"The warding, good call Wesmere." Tobias says as he inspects the area making sure everything is in order though he's still rattled from everything they saw during the fight.
"Yeah, I can't honestly believe there won't be another attack coming our way before we make it back down, everyone keep on your guard. We did well but we shouldn't get complacent. Nevard, how are you?" He asks looking at the older man.
”Oh I am fine my boy, just fine…no worse for wear,” answers Nevard Sechim to Tobias heartily, straightening out his sleeves and burnt robes at the hem before moving back to clasp him on the shoulder. ”Quite exhilarating actually for me, despite the direness of it!”
He briefly looks back to the Heavens as if his eyes are lured there a moment, but shakes his head and looks to where he scorched Gemma so badly with his bluish fire – which he still holds in his hand – and takes on a concerned frown. ”I am so sorry my dear – it seemed pain was the only way to wake you from that foul reverie, yet I did not mean to burn you so! Let me soothe your wounds…and you as well young Emerson, as the lion’s kiss was not kind was it?”
He drops his walking stick to the ground and uses his other hand to channel the power of the Old Faith to both Gemma and Emerson, soothing their wounds completely. ”There now, burn and bite managed better than a roaming rover’s tonic!”
The winds atop Cauldron Hill still howl, perhaps even worse now as if the mountain knows it has failed to claim the lives and souls of the living that dare to stand atop it. Fethryth extinguishes her light from her badge, enshrouding them in near-darkness until their eyes begin to adjust, the soft bluish fire of Nevard’s azure fire the only source of illumination for them inside the encampment. Other mites, bats and spectral shades can be seen in and around their summit encampment, but for now the attention seems to be focused mostly on the fallen sunrods lying about to their east, with the warding ring of blood and salt now holding in place. To Jesselle, Fethryth and Tobias, Nevard says, ”I fear I have no more direct powers to avail you my young friends, but I…I do not think we will have to…tarry here….much…”
His sentence is cut short as he snaps his head back to the Heavens, a slight gasp uttering from his lips. The winds continue to howl unabated, but in addition the constables now feel both a pressure and a presence over them, growing stronger by the second. It is as if something watches them from above and all around them, while at the same time the air and sky seems to be heavier, weighing them down from all sides. Time seems to slow down – the drifting of spectral vestiges, glowing motes and flapping of batlike wings becomes slower and more pronounced.
Then it happens. A sudden speck of winking light appears overhead, brightening into the celestial flare of a shooting star as it streaks across the sky from right-to-left, brilliant but ominous in its passing. The celestial event in the Heavens lasts for a long six ticks of a timepiece before it disappears towards the northwest horizon. Then the ominous sensation passes and the air feels normal again, as much as normalcy can described in such a terrible place as Cauldron Hill.
”I believe I have seen all I need to see, my friends,” says the Skyseer with a deep exhale of breath and a satisfied nod. ”I will need to rest and reflect on the import of all that we have seen tonight, but that must come later. With the vision of my nephew’s factory and that of Nilasa’s murderer set against us, I too wish now to not tarry until the dawn. Let us be away, shall we?”
Ironically, the attack by the shadowy Grannan Telbor has shown them the way to easily bypass the spectral vestiges, shady mites and other spooks of Cauldron Hill; with what few sunrods the constables have in their possession as well as light orisons or cantrips cast upon hurled stones by all of them aside from Gemma, the lures of light provide ample enough distraction for departure. Formed up in a solid group with weapons drawn as they move towards the eastern slope descent, it is clear that pairs of shade mites have no stomach for a fight, hooting and pointing but staying well clear of them. The creepy batlike creatures bare teeth but do not attack or swarm up upon them. Only ghostly motes of light occasionally buzz by them angrily, but the more fearsome spectral vestiges stay well off – perhaps somehow understanding their fate from the likes of Emerson’s wand or other powers. In any event they use distractions of light to move across the summit and finally gain the rough trail down the eastern side, with no sight or sign of the shadowy assassin to waylay them.
”STAND AND BE COUNTED!”
Approximately two hours later after the harrowing trek down the mountain, with illumination and weapons prepared from any sort of attack by the shadowy man, the six constables with their skyseer charge stand at the wrought iron gates and spiked fences of the grounds to MacBannin Manor. Opposite them are a half-squad of mayorial guards with both muskets and pikes drawn at them, baying bloodhounds rushing along the fences towards their location in added calamity. It seems the guards were not expecting their return so soon…or perhaps the deadly eerie nature of the nightwatch for these fellows along the warded iron fences causes an irritable jumpiness in general…but whatever the cause the constables now find themselves at odds with the guards who will not let them pass.
”SHOW YER AMULETS! NONE PASS WITHOUT ‘EM!”
”WHY ARE YOU HERE BEFORE THE DAWN IF YOU’RE REALLY THEM!”
”ONLY THOSE PASS ON THE MAYOR’S ORDERS!”
With the six of them all shouting about amidst baying bloodhounds and more guards approaching from either side of the fenceline, it’s hard to even tell who is in charge here. In the distance the manor house has some windows lit as well as the rear path from here to there. A runner can be seen coming from the manor towards their location now, though it will take more than a minute for them to make the run. Suddenly, the sounds of signal whistles are heard over the cacophony of shouting and baying, shrill and clear with a note of authority to them: to the constables the whistles sound like those used by Risuri Army guards at Flint Branch. It's hard to tell where the source of the whistles come from, though they guess it's on the other side of the manor towards the front gardens or even the front path that leads to Cliff Route.
The guards pause now, clearly dumbfounded now on what the whistles mean. They look back to the manor and the lone runner coming up the path, then to the constables beyond the gates, then back again to the manor.
Emerson slowly takes the amulet from beneath his heavy jacket and shows it to the guards that are close by. "We saw a premonition and needed to get off the hill before sunrise. You must let us pass. There are lives at stake."
The woman is ecstatic to finally see the gates of the manor. The feelings inside
Jesselle takes up the amulet, still about her neck and displays it. "Let us pass!"
Though a couple of the manorial guards seem to hear Jesselle and relent somewhat, the stubbornness of other guards and the baying of dogs makes the convincing of them to collectively open the iron gate nearly impossible. More whistles are heard and what sounds like shouting or some argument in the distance as well, though any details cannot be made out over the din of the noise where they now stand.
Eventually the runner from the manor house reaches the standoff and settles the matter in the minds of the guards. ”The Mayor orders to open the gates and let them pass – they are to be escorted directly to the warding chambers so that he may conduct the rituals to remove any curses or ill-effects they may have.”
At that the guards seem to relax and a couple begin working at the latches and padlock. One of the more surly men asks of the runner, ”What’s all the whistles and commotion goin’ on over there?”
”Army is here…a platoon of soldiers from the R.H.C. barged their way in the front gate. The Mayor and Creed are seeing to what they want.” With that the runner starts his trot back to the manor house, even as the gate is opened for the constables.
”Let’s go then, all of you, to see the Mayor.” The collection of guards is well over a dozen now, who brook no argument for detours; half escort the group to the manor while the rest close and secure the gate behind them, alert for anything else that might be trying to sneak in from the mountain’s upper reaches.
”Ah! Good. There we are, safe and sound. You see? Good good to see you all,” says Mayor Reed MacBannin smoothly and with an easy smile as they enter the rear foyer area near his private study and the corridor to the lower stairwell. The Mayor has changed clothes from his suit to simpler shirt and trousers with an open vest, but seems as alert and amiable as before in the afternoon. The greeting is a bit oddly strained, however, as a host of Risuri Army crack soldiers from Flint Branch fill up the adjoining room and hallway, armed and looking as dour as the Mayor’s guards that stand around them.
The nearest soldier to MacBannin steps forward then, a dreadful scar across his face and otherwise humorless expression marks him as known to the constables - Lieutenant Cason Dale, the ranking officer of Flint Branch’s nightwatch shift. He has a hand resting on the pommel of a fine sword with an elaborate hand guard, and a polished whistle on a chain in his other hand. Saluting the lot of them he says, ”Constables. We’ve come straightaway on orders from…I mean as we saw there might have been trouble. Are you well?”
Jesselle is thinking that something is wrong with this situation She looks back to her fellow constables with a questioning look and mouths the question 'trouble?'
Jesselle steps forward, "Lieutenant, orders from whom and what trouble might you have seen that we were in from the city proper?" she asks rather pointedly. The young woman's hand also grips her bow a little more tightly as her right is ready to draw up an arrow. The situation does not feel right to her and she is ready for more trouble.
'It's probably nothing.' Emerson thinks to himself. It has been a long night and he desperately wants a hot meal and bath. As far as Hill could recall, Lieutenant Dale's resting attitude was just as severe as now.
He asks MacBannin, "Excuse me, Mayor? May we take these medallions off now?"
The platoon of Risuri Army soldiers from Flint Branch have an air of no-nonsense and a threatening posture towards the manorial guards...as if they will bear no sass or resistance from those they consider inferior and in the way.
Mayor Reed MacBannin seems as assured and unperturbed as ever. Your best guess is that he had to quell a misunderstanding or altercation between his manorial guards and the army soldiers assigned to Flint Branch.
”Yes mum,” answers Lieutenant Dale promptly with the usual respect afforded to R.H.C. constables, but a hardened stare to those around the room otherwise. He takes a three steps forward to stand in front of Jesselle and speaks in a normal tone of voice, loud enough for those in the room to hear but clearly meant to address only Jesselle and the constables next to her. ”Orders mum from Inspector Delft, assigned to me directly prior to his leaving. He ordered a telescope watch be set from the compound’s main tower to the top of Cauldron Hill as best as we were able, looking for any signs of trouble or signal flares given, and to lead a detachment straightaway here should there be something spotted. Just after midnight we did see such disturbances, and so I organized and led two squads here to find and assist you, as per orders.” With an annoyed askance look at the Mayor, Lieutenant Dale adds in an utterly professional tone, ”My apologies constables – it took us longer than it should to muster and head up here, and when we did so we were blocked at the turn off Cliff Route by the Mayor’s guards, who denied us entry for well over a half-hour until we were about to break the gates down...”
”And my deepest apologies to the fine soldiers of our Army, and to you Lieutenant, for that regrettable misunderstanding.” The Mayor of the Nettles District steps forward then with a smoothing of his salt-and-pepper black hair and shows a measure of contrition to both Lieutenant Dale and the constables, with Jesselle and Emerson as his focus. ”I was resting you see and had given an elevated status of security to my people tonight, as your assent to the top along with an auguring at the ten o’ clock hour suggested higher-than-normal activity of our warding fences could be possible. It is common practice that any arrivals to the manor – even by our friends in the Army or Battalion Academy – schedule their intentions in advance so that it can be known by the watch leaders.” Reed smiles and says offhandedly, ”That is supported and enforced by Governor Stanfield personally himself you know…the task of keeping the Curse of Cauldron Hill in check being a serious one that has not been forgotten or diminished since its inception one-hundred and fifty years ago.”
”And to answer your query to the Mayor,” says the droll and unfailingly forced polite voice of butler Cillian Creed as he suddenly appears at the top of the stairs from the lower level of the manor, ”you must all keep your amulets on as they are until the final warding and cleansing rituals are performed upon each of you.” To Mayor MacBannin the butler says respectfully, ”Everything is prepared now, sir, for when you are ready.”
"Thank you for your concern Lieutenant," Jesselle says and seems a little more relaxed with the explanation but still thinks that something is wrong even if she cannot put her finger on it.
"Mayor McBanin, How long will the ritual take?" The woman asks as she is in a hurry to be elsewhere, "And if we kept the amulets on, could we tend to an important matter with a promise to return afterward?"
But you also know he's not telling the whole truth, or at least hides more than he lets on here. His amiable demeanor and high degree of charm is polished and well honed after years of practice. Not surprising for a politician, so that too is perfectly understandable, but he does not speak with the free and fatherly wisdom of Nevard Sechim, or the occasional stark honesty of Stover Delft. Neither does his butler Cillian Creed, though in all respects he seems to be the utterly loyal - and quite capable - second to Reed MacBannin.
So while you detect no deception here in what is said and meant, you know there is a game being played...full disclosure of everything on your end by the mere asking of it would be foolhardy, to say the least.
"It will take but half an hour to discern any attachments of the Curse upon you all, as well as to perform the purification and cleansing rituals prior to removing your amulets. Assuming none of you have removed your amulets prematurely or subjected yourself directly to the Curse for it to take hold in you, we should be concluded just past three o' clock." Reed smiles but shakes his head in seriousness. "I am afraid it must not be delayed under any circumstances, so I cannot allow you to leave before then, under the strictest laws from the offices of the Governor and the King."
Lieutenant Dale salutes sharply. "The platoon shall wait for you, constables, and provide you escort back. Your driver and carriage came back to the compound before dusk, but we have both wagons and horses to spare."
Gemma has been unnaturally quiet since the fight on Cauldron Hill. Whether it was the necessary burning by Nevard or her inability to do anything in a fight, once again, she won't say. She seems as though she is doing her very best to maintain her professional demeanor but that one wrong move or word may make her snap.
Since she walked down from the Hill, Gemma's hand hasn't left the hilt of her sword, despite it being now sheathed. Any time Cillian Creed walks into the room, she immediately has her suspicions. Now with guards all about and another magical ritual to go through, her hackles are up even more.
"Let's just get this over with, shall we? We have places to be." Her voice is cutting and curt. She has no time or patience for niceties any more.
The butler, Cillian Creed, says nothing that would cut against what MacBannin is saying. He seems utterly loyal to the Mayor and content to do his duty in service to his master...and yet you sense that Creed's demeanor of loyal politeness is meant to conceal other truer emotions underneath. The veneer of false politeness, however, is not exclusive to the likes of Cillian Creed.
"Constable Atherton." Lieutenant Dale seems to have a flicker of recognition to her specifically, and nods respectfully to her as well as to Tobias Utegg behind her. He seems to want to say more, but the crowd of surly guards and soldiers makes it improper to do so.
"Of course, esteemed constables, of course," interrupts the Mayor in friendly fashion that nevertheless assumes an aura of command within his own household. "Unless there is anything else pressing, let's have you seven head to the chambers below for the purification rites, so that you can attend to your...ah...other pressing business at this hour." Reed pauses and looks pointedly at Lieutenant Cason Dale. "If that is agreeable to you, lieutenant?"
"Quite."
"Excellent. Cillian? If you would take a few of the household staff and ensure the Army horses are given water and feed, I shall see to the constables and our esteemed Skyseer along shortly."
"Certainly sir. It shall be done."
Tobias looks to the others as they negotiate with the Mayor, he lets the words sink in and considers their options, though it sounds like they have few other than waiting for the Mayors clearance.
"Might we have a moment or two to ourselves Mayor. There are a few things I'd like to discuss with my colleagues and the Lieutenant before we head down."
If provided the time, he looks to the others with an eyebrow raised.
"Should we send word back to HQ about the vision we had? Maybe have Dale send a few of his men on ahead to check on the warehouse while we make sure none of us are cursed?"
His suggestion given, he waits to hear the groups decision then moves to get the ritual finished with so they can be on with their jobs.
"Yes, of course Constable," replies the Mayor smoothly with a nod. He heads downstairs to personally check on the preparations, even as the butler takes a few of the household staff (accompanied by several watchful soldiers of course) to head out to the front and check on horses. The six constables, Skyseer Sechim and Lieutenant Dale are left to speak to themselves, with manorial guards and army soldiers milling around respectfully from a distance outside of earshot.
”I agree with Utegg. The faster we get people on this the better”. Fethryth has spent most of the trip in silence; she’s been trying to think of how the constables can use their powers to get help to the factory. What help can they commandeer, how quickly can they get the area evacuated and so on.
But being here in front of the mayor is leading to a new train of thought. Grannan Telbor shouldn’t have been able to skip his way up and down the mountain past the mayor’s wards, right? Is it possible the mayor knew that bastard was there? She no longer trusts him, or his malevolent jackass of a butler. She may not know much about Arcane magic, but she knows some of how her own Divine magic works; maybe she knows something about how the wards work, and what could get past them unnoticed?
Gemma nods in agreement to Tobias then looks to Dale once the Mayor and Creed step away.
"Is there anything you need to share first, Lieutenant, before we ask some things of you?
As far as the rituals go and your sense of what might be afoot...I mean...everything seems fairly reasonable and consistent with what you know about dark arts and wardings and all that hokum!
"No, Constable Atherton, other than an academic interest in the martial dissertations that both you and Constable Utegg have on record at Battalion, and perhaps an exchange of knowledge with my own meager efforts." Lieutenant Cason Dale clears his throat uncomfortably. "When time and circumstances permit, of course."
"I have some small experience in dark arts countermethods - an interest of mine at my time at the war academy - and ACI Delft knew I might be best suited to lead troops up here should you all be in dire need. That said, I have orders to find and escort you off the mountain safely and back to Flint Branch. Apologies, Constables Utegg and Teldanona, but I cannot order men to any civilian areas without agent escort or expressed approval from the district Mayor whose jurisdiction it is. So whatever warehouse you're talking about, I can't go play minders on it."
"Well, if there are no objections, why don't we hurry up and get the cleansing ritual done. Then we can make haste to the warehouse with the Lieutenant and his platoon."
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"Can you send a man back to HQ at least, with word from us? I wouldn't ask you to break protocol if it wasn't important but someone's life, someone connected to our investigation, might be in danger right now while we are stuck here in the Mayor's home."
If Dale is willing, Tobias will provide his man information regarding the vision they saw, and tell him to report the info to Delft as soon as possible. If the Lieutenant still objects than Tobias throws his hands up in frustration and heads downstairs to get the ritual over with.
”Oh. Well yes…yessir…can do sir! Of course!” The dour and by-the-book disposition of Army Lieutenant Cason Dale at this very early hour is altered by the simple but powerful plea from Tobias Utegg. Seemingly he doesn’t want to disappoint with what amounts to real lives at stake. He snaps his fingers to a nearby corporal and private in the larger room and says, ”Corporal Aden, Private Willoughby. Here to me now.”
Both the private and corporal salute and step over to Lieutenant and the constables, whereupon Dale issues the orders in stern but hushed speech.
”Aden. Pick three others and get over to this Sechim’s Al-chemist-whatever-it-is factory over in Pine Island’s southside shore, and keep an eye on it until the constables get there proper. If there’s clear violence afoot you have authority by the Constabulary here to act in response, but you cannot engage civilians otherwise…you see something off you whistle in as many Parity Police as you can, if you can. Got it?”
”Yessir, we’re on it.” Corporal Aden salutes smartly, gets the street address and steps out to get his team together.
”Right.” Dale then turns to Private Willoughby. ”Willoughby you’re a pretty good rider, so pick the best horse and get on back to the compound – alert the blockhouse sergeant and HQ building’s nightwatch attendant of…well whatever the constables want given to the ACI when he arrives later this morning.”
Private Willoughby receives and repeats back the verbal missive from Tobias and then heads out to find his horse.
Lieutenant Dale turns back to the constables. ”I’ll stay put with the rest of the platoon until you’re done with the cleansing ritual, and then anyone that needs to head back with us to Flint Branch can do so while you take one of the wagons and head over to the factory.”
"Thank you Lieutenant. It is much appreciated it." He looks to the other constables and asks "Shall we get cleansing started?"
Having very nearly scorched the mayor's incompetent guards, as well as the idiot mayor and his malicious butler, Anneca is in little mood to wait another half-hour before getting back to the city. She should be chasing Telbor right now, before he makes it to his next target. She quietly approaches Gemma - who finally seems to be waking up to the suspiciousness of the situation - as Tobias manages to get the soldiers to do their bidding. She turns her back on the mayor and his men as best she can, whispering to Gemma. "He came up there to disrupt us from seeing the vision. First, how did he know when we'd be up there? It was a limited circle with that knowledge. Second, what did he not want us to see? Third, how convenient is it that we are now stuck here even longer?" She keeps her spells close to mind, ready for her host to turn on them with little warning.
Gemma makes little motion towards Anneca, so as not to arouse any suspicion but whispers in return. "I get the feeling that the mayor's on the up and up but Creed, well, that's another story. There's something that just isn't right but I can't put my finger on it yet. As for the inconvenience, I don't think we have any choice. We can't afford to let something follow one of us home...especially Constable Wesmere. We just need to get this done and get to Sechim's as quickly as we can. At least Tobias managed to get some of the boys moving on it while we're otherwise occupied. Any thoughts on what exactly Telbor is that allowed him to even be up there in the first place? I'm pretty sure he didn't go through the same rituals as we did."
If Anneca was facing her, she would see a sheepish look pass across Gemma's face before her next words. "By the way...I'm sorry I couldn't do...well...anything to help on the hill."
Fethryth gives Tobias a grateful look before turning back to the Lieutenant . "Thank you" she says, nodding at the man, before turning around and addressing the other constables.
"Let's get this over with. We have a limited timetable so move it along! We can talk on the ride back." she barks out before linking her arm through Nevard's and starting to escort the man inside.
Jesslle leans in and whispers... "Do not be so trustful of the mayor, he's hiding something, I have no idea what. Let us be mindful."
She than backs away and says to all her companions, "Shall we get this over with, faster we are done, the faster we can continue."
She turns to the Leutenant, "If we are not back in forty minutes, come see what the problem is and be careful."
”Once again constables, my apologies for any miscommunications between my staff and our esteemed military friends,” says Reed MacBannin smoothly as they ascend the stairs from the cleansing ritual, ”and of course I shall take responsibility for such in my correspondence to Margaret…your Chief Inspectress that is. Certainly Lady Saxby and I do not want any misunderstandings to fester. You may note in your reports that she has my full cooperation, as we are all patriots to Risur and our beloved King, even if wartime is now long behind us.”
The Mayor turns then to the venerable Skyseer and bows deeply with a note of true respect. ”I am glad you made your journey to the top and back without harm, Skyseer Sechim, fraught with danger and mishap as it seemed to be. Did you find what you were so eager to look for atop Cauldron Hill?”
”Oh…we shall see, good Mayor MacBannin,” answers Nevard with a tired but sly demeanor, ”though I both hope and believe it to be so. Rest assured I shall make sure the people are alerted to any foreseen dangers that can be avoided…both high and low.”
”Of course,” says Reed with another respectful nod. He seems to want to say more, but is interrupted by Lieutenant Dale who clears his throat loudly and asks if the constables are ready to depart. With last pleasantries of farewells given, the constables head outside to where the army platoon is gathered, minus the five men sent off already.
Almost sheepishly he says to them both, ”My own work started at Battalion and recently submitted for the Academy is based on dark arts countermethods by using common but long-held wholesome ingredients found in our Old Faith traditions, which in modern life has been too-long forgotten. I’m sorry to say I don’t have a gift for namings and titles…it’s called ’ Meditation, Coffee, and Cherry Pie: Unorthodox Salves Against the Supernatural’ – I can get you both copies if you’d care to examine it…only if you’d care to of course.”
Outside, Lieutenant Dale issues orders for the soldiers to load up on all the wagons except one for the six constables, while Nevard speaks to the six constables briefly, leaning on Fethryth for support as he lost his walking stick up on the summit during the ruckus.
”Whilst I wish to see my nephew safe and sound, I know I must retire back to the Cloudwood and the Southern Henge camp as soon as I can…certainly before the Bond wears off of me. I trust you all to see the shared vision of the factory from Nilasa’s warning does not come to pass...I know now that she speaks to you as well as I in whatever foul game is afoot that ended her life prematurely. I want to say this is all connected somehow, but a Skyseer's main folly is to impress his or her own desires and reasonings on a fresh observences, risking corruption of a pure interpretation of the vision. Once I sleep and reverie on what portents I have gathered tonight, I shall send forth messengers on what may be needed next.”
Lieutenant Dale steps over and says in earnest to them, ”I’ll make sure he gets a good carriage, driver and escort at dawn, constables, assuming you’re not back to the compound by then. If you’re agreeable to driving this wagon on the eastern stretch of Cliff Route and into Parity, meet up with Corporal Aden and the boys…bring yourselves and my men back whole if you would, as the paperwork otherwise is a real headache.”
Despite the constables not being the most expert of wagon drivers themselves, it takes them but half an hour to descend along the relatively well-maintained Cliff Route down to the junction with Cauldron Way, which marks the boundary between The Nettles and Parity Lake Districts. Turning left they soon come to Magazine Street at its western terminus, and take a right to roll down to where the factories are lined up along the southern shore of polluted Parity Lake. Far removed from the clear vistas and cold but clean air of Cauldron Hill, the constables breathe in the soot and sour air of Parity, the humidity of being at sea level mixed with the intermingled fog and smog.
Fortunately for them, there is no smell of smoke or illumination of fire in the distance to where they travel; the potent but steady and somewhat eerie illumination of the gaslamps along the paved street is the only light observable outside the factories, with but a few lantern lights here and there within the buildings to denote the grave shifts are still underway. That, and the presence of paid guards either solo or in pairs, standing outside locked or chained factory doors that keep hapless workers in as much as unwanted intruders out. At this hour, the various gatherings and protests of downtrodden workers are not about, giving the area a false semblance of peace and order.
Soon enough they spy out the smaller wagon of the four army soldiers detached from Lieutenant Dale’s nightwatch platoon for R.H.C. protection, parked at the corner of the adjacent factory just before ’Sechim Alkahest and Alchemicals’. From their prior nighttime visit to Heward Sechim when they first took the case on 1 Summer, both Fethryth and Gemma know that the factory on the left of Sechim’s is devoted to tooling and rifling of cannon bores, gun barrels and the machining of intricate parts for military steamworks engines; it was also the source of the greatest amount of protests on 1 Summer when they all first visited here, the bore factory owner evidently having a more blatant and despicable record with workers than usual. The factory to the right of Sechim’s is devoted to the sifting and packing of processed firedust into paper cartridges with finished bullets…and as Heward and his workers would claim, equally dismal to work at. The three factories on the other side of the street are smaller and more like warehouses than full factories of industry, storing and finishing raw textiles for sailors’ uniforms or heavy canvas for bags and hammocks on naval ships. Of the six factory buildings on this portion of Magazine Street, only the one opposite Sechim’s looks completely dark and not running an overnight shift.
As they roll up just past the first wagon to where they can see down the alleyways to either side of them, the situation looks positively calm and serene. Two of the four soldiers are at the corner on the other side of the street, muskets slung but ready and keeping an eye down both avenues of approach. A third soldier stands guard at the wagon they came in on, while a fourth is smoking and talking with one of the burly guards from the bore factory. Sechim’s looks quiet and still in production, the four exhaust fumes from its production vats of powerful acids visible on its tall roof next to its standing water tower. In the distance at the rear of the adjacent firedust factory next to the docks, the constables can see the pulley and crane apparatus above the roof, evidently in some degree of use.
The soldier guarding the wagon salutes them sharply as they dismount, and quickly the soldier having a smoke with the factory guard puts it out and heads over to salute the constables as well, having two pips on his black-and-dark green army uniform. ”Corporal Aden, sirs. It’s been quiet since we’ve been here. I’ve spoken to one of the night duty guards at ’Moresby Boreworks’ just now and he’s said nothing is out of standard from what they see at this hour. I’ve got two men posted just there at the corner…we’ve had one nighttime delivery roll on by for the place but no signs of trouble or disturbance – no mobs or bands of lackabouts trying to break in or cause a scene.”
Emerson dismounts the carriage and pulls out the new wand that he's sure saved their lives last night. He greets the soldiers before aproaching the Corporal. "Good morning Corporal Aden. Have you made contact with the guards at Sechim's or the Firedust factory?"
Corporal Aden looks slightly confused at the question, as if someone who suddenly has to calculate if he's screwed up or not with his orders. He glances at the nearby private by the wagon, then clears his throat and does his best to answer Emerson.
"Um...no sir I have not. The guard I spoke to at the Boreworks came over to us when we dismounted, wanting to know what we were doing, which is why I started talkin' with him. We haven't spoken to anyone else on the street - uh and the guard in front of Sechim's went around the corner to attend to that delivery wagon I told you about."
Gemma gets out of the carriage, strangely undecided as to whether she now prefers the air down back in Flint or on the mountain. Not really something she was ever expecting to ponder on. But instinct makes her file those thoughts away and quickly survey the area as soon as her feet hit the ground.
She notices right away that there are no guards in front of the factory and that the crane isn't quite where it should be.
She looks first to the Corporal. "Were there guards in front of the factory when you came up?" As soon a her question is answered, she looks to the other constables and then over towards the alley way. "Pardon me a moment, won't you? I think I need to go check something out."
"Just the one mum...I mean sir. He went around for the wagon delivery, as I said to the other constable here. The man I spoke to at the Boreworks said these places get deliveries at all hours...less chance of mishap on crowded streets and all that."
"Hey Gemma! Don't go off by yourself. I've got a bad feeling about this." As he walks down the street behind Gemma, Emerson pulls a bullet from his reloading pouch and casts light on it. He then grips it tightly so that no light is emitted.
Jesselle puts a hand on Emmerson's shoulder, "Right behind you." She has her short bow out in one hand looking about for trouble and not seeing anything of note, a little distracted by the conversation with the guard... she wonders if he is really a guard or someone set to warn his cohorts that they are there.
When they reach their destination Fethryth asks Jesselle to use her Mage Armor wand on her. Once she’s under that protection she makes a slow surveillance of the scene, trying to find anything that’s out of place.
The sight of the crane stops her cold. ”F+$~, that’s how they’re going to do it” she gasps, and then takes off after the other three constables. ”Firedust factory! And that crane’s right next to Sechim’s roof. Stop them! The people inside, I need to..” She switches course and takes off for the door to Sechim’s factory. If it’s unlocked she’s going to burst inside and start yelling for people to get out. If it’s locked she’s going to start banging on the door and yelling for someone to open it
Anneca follows up behind Fethryth, hoping to save her magical energy in order to blast her enemies into smithereens. Quietly, she comments to herself, "Don't forget to transmute fire to ice. Don't want to blow everyone up." More prepared for combat, she summons energy into her body to give her speed and agility in order to position herself well. She has a quick flash of memory to her foolhardy rush into battle, when she nearly got herself killed. She'll have to be smarter and faster this time. She scans the area when Fethryth mentions the crane, hoping to spot a weak spot.
Corporal Aden looks uncomfortably at Constables Hill and Atherton, and seems relieved when they don’t press him further and head off towards the alleyway past the doors to Sechim’s factory. While they are no lackabouts, they clearly seem out of their element and drift over towards Tobias, seeming more comfortable with him and being told what their orders are.
”Apologies, Constable Utegg, but the boys and me can’t just go off questioning civilians without cause and…well…what do you want us to do now?”
All four army soldiers are equipped in battle-ready chain hauberks with garnache-style uniformed tabards over them, clearly ready for a possible fight if they had to scale Cauldron Hill in looking for wayward constables. Each is armed with musket and an option for bayonet, while also wielding more traditional longswords and daggers for close-quarters fighting. As Tobias moves forward, the men form up to either side of him in a protective wing formation.
Your desire to look out for Heward’s people inside the factory is clear on your face and movements as you throw open one of the front factory doors and start yelling for folks to get out. Works near the massive acid stirring vats and reagent holding containers, all in heavy masks and smocks, turn and look at you in surprise, with two inside burly toughs and an older woman who seems to be the foreman all coming towards you with wide eyes and clear concern.
”What’s all the fuss about dearie…oh…OH you’re…”
”That’s Constable Teldanona that is! She and Constable Atherton from a few days ago…”
”Should we wake Master Heward then?”
”Constable, what’s all this fuss…and where’s Shamus?” The matronly foreman removes her mask to speak to Fethryth, even as Fethryth starts to tear up and feel a panging throb of pain in her chest when she breathes. ”Shamus shouldn’t be a’leavin’ us all open to anyone sauntering in here, constables or no! And begging your pardon Constable, but what’s all this with…you got Army types there behind ya…is this a raid you’re pullin’ on us?”
Anneca finds herself somewhat torn between Fethryth heading into the factory doors, and that of the alleyway where the crane seems to be at. Her arcane casting has given her uncanny speed to get quickly where she decides to go. In the distance of the alleyway, she sees a covered wagon and several men gathered behind it, as if they are unloading the described delivery. But to where?
One thing is easily understandable in Anneca’s mind with the crane – it is a simple mechanical rope and pulley device, and definitely requires it to be swiveled, raised and lowered by workers at the base of the crane itself by the docks. Which means there are men operating the crane and bringing its arm to the alleyway, even as other men seem to be dealing with the wagon itself.
Moving into the far alleyway with Gemma in the lead, Emerson trailing behind and Jesselle just behind him, the trio clearly see the aforementioned delivery wagon toward the farther end of the alley. The wagon is covered, but seems to be attended by at least a pair of men with another group of men standing beyond it, talking quietly. The crane’s arm is slowly being moved to hover over the parked wagon, with the holding platform not having been lowered as of yet.
One of the men sees the constables coming around the corner clearly enough and gives a whistle to the others; this lookout of sorts then walks forward towards them to the limit of the rear corner of the wagon. Three more fellows watch with interest from behind the wagon…
…but what catches their eye the most is a large seven-foot tall, red-scaled reptilian creature clad in black leather and with a great Beran warblade on his back, regarding them coolly. Larger than any Beran kobold by far, he seems to be one of the rare Dragonborn race of Ber. He stands up on the front driver’s bench of the wagon and has his arms folded, looking down at the constables but squinting as if trying to make out who they are.
”Heeeey there…don’t need more help for unloading these here supplies, so just turn around and head on back from where you came from – we’re doing just fine here, chums.”
Sechim Factory - Full Map
Sechim Factory – The Alleyway
"There's a serious threat against the factory, wake up Heward, haven't seen Shamus at all, and that's end of our question and answer period." she gasps, fumbling at her belt pouch and pulling out her whistle. She lets out a few short blasts before she starts bellowing at the top of her lungs
"EVERYBODY OUT NOW, BY ORDER OF THE R.H.C, FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY. YOU WILL NOT LIKE ME IF I HAVE TO DRAG YOU OUT." While she'd normally continue shouting at everyone that seems like a bad idea considering how toxic the air is. She pulls the edge of her cloak up over her mouth and tries to catch her breath.
Emerson slows his approach at the sight of the Dragonborn but continues moving forward none-the-less. Without any care to what their potential foes think, he yells back towards the street. "Tobias! Aden! Get your asses over here!"
Gemma cocks her head to the side slightly and whispers back to Emerson, "Hope you're ready. We may need to keep an eye behind us, too."
She then speaks up to the men down the alleyway. "Sorry, Gentlemen. Us turning around is not a possibility. And I must insist that you stop what you're doing by order of the RHC."
Her initial gut reaction is to draw her pepperbox, but with firedust and chemicals in the area, she feels that might not be the wisest of choices.
Instead, she takes a step forward with her hand on her sabre.
Emerson follows Gemma’s lead and moves up beside her. ”Let’s get a little more light on the situation shall we?” He steps up and throws his “light” bullet, aiming so that it lands on the far side of the horse drawn wagon. The bullet lands right next to the center-most man on the far side no making it difficult for them to hide their intentions.
Jesselle moves up with her companions. She follows up, "It is good we were not offering to help unload then. Perhaps you could explain why you and your friends are here?"
As the light bullet is deftly hurled to land a few feet behind the wagon, the illumination changes the look of the situation for some rather dramatically. It also prompts a response from the workers in and around the wagon; those grouped behind the wagon now come forward warily, while two more men who were farther back on the docks by the base of the crane come forward into the alleyway to see what is going on. Around the corner at the front doors of Sechim’s factory whistles and the commotion of people are heard, yet it seems strangely detached from the events unfolding in the alleyway proper.
The hulking dragonborn Beran with the warblade on his back smiles a toothy grin and shows his hands to them, though the smile isn’t something that would put anyone at ease really. He nimbly hops off the wagon and steps just forward of it, even as the other men quietly come forward to flank him and back him up.
”Looks chums, there’s no fuss or muss here! Honest! Me and the boys were sent by Master Van’s firm outta the Strand to help get supplies a’goin’ over here for these here factories, some big production push by the Navy and they want to get a move-on with one of those big new warships…all of this approved, crossed and dotted by some big uppity-type shipwright called Geoff Masarde…and that means all good by the Governor and the King, right? So let’s not get all bunched up – the boys and me gots other deliveries to make around here, so we’ll just pack up and come back later when whatever-it-is you’ve got stirred is all settled down. Right? Right.”
What your eye catches almost immediately is not at the wagon, but above it on the lower rear portion of the roof of Sechim’s Alkahest and Alchemicals – another dragonborn male peers out down at the alleyway, withdrawing back when the light is thrown, but seemingly unable to resist peering out all the same to the unfolding conversation. A rope can be seen now from where he is over the rim of the rooftop that descends down the wall to where one of the wagon horses stands.
What your eye catches almost immediately is not at the wagon, but above it on the lower rear portion of the roof of Sechim’s Alkahest and Alchemicals – another dragonborn male peers out down at the alleyway, withdrawing back when the light is thrown, but seemingly unable to resist peering out all the same to the unfolding conversation. A rope can be seen now from where he is over the rim of the rooftop that descends down the wall to where one of the wagon horses stands.
The dragonborn’s reply to Jesselle’s question as to what they are doing here seems rather reasonable, and he gives his answer smoothly as if he knows what he’s doing and is supposed to be here. If he is lying, his ruse is pretty brazen to try under these circumstances, so it’s possible he’s telling the truth.
The dragonborn’s reply to your demand to halt seems reasonable…on the surface. He knows names and the story of a late night delivery is plausible for military contracts. Yet you know it’s all wrong – you’ve studied something about Berans at the Battalion Academy and the now-extinct Dragon Tyrant’s creations – dragonborn, lizardfolk and kobolds. Each with a purpose and a hierarchy. The dragonborn were the elite of the dragons, something more than mere slaves, often used as emissaries and envoys on behalf of their massive masters. His speech is smooth and assured…but his unspoken mannerisms and stance conveys something else entirely. This one has a stance of a bladesman, ready to draw that great big sword on his back as soon as some word or signal is given. The men around him either have hands ready to draw short swords or pistols, and the way they stand around the dragonborn suggests they’ve been in fights before, ready to spring as soon as the leader says so. This isn’t a banter…it’s about to be a showdown.
What your eye catches almost immediately is not at the wagon, but above it on the lower rear portion of the roof of Sechim’s Alkahest and Alchemicals – another dragonborn male peers out down at the alleyway, withdrawing back when the light is thrown, but seemingly unable to resist peering out all the same to the unfolding conversation. A rope can be seen now from where he is over the rim of the rooftop that descends down the wall to where one of the wagon horses stands.
It’s hard to make out, but your expert eye catches something wet on the ground from the illumination just under the wagon, like a puddle. There’s also a large bundle wrapped up in canvas next to it under the wagon, like a rolled-up carpet…or a body.
The dragonborn’s reply to your question as to what they are doing here seems rather reasonable, and he gives his answer smoothly as if he knows what he’s doing and is supposed to be here. If he is lying, his ruse is pretty brazen to try under these circumstances, so it’s possible he’s telling the truth.
Fethryth’s stern and no-nonsense commanding authority, coupled with the fact that trust in her was known to the workers by Heward Sechim himself, seems to quickly turn the wariness of them to compliance with her orders. The female foreman echoes Fethryth’s orders and starts waving for the workers to exit through the main front doors, she herself heading back deeper into the factory to find crews that may not be fully aware. One guard props both front factory doors open and waves for workers to leave, even as the other guard runs up the rather precarious set of stairs that head up to the second level, clearly going to get Heward Sechim.
Workers start pouring out onto Magazine Street in front of the factory, though none seem to be in a panic about it. They steer clear of Tobias and the four Army soldiers and collect in various groups in and around the front of the factory, looking on with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
Heward Sechim comes down the stairs quickly enough with the other guard, apparently already awake and dressed simply in black breeches and an untucked white shirt, hastily throwing on a utilitarian black vest even as he reaches the bottom of the factory stairs. With clear concern for his people but trusting in them to get everyone out – something that does appear they have practiced before – Heward walks over to Fethryth. His concern is plain upon his face and he involuntarily puts a hand on her shoulder before withdrawing it again.
”What is it Feth…ah Constable Teldanona? Where is the danger? I have both people and arcane wards that would alert me if one of the mixing vats or storage barrels would…”
He is interrupted by the female foreman after she ushers a few final laborers in heavy smocks out the doors past them. ”That’s everyone from the rear workfloor, supply rooms and staging room, Master Heward. I can’t account for anyone that might be in your locked laboratory or secured storage.”
”That’s fine Nelly, good work. Go on outside and try to get them at least across the street and ready to move if necessary.”
”Aye, Master Heward.” The foreman exits with the last guard, leaving Fethryth and Heward relatively alone in the front entrance of the factory.
”I trust you, Fethryth Teldanona. I do. But I deserve to know what’s going on with a threat to my factory and my people.”
Sechim Factory - Full Map
Sechim Factory – The Alleyway
Jesselle looks from her companions to the Dragonborn who has decided to speak up for the group... as she weighs his statment against what she knows...
Emerson takes a non-threatening pose and replies. "That may well be all and good but we would like to talk to Angus or Shamus to confer." He wonders if he'll be able to read the big lizard's facial expressions after that question.
He glances at Gemma and whispers "Dragonborn on the roof to the left."
He runs his hand through his hair and nochalantly asks the burly lizard man "Oh, and would you ask your friend to come down off the roof?"
Normally Fethryth wouldn’t bother explaining herself, leaving discussions until after she’s made sure people have followed her orders, but this is a very unusual situation and she does think Heward deserves to know what’s going on. Besides, he’s a good man, and she has no doubt that he’ll help her get the last workers out once he understands what’s going on.
She pitches her voice low to try and keep any of the workers from overhearing her. ”We spent the last few hours with your Uncle on Cauldron Hill. We had a vision of Nilasa, and she showed your factory, burned to the ground before dawn. I saw it, heard the people inside..” She pauses, takes a deep breath and carries on ”We have to get everyone out, and get them down the street, away from the firedust factory. We’ll try to stop this, but if we can’t…” her voice trails off
"You had a vision of...you saw Nilasa? And my Uncle? You finally got him to Cauldron Hill? But that means you..." The rush of astounding information plays across Heward's face with a predictable shock and swirl of emotions, as one might expect. Heward though, while struggling with what she just told him, shows strong inner-discipline as he reigns in his emotions and snaps back to the present of what must be done. "I'm grateful Fethryth and thank you - I want to hear all of it but now's not the time. Go do what you think is right and best, and I'll get my people to a safe distance."
Gemma takes a quick glance up to the roof to see if she can spot the one she hadn't seen before and mark his position.
She maintains her stance with her hand on her sabre but makes no more motion forward. A brief thought flickers through her head to say something quippy but then she remembers how awful she is at that sort of thing.
"It's an interesting thing...sending two dragonborn bladesmens for a regular shipment run. If everything's on the up and up, then you won't have any problem showing us your manifest...and moving your hands away from your pistols and swords."
Gemma smiles a little to herself, works the crick out that's been slowly settling itself into her neck and then squares up her stance.
"Or we can just go ahead and get down to business since the chances are that you're not on the up and up."
The towering dragonborn on the ground stares at Gemma a long moment, his eyes narrowing and his tongue flickering briefly across his toothy maw as he seems to take personal affront to her last statement. The men around him tense up, ready to draw blade or pistol as even they seem to know the jig is up. However, these men while tense also appear steady, as if they’ve been in serious scraps before, and don’t mind killing.
Suddenly from above and behind them all atop the lower rear roof of Sechim’s, the other dragonborn male shouts out in a language none but Anneca seem to understand, as it is not a form of Beran. ”Bsasus! Kuhss saru zi'asusuhs ussunurs as ssuhu sun i'ash zuhsrs I surssail su i'assususi'arsr uhr su zi'aphar, i'ars sur sus ir u pharu san usu! Qiuhshsil!”
With that, the hulking dragonborn hisses eagerly and takes a step forward towards Gemma, his arm muscles rippling across his crimson scales, a hand going expertly to his great Beran warblade at his back. ”Well boys the ruse is sniffed out, SO SNUFF THESE BOOTLICKERS OUT WITH ME NOW!”
With vigor the two men to either side of the dragonborn charge their blades and charge straight at Emerson and Gemma, though the darkness of the alley between both groups makes it hard to fully see them coming. They reach the two constables and lash out with vicious stabs nearly simultaneously; Gemma easily parries the attack upon her, but Emerson is nicked in the forearm by the tough's wild thrust.
"HA!" The tough shouts in fevered exultation, as if drawing first blood upon Emerson means he will surely win for some reason.
The two other "laborers" that were still behind the wagon also draw their short blades and come trotting around the wagon, forming up at their dragonborn leader as if to ready themselves for the next charge.
Sechim Factory - Full Map
Sechim Factory – The Alleyway
Emerson steps back and quickly evokes magical flame to catch his opponent’s shirt on fire.