Like Starlight and Wine (A Baldur's Gate 3 Astarion x Tav Fanfic)

11. The Blade of Frontiers

I should be helping them... but I have to take care of us too. I have to find this healer Nettie that everyone keeps talking about. I know that Lae'zel has great faith that her people in the creche can heal us, but this Nettie seems like a more immediate fix. Maybe she can help us, maybe she can't. There is only one way to find out. But first, we must find her.

As we wander aimlessly though the grove, looking but not finding much, we pass a group of tiefling children training with wooden swords on some dummies. And they're... they're not doing well. Zevlor was right about one thing, these tieflings aren't warriors. They'll never survive on the road.

"Well, if it isn't our gallant little hero from goblin battle," Astarion suddenly points out, and that's when I notice the interesting fighter from earlier - the one who jumped into the battle like a hero, cutting down goblins left and right with finesse.

Right now, he's helping train those innocent children how to fight. And while don't know how I feel about teaching them how to take up arms in a fight against wretched goblins, that's not my concern at the moment. I need to at least thank the man for jumping in when he did. I don't know what would have happened without his help.

I stalk up to him, studying his interesting appearance. Deep scars are engraved into his tawny skin, etching lines through the side of his face, down the length of his eye. That scar... that eye... must have been lost in battle because where a clear, brown eye should be is a cold, grey, prosthetic eye. I can tell this fighter has seen difficulties.

"Hey there," I stop him. "Can I have a word?"

"Well met," the man replies with a dashing, friendly smile. "The name's Wyll. The Blade of Frontiers at your -"

Wyll's voice is cut off suddenly as a new psychic link is established between the two of us. The man's smile bends downward, and his thoughts become mine. Suddenly, I am the Blade of Frontiers, racing through the wastes of Avernus. Just ahead, a diabolical figure - red skin, single curled horn - blazes with flame, bloodied great axe held high.

"Hells great fires," he exclaims. "You were on the ship."

"I was," I gasp through the images. "We both carry parasites."

"Doomed to shed our skin and become illithid, or so the story goes," Wyll says. "But we haven't sprouted any tentacles. Not yet, anyway. Could just be good luck, but I'm not so - ugh!"

Our minds collide once more. Wyll chases the fiend, ignited with rancor. She is an infernal war-devil, a threat to the living - evil incarnate.

"Shit," he curses. "You saw her: advocatus diaboli."

"Who is she?" I ask.

"Her name is Karlach. An archdevil's soldier I swore on my good eye to kill. I tracked her through the Hells to the mind flayer ship. But the damned illithids infected me before I could end her. She's out there now, preying on the innocent. If I don't kill her, she'll leave behind nothing but a trail of corpses."

I shake my head, working the images out of my mind. This is a lot... a lot more than I bargained for. A man chasing a devil through the Hells? I have so much on my plate right now I can't even think about helping this man chase down a devil. What I can do, however, is work with him to figure out how to get these tadpoles out of our heads.

"Seems like you're dealing with a lot... I say. "And here I am just looking for a cure for this infection. How about we partner up and look for a cure together? My companions and I already have a couple of leads."

"Just so you know, my first duty is Karlach," Wyll replies. "I'm oath-bound to go after her. But I won't deny this infection is bothersome. I accept your invitation."