Jesselle smiles and reassures LeBrix, "Do not worry, we all have our own way of... investigation. Do not take it personally. Everything will be just fine."
As the Cheif of security departs with the others she turns to Gemma and whispers, "This would be the time to ask questions of the departed, would you suggest anything before I start?"
"LeBrix seemed concerned when you started to examine the clothing, perhaps recheck it?" she also adds
She first calls upon her arcane gift and casts a simple cantrip to detect magics.
Emerson’s continued questioning of the rest of the witnesses brought before him by Bellastair and the North Shore police officers proves fruitful, corroborating much of what they heard previously, and revealing some other facts of importance that both constables feel is significant in some way…
• A man was up in the window after she hit the fence from above, but he looked like he was completely obscured in black, except for something shiny in his hand, perhaps a gun. A moment later he had vanished.
• A man with a goatee went up to the dying woman on this side of the fence next to the street. She handed him a bundle of papers and folders, then whispered something to him before she died. The man then yanked a yellow pendant and necklace off the woman’s neck before running away.
Given the lead by the beggar children earlier on where the man from the street ran off to, both Willem and Emerson decide to delay no further and finish their business in front of the consulate. Even as they leave however, Willem finds his instructions to Officer Bellastair to alert the constables inside goes unheeded, as the First Patrolman simply says he’s been here long enough and the Danorans aren’t going to listen to anything he says anyway. Likewise the Danoran cleaning staff that are now starting to scrub the blood and gore away from the spiked fence shrug and ignore Willem in a nonchalant Danoran manner. There’s nothing to do about it, however, so the duo head down the broad street to where the alleyway is just a few blocks to the west.
There was definitely something that happened here, that much is certain.
Both Willem and Emerson scour the alleyway, conferring with each other as they find trace elements of a disturbance here. Unlike the main walkway and street by the consulate grounds, they believe there was little disturbance of the alleyway after the unknown “thief” man allegedly ran in here.
• Willem finds signs of a brief scuffle occurred here, given the boot-prints in the mud and the way a nearby empty crate has been smashed open, as well as a discarded daily paper that was torn and slashed by a blade or other type of slashing weapon. There’s also a strange smell in the air that neither Willem or Emerson can quite place.
• Emerson finds a fallen piece of fine parchment in the mud. It seems to be a copy of a deed of ownership for a canal barge, marked with the seal of the Danoran Consulate.
Just as the pair finish conferring with each other on what they find and suspect, the clop-clop-clop of a single-horsed open carriage comes up to the alleyway’s opening from the main street, with a driver dressed in a threadbare frayed black longcoat and top hat that signifies several of the approved carriage drivers in North Shore. ”Excuse me, gents, but…well blimey you’re constables aren’t ya? Greycloak constables? Just my luck maybes, as I saw all that commotion all up over the way at the Danoran House.”
The carriage driver leans forward from his bench and takes off his hat briefly to show respect to them. ”Name’s Jack Byron, good constables, and a couple hours ago I picked up a man comin’ from this here alley, holding a bundle in hands that were all bloody. Said he was a doctor, he said, and he needed to get right quick to the ‘House of the Blue Birds’ at the edge of the district west of here. Said he needed to get his surgery kit and help out with that poor woman who died on that fence. Well he was dressed well, and a doctor and all and I’m sure he had the coin to pay, so I took ‘em to the ‘House of the Blue Birds’ so he could get what he needed and come right back. Only he didn’t. Stiffed me he did! No sign of ‘em and I guess he stiffed the staff of that inn too, so I drove back here hoping I could find someone that knew him I could collect from. Maybe, maybe you fine constables can help old Jack Byron out and sport this ragabout’s fare for me?”
”Good to meet you Mr. Byron. This is constable Muhnee and I am Hill.” Emerson reaches into his pocket and pays the supposed fare but adds a few silver to the mix. ”This will cover your previous fare, and this will be for the additional time of taking us to the ‘House of Blue Birds’ once our investigation here is complete.”
Emerson takes out his notebook to write Jack’s statement down. ”Was there anything else you remember about this man? Did he speak or have contact with anyone else?”
Willem also takes out his notepad and also writes down the information that both Emerson and Willem ask the carriage driver making sure there are duplicate notes. Willem waits for idle time in the conversation so as not to interrupt Emerson, Willem asks the carriage driver, "Good Sir, before you take us to the "House of Blue Birds", you don't mind if we look through the carriage for evidence? We will compensate you for your time since everyone has been stretched thin because of the uprisings and the RHC is here for the people. In addition, did you remove any items from the carriage after the man departed your carriage?"
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"Sure sure, you can take a look all through-and-through if you'd like, though I don't think you'll find anything back there. I didn't take anything of his, as he left nothing to take."
Jack Byron shrugs at the questions but thanks them profusely for the repaid fare and is willing to delay his departure for more work as long as they seem interested in compensating him. "Let's see now, he was a doctor in his talkin' to me along with having a doctor-type bag. He came out from this here alley and was in a hurry to get to the hostel, his bloody hands he said were from the accident and he needed to get more surgical tools to help...and I didn't get a good look but I think he had some papers with him." Jack Byron then snaps his fingers in remembrance. "Oh right! He had an accent he did...not from around here but maybe Drakran or one of the Malice Lands cities. Well-dressed fellow, and he had a goatee to boot. Oh, and he was armed with a nice-looking straight blade. That's all I can really tell you, other than I waited like a fool outside the 'House of Blue Birds' for a half-hour before I realized I'd been duped."
Jesselle takes the time to focus her detect magic cantrip in concentration on both Nilasa Hume's body, and those items which were found by Gemma in her clothing. No other magical auras seem sustained on Nilasa Hume, with Jesselle concluding any lingering auras have most likely dissipated well before now. Assuming she did fly out the window, there are no dweomered objects or lingering auras to support the notion - there is also no sign of components or reagents to suggest Nilasa Hume could cast spells herself...
Tobias leans in and peaks softly to the secretary.
"Well, I do know of a charming little restaurant just a block or two from here. Perhaps we can meet this evening?" Tobias lets her know where the place is then winks before looking toward the second floor. "Looks like I should be getting back to work though, it's been a pleasure." With a smile the constable turns toward the stairs and joins the group looking at the scene of the shooting.
"My apologies Chief, while waiting on a glass of water to calm my nerves I couldn't help but ask Braden how he was feeling. I...had a similar situation crop up at the start of my own career and I thought he could use some advice."
Tobias frowns as he remembers Ellie but turns his attention to the ruins of the Display Gallery. Noting that Jesselle is not here, and assuming she'll need time to speak with the corpse, Tobias tries to stall for time.
"I fear I am something of a visual learner Chief Lebrix, if you could take me step by step through what happened here, I'm sure it will provide me with enough detail that my superiors will not need me to return at a later date."
Gemma does one last look over the body then looks to Jesselle. "I'm trying my best to be impartial, but I have a very strong feeling that things are amiss here. Maybe we could ask if she was trying to commit suicide when she jumped and what she was truly doing here. Thoughts?"
It doesn't bother Gemma at all that Jesselle can communicate with the dead. She actually finds it quite interesting, but she does have some concerns. "So is there any danger with you speaking with her? And is there a chance that she could lie or be evasive. Or will she be more inclined to be truthful is she knows we're trying to help? I know we'll have to get the body taken out after this. I'm assuming the mortician's already waiting outside and probably getting impatient."
"You know...I'm kind of concerned too that they don't want us talking to the consul. The emphasis put on the fact that he had nothing to do with this and cannot be disturbed seems suspicious."
Fethryth nods ”Yeah, we’ll leave the Consular out of this.” Privately she thinks ”Piss off the consulate and I’ll be doing paperwork until the day I die’
She glances over the area. ”LeBrix, what you said just now, it got me thinking. Danoran’s wouldn’t recognize magic would they? I’m going to do a quick sweep for any magic up here; if I were to rob a Danoran establishment I’d use magic to help me since Danoran’s wouldn’t pick up on it. Since you startled her maybe she left something behind.”
She seems to ponder Gemma's question to the spirt as she answers her next question first, "There is always a possibility that something can go awry. Lady Masters is such a spirit who does not like those like me much."
"Answers can be cryptic, the spirit will answer, but I suppose it depends how we hit it off with them as to how helpful they want to be." Jesselle answers.
"Perhaps, but unless we find proof that the Consul is involved somehow, it's best not to push."
Jesselle looks at the vial that Gemma found, "This is interesting... a used invisibility potion just before being a caught stealing, being shot not once, but several times, and plunging to her death out the window."
Jeselle then closes her eyes and speaks to Gemma, "Time to start this... and best no one interrupt us either..."
Jesselle concentrates on the spirit of the departed spirit... she did not need a body for the spirit to return, but she always took whatever connection she could to entice the spirit's return. In a whisper, " Nilasa Hume, please return to us her now and in this place. And through her ability the spirit is summoned...
"Nilasa Hume, please, what all happened to you in the last ten minutes before you died?"
Willem listens to the carriage driver as he meticulously checks for evidence.
Willem responds as he checks, "Thank you Mr Byron for the information." Then looks at Emerson, "What do you think Constable Hill, I think we can investigate this piece on our own but make sure we use caution and not rush in on anything. The longer we wait and the more we bring, the more chances of evidence going cold or being contaminated?"
Emerson looks as if he likes Willem's idea and is about to get into the carriage but then frowns and stops in his tracks. "Normally I'd say let's go before the trail goes cold."
He runs a hand through his hair and looks back in the area of the Consulate. "But this isn't a normal investigation. No, we can't risk it. Too high profile. We should regroup with the others and see what they've come up with first. We can compare notes and then all travel to this 'House of Blue Birds'."
He then looks back at the driver. "Mr Byron? Would you please take us back to the Danoran Consulate? We will be as quick as we can, but rest assured that you will be compensated for your time."
"Right-o, good constables," says Jack Byron with aplomb, seemingly enjoying his good fortunes at getting paid as well has having R.H.C. officials in his carriage. With a toothy grin he says, "Ol' Jack Byron is at yer service, and knows these parts much better than any stuffy driver you've got comin' from Central!"
With a quick shake of the reins the two-horse carriage starts back down the street to where the area of the Danoran Consulate in the distance seemingly is returning back to normal, the cleaning of the fence making it appear as if nothing ever happened this morning...
Chief of Security Julian LeBrix doesn’t really answer Fethryth’s question about Danoran adeptness with magic, but he doesn’t stop her from using her orison to walk the floor either. He watches both Fethryth and Anneca intently, but Tobias’ efforts to mollify LeBrix almost as soon as he comes upstairs works better than expected: though the Chief is not practiced in any academies of war, he is aware of both Battalion Academy in Flint and the Banhaman Academy in Slate, having had comparative discussions with Minister Lya Jierre on their qualities and that of the Jierre Sciens d’Arms of their native capital of Cherage. LeBrix is much more of a firearm enthusiast in his own right, having crafted his own decorated pepperbox pistol and crafts his own specialized ammunition for it. The pair of men “talk shop” amiably for the next ten minutes or so, and Tobias can see he has established enough rapport with Julian LeBrix to get him to relax slightly on the scrutiny of the other two, though the man is no slouch and notes where they are at all times.
Fethryth finds no magical dweomers with her orison as she investigates the gallery and adjacent private dining room – she assumes any lingering auras from Nilasa Hume have long since dissipated. Not even the prized egg radiates magic. Yet Fethryth and Anneca cover the area thoroughly…and from the surreptitious looks Fethryth gives to Tobias as well as brief murmured talk between she and Anneca, they find a couple of oddities about the incident…
• In the middle of the gallery room, not far from where the overturned pedestal that held the ceramic egg on display, a fine embroidered rug was seemingly moved there. Underneath it are bloodstains.
• A brief but effective look at the consular’s closed door as Tobias briefly distracts LeBrix reveals the door’s fine lock was picked (presumably by Nilasa Hume), given slight markings on the lock and wood around it. Given that it is a very fine lock, Fethryth reasons Nilasa must have had time to pick it.
"...ah yes, Constable Utegg! I should like to read your thesis if you would consider me worthy to receive a copy! I am afraid I have no papers to trade you, though my work in both caliber and velocity of ammunition is something I should very much record on paper. You have inspired me to give it some worthy thought." Chief of Security Julian LeBrix smiles even as he looks back once again to what the other two constables are doing. "You are close to completing your walkthrough then, yes? For your report? I must say it is an honor to work with the fine officers of the R.H.C., but we should finish up here as soon as possible, so that I can have the cleaning staff put the room back in order and have craftsmen start on measurements for a new window..."
Though the body of Nilasa Hume does not move as a focused and intent Jesselle asks her first ominous question, it seems to Gemma as if the room’s illumination seems to dim somewhat…almost as if the colors around her are slightly faded and more drab. It feels colder now, though perhaps that is just her imagination running away with her thoughts on the grim séance.
For Jesselle, however, the room is drab and nearly devoid of all color, as if everything has been washed in various hues of greys and blacks. She can barely see the walls of the room around her, as a darkness that is there-but-not-there seems to restrict her peripheral vision like blinders on a carriage horse. There is an odd whispering that she is familiar with, growing in intensity and soon apparent that it is many voices, not just one. Jesselle puts all her innate psychic talent into focusing on one voice, calling out to Nilasa Hume to appear to her, here, in this place and time. The conduit between the Waking world and the Bleak Gate is very close now – just a single spider’s thread of connection established between the realms of the living and the dead by Jesselle, with the body of the deceased used as a focal point.
There is a…moment…when the room seems to shift slightly, felt intently by Jesselle but perceptible even by Gemma as well. To Jesselle, this is the worst part, as she sees the spirit of Nilasa Hume in the room now, there-but-not-there between the realms, even as she mentally struggles to keep her in focus and the others that linger nearby out. Jesselle knows that at times in the past she has failed to do that, leading to haunting memories…and worse. It is the reality of her ‘gift’ that she can only talk to a spirit of the Bleak Gate for a brief time, in part because to keep the tenuous thread between the worlds open leads to unintended consequences for herself that she doesn’t want to face.
A single voice is heard now by both Jesselle and Gemma, ghostly and sad and filled with anguish of a life that was cut short by a violent end. ”Are you a friend? I do not know you…but you have a kind face…” Though Gemma cannot perceive it, the sad form of the once-pretty young woman of mixed parentage looks right at Jesselle, as if making a decision to cooperate or not. Jesselle knows that, even under the best of circumstances, the departed spirit may decide to cooperate with her or not, answering her questions as fully or evasively as they desire. There is a feeling by Jesselle that even despite a spirit desiring to cooperate, the communication is muffled somehow as if talking through pillows, allowing only direct answers to direct questions without the usual nuances and innuendos of normal social speech…
While she doesn't feel any magic calling out to her, Fethryth picks up on two oddities. She casually glances over at LeBrix, checking that he's still talking to Tobias, and then walks over to Anneca. She turns away from LeBrix as she softly murmurs "There's two things wrong here. One, from the marks on the door, somebody picked the lock into consular's office. Two, that rug there, over by the egg display? There's a bloodstain under it. Why cover it up?"
Gemma raises an eyebrow, watching Jesselle work with the spirit and hearing her answer. She shakes off the chill that has settled on her, given what she's witnessing.
So that's the mark on her head. A talon? Of course this couldn't be something simple. Now I really want to see what's behind those locked doors upstairs. Doubt that will happen though.
She's afraid to interrupt Jesselle to discuss what the next question might be. She has no idea if talking to her would mess up whatever connection she has to the poor woman's spirit. However, she does carefully and quietly move closer to Nilasa's head, trying to get a second look at the strange mark. She hopes that examining it with the new information will give her some additional insight.
Gemma's inspection of Nilasa Hume's body the first time was thorough, yet now from the words of her spirit beyond the Bleak Gate she examines the wound near her scalp. During her training at Battalion Academy, Gemma excelled at most military subjects: warfare in both historical and modern forms, tactics and strategy theorems for battle, analytical thinking and deductive reasoning forms. The study of anatomy and weaknesses of the flesh were also studied, though Gemma never showed the aptitude of battlefield healing or medicinal remedies that some others in her cadet classes showed. Yet her recall of those studies in the laboratories of the academy come back to her now, and provide additional insight as to the nature of the wounds inflicted...
* The bullets from the two gunshot wounds have been extracted. One shot to her leg was not life-threatening. The other shot entered her upper back and pierced her lung. Gemma's estimation of the entry wounds is that they came from long-distance; neither occurred at close range.
* The wound on Nilasa's scalp is not from the breaking of glass like what she suffered on her arms. They appear to be lacerations in a pattern, but as if her scalp was not healed while her face was. Furthermore, the wound has marks of decay as if caused by necromantic energy.
* The pattern of wounds from the scalp now make sense in the context of Nilasa's first statement - her face shows signs of magical healing that closed the wounds upon her face, leaving very faint traces of four parallel slashes there. Nilasa was magically healed, apparently after she died upon the fence.
Jesselle listens to the Nilasa's description of what happened to her and than of Gemma's reexamination of the body. 'What the hell happened to this woman?!'
"Be calm dear Nilasa. It is over now, there is no more pain." Jesselle focused once again on the spirit and delicately tried to steer her away from recalling her attack and death, "My dear, can you tell me, why it was that you were you upstairs taking things?"
"...ah yes, Constable Utegg! I should like to read your thesis if you would consider me worthy to receive a copy! I am afraid I have no papers to trade you, though my work in both caliber and velocity of ammunition is something I should very much record on paper. You have inspired me to give it some worthy thought." Chief of Security Julian LeBrix smiles even as he looks back once again to what the other two constables are doing. "You are close to completing your walkthrough then, yes? For your report? I must say it is an honor to work with the fine officers of the R.H.C., but we should finish up here as soon as possible, so that I can have the cleaning staff put the room back in order and have craftsmen start on measurements for a new window..."
Tobias smiles at the chief. "I'd be happy to share my thesis, maybe I can leave it with your secretary sometime?" Tobias fixes the brim of his hat and goes through the motions of a man who looks ready to leave to ease Lebrix need to see them out. "If you want to talk guns though, you should really speak with Emerson Hill and Willem Muhnee, they do a bit of gun crafting as well. I'm sure they'd love to hear what you think on the topic!"
He looks over to his colleagues. "Summers, Teldanona, anything else we need to look at?"
Though Gemma cannot see the faint form of the once-beautiful Nilasa Hume as Jesselle can in the room, the haunted voice is clearly heard by both in the dim of the storage chamber. ”You…you are greycloaks…you serve the King…are you here then simply to trick me and reveal my service to…” Abruptly she stops her speech and glares at Jesselle now, her arms crossed across her middle as if put out by something. Yet just as abruptly she turns her head as if looking at something in the distance, not in the room.
When she returns her gaze back to Jesselle, her expression is now one a mixture of fear, discomfort and worry; Jesselle and Gemma can hear her final words before the connection is broken by the fallen woman…
There is clear anguish then, and for a moment Jesselle fears she will go back to wailing on her death as she did from the first question. But instead she looks with desperation on her ghostly face right at Jesselle and pleads, ”No time left, but I implore you if you have any decency – protect my adopted father! Protect dear Heward! I fear He that killed me and those besides will murder Heward as well for my discovery! Please! I beg you, do not let him come here before his due time…I could not bear it! Please…they come…I cannot tary…I must…”
The ghostly form of Nilasa Hume then turns and runs away through the wall, and disappears. The connection is severed, and the storeroom becomes faintly brighter and more vivid in its color as it once was.
"Things aren't adding up," Anneca whispers to Tobias and Fethryth. "I'm a bit insulted that they've done a such a poor job at covering it up. But we need to collect this evidence before they get a second chance at hiding it. And we need to get in the next room to see if she got anything out of the consul's office." She carefully notes everything about the scene in her book, including the aspects that do not correspond with the Danoran official story. It will be vital to proving the case when this inevitably creates an international incident.
Despite Anneca’s keen logic on the inconsistencies with Julian LeBrix’s account of what happened to the deceptive Nilasa Hume, there is simply nothing else to do for now as it relates to investigation of the top floor of the Danoran Consulate. LeBrix is amiable enough with Tobias there, but he is too sharp and skilled to relax his vigil as it relates to the consular’s offices. Even the dimmest constable would know that forcing their way in there would amount to a violation of Danoran territory…and could upend the pending peace treaty conference well before it begins next Spring. There’s simply nothing for it – Julian LeBrix has “confessed” to them of his hand in killing the woman to protect Danoran property on Danoran ground, which as Chief of Security he is well within his boundaries to do there. That the woman was Risuri already complicates matters, though LeBrix seems to have no intention to lodge a protest on it or hint that Miss Hume was anything more than a greedy, opportunistic thief too clever for her own good.
As the constables descend the stairs, LeBrix informs them that Consular du’Nadria will have a formal written statement sent to R.H.C. Flint Branch on the staff accounts given this morning, but states he must attend to a full review of the premises before allowing the gates to be opened once again to the public. Suggesting to Tobias in "confidence" that du’Nadria is not interested in lodging any protests or recompense for damages to the building for now, he snaps his fingers and instructs four of his security staff to bring the body of Nilasa Hume out to the undertaker’s wagon, where she can be transported to wherever the constables decide. With the usual reassurances that he and his staff will cooperate with any “proper” requests by the R.H.C., the Chief of Security bows to Jesselle and Tobias, respectfully nods to the others and then closes the gates behind them, concluding their investigation there for now.
”Right then constables…glad to be off finally. Might be some time to get to the R.H.C. at this time of day but I won’t tarry.” The bored undertaker finishes closing up the wagon and readies for the trip to Central, deviating from his usual destination of North Shore Watch Station to take the body. Officer Bellastair and the patrolmen of his group have already departed, with most of the curious moving on as well, the busy affairs of North Shore already returning back to normal after the freakish event.
Meanwhile, the five constables see two of their number approach them upon a smaller civilian open passenger carriage, driving by a jaunty fellow with a large top-hat and bright scarf. It seems Emerson and Willem have found something interesting nearby…and a destination for them to follow-up on a potential lead of the “thief who stole from the thief” per testimony of several witnesses in the street.
Jack Byron leads his passenger carriage westwards along the broad thoroughfare of North Shore, with the larger R.H.C. carriage following along closely. Their R.H.C. driver, Mavery, seems irritated at following Jack Byron and stated he could find the ‘House of Blue Birds’ hostel without a guide, yet Emerson had already paid Jack Byron and he wasn’t going to back out of his statement to guide them on. In any event, the two-mile trek to the western edge of the North Shore district gives the seven constables time to confer with each other and share what they each found…and as suspected there is seemingly far more going on here than what was officially told to them…
Outside on the Street Discoveries:
• Based on Anneca’s analysis and her own experience with brief magical flight, she concludes the probability that the woman who “jumped” from the fourth-story window of the consulate must have had similar-type magic. There’s simply no way she could have made the distance without the aid of flight, short of being propelled out of the building from a cannon – even thrown out by someone upstairs would not have given enough force and momentum to travel the distance in her estimation. Furthermore, from the way the spiked fence is not bent or with spikes damaged in any way means she landed on them directly from above, and not at an arc from the window. She will have to confirm the impact points on the body to be completely sure…but Anneca is fairly sure that will be the case.
• The woman crashed out the window, hit the fence, and then there were two gunshots, each a few seconds apart. When she jumped, she had her arms covering her face, as if to shield herself.
• A man was up in the window after she hit the fence from above, but he looked like he was completely obscured in black, except for something shiny in his hand, perhaps a gun. A moment later he had vanished.
• A man sprinted down the street and then turned down an alley, carrying an armful of something. The witnesses have pointed out the alley where the man had run to.
• A man with a goatee went up to the dying woman on this side of the fence next to the street. She handed him a bundle of papers and folders, then whispered something to him before she died. The man then yanked a yellow pendant and necklace off the woman’s neck before running away.
Inside the Alleyway Discoveries:
• Willem finds signs of a brief scuffle occurred here, given the boot-prints in the mud and the way a nearby empty crate has been smashed open, as well as a discarded daily paper that was torn and slashed by a blade or other type of slashing weapon. There’s also a strange smell in the air that neither Willem nor Emerson can quite place.
• Emerson finds a fallen piece of fine parchment in the mud. It seems to be a copy of a deed of ownership for a canal barge, marked with the seal of the Danoran Consulate.
Inside the Storage Room Discoveries:
• Jesselle doesn’t seem to sense that Julian LeBrix is lying in any way, though he does seem evasive and somewhat worried about Gemma checking Nilasa Hume’s body for some reason.
• Examination of Nilasa’s clothes reveals a bail certificate from her arrest in a hip pocket. The document, from the Parity Lake police station house, indicates that she was picked up in a contraband raid recently but released on bail, paid by one “Heward Sechim.” Law requires her to carry the certificate until her trial.
• Also in that pocket is a receipt for a purchase of a dozen items, their names abbreviated, with notes of “16 drams” or “48 drams” for each, valued at a total of “2.450 gp,” signed “D.W.” On the back of the receipt, scrawled in a different handwriting, it reads “Silvo, Deorn Feldman, family wharf.”
• Hidden in a partially sewn pocket in Nilasa’s bodice is what feels like a glass vial. Gemma waits until LeBrix leaves the room before investigating further.
• The vial hidden in a pocket in Nilasa’s bodice is an empty vial, recently used. There is no obvious smell of anything alchemical to it, so it might be the emptied remains of a magical potion or elixir.
• The glass vial that Gemma retrieved does still have a faint lingering aura of illusion magic to it, as there are still a few drops left for scrutiny. After some study on the vial and its properties, Jesselle concludes it was most likely an invisibility potion that Nilasa Hume had recently consumed before her fall and death.
• The bullets from the two gunshot wounds have been extracted. One shot to her leg was not life-threatening. The other shot entered her upper back and pierced her lung. Gemma's estimation of the entry wounds is that they came from long-distance; neither occurred at close range.
• The wound on Nilasa's scalp is not from the breaking of glass like what she suffered on her arms. They appear to be lacerations in a pattern, but as if her scalp was not healed while her face was. Furthermore, the wound has marks of decay as if caused by necromantic energy.
• The pattern of wounds from the scalp now make sense in the context of Nilasa's first statement - her face shows signs of magical healing that closed the wounds upon her face, leaving very faint traces of four parallel slashes there. Nilasa was magically healed, apparently after she died upon the fence.
• First Question’s Answer: ”I was…killed. Murdered. Murdered by that terrible man who found me…I was too slow, too long. Found me the man did and his face was smiling at me, but it was a false face, a face of death. Turned…to…shadow. The shadows moved and I ran for the window, to freedom, but he was always there! How did he do that? Slashed…my face…with his cruel talons. It hurt so much, so very very much, and I could not see, but I did not stop. Then I…hit…and flew with my charm…I was free! The air rushed about me and I felt I could soar to the very clouds! But…it was not enough…and I fell…and…hit again. Ohhh. Pain, so much pain and I knew what had happened to me…OHHHHHHhhhhhhh!”
• Second Question’s Answer: ”There is little time now. Something is coming. I was on a mission…on a mission for Her. I will not betray Her now to you, greycloaks, not even after what has happened to me, but know that what She tasked me to do was for the good of Risur. For the good of the poor and oppressed, my brothers and sisters and kinsmen of Flint that choke and weep and die under the gloom of this terrible ‘industry’ that plagues them. How could I stand by while so many of my friends and worker-kin suffer so from the wicked? How is this the future promised? So I did not stand idly by. I joined. I acted. I duped Braden, and learned the workings and patterns here, and was patient to enact my plan. And so I did, and found the evidence I was sought to seek, so that She could undo their foul plans. Their secrets would be revealed by my hand! But then…He…found me and…and…” There is clear anguish then, and for a moment Jesselle fears she will go back to wailing on her death as she did from the first question. But instead she looks with desperation on her ghostly face right at Jesselle and pleads, ”No time left, but I implore you if you have any decency – protect my adopted father! Protect dear Heward! I fear He that killed me and those besides will murder Heward as well for my discovery! Please! I beg you, do not let him come here before his due time…I could not bear it! Please…they come…I cannot tary…I must…”
In the Receiving Hall Discoveries:
• Staff confirm that Nilasa arrived right as the consulate opened at seven o’ clock to bring pastries (including a popular Beran cookie-pastry called brigaderos) and make coffee for them. They only knew there was a problem when shots were heard upstairs, and Nilasa had disappeared while they were all having breakfast.
• Security staff relate to Tobias that the shots were heard and confirm it was Julian LeBrix who was already upstairs, while other staff seem to recall LeBrix heading upstairs after the shots were heard. Still other staff seem confused by the details, but breakfast was amazing!
• Braden shares that Nilasa’s favorite tavern was the ’Thinking Man’s Tavern’ in Bosum Strand District, and she had several friends and acquaintances there. He had been there once with her, but his Danoran heritage made him uncomfortable with the patrons there.
• Braden shares that she worked in ‘Sechim’s Alkahest and Alchemicals’, a factory in Parity Lake District. She also lived there and had a room, the factory owner being close to her like family. To his knowledge she was an orphan and had no real family in Flint.
• Tia recalls Nilasa was speaking briefly with a foreign doctor in the lobby when it first opened, an Arrovian native from the Malice Lands with proper Danoran credentials, seeking traveling papers to Ber. Tia seems willing to share the doctor’s case file with Tobias…perhaps if he is free for dinner at some point in the near future?
• Tia gossips that Consular du’Nadria had a guest in the basement meeting room at the time of the consulate’s opening, an early meeting for the consular that he setup directly. She saw the consular shortly after the shootings and the ruckus outside (suggesting he was not involved in the incident upstairs), but didn’t see his guest – she remembers him because he had a Risuri accent, but was otherwise pretty nondescript.
Display Gallery Discoveries:
• In the middle of the gallery room, not far from where the overturned pedestal that held the ceramic egg on display, a fine embroidered rug was seemingly moved there. Underneath it are bloodstains.
• A brief but effective look at the consular’s closed door as Tobias briefly distracts LeBrix reveals the door’s fine lock was picked (presumably by Nilasa Hume), given slight markings on the lock and wood around it. Given that it is a very fine lock, Fethryth reasons Nilasa must have had time to pick it.
”Well, here ya are, lord-and-lady constables!” Jack Byron waves to the traveler’s hostel known as the ‘House of Blue Birds’ – an establishment that is certainly not the finest for the likes of North Shore, but still a good-quality inn by the standards of most other districts. Lacking a tavern or restaurant as a roadside inn might have, the staff seem attentive and already have come out to take notice of the two carriages parked in front of their establishment. The grounds are nice and well-tended, and it seems to be a quieter place without the usual glamor and fanfare of the very wealthy, yet just a few streets away from the livelier bustle of Bosum Strand District to the south.
”Welcome to the House of Blue Birds,” says a hostel staffer in standard livery as he approaches their carriages, looking for bags to bring inside. After a moment he seems to understand they are all constables and this is no social call. ”May we…assist you good constables? I hope there is no trouble here.”
Emerson steps out and thanks Jack for the ride before turning to the man greeting them. "Good morning sir. I am constable Hill with the RHC." He takes a moment to introduce the rest of the constables in turn before continuing. "We are investigating a man who appeared to have stayed here, perhaps leaving without paying. Could you or your proprietor be of assistance?"
"Ah. I see." The greeting man sighs slightly with some degree of recognition of what Emerson asks, though he is pleasant enough and appears to be fully cooperative. He motions for the constables to follow him back to the House of Blue Birds, giving a quick motion to the other servants that the two carriages will not be translating to new business.
As they walk inside, the greeting man in his livery speaks to Emerson in a matter-of-fact tone. "May I assume you are referring to the foreign doctor? Doctor von Recklinghausen? Forgive me if I am incorrect, but as Officer Porter of Flint Police came to ask us similar information not even two hours ago, I assume the man is the source of your inquiries as well?" Stopping by the main desk and snapping his fingers quickly for the assistant to produce the visitor's ledger, he adds, "I will tell you as I told Officer Porter, the doctor caused no trouble here and did not seem in any way suspicious - he even paid-in-full to the end of the week just yesterday in fact, so we were all quite surprised when he showed up earlier here in haste from his surgery, and then left so abruptly."
Emerson raises an eyebrow at the mention of 'Officer Porter'but doesn't ask about this most likely fabricated identity yet. He stares a moment at the ledger making note of the dates of the 'Doctor's' stay at the Inn.
"Did you notice anything strange, interesting, or off about the man while staying here? Does he have any identifying marks or mannerisms like a limp or specific accent? Did he have visitors at any time during his stay with you?"
"Well yes...yes in fact the doctor did have a foreign accent certainly. It sounded Drakran to me, definitely not Beran, Danoran or Crisillyiri," answers the greeting man with a finger to his chin in thought. "Reserved fellow, but very pleasant, very respectful I would add. Well-dressed and refined, but that would be expected for a well-to-do man of learning. Kept to himself and I presumed focused on his business, though there was an elegant Risuri woman that came to call upon him once in the past week when he was out...however she did not stay and I do not recall any names."
The man hands over the visitor's ledger to the constables for perusal, noting that Officer Porter reviewed it as well before inspecting Doctor von Recklinghausen's room, let in by one of the cleaning staff.
As the ledger is examined, they see following entries about the doctor:
* Full name is Doctor Wolfgang von Recklinghausen
* Place of Origin is not listed
* Paid-in-full through 7 Summer.
* Primary Contact is Doctor Barnaby Camp, resident and local surgeon of North Shore
Jesselle, to Emerson's left, considers the names given by the staff of the House of the Blue Birds to see if she recalls hearing of any of them...
Jesselle muses over the names and the ledger that is offered to the constables. Having not only a keen intellect and remarkable memory for law and the activities of the R.H.C., she also keeps up on many of the dailies...including the less savory sections on gossip and social scenes.
She neither recalls the name Wolfgang von Recklinghausen, nor has any remembrance of an Officer Porter. The name of Doctor Barnaby Camp, however, rings a bell in her mind. With Spring's recent tragedy of her father and the dealings with the Wesmere family over his sickness, she recalls that Doctor Camp is one of the foremost surgeons in North Shore, practicing "modern" forms of healing in conjunction with Old Faith healers for better outcomes with wealthy patients. Doctor Camp did not consult on her father's case as there was nothing to remove surgically, but she knows he has a teaching clinic somewhere in North Shore, as well as maintains a modest residence in the district. Jesselle doesn't know the precise location of either...but she knows Master Alantree would, or the North Shore administrative offices near Mayor Choir's mansion would for that matter.
Jesselle nods at the greeting man as she considers all that she is being told. "Was Officer Porter seen leaving with anything?"
"Perhaps we could trouble you and have a quick look at this room?" Jesselle asks kindly.
"Officer Porter? No, no I would say not," replies the greeting man smoothly - calling himself Hayden by way of brief introduction. He turns to a one of the staff standing about watching the constables and calls her over to them. "Mia, would you show these fine constables the room of Doctor von Recklinghausen?"
Mia nods and leads any constables desiring to go with her to the doctor's room, heading upstairs and down a long hallway before turning to an adjacent hall that looks upon the Ayres in the distance. With a key she opens the door and stands there as the constables review the room. Unfortunately, it appears that the room has been turned through and rummaged already, with the mattresses flipped over and the drawers to the armoire and writing desk all opened.
Mia doesn't say anything for a moment while the constables review the ransacked room, but finally her curiosity seems to get the better of her and she asks, "I didn't think the doctor was any trouble, not prone to bein' a violent sort y'understand. Did he do some sort of murder or foul violence, your doctor? When I brought Officer Porter here he seemed hurt...in pain like...and it seemed he'd been bandaged up and all. I guess the nice doctor was a foul villain then, if he's attacking policemen and all. Just goes to show you can't trust how someone looks all fair on first accounts, eh?"
Emerson smiles as if to allay any fears the woman might have. "No ma'am. He's currently just a person of interest." He looks around the room looking for anything that might be of interest and almost absentmindedly asks, "Mia, was the room in this condition when you first opened it? And, did Officer Porter leave his credentials? We may want to coordinate our investigations."
"Well...um...no," answers the cleaning woman sheepishly to Emerson, looking down at her feet a bit before going on further. "No, Officer Porter made most of this mess once I let 'em in here. He went through the place with a vengeance he did...which is why I noticed him injured-like and having bandages around his chest that were stained black. When he finished and we went back to Hayden and the others, Porter gave over a whole stack o' crowns to 'em, suggesting we all keep this quiet-like and hushed...so that it wouldn't impact his investigation ya understand." Shuffling her feet again she adds, "Got a whole crown to keep out of it...maybe that's wrong in your eyes good constables, but it's not often a policeman of North Shore comes by to have us cooperate usin' crowns and not the threat of a beating stick. The whole thing was odd though, as he smelled a bit like burnt oil from a lit lamp that's dry, or somethin' outta a factory over in Parity Lake."
Looking around the room, Emerson can tell that anything obvious that was worth taking from the doctor's room has been taken, including anything the doctor once had in the armoire, dressers or on the writing desk. However in the far corner of the room at an overturned trash can, there's a discarded blackened rag that was left behind. Emerson can almost instantly tell by sight and smell there's some sort of light cleaning oil on the rag that is used to oil a blade or a pistol. However, a dull jet-black fluid more viscous than cleaning oil stains the rag as well, which smells oddly like scorched grease from the engine room of the Coaltongue.
He takes it all in while looking around the ransacked room. "Mia, would you please summon the rest of the staff? We're going to need as much information on 'Officer Porter' as you all can remember."
Emerson picks up the rag and puts it into a paper envelope and marks the outside with a description of the item, time, date, and location retrieved. To the rest of the constables he says, "Perhaps we should investigate Parity Lake next? This grease is pretty unique looking. Maybe we can track it down and find this Porter fellow."
Gemma's been poking around the room as well, trying to guess at what's been taken and why. After Mia moves out of the room to gather the rest of the staff, Gemma speaks quietly, so as not to be heard outside the room. "We may be able to take care of a couple of things in Parity Lake, but we may need to get there sooner rather than later." She looks briefly to Jesselle before continuing. "Nilasa's shade was desperate to have us find and protect her adopted father, Heward. Her entire mission was based on helping out the industry workers of Flint. Perhaps the oil ties the two together somehow. But she sounded very fearful that he would be a target for whoever murdered her. I'd make a wager that he knows a lot about what's going on and can help sort out some of these loose ends."
"Sounds like a start to me. Especially when there is..." she makes sure that the Mia has departed, "There are people going around impersonating a constable.
"I also know that Master Alantree, a mentor of mine, would be able to lead us to the Doctor Barnaby Camp. she adds in.
She than approaches Emerson to look at the rag with some sort of oily substance on it...
Emerson takes the rag out of the envelope and raises it for Jesselle's inspection. "This had to have come from Parity Lake. Smells like the Coaltongue."
"So, we get a few more bits of what Porter looks like and then try to find Heward?"
Fethryth nods "If we know about Heward then it's likely that the Doctor and Porter do too."
Looking over the damage to the room she shakes her head and sighs. "Dammit. We need to get on this trail before it gets cold, but I can't stop thinking about what the hell attacked Hume. Damn Danorans have a monster in that embassy."
Tobias adds his own skills to searching the room but the days events have left him distracted and he keeps getting lost in his own thoughts. As talk to finding the doctor continues he finally speaks up.
"If Doctor von Recklinghausen is the same Doctor the secretary saw Nilassa talking to, well, I've got an unfortunate dinner date with that woman this evening and in exchange she's giving me the Danoran file on him. If we can find even just one of the other three, Heward, Porter or Doctor Camp, we might be able to supplement it with whatever is in the case file."
As the constables discuss their theories and options in the wrecked room, they seem to be of similar mind as to some of it. Nothing else, however, turns up in the doctor's room that could be of use.
Fethryth has heard of malevolent shadows before, undead shades from beyond the Bleak Gate that can drain the life essence of a living being. Yet her recollection is that the creature's touch is draining and not something that has tangible talons - this is somewhat confirmed by Gemma next to her, who somehow managed to employ the use of some shadowy "servant" upon Axis Island back in the early Spring mission. Also, Gemma and Jesselle can confirm that the spirit of Nilasa Hume had seemingly encountered a man that turned to shadow before it attacked her - that the "creature" was in the form of a man initially does not mesh with anything Fethryth can recall from her Old Faith teachings.
Something else nags at Fethryth's mind - something about Heward Sechim seems familiar somehow, though she doesn't know the faintest idea why. She's certain she's not met a "Heward" before in Flint.
As for Jesselle, she feels there is something unusual and unnatural with the black oil substance...almost as if its presence sends a chill up her back the way she would feel when she concentrates on the spirit world. Yet in its appearance and form it brings no further insight to her - certainly lacking the tools and laboratories of R.H.C.'s R&D wing here in the field, Jesselle can only think something further might be gleaned with R&D analysis back at Flint Branch.
A few minutes later the seven constables speak with the assembled staff of the 'House of Blue Birds' in the main receiving hall. There they quickly find that 'Officer Porter' bribed them with a few golden coins in return for "searching" the doctor's room and taking a small sack of goods from there with him. Hayden and the others confirm that Porter did have a proper-looking police badge he showed them to confirm his status. A rather unassuming policeman of middling height with black hair, brown eyes and what can be described as a beakish nose with a snooty countenance, the only staff that got a close look at him was Mia when she showed him the doctor's room. Most did not detect that he was injured or had bandages under his police uniform. Porter's last questions to the staff were to ask if any had seen which way the doctor had gone off to, which one groundskeeper says he thought the foreign man walked off southwards towards the Bosum Strand District after leaving the House in hasty fashion through a back door. Officer Porter did not head south himself, but seemingly headed eastwards back to the heart of the North Shore District, presumably to report back to his station house.
Both their own R.H.C. carriage driver as well as Jack Byron offer salutations to the seven constables as they come back up the manicured path from the 'House of Blue Birds' to the street. "Where to now, good constables? Do ya need any more esteemed services of good Jack Byron in these parts?" Their own R.H.C. driver Mavery rolls his eyes in irritation, but makes preparations to depart as soon as they say where to...
Having no further use of Jack Byron in the North Shore District, the driver says his goodbyes before heading off to look for new fares, leaving Mavery to convey the Seven away from the House of Blue Birds and onwards to Parity Lake. Though they are somewhat close to the northwestern edge of Parity Lake District (as well as northern Bosum Strand District) from the hostel, Mavery declares that the factory most likely sits on the northeastern side of the lake known as ‘Alchemy Row’ and makes his way back through North Shore to come at it from the north side. Traffic on the main boulevards of North Shore is not heavy, and within twenty minutes they are across the breadth of North Shore and heading to Alchemy Row.
However, they soon find Heward Sechim’s factory is not found there, and it takes a bit of conversing with various other drivers and wagoneers of the district to sort out where ’Sechim’s Alkahest & Etchings’ is located, which is farther around to the very southern rim of Parity Lake at the edge of where the Nettles District looms before it with all of its shanties and makeshift slums on the hillside. Mavery apologies for the delays to his constables and makes as best time as he can for them.
For those constables that haven’t been to Parity Lake before, the time spent traveling along the lakeside roads is eye opening when compared to the wealth and tranquility of North Shore. Here in Parity Lake the smog and soot is at its heaviest, with a tangible acrid taste to the very air that they breathe in, countless passersby on the street coughing and covering their mouths with scarves, rags or even crude burlap masks to cut the soot and chemicals from their lungs. The district feels dark and grimy, with soot-stained bricks and gaslamps lit even in the daytime to provide illumination through the gloom. The heart of the city’s industry, the streets are lined with factories or warehouses in clumps, with very few shops or residences in existence – those living places seen are nothing more than run-down tenement buildings multi-storied, or single-level edifices that look like shabbily constructed barracks rather than housing. Greenery and flora is nearly nonexistent, with most attempts at lawns or trees by the streets dead and dried out. In places where they pass close to the lake itself, the waters look fouled and reek of waste and chemicals.
Street traffic here is slow but mostly relegated to wagons and teams of horses pulling supplies and materials between the various factories, with only a few children milling about trying to beg or sell street goods, and the occasional police squad moving with their weapons at the ready. Quickly enough the constables can see that many factories have guards at their main entrances – most locked and chained with thick chains – while small crowds of women and children shout at the guards and protest the working conditions of that factory some distance away. Unlike something found in Bosum Strand, these protests are unorganized and have no flair or panache to them from the Dockers. Instead, the protests are grim and filled with raw anger and visible tension as tangible as the smoggy air that they raggedly breathe. The carriage turns a corner and moves by a trio of factory guards dragging a protesting old man from an alley with his head bloody and clearly unconscious, the guards throwing him into the street in a heap and shouting at other protesters nearby of a similar fate should they try and get too close. A block away a small group of guards are forced back to the doors under a hailstorm of thrown rocks by the protesters. Unfazed, the R.H.C. carriage rolls on by with guards, workers and protesters all giving them a wide berth and a wary eye.
Petty crimes and “routine” acts of violence are not the domain of the R.H.C. to resolve of course – that is the domain of the police forces who answer to the district mayors. It is accepted though that the Parity Lake Police squads are widely regarded as some of the most corrupt and harsh of all the districts, being little more than crude enforcers of Mayor Gohins in her crackdown of opposition to the progress of industry that drives the city. The district is also the homeground of the infamous Kell Guild, Flint’s most notorious criminal organization. Adding to the volatile mix are the rash of deadly factory arsons and the sporadic but persistent slayings of the Ragman, making Parity Lake the most dangerous district of the city, even more so than Pine Island.
The constables know the dire situation fairly well from the dailies and occasional briefings: previously small groups of Dockers had come to argue for better working conditions for the workers in mid-Spring. Momentum had built and there was talk of having an actual organized worker walk-out. The factory owners retaliated by locking their factories in the middle of shifts, refusing to let anyone leave unless they produced their quota and not paying full wages to the workers until the protests end. The women and elderly poor protested to try to get their loved ones free, as some “shifts” went across multiple days. Now, these protests dot the district, since many factory owners coordinated their actions in full support of Mayor Gohins and her administrators – most “guards” are said to be off-duty footmen of the Parity Lake Police, earning extra pay in a convenient arrangement to suppress the protests, with the full might of the police coming down on any foolish worker or protester who would openly pick a fight with them. A convenient arrangement to be certain. So far, the leaders of the Dockers movement have not had the strength to sustain any real movement as they could in Bosum Strand, Central and elsewhere.
Just over an hour by their timepieces since leaving the ‘House of Blue Birds’ in North Shore, the R.H.C. carriage reaches the southern rim of Parity Lake and its particular section of lakeside factories that contribute heavily to Risuri military resources. Pulling up to ’Sechim’s Alkahest & Etchings’, the Seven notice quickly that this factory is the only one on the street not being protested by crowds. The factory to its left having something to do with metal drills and bores, it is surrounded by a small mob of women singing traditional Risuri folk songs; thick metal chains are wrapped around the double doors leading into the bore factory, guarded by a group of burly men that seem well-trained in their batons. An identical scene fronts the factory to the right, which seems devoted to the packaging of firedust cartridges. And across the street to the south three smaller factories all have comparable, angry crowds. Yet not at this one directly before them.
A trio of guards outside the front door stand at the ready for any trouble, but unlike the other factories these men do not seem to be there to keep either protesters at bay or workers inside. As the seven constables disembark from the carriage, one of the trio makes a motion to the other two and trots inside the main double doors, presumably to alert those within to their arrival.
The young woman watches out the window as they group travels about Parity Lake. The scene of a guard having just beaten a protester set her stomach on edge even more than the toxic air about the Lake several minutes ago. If she did not have an important task she might have had the mind to do something about man who just admitted to assaulting the older man and threatening to do it again to others.
Jesselle exits the carriage and watches as one of the guards disappears...
With her fellow constables in tow she makes her way to the front doors, "Good afternoon. Constable Wesmere to see Heward Sechim, if you please."
Tobias instinctively pulls out a handkerchief and holds it over his mouth as they travel through Parity Lake. He's had years to get used to the lack of fresh air in an urban environment, but this area was far too covered in pollution for his countryside sensibilities and beneath the cloth covering his mouth is a grimace that never goes away.
As Jesselle approaches the remaining guards his eyes follow the one headed toward the factory, trying to gauge his pace to determine if they'd been expected or not.
Emerson follows the two out of the carriage, ready for anything. The protesters and guards battling back and forth remind him of his time in the Royal Navy. Even though they are given a wide berth due to their constable status, he understands the fickle nature of crowds and is very wary of their position. He closes the distance to Tobias and mumbles under his breath. "When we're done with this investigation, I think we should see what we can do to ameliorate the situation in Parity Lake. This just isn't right."
Willem was quiet and taking notes at House of Blue Birds and didn't see anything else out of place that the other constables didn't pick up on. Willem climbs into the same carriage as Tobias and Emerson. He watches the riots and shakes his head. As they passed by the crowds he looks into the eyes of rioters and the police alike searching their thoughts with his gut feeling that all good constables and police officers have.
Following Emerson out of the carriage and to break up the mood a little, "They must be riotin' because of this horrible smog?!" Of course Willem knows that is not the majority of the reason why. And he continues his scan of the nearby guards and citizens apparent.
Quite the contrary to the thought that the two guards might have been expecting their arrival, Tobias and Willem note they seem to utterly gawk at the constables walking towards them; clearly they were not anticipating such a sight, looking to each other and back to the seven constables as if never seeing such a sight before. Of course, even they would have to agree that most R.H.C. assignments were issued in pairs or at most quads, so a full seven uniformed constables in any one place was most unusual to say the least.
Jesselle, Emerson and Willem notice that these guards in front of Heward Sechim's factory are of a different sort than those they have seen elsewhere in Parity Lake. At the chained doors to the bore factory to their left, for example, the guards there show the haircuts and mannerisms of off-duty police footmen working private shifts. Yet here in front of Sechim's Alkahest & Etchings' the longer-haired and tattooed guards appear to be plucked from the Bosum or Central dock workers...or could easily pass as gang enforcers or even bandits from the Cloudwood for that matter. Yet despite their rough-and-ragged brawler demeanors, the pair show no hostility as the Seven approach them, their voices awed and respectful as they reply to Constable Wesmere's greeting.
"Ma'am? Yes ma'am, constable ma'am..." answers the first as he doffs his hat and lowers his wetted scarf from his mouth before speaking. "Uhh...just a moment here ma'am - sirs and madam constables - as we're fetchin' our boss to come here and greet you proper like."
The second guard, slightly shorter and stockier than the first guard with shaggy unkempt hair, raises eyebrows with wide eyes as he exclaims, "Blimey! You's all greycloaks...uhh...I mean constables of the R.H.C. eh? Blimey! Never seen a constable up close aside from sketches in the dailies before..."
"Yeah...yeah!" says the taller first guard with longer hair with some strands coiled and tied in an rural Old Faith Risuri fashion. He looks to Anneca and back to the rest in semi-recognition. "Yeah that big full-page sketch in the dailies a while back...you all the ones that saved the King and the Coaltongue back on 1 Spring right? When Ethelyn's Rebellion started up?"
Yet before any of the Seven can answer that question, the original guard comes back with a man dressed in somewhat finer but utilitarian clothing, bearing goggles on top of his head and heavy black gloves that he is working to take off as he approaches. The man is middle-aged, yet handsome and fit with a respectful countenance even as he views the Seven with discerning eyes. "Thank you gents," he says amiably to his three guards, asking them to take a quick turn around the outside of the factory while he greets his "guests" here. The trio comply instantly to their boss with unforced respect and mumble quick farewells to the constables before patrolling around the factory's perimeter.
"I am Heward Sechim, owner and proprietor of this factory. How can I be of help to the Royal Homeland Constabulary? No trouble here I hope? None of my lads have gotten themselves into the pickle jar, have they?"
Jesselle gives a half smile as she considers the not so pleasant news that she has to share with the man. She starts, "Good day Mr. Sechim. There is no trouble with you, your men, or property: we are in fact here to ask for your help."
She pauses as she is finding it difficult to relate the death to a family member, you never know how they will react. She puts on her best brave face and continues, "But first, we have some unfortunate news for you. Earlier today, Nilasa Hume, was found murdered. I am sorry for your loss." Jesselle gives the man a moment to absorb...
On the carriage ride over, Gemma has been quietly taking in all the sights, dismayed by what she sees.
We fought to preserve this? We're either truly on the wrong side or the king needs to step up considerably.
She imagines some her fellow constables may have similar thoughts but she doesn't ask. She'd heard from her sister that things were bad here, but hadn't seen it first-hand until now. Seeing things as they really are makes a difference. She is especially disturbed by the brutality shown to the protesters and has to grit her teeth and repress the urge to stop the carriage.
Stepping off behind the others, she looks around, surveying the area, noticing who's there, where and how many. It suddenly dawns on her with the guard's surprise and comment about all of them being "greycloaks" that it may not be the smartest thing that all of them are there in a pack. Nothing to do about it now though.
When Heward Sechim directs his men to give him a moment, Gemma makes a snap decision. "Hope you don't mind gentlemen, but may I accompany you? I promise, nothing bad, just some questions and conversation."
She looks to all three of the men and then extends her hand forward as an invitation to move. "Shall we?"
Tobias watches carefully as Jesselle mentions the death of Nilasa. He hoped the early reveal wouldn't ruin any chance of cooperation they had, but he had his own tricks to turn the tide in that regard.
He contemplates joining Gemma but knows his talents are probably better suited here. Extending his hand toward Heward he nods his head solemnly.
"Constable Utegg. As my colleague said, we're sorry for your loss. Unfortunately we also have reason to believe you may have some information that can assist with our investigation. We're hoping you may help us discover the facts around her death."
Heward Sechim regards Jesselle’s words with a momentary shock of widened eyes and mouth agape, a personal recognition to Nilasa Hume plainly evident upon his face. The shock lasts only a fleeting moment however, and as Tobias speaks the factory owner takes on a demeanor of sad stoicism, grimacing and nodding as if somehow this news wasn’t entirely unexpected. ”I see…I knew this day would come for her, but I had hoped…” Heward’s words trail off as he shakes his head ruefully and takes a deep breath.
”Forgive me, constables, but I had some forewarning this was going to happen. That sounds sinister I know, but let me explain in safer and better surroundings, so that we may speak freely.” Heward waves a hand briefly to the other factories ahead and to either side of him, with their guards and protests of the poor. ”I wouldn’t expect any trouble with the R.H.C. so clearly about, but just the same we should speak in my office upstairs. This way –please keep your mouths covered and do not breathe deeply until we pass the main workroom floor.”
With that, he gestures for them to come inside his factory, putting up a scarf around his mouth and instructing two more burly strongmen inside to stand watch at the doors and admit the seventh constable when she arrives back from the perimeter walk with the other guards…
As Gemma takes a turn around the factory with the three brawler-like guards, she quickly gains a sense of the place and the surroundings. Heward Sechim’s factory is easily four stories tall, with a guessed measured pace of one-hundred-fifty feet or more on its sides, and one-hundred feet at the front and rear. There are no windows visible below the third floor, and from her vantage point the windows on the third and fourth stories appear to be barred and reinforced.
Other than the smallest and most awestruck of the three men chatting idly to her about “never seeing a lady constable up close before” and references to the now-famed R.N.S. Coaltongue and Axis Island incidents by all three men, there is not much conversation until they get to the rear of the factory by Parity Lake’s edge. There, a broad pier separates the factory grounds from the water, with several factory workers there bringing in supplies from docked lake barges into a set of heavily guarded rear doors to the factory. Over at the firedust cartridge factory to their right, a standing crane manned by several men carefully raises a heavy reinforced crate of what must be many casks of firedust, with a whole squad of sour-faced guards standing in a line with batons out to bash anyone who comes in their vicinity. Two of Gemma's accompanying guards glare at those men next door and excuse themselves to stand near the rear doors a moment and ensure their own men aren’t having any trouble with their “neighbors” nearby.
To Gemma, Sechim’s men seem amiable enough and work well together, but they are clearly on edge from any movements or sounds coming from the factories nearby…perhaps explainable with the sounds of shouting protesters and guards cursing and yelling various threats at each other.
”Yeah, those beatin’ gutterdogs don’t like us none over here, that’s fer sure constable,” says the third shortest guard remaining with Gemma for a moment, the talkative one who calls himself Hap. ”Blackboot beatin’ scum of the so-called police of Parity, workin’ off-time to pad their pockets with crowns when not arrestin’ and beatin’ poor folk for no good reason…worse since they keep their workers locked inside fer double and triple shifts and the like. And with the fires burnin’ so many factories down and the blame goin’ to Gale and her ilk, they think all their poor workin’ sods are consipiritatin’ and the like, and so they beat to a pulp anyone who gets outta line even if they have good reasons ta do it.” Hap thumps his chest a couple of times though and says with clear pride, ”But not us m’lady, no not us. Heward Sechim is a good man and a fair man, and cares about his folk and doesn’t treat us like garbage, whether we live in the rowhouses of Parity or the shanties of the Nettles just up the way there. No sir, couldn’t have asked for a finer boss-man I couldn’t!”
”Which is why the other factory owners hate us,” says the taller guard named Angus who comes back over from the rear doors, hearing the last part of Hap’s conversation to Gemma. ”Sechim doesn’t squish his workers under his boot or chain them up, so the other owners hate him and think he’s an instigator, threatenin’ to ruin him and take him down.”
”Right,” says Hap in agreement with his fellow. ”Right you are Angus, but we ain’t gonna let that happen!”
”Not if we can help it,” says Angus nodding. ”Between these protests though gettin’ out of hand, threats from the rival owners to either side of us…and those foul strangers lurkin’ about recently, we’ve got our plates full of trouble.”