All right, time to wrap up the Sorcerous Sundries arc by letting Hector and Gale nerd out about books together.
"I found the Annals of Karsus. Here - you should read them."
Hector - former monastery sage that he is - finds it quite gratifying how carefully Gale takes the ancient tome from him and thumbs through its pages. The wizard's eagerness is obvious, but in spite of it he is careful, exceedingly gentle with the fragile pages; like Hector, he has experience with handling such tomes.
His eyes flick rapidly through each page, scanning, scouring, lifting out relevant passages. As he begins to absorb the knowledge within the ancient book, his skin grows pale. "That devil Raphael was telling the truth," he mutters. "There's no doubt. The Crown of Karsus is what's controlling the Elder Brain. And this... this is no mere journal. It contains Karsus's original plans for the Crown's construction." His eyes lift to Hector's. "His designs for godhood."
Hector feels a chill run down his spine at the words. "The design for self-destruction, more like," he points out. "Didn't this crown *kill* Karsus?"
Gale shrugs. "Not exactly... it was what he did with it that sealed his fate, and for a time, that of magic itself. The Crown was merely the means." A long silence as he again peruses the book.
"The book states that the Crown and Netherstones were originally one construct," he goes on after a while. "Seemingly sundered at the moment of Karsus's downfall."
There's a new energy in his voice, one that Hector hasn't heard there before, reflective of some great churning of thoughts in his mind. Gale's true genius is at work here, something that reaches far beyond Hector's own. "If we can collect the crown's setting, and the three Netherstones, and with the correct invocation of certain spells and gestures detailed in these notes... I think I could reforge it."
Hector stares at him. Reforge the Crown of Karsus? "To what end?" he asks uneasily.
"To every end you can imagine, and a thousand more beyond," Gale says, snapping the book shut with an air of finality. "Just think of it. The power of the gods in mortal hands at last. We'd be free of doctrine and dogma, confined only by the limits of our imaginations!" He's breathing faster now, his eyes widening. "I promise you - the gods will never grant us such a blessing, no matter how much we worship and adore them."
(A/N: I do love when the game gives me moments that unintentionally directly connect with my headcanons, but I also do love moments like this where it's like 'This is a HILARIOUSLY bad tack to take with this OC in particular.' Gale, buddy, you could have framed this literally any other way and it would have gone over better. Claiming you just wanted to control the brain would have gone better than this - though not by much.)
Hector's mouth draws into a tight line and his eyes narrow. Does Gale not understand that what he is describing is anathema to everything Hector stands for? The idea of stepping beyond the reach of his goddess is not empowering but terrifying, and blasphemous to boot. Not to mention that Gale's reach outstripping his grasp is what landed him in the situation with the orb in the first place; how does he not see that such hubris would only get him into trouble a second time? But most of all...
He's hurt that after all this time, after all the struggles they've shared together, Gale would look at him and urge him to such disdain for divinity with a straight face.
[CLERIC] "Don't dare to assume why I worship," he says, his tone markedly cooler now. "Not all of us share such transactional relationships with our gods."
"But do you not expect something in return for your devotion?" Gale asks pointedly. "Some favor, some stir of courage, some *response*?"
(A/N: And there's one of those actual "ow, that fits perfectly" moments. Yeesh.)
Hector flinches. Gale knows perfectly well that this is a vulnerable spot for him to choose to stick in the knife of his words. Hector has long regretted the fact that - while Gale, Shadowheart, and even Lae'zel have heard the voices of their gods directly, he has heard nothing but silence. It's a cruel jab, and he's sure Gale knows it.
"I worshiped Mystra loyally for years," the wizard goes on bitterly, "and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power I was ready to wield. Even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time." His voice is rising in energy, almost shouting into Hector's face now. "Mystra wanted the brain obliterated because of this crown! She fears a world in which such power is beyond her control - ready to be claimed by Karsus's successor!"
Deep down, Hector knows what's really going on here. Gale has started to realize how poorly he has been treated by Mystra, and he is angry and hurting and afraid. And he wants this power that has been denied him - an act of rebellion, of defiance, claiming control over his own life again.
But he can't be allowed to do it. And the way he speaks of it has struck Hector to the heart in a way he can't easily shake off. "I thought you were past this kind of temptation, Gale," he snaps angrily. "You know *exactly* where such overreaching leads."
"Neither of us can know what truly may be if we don't at least try," Gale shoots back. "Potential is nothing in itself - just a fleeting dream, unless we drag it into the waking world. Please, at least think on it." He gestures emphatically with the book in one hand. "Powerful as he was, Karsus lacked some advantages I can lay claim to. I know Mystra - intimately. And I carry a fragment of the Weave itself within my body." He laughs humorlessly. "Karsus achieved many thigns, but he never managed that..."
The frantic energy is starting to drain out of him, and perhaps he recognizes that he pushed Hector too far, because his voice softens, takes on a placating, pleading tone. "A long road lies ahead before the Crown comes into our possession. All I ask for now is that you not dismiss this possibility out of hand," he says. "Please... at least think on it."
Hector is still more than a little angry - and concerned - by the way Gale is handling this discovery, but he sets his jaw and breathes deeply for a moment before answering, centering himself inwardly. "Gale," he finally says, his tone scrupulously even. "I'm urging you to drop this. This Crown *cannot* be reforged."
Gale frowns, his shoulders slumping. "I see," he mutters. "I suppose I am asking you to take a leap of faith even the most loyal of companions might struggle to land gracefully." A pause. He turns away, absently fidgeting his fingers against the bedpost next to him.
"I've spent so long feeling... inferior," he goes on after a long silence. "Shut out from my destiny over such a simple act of youthful enthusiasm. Perhaps I got carried away with the thought that this Crown could give me back what Mystra took." He rubs his hand involuntarily against his chest, over where the mark of the orb lies under his shirt. "Cure me, even..."
Hector lets out a heavy breath. He has control of his anger now; while he's still hurt by the tactics Gale took in this conversation, it doesn't prevent him from seeing how badly his friend is hurting. How much Gale wanted this to be the solution that would undo everything that Mystra has put him through, that would give his life meaning equaling his potential after having been slapped down.
A simple act of youthful enthusiasm is, perhaps, a rather simplistic way to look at the mistake he made, of course. But that's neither here nor there.
"You're still destined for greatness, Gale," he says quietly. "But you won't find it chasing Karsus's shadow."
Gale's eyes flick to the floor. "You're right," he mutters. "There aren't many wizards who'd care to be mentioned in the same breath as him, or his folly."
He looks up, meets Hector's eyes with sudden intensity. "Whatever comes of this, we cannot allow the Crown to be reforged in *Raphael's* image," he points out firmly. "A devil wielding the might of Karsus... it would be the end of everything."
Well, Hector reflects ruefully, on that at least they are perfectly agreed. Though Raphael is dead, so perhaps that threat is past... but after everything that's happened to them, he's in no mood to make assumptions about it.
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