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my-favourite-zhent · 29 days

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New Tricks - Chapter 17

Status: Work In Progress Version: 1.01 Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!OC Rating: NC-17 (This chapter PG-13) Genre: Adventure/Romance Summary: Misadventures of Rugan and the original Zhentarim Gate's crew before and during the year of three sailing ships.

Notes: This one went through a few rewrites and I'm still not 100% happy with it but them's the breaks. As always thank you to @fistfuloftarenths and @dustdeepsea my kind-hearted beta readers who put up with my constant spam, much love you guys <3

Table of Contents

Read here on AO3 or below the cut~

Chapter Seventeen

Passage had been booked on the next ship to the Gate, which luckily—or unluckily if one hated sailing—was leaving at dawn the following day.

Bellar and Olly had since turned in for the night, but Rugan, who knew sleep wouldn't come easily to him, opted to not sleep at all. So he found himself at the Mug’s bar with Salazon.

The pair had mused about Moonglow’s motives in their coded cant for a time, but neither had any good theories for what was coming out of Moonrise. Drugs mayhaps? Perhaps some new strain of Silk Root? Not something Harpers would care about surely.

When they had exhausted their theories Sal got around to what he had been truly curious about.

“How's Izzy then?”

“Still an excellent shag,” Rugan deflected. He wasn't yet drunk enough to be sharing with the wizard.

“I meant how does she fare?”

“So did I.”

“Unbelievable, girl nurses you back to health and that's the thanks she gets.”

“How did you think I thanked her?” Rugan replied with a rakish smile.

Sal sighed and shook his head. “Take it you're not gonna tell me what you fought about then.”

“Clever one you are.” There was an edge to Rugan's voice now.

“Clever enough to know that cloak of yours is enchanted. Did you know that? She must really like you, that poor fool girl.”

Rugan grimaced and downed the rest of his drink. The point of being at the bar was to not think about these things. Still his curiosity got the better of him.

“What is it then?”

“What's what?” Sal feigned ignorance.

“The damned enchantment, what's it for?”

“Going to have to buy me a few drinks before I give that up.”

Rugan huffed. “I know what you're doing, wizard, and it won't work.”

“We'll see.”

“Another ale for me,” Rugan said, lifting his hand as the bartender turned to him. “And whatever the hells the wizard wants.”

“No you don't,” interrupted Sal. “It'll be rum for the both of us.”

“Oh?” Rugan quirked his eyebrow at Sal, bemused. “Why, pray tell, is that?”

“Because I want to feel like shit tomorrow morning, and more importantly I want you to feel like shit tomorrow morning.”

“Petty bastard, we'll see. Rum it is.”

+++++

Rugan had been confident he could out drink Salazon with ease, but by the time they had finished the bottle he was beginning to wonder.

He still felt in control of himself, a bit buzzed sure, slurring his words a little, and dropping others almost entirely.

The wizard was much the same, dropping his haitches but seemingly holding it together, at least to Rugan’s eye.

“Considering she bought you that fancy cloak, you two must’ve made up.” Sal mused aloud.

“Suppose we did.”

“Then you apologised?”

“Well not in so many words…”

Sal clicked his tongue in disapproval, then shook his head with a laugh. “Taking into account what she said, I guess it’s better that you didn’t use your words.”

Rugan paused mid sip to consider this, fingers tapping anxiously at his glass. “What did Iz say about me exactly?”

“Hmmm… something about you needing to hold your tongue or she was going to send you packing.” Sal had begun to chuckle before he saw Rugan’s solemn expression.

“I deserved that. Deserved worse than that.”

“Why did you fight with her in any case?”

“I don't know.” Rugan sighed, exasperated, pressing his palm to the bridge of his nose. “Because it was unprofessional to find myself in that position? Halfway to Myrkul’s embrace because I was too soft on the boy. Needing help I couldn't afford to pay back and could even less afford to refuse.”

Sal nodded sagely and patiently waited for Rugan to continue.

“Seen so many caught up by their debts, in Luskan, with Nine Fingers, or, hells, even with Zarys. Always swore that wouldn't be me. I'd work hard, be smart. Maybe I'd die in a ditch somewhere, but I wouldn't have debts, wouldn't be beholden to anyone.”

The drink must've gone to his head. Spilling things to Sal he hadn't even dared to articulate in his own thoughts.

“Despite all that effort, all of Tymora's blessings, still wound up no better than the rest. But instead of some Zhentarim loan shark there it's Iz. It's Iz and she wouldn't tell me what she wanted in return.”

Sal laughed and shook his head. “You really have been Black Network too long, not everything is business.”

“Now what's that supposed to mean?” An edge to his voice.

“It means, she's in love with you, you bloody idiot.”

“This isn't some lonely barmaid we're talking about. It's one thing to want a bit of a rough with a Zhent, but a clever thing like her will have better suitors than me.”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Sal insisted. “Get the feeling if there are other suitors she's not looking at them like that.”

“Maybe I've been a Zhent too long, but I've a feeling you've not been one long enough. There's more practical things to consider.”

“So it's her coin, not her cleverness, that makes you doubt.” Sal could be too astute sometimes.

“Only thing that gets you anywhere.” Rugan agreed dejectedly.

“So, you think she's too good for you?”

“I didn't say she was too good for me.” Rugan narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

“But that's what you're thinking, going on about the coin.”

“That's the only thing that matters. Even if she's not some rich little prat like the rest of them, she could probably find one to bankroll her. What could she want from me?”

“Did I ever tell you how I got joined up?”

“Never cared to ask.”

“I was at Blackstaff Academy before all this. A proper wizarding university in Waterdeep.”

“You were?” He asked, incredulous. “Never told me that. Thought you were a hedge wizard.”

“Pretend I didn't hear that last bit, but yeah. How do you think I got stuck with you lot? Got a loan with Zhents out of Waterdeep for my studies, they shipped me down to the Gate, and Zarys has had her hooks in me ever since.”

“Thought an educated wizard would be too smart for that.” He gave an amused puff.

“They teach us spellcasting, not accounting.” Sal laughed.

Rugan thought on that a moment, if Izzy had finished her studies, gotten a Zhent loan to do so. Would they have worked together? What would that life have been like?

But she hadn't. She wasn't beholden to the network like Sal.

“They're almost as cut-throat as the Zhents in academia. Though the stakes are a bit lower.” Sal continued.

Rugan snorted. “Doubt that.”

“It's true. Academic plagiarism, bribes, theft. Some bastard skewing the bell curve for class? Well maybe his hand gets broken the week before the test, and he has to sit out the semester. Compounding that, half the student body are nobles so you've got to manage their politics as well if you want to be able to find work once you graduate, if you graduate.”

“Mayhaps I've not given you wizards your proper due.” Rugan replied sarcastically.

“My point is,” Sal pressed on, ignoring the jab. “For all the shite I have to put up with being a Zhent, I like you lot far more than I liked most of my classmates. I wouldn’t be surprised if your girl has similar sentiments. And coin or no, there’s something to be said for actually liking the person you’re bedding.”

Rugan took a deep draught from his glass. He’d definitely had too much, he could tell because the wizard was almost sounding sensible.

“Of course.” Sal continued. “None of that really matters unless you actually want the girl.” “I do,” he replied solemnly.

Sal looked at him, glassy eyed and pensive for a moment. He then clapped him on that back causing Rugan to cough up his next drink. “Well then, you're fucked mate.”

“No shite.” Rugan grunted, wiping the dribble from his chin.

“I like you better when you drink. You’re more honest.”

“Well I don’t like it one bit.” Rugan huffed over his drink.

“It's protection by the way.”

“What is?”

“The charm on your cloak. Whole thing probably set her back eight-hundred wolves.”

“Fuck me,” Rugan breathed. Eight hundred gold pieces was damn near what he made in a year.

“Like I said, she's in love with you.”

Sal looked so smug then that Rugan would've clapped him at the back of his head if he wasn't busy considering his cloak. “Fuck me.” He repeated this time as a half-whisper. “Iz, you are a fool girl.”

+++++

Sal had fallen asleep at the bar, collapsed across the counter top. Rugan on the other hand had managed to remain conscious until Godswake. The hour when it was not yet dawn, but the sky brightened ever so slightly into that strange dreamy blue that reminded him of the sea, or a winter sunset back home in Luskan.

He shook the grumpy wizard awake just as Bellar and Olly descended the stairs. They made their way to the docks through the icy streets. Most folks were still asleep, and the city seemed to exist in a reverent silence, in awe of the coming dawn.

The light was growing stronger as they came down to the docks. While the rest of the city lay in sleep, the harbour was alive with the shouts of sailors and the cries of gulls. Deckhands hopped to their tasks as the various ships prepared to disembark. Out on the waves, Rugan could see there were already several fishing boats after the first catch of the day.

The party put their things down on the docks next to the caravel that was set to bring them back to the Gate. A still-groggy Sal draped himself over his pack and fell asleep right there in the open docks.

Rugan sighed and shook his head, hands on hips. Sal might've been able to sling a good fireball or two but his mercenary instincts left something to be desired.

Bellar sat back on the stack of crates behind the wizard. “I can watch Sal if’n you're wanting to stretch your legs before they're done loading up.”

“Aye, my thanks. C’mon then lad.” Rugan gestured to Olly with a nod of his head to the end of the long pier.

Olly hurried to follow Rugan down the length of the dock. When they reached the end, Rugan looked out over the sea and let out a deep sigh. His head still felt like it was pressed inside a vice but he had put the conversation off long enough.

“Know you didn't lose your cloak Olly.”

Behind him Olly flinched as if struck. Rugan looked back to regard him. “But if Zarys asks you, stick to that story no matter what and I will too. Understood?”

The boy nodded fervently. “Yes, Rugan.”

“You're a good lad and certainly a better recruit than I deserve. But you need to start looking out for yourself.

Again Olly nodded.

“Now I'm not saying to go around burning orphanages to keep warm. No sense in being cruel unless you're a twisted bastard like Bellar. And a bit of friendliness can get you far with the locals, as you well know. But you need to be more judicious in your generosity, and as it goes, just be less generous in general.”

“Right.”

Rugan stared at him hard. “I mean it, Olly, no one here is gonna catch a blade or an arrow for you. The time comes, you choose your skin over someone else's. Choose yourself, every time. Understood?”

“You caught a fever for me.” Olly winced at the resulting glare he got from that comment.

“And that was right stupid of me wasn't it? Don't make me backhand you, lad.” Rugan turned back towards the open sea. “Besides I wasn't meaning to catch a damn thing.”

Rugan closed his eyes and chose his next words with care. “The truth is, Olly, I've been meaning to have this chat with you for a long while now. Since before Crimmor—hells, should've had it before Waterdeep most likely.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you're soft, Olly.”

“I don't flinch from the killing,” the boy replied defensively.

“No, but your little heart softens every time you see an urchin or hear someone cry for help.”

Olly turned away, teeth clenched in anger and embarrassment. “I'm not soft,” he muttered bitterly.

Rugan turned back to take measure of him. “I'm not saying you're cowardly, you're braver than most and if not, then you hide it well. But you're not as mean as the others. Like I said, you're a good lad. Probably be a Harper or Adventurer if you weren't so smart.”

“A Harper–” Olly's head had snapped back to glare indignantly.

“I said if you were more stupid. But you're not stupid, Olly, except when it comes to this.” Rugan let out a long sigh. “One day there's going to come a moment where the choice is between your life and someone else's. Not a Fist’s or a Harper’s, but a friend's or a civilian’s or some other Zhent. When that time comes, you need to be willing to step on that other person, choose to save yourself.”

“Even if it's you?”

“Especially if it's me.”

Olly held his gaze for a long agonising moment before asking, “Did you have to make that choice, Rugan?”

“Anyone that's been around as long as I have has made that decision more than once, lad.”

They both stood in silence until shouts from up the docks let them know it was about time to head back. Rugan sighed and turned fully before putting his hand on Olly's shoulder. “I'm not saying these things because I'm angry with you, though I was and rightly so. I'm saying these things because we're Zhents, we don't have the luxury of the moral high ground. Sometimes you can be right, or you can be a survivor, and that's it.”

Olly held his gaze and did not comment, though he looked like he wanted to.

Rugan sighed before continuing with what he hoped was a bit of levity. “I like you, Olly, and I'd prefer you didn't die on me before you’ve at least grown your first chin hair.”

“I grow chin hairs just fine!” Olly replied indignantly, but based upon the ghosting of fuzz along his lip, Rugan had to wonder.

“That so? Well let me know when your balls drop then, lad. We'll take you out whoring.” Rugan clapped him once more on the back and started back towards the ship.

“There's nothing wrong with– they've already–” Olly stuttered behind him, hurrying to catch up.

+++++

When they finally arrived in the Gate a tenday later, Rugan was tempted to kiss the dock. His stomach had roiled and lurched the whole trip and the others had thought this the peak of comedy.

Solid ground under his feet was such a relief that he forgot the report he would have to give Zarys upon their return to the warehouse. When at last she summoned him to her office, reality came crashing back down upon him.

He stood there now, a small dark room lit by a large window to his right—Zarys would never put it to her back—and a few wall sconces. There was a desk where Zarys was now seated, a chair for guests, not staff, and a roaring hearth. Considerably sparser than her office beneath Waukeen's Rest, but she rarely had duties over the winter. He had given her a full accounting of the fight with the Harpers, and she had seemed pleased with the outcome. Less pleased with other details.

“That's at least half a tenday you were out, Rugan,” Zarys said evenly. She always reserved yelling for giving orders, her sardonic tone alone conveyed her unhappiness well enough.

“I was laid up, not exactly out drinking and swiving.” He kept his own tone explanatory, accommodating. No sense getting defensive with the boss.

“The way Sal tells it, you were laid up with a pretty girl.” Rugan winced, of course Sal was too afraid of Zarys to omit anything.

“Now, I realise how that must look,” he held his hands up as if in mock surrender. “But the boys will tell you just the same that I wasn't even awake when they left me with her. And I left just as soon as I was well enough.” Unfortunately.

“Even so,” Zarys continued, “Shouldn't have been out in the first place.”

Rugan felt some relief, The boys must have already told her he was out cold, else she would've pressed him more about his stay in Crimmor.

She went on. “Just what do you think would've happened, Rugan, if the Harpers had struck before you returned?”

“Wouldn't have, they were waiting for me.”

“And if they got tired of waiting? If you hadn't gotten better? That would've left your team walking into a trap and down their senior officer.”

“I didn't plan on getting sick—”

“But you did give your cloak to the boy. Seems like the turn of events should've been clear even to one as thick as you.”

Rugan sighed. “I see what you're getting at Zarys, truly, but I had let him tough it out two days and nights like that already. Any longer and he would've been worse off than me.”

“Doubt that, he's near to half your age, can take a chill better, I'll bet.”

“Maybe. He's younger, I'll give you that, but I'm more used to the cold than any on the crew. You want the boy alive.”

“And I need my district manager alive.” Zarys replied sharply. It was a bigger admission than he was expecting and he didn't have a good response.

She didn't wait for him. "Rugan, next time why don't you make someone who's not a withered old bastard give up their cloak? Understood?”

“Perfectly.” That could've gone worse; it might be a better time than any to ask his question.

“You're dismissed.”

“Zarys, before I go…”

She looked at him steely eyed but didn't interrupt.

“Did you know the cargo was worthless?” He hadn't mentioned it till now, and the way she stiffened at the question he was confident he knew the answer.

“What you're permitted to know and what I'm permitted to know are two different things entirely.”

“You let us get set-up then?” He wasn't angry or even surprised but maybe a little disappointed.

“Let you? Do you think any other team I sent to Athkatla had a licensed wizard and my most senior officer?” She was wearing that vicious grin she wore when she was pleased with herself.

Rugan blinked in surprise. She hadn't been able to go against Roah’s orders, so she'd made her own play. Leave it to Zarys to have that sort of foresight.

“I knew there was a reason I recruited you.” Rugan grinned, and that seemed to steal her joy.

“Out of my office before I sic the wolves on you Rugan.” She turned back to the paperwork on her desk, and Rugan bowed low before taking his leave. Zarys was more sentimental than he'd thought.

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