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Emperor’s Lanceboard	By : DCS Category: +A through F > Baldur's Gate Views: 1021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All rights belong to the original creators of any characters subject to copyright or trademark laws. I am not making money from this story, it was written for entertainment. All rights reserved to Larian Studios and Wizards Of The Coast.

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Deep, restful sleep came naturally and easily. It was a slumber without dreams, without visitors, and without the tadpoles gnawing influence. It was the first full rest Yvonstra had since the infection, and upon waking, she did so with an exhausted groan. Everything ached. From upstairs, she could here the mirth and sounds of an active tavern just below her room.
Worse, she’d fallen asleep in her armor, too tired to strip out of it before climbing onto the simple bed. A quick glance about the room confirmed she was very much still in the tavern, and the room she was in was sparse though adequate for her needs. A single small window provided access to the outside world, although view outside the window was obstructed because of a wooden storm shutter closed over it. Though the cracks about the edge of the shutter, there was a warm amber light, sunset. It was late into the afternoon.

Sitting up in bed she began the laborious task of unlacing her black leather armor. Piece by piece, her leather armor fell away, each bearing the scars and stains of her journey. Though much of the blood and gore had been washed away from the plunge into the bay, there were still curious dried bits of horror upon her armor that would need a more detailed cleaning later.
Free of her armor, she fetched a set of clean civilian clothing from her travel bags and slipped it on: a simple fitted white silk embroidered shirt, and black leather pants. Hastily she unbound her hair from the locks that she braided it up into for wearing under her leather hood. Free of the braids, her snowy white locks were subject to a quick finger combing before she felt it was time to depart the room and head to the tavern proper for services: food and a long hot bath.
It was at the bottom of the stairs as she fully stepped into the common room of the tavern that her eyes swept over the scene before her with horror as the tavern fell into silence. The night before the tavern keep had warned her that a battle-worn garrison had taken up residence at the tavern, but in her exhausted state, she had forgotten his warning.
Various armored men and women of the battle-worn local garrison turned their weary gaze to the new arrival, the lone outsider with skin as black as the night and hair as white as snow. Tankards were set down upon tavern tables, and conversations ended as all eyes fell onto the Drow woman who was yet an unknown: friend or foe. In the case of Drow, they were almost always foe.
From the back of the room, the commanding Sergeant Arledge of the garrison shifted his attention from his humble dinner to who had disturbed the room. With the heavy losses they had recently endured, he was the last remaining active field leader within the group. It took but a moment for him to assess that few good outcomes could come of this encounter without intervention, and he nor his troops were in dire need of more trouble to add to their woes.

It had been days since he’d shaven and enjoyed a moment's real rest. There was nothing more he wanted at that moment for the Drow not to be there, yet there she was. Though travel-worn looking, at least she was not hard to look at by his standards.
“It’s rude to gawk at a lady wanting a drink just as much as we are! Get back to your food and card games, a round is on me.” He’d bark with a bit of mirth in his tone, looking to lighten the mood and defuse the tension in the tavern room. Truthfully he had no experience with Drow, and knew of them only by legend and rumor. She was the first he’d ever truly seen in person, and the sight of her filled him with a sense of curious wonder and dread.
At his word, the exhausted collection returned to their meals, muttered chatter, and various card games, content for the time to let her go uncontested. Mindful of his manners and limited understanding of how a gentleman should behave, he rose from his seat at his two-person table and gestured for Yvonstra to join him.
Yvonstra had remained at the bottom of the stairs, calculating her choices. Outwardly her expression was hardened, while inwardly, she debated retreating to upstairs and leaving the tavern. All the same, the human male seemed as combat-weary as she was, and given his command of the group, it would bode well to earn his favor if only for a day and night more of rest in relative peace. Exhaustion could make for strange bedfellows.
Without a word, she stepped forward, strolling confidently with grace befitting her training and race toward the Sergeant. Among the humans, she was taller than most of the females and even some of the males present. Yet the Sergeant was taller than even her, and when she came to his table, she cast an open sweeping gaze over the middle-aged man before sitting down.
“Thank you for joining me,” he’d offer simply, sitting down after she had taken her seat.
“Thank you for the invitation,” she’d responded simply.
There was an undeniable uncertain tension between them as he considered how to best approach the lingering questions and concerns he had. If she were an advance scout of a hostile force or some other threat, he would need to act fast.
It was best to keep her at the table with him, and so he lifted an armored hand, gesturing for one of the serving staff of the tavern to bring him more food and drink.
“I know the food here is nothing as grand as that found in the big cities, but I assure you the harvest and crops this year were good. The ale is proper, the wine is dry, and old Mary in the back is as fine a bar cook as you might find in a noble’s kitchen.” He said while leaning back into his seat, relaxing his posture and body language. It was a subtle trick he’d learn to disarm someone during the initial stages of an interrogation.
“Then I look forward to trying it all,” These words were accented with a subtle smile. Recalling the conversations she had with the Drow Siblings at the Sharess Caress, Yvonstra suspected perhaps she had more tools than daggers in this encounter to use. “Without a doubt, it will be far better than any of my travel rations.”
“Travels?” His head tilted, brow furrowing with some thought. “Where is it you might be coming from and going to then? With all due respect, we do not see individuals such as yourself in our area often.”
As she answered him, she shifted in her seat, settling and relaxing her posture in a manner that slightly mirrored his. Mimicry of the body language of a target was a clever and subconscious way to psychologically disarm a foe. This was a night where words, not blades would put to rest an immediate threat.
“A merchant run,” it was a lie, and yet it felt right. Though her past was still lost to her, something about it felt….right. “My business partner and I were moving through the area. Though I know the area not, I was to stop at the first tavern along this road and here wait for the arrival of our company.”
“Is that so? And what sorts of things does your business deal in?” He recalled tales of Drow slavers and more. Still, he was mindful to keep his outward body posture relaxed.
“It’s hard to say, the surface is so….vast. We tend to look for goods to bring back, exotic and rare. Up here you have a wealth of food, and drink that we could never hope to produce. If I may say so, I have a certain fondness for wine.” Her knowledge of surface wine, and the wine of her own people was limited. However, she’d spent a good night at camp and elsewhere asking about food and drink enough that she could play the part.
“Really now? It makes sense, but I had not considered such things. Is there a particular wine of ours you’ve come to enjoy?” A simple test, and a point of curiosity.
“Let me see, from the wines I last sampled,” she’d narrow her eyes with some tonight. Reflected back with honest regard toward the many drinks she’d enjoyed. “Blingdenstone Blush certainly comes to mind as a personal favorite. Then there is also the Chultan Fireswill, but I must admit such a drink feels best suited for a colder night.”

No sooner had the words been spoken did the tavern staff place upon the table near her a simple wooden bowl with a root vegetable porridge and wooden spoon alongside a simple tankard filled with the house ale. At a glance, she knew she would hate the meal, but hunger compelled her to eat all the same.
“If you would, do you mind?” Sergeant Arledge spoke up, leaning forward in his seat as he reached forward to gesture toward her food and drink.
“No, I do not.” She responded simply, not yet certain of his intent.
With her permission, he reached forward and claimed the tankard and bowl, taking a quick drink from the tankard and a spool full from the bowl. It was as he drank that she realized he was poison-checking the drink for her. A part of her felt an upwelling of condescending regard for such a noble act, while the more tempered and surface-experienced part of her understood this to be a gesture of great value. Why would a stranger do this for her?
“Thank you,” she offered simply while reaching to reclaim the tankard and bowl. It was not obvious but in that moment, her features softened ever so slightly.

“It would be rude if we happened to have a guest poisoned on our watch, your welcome. Now, about that wine, I am very sorry to report that no such fine drink is served here. All the same, this road runs north to south, though you would be wise to avoid north, as Baldur’s Gate is in a terrible state. Further south from here is the Friendly Arm Inn, a much finer establishment than this, though it will cost you more.”
She’d nod, affirming his caution. “We had plans to travel toward the northern; however, everything has turned sour. I will take your suggestion into consideration. All the same, it is a shame such wine is not in stock here, I find a bottle to be worthy of sharing with good company.” With that said, she took a drink from the tankard and then managed to swallow a spoonful from the bowl. Bland food be damned, it was warm, and she was famished.
“Tell me though, is this your first trip, or have you much experience in the trade?” He watched her, somewhat amused by the prospect of sharing a bottle of wine with the like of her.
“It is,” she said simply. The first drink and serving from the bowl provided much comfort to her empty stomach.. “Though I must ask, my people are very…. meticulous about our grooming. I have had a long trip, and respectfully ask if places like this have baths?”
Perhaps it was the ale and exhaustion weakening his disciplined nature, but for a moment, he was left pondering as to how she’d look while bathing. How he would savor peeling off her clothing before slipping into a bath with her. The things he might do….
“There is yes, of course. However, I am sorry to report that such at this fine establishment is located outside and is a standard shared wooden basin with a privacy wall. If I recall, its rain water mostly from the outside barrel. It is better than nothing, but it is the bath for the shared space. Otherwise, I regret to inform you that the only private washing basin is in my room.”
“Oh, well, that complicated things, now, doesn’t it?” To this, she’d flash him a sort of playful smile, one that might lead a man to feel as though she were alluding to something. “I’ll have to think about this…complication further. Excuse me.” Her smile and gaze never left him as she collected the food bowl and tankard and rose from the table.

“Are….you done eating?” He asked, watching her rise. Uncertain as to how to read her.
“Perhaps. Thank you for dinner. I hope to see you here tomorrow night.” She went to thank him by name but realized that they had not so much as exchanged names. Meal and drink in hand, she made her way through the room, ignoring the questioning side-eye glances of the soldiers.
Alone she returned to her room to endure her underwhelming meal alone.

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End of Chapter Reference
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-The character Tav is presented by the name Yvonstra in this fan fiction. She is a middle-aged drow female (human age equal around 30) that is a warrior / rogue who is an observer of Lloth. Through the series of events in Baldur’s Gate 3 gameplay, inwardly, she questions her faith. Yvonstra is effectively the Tav character for gameplay purposes without the Dark Urge plot. Yvonstra, though the campaign opted for welcoming the Emporer’s advances, knowing such is likely a manipulation tactic and is a highly dangerous coupling.
----Drow Language Glossary----
*Abbil - tongue-in-cheek term for allies and “trusted friends”, and oxymoron for Drow culture.
*Colnbluth - non-drow races.
*Elamshin - will of Lloth, or something like destiny.
*Haszak - Drow term for Illithid.
*Jivvin golhyrr - A fighting style used by Priestesses of Lloth to force a foe into a humiliating position.
*Qilovestualt - Drow wine made from mushrooms.
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