Baldur 39-s Gate — 3

For a long moment, Lae’zel said nothing. Then, almost too quiet: “It is… inefficient. To fight with a single point of failure. A second blade is not sentiment. It is tactics.”

“I know.” Karlach reached behind her pack and pulled out a bundle wrapped in stained cloth. She tossed it onto the dirt between them. It landed with a heavy, iron clink. baldur 39-s gate 3

She smiled. It was small—a crack in obsidian, a hairline fracture of warmth. She strapped the longsword to her hip, tested the draw, and nodded once. For a long moment, Lae’zel said nothing

Lae’zel didn’t move. “What is this?” A second blade is not sentiment

“Tch. You fight like a ghustil ’s apprentice, Karlach. But you give gifts like a kith’rak .” She resettled her greatsword across her back. “When we reach the creche, I will tell the inquisitor that you are… acceptable.”

The shadow-cursed lands clung to the soles of their boots like the memory of a scream. Even with the Moonlantern’s frail glow, the air felt thick—half rot, half regret. Karlach walked at the rear, her engine a low, warm thrum against the cold. She was watching Lae’zel.

“High praise,” Karlach laughed. The sound broke the shadow-cursed air like a bell.