rang out, trembling with raw terror: "A Githyanki! What are you doing in the Grove? Wasn't killing my friends enough? Are you going to kill me too?"
Weighing the situation, Ethemon offered the goblin a faint smile, then turned and walked away amidst her furious curses.
Perhaps because Ethemon had repeatedly reined her in regarding Zevlor's affairs, Lae'zel wasn't nearly as impatient when she finally saw him. In fact, she had enough leisure to chat idly with the terrified Tiefling. "In our Astral realm, a formal greeting requires a bow first."
Trapped inside the prison with no escape route, the man had no choice but to lower his head, his body still shaking with fear.
"Lower." Lae'zel crossed her arms, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"Any lower and he'll be kneeling," Ethemon said, stepping out from the shadows with a warm, amiable smile. He bypassed Lae'zel and helped Zevlor to his feet. "Don't be nervous. We just have a few questions we'd like to ask."
"Y-you're with her?!" Zevlor instinctively retreated a few steps. The softer Ethemon smiled, the more terrifying he found him.
Ethemon said nothing, only smiling gently.
Seeing that Zevlor had plunged into absolute panic, Lae'zel cut straight to the point. "You've seen other Githyanki. Where?"
"W-well, on the road to Baldur's Gate, near... near the Mountain Pass. We were just out scouting. We hadn't gone far before we were spotted," Zevlor said, his face turning ashen as if reliving a bloody nightmare. "That person... with a single slash, they ran Joul through!"
"They didn't even bother to twist the blade, and yet you managed to crawl back alive? My kin must have been in a hurry." Lae'zel sounded faintly amused. Then, glancing down at Zevlor, who looked ready to collapse to his knees, she curled her lip in undisguised disdain. "Very well, your pathetic life is spared. Go watch your prisoner, coward."
Pulling her hood up, Lae'zel turned and strode away. Ethemon lingered a step behind, smiling as he told Zevlor, "Don't worry, we'll be leaving soon enough. Keep quiet, now—it's getting late." And keep your mouth shut.
A threat. That was definitely a threat.
***
"Those Tieflings are a disgrace to the fiendish blood in their veins. They're far too submissive—though I suppose that makes things convenient." Lae'zel looked thoroughly unimpressed; it was all far too easy, utterly devoid of challenge.
"Sounds like you used to be quite the interrogator," Ethemon said, pulling the map Zevlor had given him out of his pocket. "If we're heading for the Mountain Pass, the goblin camp is right on the way. Looking at it this way, this fellow Zevlor was rather lucky to escape the goblin ambush and run all the way back here."
"His running was resourceful enough," Lae'zel frowned. "We could always bypass them and head straight for the Mountain Pass."
Ethemon smiled. "Let's head back to camp first and consult the others about tomorrow's route." Much to his own surprise, rather than hunting for a Githyanki creche, he found himself far more intrigued by the rumors surrounding the Absolute within the goblin camp.
Call it a hunch—the trail led that way.
When the two returned to camp, everyone was busy with their own tasks. Shadowheart knelt before her tent, head bowed with hands clasped in silent, devout prayer.
Gale's tent was pitched nearest to the sleeping bear. He wore an expression of intense concentration, looking as though he had encountered some deeply vexing problem as he scratched away with a quill on parchment.
And Astarion? He was stargazing.
"Lae'zel, go get some rest. Everyone's worn out from the day, we can talk about tomorrow..." Ethemon started to walk past, but Lae'zel tossed her hood back and grabbed his arm, her gaze suspicious. "You didn't forget we still have to wash the dishes, did you?"
*Ah... right then.*
Suppressing a twitch at the corner of his mouth, Ethemon resignedly gathered the pots and pans with Lae'zel. By the time they finished and returned, Shadowheart and Gale had already retired to their tents. Only Astarion remained sprawled out on the ground, seemingly utterly entranced by the night sky.
Seeing that everyone else had turned in, Lae'zel had no choice but to head to her own tent as well. Ethemon walked over and sat down beside Astarion.
"Look at this sky. Isn't it magnificent?" Astarion raised a hand, peering at the glittering stars through his fingers. The night was cloudless, a vast river of starlight brilliant across the heavens.
"You're fond of the stars?"
"Just curious," Astarion murmured, turning onto his side and propping up his upper body. He lifted his chin slightly, letting the starlight illuminate his striking features. "After all, I used to be denied even the simple luxury of looking up at them."
A strange, subtle sentiment stirred within Ethemon. He lowered his gaze to meet Astarion's, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "So, did I interrupt your stargazing?"
"No, my dear. You didn't interrupt me at all," Astarion blinked, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "I was just... wondering about something."
"Care to share?"
"I find myself thinking—will we truly find this Druid? Does he actually know how to control a Mind Flayer Tadpole? And if these worms can truly be removed, does that mean..." Astarion's ruby-red eyes fixed on Ethemon with deep, concentrated intensity. His brows knitted slightly in a tangle of transparent distress. "...our little adventure will come to an end?"
Ethemon naturally stretched out, lying back on one elbow as he turned his head to look at Astarion. Now they mirrored each other, posture for posture, face-to-face. Grown daring, Ethemon reached out with his free hand, twirling a lock of Astarion's pale hair around his finger. The soft texture made him drop his voice to an intimate murmur. "You don't sound like you're in any rush to part ways. We could keep traveling together, you know."
The closeness made their breaths mingle, warm in the summer air. Ethemon's gaze swept over Astarion's eyes, his nose, and those thin, bloodless lips—which would surely look stunning if stained with crimson.
They might as well have been confessing secrets to one another; their gazes tangled and fused.
Astarion made no move to pull away from Ethemon's hand. Instead, he leaned in naturally, pressing his ice-cold cheek against Ethemon's fingers like a well-behaved cat. "That sounds delightful. Though it might be far too soon, your performance—both in Avernus and ever since we fell—has completely caught me off guard, drawing my gaze time and time again..." Astarion closed the distance further, his chilled breath offering an intoxicating contrast to the sultry summer night. They were so close now that Ethemon fancied he could feel a fleeting, feather-light brush against his lips, though it might merely have been a trick of his own senses. "Perhaps..."
Ethemon's blue eyes darkened. His hand shifted to rest at Astarion's waist. *"Astarion..."* The name danced on the tip of his tongue, carried away by the wind.
The next instant, his chest grew heavy. Ethemon found himself pinned flat to the ground as Astarion propped himself up and rose, the icy phantom of a kiss vanishing from his lips entirely.
Ethemon frowned up at Astarion, who stood over him looking thoroughly cunning, an imaginary tail swishing happily behind him. "Oh~ my dear, I must admit you are utterly adorable. But this is hardly the right time!" Astarion winked. "Go get some rest now. See you tomorrow~" With that, he ducked straight into his tent and zipped it shut.
Ethemon: "???"
*Wait, hold on a second?!*