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Chapter 1

Fjord had many surnames: Stone, Tusktooth, Swiftblade, Sea demon, and a few more colorful unflattering ones. He was born in the Dwendalian Empire, his first memories being a slightly run down but functional orphanage. Life was hard there, but not unduly cruel. However, he was not allowed to stay long as the Empire began a crusade against any they deemed heathenistic enough not to be welcome in their Empire.

Being half orc in blood, and showing that side visibly in his appearance, Fjord was forced to flee the orphanage and the empire when he was ten years of age. He found refuge on the seas, the captain of the ship "Hellwinds" allowing him to join the crew. For the next ten years he had been a sailor. During that time, the crusade in the Empire ended but the prejudice did not. Fjord soon found his allegiance siding with the Xhorasian Dynasty, especially when the prejudice turned to war with his new found home.

Long, bitter, harsh years followed; the war dealt heavy blows on both sides of the conflict with neither looking to become a victory anytime soon. Fjord led a group of warriors in the last two years that had made a name for themselves both in the Dynasty and the Empire. Somehow they picked up the name Mighty Nine from some one with a strange accent, and it had simply stuck. They were a mixed number of people from both sides of the conflict, all banding together with the common goal of ending the bloodshed.

Fjord, the half-orc warlock, had been elected as leader (generally just in public as the group was close enough to call each other family) and was viewed as Xhorasian in origin. He was still dealing with problems regarding his patron, yet the war had proven distraction enough in recent times. Mollymauk and Yasha were also viewed as Xhorasian in origin. Mollymauk was a Tiefling, vibrantly purple and ostentatious in dress, and a Bloodhunter by trade. Yasha was a fallen Aisimar barbarian, her size, milky skin and black hair enough cause for most any of the Empire to dismiss her.

Caduceus and Jester were considered neutral in the conflict, both from regions uninvolved in the fighting. As a Firbolg, Caduceus was better accepted on the Empire side despite his white pallor and bright pink hair. Meanwhile, Jester as a short blue Tiefling was better accepted by the Dynasty. As the clerics of the group, that had made it easier for them to gain trust of the others when they had initially joined.

Nott was a goblin, hated by both sides but her skills as a Rogue made navigating that minefield of danger possible.

Lastly, their one member from the Empire, Beauregard. A human expositor from the Cobalt Soul, the monk had been an invaluable asset during the last few weeks preceding the peace talks. While the Cobalt Soul was part of the empire and supported it, they had their own agenda that, thankfully, involved an end to the bloodshed.

The group now resided in a keep that was situated close to the main pass that connected the Dynasty and the Empire. As a mix of both sides, they were the front line for assuring peace and keeping any thoughts of invasion far from becoming reality.

Apparently, however, King Dwendal thought their numbers skewed too far in favor of the Dynasty. Thus, the group had gathered in what had been a war room but was now called a conference room instead.Fjord laid the message out on the tabletop, tapping it once as he announced the contents without preamble. It was the easiest way to get the rather chaotic group’s attention. "As a sign of their commitment to the peace, the Empire is giving us one of their Archmages."

There was a sharp outcry of 'what' and 'why' and Fjord held up a hand to still any arguments as he continued. "Her majesty did mention this as a possibility." He reminded them, speaking of the Bright Queen. "Most of us are from the Dynasty, it’s not so strange they want another representative of the Empire."

"But an archmage? Fjord, you have to admit, that is a little suspicious." Nott argued.

"Our group isn’t just a figurehead." Caduceus reminded the goblin. "We guard the pass and the villages around it. We show that both sides can fight together, not just against each other. It makes sense someone with battle capabilities would join our number."

"Better someone who can fight than some political liability we have to look after at all times." Fjord agreed, attention turning to Beau as the monk shook her head and leaned forward to speak.

"Unless things have changed dramatically in the last year since I've been away, mages aren’t well respected in the Empire and they don’t have much political power. There are a couple at the top, in charge of the assembly, that do. But the rest..." Beauregard shrugged.

"That could have easily changed. The last few months of fighting involved a lot of mages on their side." Molly reminded them. "Some of them leading the charge."

"Because they were running out of soldiers, same as us." Nott interjected.

"Exactly." Beau took up again, giving a brief nod of agreement. "Otherwise I doubt King Dwendal would have let them lead in the last few battles like they did."

"Okay, we don’t have to worry about this mage being sent for political reasons then." Fjord commented, trying to corral the discussion to stay on topic. "Much as I would love to trust it's for the continued peace and nothing more, there’s still the possibility he's a spy, here as a strategic way for the Empire to get some advantage before restarting the war."

Their group had worked hard to help bring about this ceasefire, Fjord did not want their hard work undone by one bloodthirsty Empire Archmage.

"You always say the best way to get to know someone is in battle, why don’t we do that?" Jester asked, breaking Fjord from his thoughts.

"That might not be the best idea." Caduceus negated. "The peace is too new and fragile. Even practice combat might be taken the wrong way."

"And accidents do happen. I don’t trust them not to make that claim if someone were hurt or killed during the spar." Nott agreed, also concerned with the possibility of war reigniting. Lack of political power or not, the Empire mages were fierce and ruthless in battle, as Nott has witnessed firsthand more than once.

"There’s been rumours of a pack of dire wolves over near the Gandre Forest. Killing sheep, pets, small children. Anything of a size that gets close." Molly offered. "I'm sure we'll get a request soon, that could be our test run?"

Fjord's gaze drifted over to Nott. The best thing about their group was that, while he was technically the leader, they were all close enough that they all viewed each other as equals. Each person had their own strengths and weakness, and they respected each other for that.

The goblin nodded. "I'll verify if it's true and get a location. Or find something else if it is not."

"Thank you." Fjord said, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Fjord, don't worry." Yasha spoke up, leaning forward with a concerned expression. "If this mage causes any problems, we can just kill him"

Fjord huffed a short laugh. Yasha's brand of humor (and he hoped it was a joke, though many times only Molly was ever truly sure when she was joking) was always unexpected. "Let's try and avoid that, but thanks."

"I'm sure killing is unnecessary." Molly offered, the Tiefling’s fangs showing through his wide grin. "I'm sure Beauregard would be more than willing to straighten this mage out on who gives the orders here."

Surprisingly to both Fjord and Molly, Beau neither agreed nor laughed, just frowned deeper with an irate grunt.

Fjord sat up again, remembering that the Cobalt Soul and the Cerberus Assembly, where the entirety of the Empire mages were trained, were not on good terms. "Beau, you gonna be okay with this?"

Beau met his gaze and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Personally, I haven’t had much interaction with the Assembly. Bunch of stuck up pricks run the place. So long as we aren’t saddled with one of those assholes, I'll manage. If the point is starting the war again, makes sense they'd pick a freaking mage..." she growled.

Fjord wasn’t entirely convinced of her anger. There was a hint of doubt, a held back judgement for whoever the newest member of the group might be. Fjord took that as a good sign that, hopefully, this wouldn't be too much like throwing gunpowder on a blaze.

He took in a breath as he laid out the final tidbit of information. "They'll be here in one week. Master Trent Ikithon is escorting the Archmage here. The letter doesn't give a name but does mention he had seen battle during the fighting."

"It’s this other guy, not Trent, that's staying, right?" Beau asked.

Fjord nodded confirmation and Beauregard leaned back in her chair with a muttered 'good'. The monk didn’t look too interested in sharing if she had any concerns, so Fjord let her be. There were enough preparations to make without antagonizing the monk.

~~~

Caleb Widogast was not what one would call an imposing figure.

His hair was a dirty red, disheveled most of the time even when he made an attempt at making some order out of its chaos. Perhaps the chaos was within his own mind, thus the reason for his continued failure in such regard. His clothing was deceptively ornate, though if one were a purveyor of such it could easily be recognized as subpar material.

The Cerberus Assembly had wanted to display their wealth and power, yet fine linens were not wasted on war dogs such himself. Mages were to be of use, not to decorate the court. It made little sense to robe the mage in lavish clothing when he was simply to be of use in combat. Of course, some had argued that a gift must be properly adorned, and as such a middle ground had been reached.

Whether this truly had been the events that led to his current delivery to the Mighty Nine, Caleb did not know. He was not privy to the discussion and subsequent decision, nor was he informed of the following discussion of logistics. He could only surmise what had occurred given his current circumstance.

Three days he had been traveling with his Master, Trent Ikithon, with still two more days left in the journey.

He did wonder about those he was being delivered to. He did have some inkling of who they were, the Mighty Nine were famous within the empire. Caleb was unsure if their name was meant to be the common nine or the Zemnian word, something he pondered during the journey, given the number of individuals in the group was only currently seven. Even should they feel the need to include his name among their number, it would not add up.

Whether they would view him as worth such, he was unsure.Most of them were from Xhorhas, so Caleb had little idea what to expect of them. He had no frame of reference for how the Dynasty viewed mages, nor where he would fall on the social ladder. His excursions into Xhorhas had been for battle purposes only and he'd had no permission to explore the culture. The Nine had, apparently, accepted the offer of himself, though Caleb knew this was no accurate measure of their intent.

Whatever his standing with them, he did not presume it would be very high, especially given the human monk, expositor Beauregard, that was a part of the group. To say the Cobalt Soul did not like the Cerberus Assembly, nor the mages it produced, was an understatement. While Caleb had only experienced this prejudice through cold looks and avoidance, he often heard of less subtle actions from Master Ikithon. He had begun to have doubts as to the validity of all of the information Trent imparted to him, yet had no other frame of reference to the truth.

From the information that had come his way regarding Beauregard, the woman was a formidable force. Opinionated and headstrong some had described her. Caleb had little doubt her views would not be hidden, and had likely been spread to the others. He hoped that would not be the case. It was... difficult living and obeying Master Ikithon who's actions and instructions were (so the man oft claimed) for Caleb's own good. He did not look forward to trying to please those who held his very existence against him.

Conjecture did little good and often led his mind down a dark path he would rather not follow. He was to follow the orders of his 'new masters' as Master Ikithon had so in-delicately put it. Trent had not been pleased to have his prized pupil taken from him, though he had been quick to devise a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Above obeying the group, Caleb had a separate set of instructions from his Master. Trent was not a man to lay out all his plans, so currently Caleb knew only that he was to gain the trust of these people, prove his loyalty however possible, and wait.

Easy enough, as he would have done so in any case. Obedience and loyalty were key to survival. Should the group be displeased with him, he would be returned to the Empire, to Trent, and his failure would not go unpunished. The thought made his heartbeat quicken in his chest, Caleb sneaking a quick glance at his master, paranoid that Trent would somehow see the weakness inside of him.

The other man, however, remained seating with his gaze cast outside of the carriage. His gaze was sharp, calculating, and Caleb knew he was not idle during this long trip to the keep. Whatever his Master planned; Caleb was sure to learn his part in it in due time.

Caleb turned his gaze out the small window as well, letting his eyes roam over the open terrain as they moved steadily closer to where he would be staying for the indefinite future.

#critical role #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #angst fanfic #completed #mollymauk x caleb

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