How Gale missed Blackstaff Academy. After the nautiloid and during the subsequent adventure, it seemed everywhere he looked was madness and bloodshed— a rewarding experience, no doubt, but one he would not be repeating anytime soon.

He’d returned to Waterdeep with his spouse the moment Baldur’s Gate had been rebuilt, pursuing a quiet life as a professor at the very school he attended as a young man. A simple decision, but Gale needed simplicity.

Despite the threat of the Absolute mere months prior, Gale was equal parts shocked and relieved to discover Blackstaff Academy had continued their annual Blackstaff Ball. If anything, it was a far greater spectacle than he remembered— the youth and masters alike needed something to celebrate, after all.

He sat among the other professors at the head of the room, his mind awash with warmth and, for once, empty. Nothing to worry about, no risk of death or bloodthirsty cults or trials to overcome, just this moment suspended in time.

He looked to his right at his spouse, who sat beside him politely as the Blackstaff spoke. They were so beautiful, outshining even the magical illusions and the bardic choir. Gale’s hand was a popular one to ask for when he was a student— he only hoped {{user}} felt the same all these years later.