Musings of a Repentant Sinner

[Lampir]

The revitalization of the Radiant Heart Infirmary: Part One

"This is our infirmary." Thiago the Second gestured at the small room as James opened a cabinet and peered inside. His knowledge of healing was still basic, but he could tell the place was well stocked already.

"Right now it is led on a first come, first take-charge basis…" The Knight trailed off, leaving the new initiate of the Radiant Heart to fill in the unspoken words.

"That's a recipe for disaster." James protested "One big emergency without a designated leader and this place will fall into disarray."

The elderly businessman, turned Ilmatari, closed the cabinet and mulled over Thaigo the Second's words a moment. He paused at the gravity of the sentence and turned to face the Knight.

"You… want me to take charge of this place?"

"Precisely. Who better than a priest of Ilmater?" Thiago smiled that infectious smile and James could not help but smile back. Something of the man's confidence was contagious.

"What do you think, brother?"

Brother.

The word was still fresh and strange to him. Hadn't he grown up with stories of the Radiant Heart's great deeds? These men were heroes. They were calling him, him who had wasted his youth in terrible ways, gone astray in nearly every way imaginable; him who felt unworthy of his rescue, his second chance, his blessings as he devoted his life to making up for past misdeeds - Thiago was calling him, James, brother.

James hesitated, but slowly nodded. "As a healer I still have a great deal to learn. But organizing? Delegating? This I know well."

"Excellent." Thiago clapped James over the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Have at it."

……………..


James gently closed a thick, decaying tome. "The Medical Treatise on Warfare Diseases" was a difficult read. To his right were notes, sketches and diagrams from his studies but for now it was time to stretch his legs.

He rose and strode from his private library, out into the streets of Balder's Gate. He was careful with his purse, but was probably stolen from anyhow judging by the way it felt lighter by the time he found the merchant he was looking for.

That was the price of living in a city like this at a time like this. James gave a silent prayer for the thieves, hoping the coin was going to something like food or medicine.

He purchased the five large packs from the merchant at a steal, really, and used the leftover coin to commission more of the same. One in-work merchant was one less night-time thief.

The packs and James traveled out of the city to the Radiant Heart's complex where he stopped to chat amiably to a few off-duty breathren. He asks often "Well now, how often do you find yourself in need of healing supplies? Are there some supplies you simply wish you had on hand at one time but didn't? How much do you go through in a week?"

Ever the organizer, James takes note of these numbers and items in a journal before bidding each a fond farewell and heading down into the infirmary. He begins to set aside some of the supplies into each of the packs, adding two blankets, an old pan for boiling water and other field-medicine necessities - up to and including some hearty field rations should the sick really be mostly in need of some food.

Five is a meager start, but with supplies low, it will be the best he can do for now. He sets each aside, painting the top of each with a number: Pack 1, Pack 2... Then James nails a poster above the neatly stacked packs.

Field Emergency Response Kits
10 Basic Healing Kits w/ Salves
2 Antidote Brews
2 Elixirs of Lesser Restoration
1 Bottle of Smelling Salts
2 Days Basic Rations
1 Canteen of Clean Water
1 Metal Pot
1 Flint & Stone
1 Surgical knife
1 Bottle of medicinal spirits
4 Needles & Twine
2 Blankets
1 Field knife (Serrated on one side for cutting branches for impromptu splints)
1 Tent Tarp (Poles not included)

Please sign out each bag as needed. I will refill them when returned. An initial is fine, especially in emergency.

Ilmater bless you,
James White the Second

[Lampir]

He saw her, a vision of a youth, a child just barely out of the cradle. She was just beginning to fill out in all the right places, but it was her voice that caught his attention the most. "The Songbird" she was called and as she hummed, it was like a symphony of emotion. James could taste the edge of sorrow, the bitter after shock on an otherwise merry tune. He could taste it the way he could sample the age of a fine wine.

Tamara looked out at the world, blind, but all the same 'seeing' something. She was flanked by two angels; the Saint herself and Louise. Guardians who escorted her with all the care of a porcelain doll. But… James could hear the hidden song within Tamara's melody and he knew he must try to tend to her wound.

How could a man who adored art do any less?

So he had begun with the simplest of gestures: the compliment. Indeed his efforts were immediately noticed in the young woman's crimson blush and shy half smile. It was also noticed by her two guardians. As Tamara rose to be led into the Friendly Arm Inn, James was summarily stopped by Her Holiness.

She wanted to be called Meri, or Sister Meri at the most, but James sometimes slipped into the more formal title. He purposefully slipped into it this time because he knew what she was doing – stopping him from pursuing the beautiful song bird. James could not help a bit of resentment and amusement, an old special brew of the two he'd not tasted since his teens when a mother had grilled him about his courting a young lady.

"She has been my light." Meri explained.

James had conceded. "A woman like that deserves to be treated with nothing more than the most gentlemanly of manners."

And so, with Meri's smile, James had passed the first test.

It was the morning after and the youth was awake, playing sweet lyre music as she waited for Louise and Meri to finish their work. James had followed the angelic music because it again, like a fingerprint, held the tell tale subtle pine of a woman seeking repair: a woman who was suffering but trying to hide it.

A lemonade for her, wine for he. They sat and spoke at length until, as words waned, he convinced the young woman to step out into the fresh air and visit the memorial just beyond. She had a bold perseverance and it took her all the way until she stood at the top of the inn's stairs for her to give in and ask for help. James gave it to her with a chuckle, the elbow any man would give a fine woman an escort with.

It took some time, a slow time, to reach even that short distance, but it had been worth it. James had watched her eyes light up with joy as he showed her how to 'read' the letters of her name carved into the memorial stone. It was halfway through her learning the letters of the Saint's name that Louise had quietly found her way behind them. James had glanced back, smiled, and the woman had motioned for James to continue. And so, feeling the same strange emotion of being chaperoned on a date, James leant Tamara his cloak and spoke to her for some time.

Louise smiled contently and, as she turned and left, James felt he had passed the second test.

He had mentioned these amusing tales to Tamara who had let out a little laugh. "Oh, those aren't the gate keepers. Those are the gate keepers for the real gate keepers."


Ah, poor little song bird, locked up so tight.

James thought it a crime.

[Lampir]

He was falling for her.

James’ past times were rife with women and he’d had more than his fair share of romantic encounters in his life. This one, as so many, had started out as a game. Most women enjoyed this game so much; that it had become old habit of James to flirt and compliment every woman he met.

It wasn’t so much that he was a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” kind of man, as it was a remnant of his past he’d not yet gotten rid of. And why should he? It wasn’t as if he were putting a crossbow to their heads. They were as much a participant in the game as he.

She was a very quick learner. After their second encounter she had already figured out how to knock James off-balance. She was clever, delicate, sleek and beautiful. More importantly, she could match James word for word in the verbal repartee he so loved.

There was no denying she’d become a very wonderful distraction. His work at the temple, the infirmary at the Radiant Heart and oh yes that little “City Relief Project” were stressing James out a lot. He’d begun snapping at people, returning insults with biting retorts rather than smiling and nodding the way Her Holiness would have. James could imagine a little Meri on his shoulder, patting his head and speaking in that soothing motherly voice of hers. … Unfortunately the more he strayed, the more guilty he felt until now the little Meri on his shoulder was scowling, arms crossed with one foot tapping unhappily.

But this woman… this woman was a balm to him. Time with her, even a brief stroll, would give James the energy he needed to tackle all his responsibilities head on.

So he resented when Vala suggested she was a spy.

“I’m just saying, I mean her name is Blade. How much do you really know about her huh? How’d that guy know where to find you?”

James had frowned. He didn’t like to kiss and tell, so he kept what he knew quiet. “I understand her. She’s not involved. That’s the end of this discussion.”

Blade. James would have to see if he could convince her to change her name. There was already another elf called Knives. Maybe it was a local thing. More likely it was an old nickname she’d picked up.

Funny that as he most needed to learn the ways of the sword a woman called Blade had entered his life. Ilmater works in mysterious ways, James supposed.

She reminded him of a younger version of one of his first loves, even though at over 300 years, Blade was definitely much older. There was a strange paradox of an old-soul learning new experiences. It enchanted James to no end.

He was falling for her.

[Lampir]

James sat down to his desk, a wine glass in hand, ready to pour over his notes from the caravan escort.

It had been, by all measures, an amazing success. So many people had turned up. Factions sometimes at odds working together along with complete strangers in a single daunting task: pushing a caravan through deadly territory.

But…

The entire route had been filled with ambushes. Well calculated, prepared in advance, ambushes.

There had to be a leak.

James shook his head and sipped his wine while he poured over the formations and the estimated number of assailants that the thirty warriors, scouts, wizard and healers had warded off. Hundreds had swarmed. Calculated attacks – each progressively more intense and more desperate.

The goal at first had been to disable the wagons by killing the horses, but when the adventurers had proven resilient and unwilling to let a wagon fall behind, they’d turned to simply trying to kill the guards themselves.

James looked around. There was little sound but the murmur of the poor and ill in the front of the Ilmater temple. But, he was aware wasn’t he? He was aware that he could not see the invisible and he certainly could not see people like Rai or Nea who snuck up behind him for sport just to prove a point.

It had been a worthwhile lesson: he was never sure he was alone.

If he was not ever surely alone, then any time he or Pate or the Merchant League looked over their plans together that information could have been overseen. It might not be a leak at all. James did not like to think there was a traitor in such a worthy cause. What could even bandits gain should trade completely die?

But…

Then tonight there had been the assault on the temple. A shout of magic, a cloud of black and then… a note. A threat from Bhaalists. “Bhaalists will take every Ilmateri”.

James sipped his wine and pondered. He pondered the words of warning from various sources: each cryptic and less than helpful. He couldn’t simply NOT have help or turn away volunteers. What was worse was that he’d not seen a single skull-mask during the convoy escort.

Were the Crimson Blade behind this?

They were certainly stealthy enough. Maybe this convoy had been a test for them, a way of staying in the background and measuring the defenses of the first group. Now they would know the strength and tactics… and they could launch an even more devastating assault.

The second caravan escort was going to be more dangerous than the first.

James set down his wine and folded his hands in prayer.

“Ilmater, I don’t know what to do. Please, please grant me the strength to see this through to success. For the poor, for the hungry, for the city.”

[Lampir]

I am learning so much.

Exactly what it is I am learning I can't say. I suppose 'follow your gut' is one. I did find the leak, but… what to do with it? How to plug it so absolutely that future caravans will be safe from theft and banditry?

Down down the rabbit hole we go.

It's quite exciting really. Reminds me of my younger days - though I should put emphasis on -younger- days. I'm much older now and such things can exhaust and fray my nerves far easier. A pity I snapped at Haeman. I don't mean to, it just… happens. I wasn't ready, it seemed, to handle that much baseless accusation.

How does one defend when one is declared guilty until proven innocent? A liar? A fraud? Deception? The caravan was everything I promised it was. Exported goods, imported goods.

Only… it wasn't.

But that wasn't my doing! It wasn't as if I conspired with the merchants to deliver only rags to Waterdeep. I got that notice halfway to Waterdeep on the second caravan - the goods inside the wagons weren't there. There was a top layer of goods and the rest - rags and garbage. We were stolen from long before the bandits came upon us.

But I resent the fact that it seems I'm being framed for this. Hells, Elad refused to uphold his end of our deal when he found out about the theft. He said he had to make sure all the wagons brought back imported supplies instead of food just to make up the loss. The Merchant League is pointing fingers at me when I -know- who was really behind it.

I just don't have proof.

I will get proof. Somehow.

In the meantime, hell, I don't know what to do about the Silver Rose. Just let them stew I suppose. I can't give them what they want and they seem to think I said things I never said. Damned if the Effort isn't getting hit from all sides. I hadn't expect to be attacked from my allies.

Confound it.

The only blessing was I decided to go to Waterdeep personally and was able to bring a measure of success for the return trip. Elad gave me a contact and well... that will be a surprise. Now I worry if the wagons will make it back.

[Lampir]

I spent yesterday helping in the kitchen. I suppose I should actually say I spent yesterday dropping pans, spilling bags of grain and generally being a nuisance until Sister Julie finally rounded on me.

“You’re a fine enough man, brother, and we’re grateful for all your help getting those wagons of food to the poor and what not. But, bless your heart, you’re just not a man for the kitchen.”

And with that I was summarily escorted out of the kitchen and given a sums sheet for the church’s donations and expenses from last week to work on.

I felt a bit like a child being given a sheet of paper to color on so they’ll stay out of their mother’s hair. A strange sensation for someone over sixty years of age to have.; both frustrating and endearing all at once.

Perhaps I will stick to my logistics and diplomacy.

My personal investments so far have not diminished so much that I cannot afford the basic luxuries of life I’ve come to enjoy, but as the trade situation grows more and more stagnant my chance of finances keeping up with my tastes grows slimmer.

That issue is a background thought however, because if my finances are feeling a pinch, then I can well understand the utter panic of those who live copper-piece to copper-piece. There is so much to do so much that needs to happen to restore hope.

A bit of blessing: the four wagons the City Relief Effort purchased and filled in Waterdeep came through. Half went to feeding the poor in the city and half to feeding needy farmer families. It’s a pittance, I know, but it’s a start. I’ve word to Jhasso and Elad to discuss our next steps. I don’t want to give the bandits time to regroup. We must continue to forge the path until we forever reopen and reclaim the trade routes.

But there is other concerning news. Research has proven the drought is not natural and so all the methods we’d been researching: special crops, irrigation, etc.. is not going to work. In 400 years of records there has never been a drought this extreme, this utterly devastating. If we don’t find the cause of the drought soon we won’t even have time to plant a fall crop and winter will be a hell filled with death.

Worse, people are disappearing in the woods. Malarites perhaps? I know they are behind the strange animal migration that is causing so much trouble between the orcs and elves.

Is it all somehow connected I wonder? Could all these troubles be linked somehow – rather than coincidence?

I must find out. We must find out.

Before it’s too late.

[Lampir]

It's been a long time since I had time to write in these books. My hands are cramped from the regular demands of keeping the books for not one, not two, but four organizations now.

The temple of his blessed mercy Ilmater is at least a simple matter. Their needs are fairly predictable, even if they rise and fall with various catastrophes.

Thankfully Pate and Laitae are assisting with the City Relief Effort, trying to put what money we have left to good use. The infernal food merchants up north seem to have gotten wise to our desperation or else their own supplies are running slim. My money isn't stretching as far as I had hoped.

Then of course there is the Radiant Heart's infirmary which has seen quite the depletion of supplies in the last large battle. Many a bloody arm or head needed whatever triage I could supply. They are strong souls. Sometimes I still wonder how I ever got to be among them. Me, a simple businessman with far more savvy with a pen than a bandage or sword.

Still, I am at least gaining in my skills. Perhaps the time will come when I will be of some use to my brethren. That is, of course, beyond what serpentine words I've used already to navigate the courts for information on… "persons of interest" to those who serve the Light. I do hope it is enough to do some good. What precious little I could gain.



Finally, almost as an after thought with all that is going on, is my personal business: White Rose Imports. I had hoped the timing was perfect. The trade routes had been brought significant, if imperfect relief, the city was beginning to breath again. It seemed the absolute right moment to open my business and capitalize on the needs of a starved market. It has so much potential for profit, so much money could be brought into this city, so many jobs could be built on the imports.

And let us not forget that the ore I bring will be used for weapons and armor for our under-armed soldiers as well as plows and other tools for the devastated farmers. Yes, beyond food and basic living supplies I think ore is the most desperately needed thing in Balder's Gate. However I couldn't think of a good way to justify that import via the City Relief Effort. (At least not in the massive quantities needed) Thus, White Rose Imports was born.

All this writing, it's a wonder my hand hasn't fallen off. On other items of note, sufficed to say that She remains ever a multifaceted gem, refracting and reflecting new things each time I speak with her. I believe this is the real thing, not one of my many romps or frivolous flirtations. But She is so afraid to let anyone close, and I hurt her so much already. Will a time ever come when She will love me back?

[Lampir]

Tonight I am content.

[Lampir]

I lay in bed awake, only getting fitful rest. Only Her, close to me, brings me the comfort to sleep at all. I keep seeing Oathkeeper, his blazing eyes as he shouted "I'll do as you ask, just release the Holy Man, now." I keep feeling the shadows which had ripped and torn at my very essence grab me even as I continued to struggle. I feel them toss me like discarded trash out of their realm and into the fields near the chapter house.

"Oathkeeper..."

I got nothing more out before the darkness took me... all I heard in reply was a scream of anguish.

The bastard, using me like that. I hate being some sort of tool. Blackmore didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve whatever those creatures, that smug voice in the shadows, wanted to do to him. I have very slim hopes of ever seeing him again... and what could I do to save him? My prayers were unanswered. God willing I've alerted the Order, but I'm in no condition to do anything.

But I wake regularly from the nightmares thinking maybe I see him being rended, tortured, killed or turned into one of those shadow beasts. I can't help worry it was all my fault. My fault for getting too close, for making myself easy bait for the thing to use.

Mercy bless me, I don't know what to do.

She shifts in her sleep and I smell her hair. Maybe it's a little strange but the scent comforts me, seems to heal a bit of what was lost inside. My thoughts refocus and calm... and I drift... back.. to sleep.

For now.