Kayleigh greets the Pharasmin priest with a polite smile and explains about the murder in the Temple of Aroden and the need to have Amistan's body removed and given its last rites and burial/cremation. She goes on a bit about the crime and anarchy rampant in the streets of Old Korvosa before addressing her secondary concern.
"We've also got a dead woman's head found in some cellar...perhaps the victim of a gang," she explains. "Although apparently she was killed a few weeks before the current upheaval, her remains were just found recently. I'd like to send her to rest as well."
Emi unbars the door immediately.
"My apologies Master Orisini. Certainly I know you by name, but not by sight."
When he offers Emileva his hand, she takes it.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Sir" she says with a smile.
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The Grand Cathedral of Pharasma
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The priest listens patiently to Kayleigh's tale, leading the three of you to the rear of the building as you go on. He pauses before a door.
"The city's bleeding from a dozen wounds to be sure. My senior, the Seat of Birth will want to speak with you herself, I think."
At a door, slightly ajar, he knocks softly and peeks in. Satisfied he leads you into an audience chamber with three seats behind a long table. In one of the seats an elder priestess sits, busily scratching something into a ledger on the table before her. As you enter, she looks up.
This first priest introduces you to Keppira D'Bear, one of the heads of the Pharasman church here in the city. Her wrinkled face and thin hands mark her for at least 70 years. She straightens from her work and bids you come in.
When your tale's complete she replies.
"I hate to hear of such a fate for any person of the cloth. The priests of Aroden are good men who I've known for many years, though it's been long time now since we spoke. It grieves me to hear of Amistan's end."
"Of course we'll send a stage to conduct his remains to the Vault of the Last Azlanti. It may be some time - our sisters and brothers are scattered across the city - there are so many tragedies. We've opened a common internment in Potter's Ward. We'll see that the remains you recovered find an honorable internment among her peers."
She goes on to describe the burned orphanage, the assassinations, the common murders - crimes of passion and crimes of hate. Your descriptions of the chaos on the streets of Old Korvosa meet sympathetic ears here.
"Here in this very house," she waves at the empty seats beside her, "one Seat murders another, leaving me to move our house along by myself for the nonce."
"And what does the Mistress of Uprisings have to say of all of this? Unrest we have, yes. Chaos and blood."
She peers at Kayleigh through rheumy eyes as Kayleigh weighs the uncomfortable question.
Tassira goes with Kayleigh and Nebbin to Pharasma's temple, stashing Ravnos in her pack.
She keeps quiet as Kayleigh and the high priestess converse.
Wait, they're killing each other in the church? And why is she asking Kayleigh about this other person? Is that what she calls Kayleigh?
Nebbin dons his usual look of slight befuddlement.
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The Temple of Aroden
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"You have the strong hands of a deulist, Emileva. Have you had formal training?"
Garlan tells Vencarlo of how your group rescued and revived him, and how Crayden fell into the hands of the violent crowd. He tells Vencarlo about how your group went out to the playhouse and brought the priest home.
"Yes, I saw this." Again he seems to be speaking as much to Emi as to Garlan. "I was there, at the playhouse last night and noticed a certain victim being carried through the crowd, and I will not be the only one who saw this."
"The truth Garlan, is that I bring you a warning. Pilts will hear the names of you and your friends. He'll connect those names - and this house - to the burning of his playhouse. Those guards he had on stage weren't 'fake', but they were false. What's left of the guard in Old Korvosa has degraded to a gang, and Pilts has some sway with them. His power and influence here grows. He named himself Emperor in jest last night, but I think there is a grain of intention there. He's a man of ambition, and I believe he views this chaos as his moment of ascension."
"Certainly, that seems to be the case of the guard here on the island. The 'captain' of our local guards is a man named Verik Vancaskerkin - a difficult name for a difficult man. He hides behind the mantle of the guard and presses his advantage on the citizens of the city."
"And to some extent their popularity on the street is surging. They've opened up a butcher shop in the middle of Old Dock called All the World's Meats, and give out leftover cuts to the starving masses at the end of the day. But their real business these days is graft, extortion and murder. It was they who came here and did this," he gestures at Amistan's body, "presumably to destroy a point of rival influence in the neighborhood. Or maybe just because they could. They certainly needed a priest to be their victim."
Emileva's smile grows warmer and more natural with Orisini's remark.
"I was a student at an academy for a time. Weapons were part of the curriculum, yes."
In response to Orisini's warning, Emi's expression shifts to a troubled but unsurprised one.
"Thank you for your message Master Orisini. The fire wasn't part of the plan. But the accident isn't regretted. I didn't imagine Pilts would let things rest, that's why I came back last night rather than remain with the others."
"It isn't happy news that the local guard is part of this. I'd figured those with him on stage were actors. Soon, or even now perhaps, we can expect harassment in the street at best. At worst another visit here from them, breaking down the doors. I think we will have to act before we are forced into responding to his next move."
"If the fire put him off balance, we should see he stays that way. That butcher's shop is a good tip. If we can split him from the local guards in some way, we will have more breathing space. When the others are back I will bring it to them to look into."
Emi pauses thoughtfully for a moment. Seeming to make a decision she continues.
"While I have both of you here in relative privacy, there is something about which I would like to seek your advice."
"The orphans who are here now all came from a sweatshop run by a certain Gaedren Lamm. He is dead now, but among his things there we found this..."
She produces the brooch from her belt pouch.
"It is a personal possession of the Queen's. I have been mulling what to do with it, or more correctly how to return it with the least risk of being assumed to have stolen it in the first place."
"This new information from you Master Orisini makes me wonder though. Could it perhaps gain us a favor? Could it bend the Queen's ear our way enough to bring some of the Sable Company, or a few Hellknights here to even our odds?"
"Dealings with royalty are very much beyond my experience, but perhaps the two of you could offer some guidance?"
"And what does the Mistress of Uprisings have to say of all of this? Unrest we have, yes. Chaos and blood."
Kayleigh averts her eyes, ashamed at how little of that facet of her goddess's embodiment is seeded in her heart and her habits.
"I'm afraid I concentrate more on Hope than Uprisings," the priestess admits. "I've been a sort of caretaker and healer for the people of Old Korvosa since I moved into that neighborhood. I'm afraid all the chaos and madness in the streets--and the mindless violence--took me by surprise. Perhaps I'll pray for Milani's guidance moving forward; I fear this anarchy won't be going away on its own any time soon."
"Thank you again for your assistance. I'll keep preparing gentle repose spells until the stage arrives to bear him to his final resting place."
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The Grand Cathedral of Pharasma
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"My old friend shall not wait long for his final trip across the city, I promise you. Those streets are dangerous, but all sides have thus far let our wains pass unmolested."
"It does my heart good to have friends in Old Korvosa. Until the guard can regain their footing, the people of those neighborhoods are going to be tested. If your mission is to bring them hope, you have much work before you."
"Go with our blessings, if you'll have it. My apologies if I question you too closely - it has been a long night and I'm no longer young."
--------------------------------
The Temple of Aroden
--------------------------------
Orisini flashes a smile as Emileva lays out the situation. "Yes, that is the duelist's mentality. Press hard where the advantage lies - create momentum. Seize opportunities to discomfort your opponent."
"I don't mean to paint all the guards in this district with the same brush. There are good men among Verik's company, I know this to be true. They are led by bad men and are badly demoralized. Some are likely guilty only by association - intentionally not seeing what their boss has become. I'm not really sure how much of the guard Verik actually controls, or how strong that control may be."
After seeing the brooch and hearing Emileva's question, Vencarlo takes a moment to consider.
"I don't know the Queen, not beyond simple recognition. I believe she would reward you for recovering her treasure and you might make a name for yourself. As for help - if the guard had the men to deal with this they would be dealing with it now. I know Cressida, the Captain of the Guard, would stop the street violence right now if she could. Going to her is not a bad idea at all - I know her very well and can guarantee her earnestness."
"As to the Hellknights, they have hurt more than helped in the places they've involved themselves so far. So heavy-handed, they make themselves the issue wherever they go."
Emi nods slowly. Yes, if they would boost sympathy among the people of the district for Pilts, or reduce it for the temple, the Hellknights should not become involved. We will take this to the Captain of the Guard as you suggest."
"Thank you Master Orisini, you have been a great help. Please call on us if you need assistance of any type in the future in return. Now I have a couple of things to see to. Father Garlan, if I have not returned by the time the others arrive, could you please let them know I will not be long?"
Emileva leaves the temple, looking for a place to buy paint, and flowers if possible.
As she searches she ruminates on the new things bothering her. She had expected a more prolonged entanglement with Pilts due to the fire, but now it's possible there could be something more like a neighborhood war coming.
She was also bothered by the burglary of her old rented room. It wasn't the loss of the possessions. They truly were worth almost nothing. It was the neatness and thoroughness of it. Of course anyone could have done it, and there are certainly those who are poor enough to find value in anything there, but it didn't feel that way in her gut. Her gut told her it was a message. She had been erased from the room. Whether as a warning, or revenge, or simply to play with her, she didn't know. But she did know there is only one person who would want to leave her a message.
If it was Ansel, and he wanted her to know he wasn't afraid of her, or wasn't finished with her, then he had stones where there hadn't been any before. Troubling because he must feel protected in some way.
Kayleigh simply nods to Keppira before turning and exiting the room. She heads back to the Temple of Aroden with the others, remembering to make a marketplace run to stock up on some foodstuffs to last a few days.
At the temple, she casts gentle repose spells on Amistan and Zellara's head. Then she asks Garlan about returning Kevlin to his mother.
--------------------------------
Emileva
--------------------------------
As Emileva takes her leave, Vencarlo thanks her, "You and your cohorts did a bold thing saving the brother last night. Stop by my academy sometime and allow me a chance to convince you that a more graceful weapon would better suit your palm."
The streets outside the church are much as before - the square filled with people but no sign of guards. Emi picks her way through the stinking crowd and littered streets, steering east. There's a notoriously smelly place in Bridgefront that calls itself the Paint Manufactory that sells all kinds of paint. The favellas and tenements for blocks around are painted in the wildest colors - over the years there have been excess-batch giveaways to the local poor. It takes some banging to get someone to answer the door, but once they do, they're very happy to sell Emi some paint, see her out and lock the door again.
Flowers are picked up on the fringes of Reefclaw Run market. There's fish-mongers and flower sellers, some of last-week's fruit. Most of the stalls are empty.
--------------------------------
Nebbin, Tassira, Kayleigh
--------------------------------
The Gold Market (named for the stuff you spend and the 'standard' of the goods - not what is for sale here, though there is a bit of that) is open for business just north of the Gray, and the crowd is heavy. People are here from other parts of town to get foodstuffs not available near their homes. Prices are criminal.
Kayleigh resists the impulse to walk away empty-handed when the food vendors quote their super-inflated prices, but she gives in and pays, having several hungry young mouths back at the temple to feed. Looking momentarily at Nebbin, Kayleigh briefly wonders how much someone that big eats at each meal and ends up spending the whole 5 gp Emileva loaned her, stocking up on apples in particular, as she knows they'll last a while and will be perfect snacking for the Lambs.
Emileva chooses blue paint, a shade close to sapphire, deep in tone but blue without mistake. When she has the flowers as well, she makes her way back to the Riverside Building.
Emi searches through the remains of the place, collecting wide boards from the rubble. When she has enough, she places them together to create a sort of large placard.
With the paint she draws out an eye withe a single tear extending from it. Below she writes: "Voiceless Tragedy, Witness This Loss of Ideas and Potential"
She arranges the flowers beneath the placard, then begins the trek back to the temple. On her way she keeps her eyes open for anyone she recognizes who might know something about Ansel and his more recent activities, asking after him if she comes across anyone who might know.
Once back at the Temple of Aroden, Kayleigh leaves the cooking to those who know how to make more than just scrambled eggs. She finally sets herself to cleaning up the small shrine to Milani the priests graciously set up for her and her handful of devotees. Once that's done, the priestess kneels before the tiny altar and statue and prays silently for guidance in these troubled times.
Emileva arrives at the temple dull eyed and weary. The feeling that she would just about kill for a vial of shiver is back and strong.
Instead she goes to her mattress and has two sizable cups from the bottle of spirits she picked up on her way back. After, she curls up and takes a long nap.
Back at the temple, Nebbin does his best to help, though mostly that's just staying out of the way.
"I have some money if you want, Kayleigh," he says sheepishly. "You don't have to feed everyone yourself..."
Tassira keeps quiet as the team reunites at the temple of Aroden, finding a quiet corner to read her spellbook.
Ravnos, on the other hand, hops out of Tassira's backpack and wanders over to Kayleigh. The little calico tabby sits next to her and watches her pray with a quizzical look on her face.
With several children in the house, quiet corners are not so easy to find. The pew seating is intentionally uncomfortable, and Amistan's body lying there in state casts a pall over that room.
Ducking into the unused priest's cell that Neziana and Tassira crashed in the first night, Tassira finds the room as she left it. The bed is made, the cot where the cat-girl slept is folded away under the bed. There's no nice sitting chair in here, though.
As she turns to go check the priest's office she notices there's a familiar faded-stripe bag at the foot of the bed, something Neziana carried.
---
With nothing to do, Nebbin very quickly becomes the most popular object-to-chase-each-other-around for Peri, Kevlin & Jilly. At least until Carowyn corrals them into helping with food preparation. Hal hovers around the young woman, dutifully performing manly tasks like butchering the chickens Kayleigh bought. Garlan flits back-and-forth between supervising the kitchen and checking in on brother Crayden.
The old priest casts a worried look at Kayleigh when the subject of Kevlin's mother comes up. "I have not heard from them, which makes me worry for the family. These are troubled times, but I think she would have returned here if she could, to see if we found him."
Crayden sits in the study resequencing the pages of the many tomes that were vandalized. He's still a little slow to respond to verbal contact, either still fazed by the lingering effects of the drug he was given, or stricken some other way by the incident. He keeps thanking members of the party for saving him, even after he's already done the same several times.
---
Emileva is encouraged to find that she's not the only person to have had her thought. Her memorial sits among several offered at the site of the tragedy. Though it means fighting your way through a North Point protest mob to get to the site, some folks have still managed to make their way here to pay respects to the young who died. As Emi stands there, she remembers how easy it would have been to bang on the doors of that building the other evening and insist that the orphanage take Carowyn and the gang under their roof.
On her way back through the crowd she notices faces she knows causally, enough to make some inquiries. Ansel has gone to ground - not the slightest lead is heard. And it comes home especially strong to her for some reason that no one particularly cares that the young man has disappeared without a trace. Instead she hears rumors - competing rumors escalating towards a fight actually - shouted at one another by two men outside a tavern, both of them drunk.
One says that a group of the guard were sent into the city to find the Seneschal, that they'd heard where he was being held captive and that they were ambushed and killed to a man. A bunch of rough-necked friends of this guy nod in agreement. But the second guy counters that he heard that Kalepopolis (the Seneschal) was leading that patrol, and that it had another mission. Just to thoroughly confuse things, another pipes up and says there was a survivor, but that the priests of Abadar along with some Hellknights swooped in and spirited the survivor away to hide the truth.
Before the thing degrades into a fight, Emi slides away from that scene and makes tracks for the temple. When she gets there she finds she still has the place to herself. She settles in for her nap.
Some time later, Emilva rouses to the smell of food and the sounds of voices elsewhere in the building. She comes out to find the party returned.
A curious Tassira checks out the faded-stripe bag.
"Maybe in the morning we can go see if we can find Kevlin's family?" Nebbin suggests.
Inside the bag Tassira finds the wooden case holding the doses of shiver. With a mounting surge of adrenaline, the mage fumbles at the case's clasp. Opening the case, however, reveals that all the doses have been removed from their wrappings and taken. Though the box still smells strongly of the drug, there's nothing of the substance itself remaining here.
When Emileva wakes, she is in a somewhat better frame of mind even if a little groggy. She has quite a few things she needs to tell the others. She also wants to hear of any new happenings on their end.
She tries to gather Nebbin, Tassira, and Kayleigh together for this purpose before dinnertime.
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Kayleigh had done all she could for the surviving priests of the Temple of Aroden. Now it was time to fix the fractures in her own life, including mending her relationship with Milani herself. The first step was cleaning and—in the morning--ritually consecrating (the actual spell was beyond her power) the small shrine in the side room of the temple of the dead god. When that task was finally accomplished, Kayleigh knelt before the small statue of her goddess, closed her eyes, bowed her head, and prayed.
She begged the Everbloom’s forgiveness for several flaws in her character, the biggest of which was her hypocrisy. She’d been shocked, horrified, and ultimately enraged that the people she served so selflessly in Old Korvosa could break into a good temple, kill an old, spell-less priest, leave a second for dead, and kidnap a third to be murdered in a performance of ‘theater of the real’ hitherto seen only in such dark and wicked cities as Westcrown and Egorian in Cheliax. Yet when she’d suspected that Crayden was to be sacrificed during a performance of “Peddler of Lies” in Exemplary Execrables, she had no qualms about marching into someone else’s place of business and killing anyone who got in the way of her rescue attempt…and she’d even, if only for an instant, actively considered burning the horrid place to the ground in vengeance.
This was not Kayleigh Fairwind.
This was more like the harrower Zellara’s modus operendi, Kayleigh thought. Perhaps her ghost’s vengeful spirit had somehow possessed or manipulated me. Immediately, Kayleigh felt the falseness of such a theory. No, the blame and flaws were hers and hers alone. She had to face them, not try to redirect them to another.
The image of Pilts Swastel sitting upon the wooden throne and declaring himself the ‘Emperor of Old Korvosa’ invaded her thoughts. How dare such a monster claim sovereignty over the people she tended to daily…simple folk, good folk she considered her friends and neighbors? But were they truly her friends or was this just another instance of her own naivety getting the best of her? Kayleigh’s first instinct was to see and expect the good in the residents of Old Korvosa, but at the same time she knew deep down that it was swarming with thieves, bullies, enforcers, drug addicts and dealers, and worse. It gnawed at her soul, at her very sense of self-worth, that some of her neighbors—hell, a whole theater full of them—had been willing to watch on and perhaps cheer as a kind, innocent man was murdered for their entertainment. That very truth was proving difficult for Kayleigh to swallow; she felt herself choking on that undeniable fact.
The kneeling priestess eventually became aware of a presence behind her. Garlan bent at her side, laying her rarely used morningstar on the floor. ”You’ll be needing that in the days ahead,” he said softly before laying a second thinner item next to the weapon: a single long-stemmed rose. ”The favored weapon of Milani’s faithful is not a bunch of bandages.” He then stood erect and took a step back behind her, but did not leave.
”You should take off that old shirt you’re wearing,” the old priest suggested. ”You can’t disguise yourself before the eyes of your goddess.” Kayleigh complied, revealing the chain shirt underneath.
”That’s not really you, either,” the kindly priest noted wryly. ”You dishonor Milani by shying away from physical confrontation.” That’s so true, Kayleigh reflected as she shed the protective vest.
”You’ll have to remove your undershirt if you’re to accept and receive Milani’s penance of you,” Garlan sighed. ”Reveal your true self to her eyes that you might be forgiven.”
A lone tear escaped from one of Kayleigh’s still-closed eyes as she did as she was bid. She felt rather than saw Garlan reach past her to pick up the rose as she covered her breasts with her folded arms. The strikes of the thorned flower across her back felt more like lashes from a barbed cat-o’-nine-tails, yet Kayleigh endured them all without crying out. She deserved this; it would clear the uncertainty and confusion that had been clouding her thoughts and beliefs these past couple of days. She could feel thin rivulets of blood running down the course of her spine before pooling at the small of her back.
”Now go forth and clean the crime and hatred off my streets, if you think you’re capable,” her torturer scoffed. Kayleigh knew in that moment that she’d been deceived. The voice that spoke those last words wasn’t Garlan’s; it belonged to Pilts Swastel. It doesn’t matter, Kayleigh thought calmly. The penance was real enough and served its purpose. I will reclaim the streets of Old Korvosa in the name of Milani and all that is good in this world!
Kayleigh slipped out of the temple alone, not alerting her new friends to her goddess-appointed mission. Immediately she felt her resolve weaken precipitously: much of new Korvosa was now burning or already reduced to charred embers, and anarchy and violence seemed to rule its streets. You can do this, Kayleigh! she mentally told herself. You’re stronger than you think.
And again the newfound strength and resolve were gone an instant later when the cleric realized she was going to war weaponless, without armor, and half naked. But no—although she had no recollection of girding herself, Kayleigh found herself clad in her usual white tabard, her chain shirt jangling lightly beneath it. Her morningstar wasn’t dangling in its usual spot from her hip, however: it was grasped in a frightfully firm white-knuckled fist, ready for immediate and, if necessary, brutal action.
Her weakness returned with a vengeance, however, when she came upon the first body lying in the gutter. It was Neziana, her plush tail that once seemed to have a life of its own now stiffened in death. Nearby lay a second corpse—Tassira. The mages’ two cat familiars frolicked nearby, batting around the woman’s eyeballs that they’d plucked from the sockets.
Kayleigh turned away in horror, noticing movement near the dark mouth of a nearby alley. With growing terror threatening to paralyze her, she moved in that direction, fearing the worst. Those fears were realized. Emileva lay face-down, trying to buck a small figure off her back. The attacker grabbed a handful of hair, pulling back hard, forcing Emi’s head back and exposing her throat. The gleam of a naked blade flashed in the darkness.
”NO!!” Kayleigh screamed and for an instant both faces turned in her direction. Then Em’s throat was cut viciously by the very one of Lamm’s Lambs that Kayleigh had made her friend spare. ”No good deed goes unpunished!” the murderous child said with a gleeful chuckle as he dismounted Emileva’s corpse and dissolved into the deeper shadows. Em’s eyes, though lifeless, stared at Kayleigh accusingly.
The last of Kayleigh’s newfound strength and composure drained from her soul. Vengeance consumed her. Morningstar raised for the kill, she raced into the dark alley, murder in her heart as she chased after the elusive footfalls of the little murderous wretch she’d spared in her misplaced mercy. And she chased his taunts. ”All your fault!” came one. ”Soft-hearted Kayleigh, dumb as a rock!” echoed another. ”Got blood on her hands now to go with the dirt!”
Kayleigh chased the voice through what seemed to be endless darkness. Then her tormentor went silent, yet the priestess still ran through the pitch-black alleyways. Finally she stopped, allowing the all-encompassing darkness to swallow her and claim the last of her hope.
”Who’s left?” the voice suddenly whispered, right in her left ear. Kayleigh screamed and swung her morningstar but there was no satisfying thump of spiked metal on inhuman human flesh. She chased some more.
A soft light appeared in the distance, marking what she hoped was an exit from the back-alley labyrinth of nothingness. Kayleigh burst from the alley into a main street that she didn’t recognize; the buildings flanking it—or what little remained of them--were blackened from raging fires. The light, a moonbeam from above, seemed to spotlight something on the cobbled street. Kayleigh approached, wonder in her eyes. A lone red rose grew from the bit of earth between two cobblestones, the only sign of life in a bleak cityscape of death. Kayleigh recognized it as, quite literally, the holy symbol of Milani. She approached the flower, squatting before it. Was it a symbol of hope? Of Milani’s power of renewal? Kayleigh reached out a lone finger to brush the rosebud’s petals…to convince herself that it was real.
The flower snapped out at her hand like a viper, its thorns raking thin red wounds along her wrist while trying to ensnare it. Kayleigh hopped back swiftly, still hopeful of escaping the trap. It was impossible. Hundreds…thousand…perhaps millions of roses sprouted swiftly from the cracks between the cobblestones around her. She managed but two steps before a thorny stalk encircled a boot, rooting her to the spot. Her second foot was ensnared a moment later, and dozens of thorned vines began climbing her motionless form like it was a human trellis. These rose were, strangely enough, white—Milani’s second sacred color Kayleigh realized dully—and their perfumed scent sucked the last ounce of fight out of the priestess. She allowed the stalks to climb her legs, encircle her waist and torso, and then bind her arms and wrists. The vines looped around her throat gently, but not so gentle as to not draw blood. Several interlaced stalks then encircled her brow like a crown of thorns…thorns that sought and found every inch of exposed flesh and punctured her skin. Kayleigh felt the blood draining out of her body and watched in morbid fascination as the white roses nearest her pinkened and then turned red—blood red. Still she didn’t fight. That’ll just hurt more she decided.
So, this is to be my fate—drained to a shriveled corpse by…vampire roses? the expiring girl reflected in an odd state of resignation. She knew she should fight on but couldn’t will herself to do so.
A deep growl sounded from within the mouth of a black alley nearby and a large figure suddenly sprang forth into the dim light. It held a large plank in both hands and used the great board to swat away the grasping rosebushes in its path as it made a charge toward Kayleigh.
Go back, Nebbin! Kayleigh willed silently, too weak now to voice her warning. Save yourself! I’m not worth getting trapped and dying over! But Nebbin pressed onward, swinging his beloved board and sending roses flying this way and that. One of the roses—now red—that had been gently caressing Kayleigh’s cheek, lulling her into unconsciousness and defeat, now slithered a bit, repositioning itself before the cleric’s half-closed eyes. The crimson bud morphed into a pair of smirking lips. ”He’s simple yet strong,” came Pilts Swatel’s lilting voice, ”while you are simple and weak.” Kayleigh was too out-of-it to argue the point.
Next thing she knew, Nebbin was at her side, board raised to swat away the roses that held her. The freeing blow never fell, however. Instead, Nebbin drove the board into the crack between cobblestones a few feet behind where Kayleigh stood bound. The big man escaped capture himself and struggled back into the alley momentarily before emerging again bearing a second board. Again he fought his way to Kayleigh only to again drive the board between some cobblestones behind her. ”Sorry,” he muttered before abandoning the forsaken cleric to her fate.
Unseen by Kayleigh, the swarming rose vines had lashed together the two boards Nebbin had delivered, forming a great X behind her. More stalks seized Kayleigh’s limbs while those already binding her relaxed their grip, and the captive cleric was dragged back a few feet before being tightly bound again, this time to the wooden X.
Holy Roses—I’m to be crucified! Kayleigh realized. The rosebud hanging before her delirious eyes again smirked at her. ”No, Kayleigh! I’d never do that to you!” Pilts’ voice mocked. He could now apparently read her mind. ”No—I’m going to make you a star. You’re to be the centerpiece of my new masterpiece: Priestess of Lies. It’s a cautionary tale about a foolish little girl who thinks she can save a whole city by being nice to others, giving food and drink to the poor, and kissing their boo-boos to make them all better!” The rose/lips paused a moment from its taunting to lightly kiss Kayleigh on the forehead, cheek, and tip of her nose. With a laugh of scorn, Swastel added, ”My dear, it’s a role you were born to play!”
The sea of rose bushes withered and crumbled to dust suddenly…save for those that bound Kayleigh to her cross. ”If you’d please…,” the talking rose prompted a spellbound Nebbin. The strong man easily uprooted Kayleigh and her cross from the cobblestones and raised her above his head with surprising ease. Then he carried the unresisting captive through the seemingly empty streets to Exemplary Excrables. Shadows parted from the dark alleys and ruined buildings, joining the macabre procession.
Pilts’s theaterhouse was the only building still standing in this nightmare version of Old Korvosa. Nebbin carried the ‘star’ inside and somehow fastened her cross to the stage floor. ”Sorry,” he said again before adding, ”I take orders from a new voice now.”
”Uh-oh, theater’s on fire,” Nebbin then announced almost casually. ”Kinda your fault, if you think about it. Oh boy…the flames are racing up the wall now! The rafters are catching!” An ominous crack followed by a groaning creak that grew in volume sounded from above. ”Looks like the roof’s about to cave in,” Nebbin reported blankly. He jogged to the exit before stopping and turning.
”Good-bye, Kayleigh,” he said. A moment later, hundreds of pounds of burning wooden crashed down with neither malice nor mercy.
Kayleigh cracked her head hard. Woozily, she reached up to her temple, feeling the sticky wetness of blood. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blur of fur zip away like a cat out of Hell. She was again in the shrine to Milani in the greater Temple of Aroden.
”I fell asleep while praying!” she said aloud in a nervous yet relieved tone. ”It was all a dream.”
Or a vision, some internal voice corrected. Kayleigh’s goddess was still with her, however, proven when the cleric channeled some positive energy to heal her small wound.
Ravnos recoils as Kayleigh slumps over and hits her head on the pew.
"Meow?" She tentatively steps back over to the priestess, in case she passes out again. Her tail is twitching.
Tassira's eyes widen and her hands start shaking anew when the odour of shiver hits her nose.
...she lied. She waited until my back was turned and she took it. Should hunt her down. Teach her a lesson--wait--no no no no no no she was my student. Student? Only taught her a few basics. Filled in gaps. Not a real professor.
Her thoughts are still going a mile a minute as she picks up the bag and looks for a nearby window to throw it out of. Can't burn it in here. Don't want a repeat of playhouse.
Kayleigh blinks when she notices that Ravnos has immediately returned to check on her after she'd nearly toppled on top of the poor creature.
Smiling sheepishly, she rubs her temple and tells Tassira's familiar, "No...me Ow!"
Kayleigh reaches out a hand and gently pats the cat's head if it allows her to. "What a place to take a cat-nap!" she says softly, giggling at her own silly joke. Too much action and excitement and not enough sleep these past couple of days, the priestess belatedly realizes.
What has happened to my city?
Leaving his life, his friends, and any goals in Cheliax behind, Regeris bolts from the ship that was carrying him to Magnimar and moves quickly into the crowd. Normally austere and composed, he pushes aggressively past the sailors coming off of the boat and instead plunges into the crowd, moving away from the docks into the heart of the Midland.
Hours pass as Regeris walks the city, his nerves calming somewhat as he walks the city, asking questions of people and learning everything he can. His mind races as he pieces together what has happened.
The King is dead, and the folk cry murder. The Queen... young, beautiful, Chelaxian, seen as a schemer. Perhaps. Everbloom guide my path. What can I do to heal this wound?
Eventually, exhausted and without much of a sense of what to do next, Regeris collapses at an exorbitantly-priced inn that appears to only be letting in well-dressed Chelaxians. Thankfully he passes and is able to get a stiff drink and spends a restless evening in prayer, trying to find direction.
The following morning at dawn, Regeris strikes out again into the city, this time with a clear goal.
My family has been my faith, and I must a new family here. I know the politics of this place. Only the Everbloom will have the moral certainty of what is best for Korvosa.
Asking questions as he always does, it doesn't take long for Regeris to learn of the shrine.
=========
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Regeris pauses at the entryway to the shrine as he sees the woman seated there wake up abruptly and heal her minor head wound. Suddenly nervous, he takes a long moment before speaking up from a little ways behind Kayleigh. His voice is low and gravelly, with the accent of a middle-class Korvosan.
"I am Regeris. Of Milani. I..."
He waits a moment, choosing his words.
"I want to help."
Kayleigh freaks out a bit when she hears the unfamiliar voice behind her, reaching for her morningstar on the floor where Garlan had laid it. No--that was a dream! she recalls when the weapon's not where she expects it to be. He heard me talking to the cat! is her other mental concern. Lastly, she realizes that the stranger claimed to serve Milani. Well THAT was fast! she thinks in a prayerful nod to her goddess.
"My name's Kayleigh--Kayleigh Fairwind," the priestess says, standing and offering the stranger her hand to shake. "I...I thought I was the only cleric of Milani in the city, but...well, I guess I was wrong. I've been wrong about a great many things these past few days it seems...."
"What exactly do you want to help with? There are so many problems...issues...disasters and tragedies throughout Korvosa these days. I don't know where to start."
Nebbin unaware (as usual) of the turmoil facing his new friends, continues blissfully working, though his brow furrows from time to time as he thinks of the troubles facing the city.
When Emileva gathers him, he joins her, curious what she wants to tell them.
Regeris clasps Kayleigh's hand, looking her over carefully. He is a gaunt man of obvious Chelaxian descent, dressed in well-made dark clothes and bearing a bow and sword. The Everbloom's rose hangs on a pendant around his neck. He smiles briefly, if awkwardly, and does not mention the cat.
"I think you are mostly correct. I arrived by boat yesterday and intended to travel to Magnimar, but left when I saw the city burning. I am Korvosan by birth, but came by my faith in the Chelaxian resistance. To call me a cleric would be ah, inaccurate. Agent would be better."
Regeris turns to look over the decaying temple as he speaks in his gravelly voice.
"I understand this is abrupt. We do not know each other. But my prayers lead me here, and this is where we begin to heal Korvosa. To find the pestilence that plagues this city - whatever it may be - and to salve it or cut it out. But as for what to help with in the short term..."
He grins.
"I was rather hoping you'd have some suggestions. I did just get here."
Kayleigh pales as she suddenly realizes just what kind of an 'agent' Regeris likely is: an inquisitor! Her secret of being the worst priestess of Milani on all of Golarion had somehow been exposed...but by whom? Well, maybe she wasn't the worst...perhaps just the meekest and least traditional.
"Um...I...yes, I see why you'd expect me to be the one filling you in," she babbles. "To be honest, Korvosa was fairly quiet and without any major uprisings until the king died and his young queen took the throne. Now there's violence, chaos, and madness in the streets. Korvosa seems to be in the throes of a major uprising to be certain, but...well, it's not the good kind of uprising, if you get my meaning. It's more like every citizen's worst impulses have been loosed, and a tide of selfishness and wickedness has washed over the city. The poorer districts--Old Korvosa in particular--seem to be the worst hornets' nest of unrest. I...I have no idea what to do about the whole situation...other than to try to undo the damage and pain inflicted by the rioters. I'm more of a shepherd than a hunter of wolves, you see."
Kayleigh eventually gets around to telling Regeris the stories behind why the temple's priests are undermanned and in rough shape, why the place is currently serving as a makeshift orphanage, and also introduces him to her new friends.
She also reluctantly tells the inquisitor about Madame Zellara's mission, the harrow cards, and the revelation that she was some kind of ghost or spirit.
"Can the wisdom of Milani manifest through an undead harrower?" she asks Regeris meekly. "Or are her words of advice and wisdom to be taken with a grain of salt?"
Regeris blinks as Kayleigh starts babbling nervously after he explains himself.
Oh Gods, she's very young, she's trying her best, and she's probably terrified of me. I need to give her a sense of power and ownership, let her make decisions rather than have them forced on her.
He tries to smile reassuringly but isn't particularly good at it.
"Our skills compliment, I know much of wolves, but little of sheep. And I understand, the city is in pain from these riots - there is nothing good about them. There is too much at once and it is overwhelming. I came here because I did not know what else to do - will you accept my offer for help? Even if we don't quite know what that means yet?"
In looking for Kayleigh, Emi and Nebbin catch the latter parts of her conversation with the stranger. In fact, she stops Nebbin just out of sight to listen in for a few moments before continuing into the shrine.
"If you're looking for problems to solve, we have plenty of the them to hand out" Emileva interjects from behind.
She walks to the man speaking with Kayleigh and sticks out her hand.
"Emileva Mavrakis, good to meet you. Not only do we accept, we won't let you go. That's how badly you're needed" she adds with a crooked, wry smile.
"Yes--of course I'll accept whatever help you can offer!" Kayleigh gushes before frowning a bit. "Or perhaps I should say that the others would welcome it, since I'm likely to be busy helping around the temple and watching over the kids for the next little bit. Plus, I don't usually leave Old Korvosa, though there's enough trouble here to keep us busy for months, maybe even years.... Oh--I'm babbling again! Sorry! You see, truth is I'm no hero--I just try to care and look out for those less fortunate than me. I don't think I'm capable of fixing whatever's at the root of all this craziness. I mean, I try to make a difference but...I'm no firefighter, no Korvosan Guard, and I'm certainly not capable of affecting the fall of an old king and rise of a young queen. But I do love my city...."
Regeris turns as Emileva speaks up, and he turns to shake her hand, smiling a little.
"Regeris Smythe, a pleasure - glad to see I'm already too good to let go. Also that Kayleigh is not alone in her work. How many are 'we'?"
He glances back to Kayleigh, regarding the young woman seriously.
"We do not need to dwell on that which is beyond our means. We see where we can accomplish the most good with what we have. Frankly, I do not even know what is wrong with Korvosa. The riots are but a symptom - they are how the silent masses scream out pain that has built up over time. The people I spoke to know nothing of the Queen - she is a symbol to them. Her character will be tested soon enough regardless. For now, we treat the symptom, but I intend to put my mind to diagnosing Korvosa's illness as we go on."
After gathering Tassira, Emileva tells the rest of the little group what she has learned since the previous evening.
"One of the things very wrong with Korvosa is happening right in this neighborhood. This morning Vencarlo Orisini paid a visit. He is well known as the Master of an sword academy in the city, and he is a friend to the priests. He came to warn them about Pilts and his growing influence among residents in the district. Pilts is positioning himself strongly here. Some of the Korvosan Guard are paid by him. Those guards with him at the theater were not actors."
"Master Orisini does not believe Pilts will let things rest between us. That he will figure out who we are and he will seek to even the score. He mentioned a butcher shop, All the World's Meats, that the guards who work with him use as a cover for their side dealings. A Captain named Verik Vancaskerkin is his partner in turning at least some of the guard into Pilts' street gang. It bears checking into before they come at us first."
"Master Orisini also suggested taking the brooch we recovered, the one belonging to the Queen, to Cressida, a Captain of the Korvosan Guard that he knows and trusts. We will be able to deal with her securely. Returning it may earn us a favor we can use in the future."
"And last, as I was walking back here today I heard new rumors about the Seneschal. They varied in details, but all of them had in common that he has gone missing. I don't know what exactly that will mean for the city, but given the wide-ranging nature of his position, and a very new ruler, things could easily get worse before they get better. He may be the most experienced and competent administrator in Korvosa's government. His abilities will certainly be missed in this crisis."
Before she forgets, Kayleigh hands Nebbin the key to her small flat. In a similar vein, Kayleigh takes Emileva aside and whispers something to her.
Kayleigh tells Emi about her meeting with the Pharasmin high priestess and how she referred to Zellara's head simply as the remains of an anonymous murder victim. "Her place in Midland should be all yours now...unless she has family that she never mentioned to us."
Kayleigh gives a sidelong glance in Regeris's direction, likely not wanting the elder Milanite to know she did something kinda sketchy.
Emi nods. "An interment of her own? Not one of the communal pits? I will pay if I can for it. If that's what it takes."
"I don't know when I'll actually be able to get to the house, but I will try soon, at least so it seems to be occupied. If there is family who want to claim it that is fine of course. But I think it is a good idea for us to have options. It's in a good middle position in the city if it's needed."
She stops and looks at the ceiling for a second, as if considering something. Then Emi takes a breath and continues.
"I know this will make no difference to you or the priests. I also understand why. But I have to say it anyway. The temple is a very vulnerable place to stay. It's a well known fixed location where we, at least some of us, can be found at any time. It can't even be defended if part of the guard is working with Pilts. All he would need to do is claim we are arsonists and have the guard come for us. What would we do then?"
"We should all relocate to another place that isn't so easily found. That's why I want to hang on to the house, as a last resort. At least think about how much it would reduce our risk if we moved for even just a little while. The house is too small, but we could find a place."
Regeris politely introduces himself to Tassira, and listens intently to Emi, nodding on occasion. If he heard the side conversation, he does not respond.
"Very interesting. I see what you mean by too much at once. If you have a powerful enemy you require allies - the best way for us to make an ally is that brooch. Finding favour with the town guard is especially important considering the state of Korvosa, particularly if you are at risk of being accused of a crime. The choice of whether or not to arrest someone is political rather than a question of violating the law. I recommend we speak with this Field Marshall as at nearest convenience."
Kayleigh gives Emileva a grim smile. "You're right, of course. It would be smarter and safer to leave this place...perhaps this whole district...maybe even Korvosa itself. But I doubt Garlan and Crayden will leave; they've fought so many times already to keep this place open, I can't see them just walking away now. And if they stay, I have to as well. If we run away, Swastel wins."
"On the other hand, we have the Lambs to worry about. We have no other place to house them at the moment, yet if they stay here they could become victims of Swastel's vengeance. There's just no right answer to this mess, it seems. Maybe a strike against this butcher shop and its corrupted guards might buy us some time."
Nebbin's brow furrowed as Kayleigh hands him her key.
"Do you want us to live together? I mean, I ..." he flushes as he looks at the priestess. " ... That's not appropriate if we're not married!"
He tries to give the key back to her.
"Can't we just tell the other guards about Verik? Maybe this Cressida person? I don't think we want to fight the guard, we'll get in trouble!"
As Emileva relates, Vencarlo Orisini is a dueling instructor who owns an instructional academy up the hill in Garrison District. Though he's getting a little long in the tooth, he's still respected as an expert in his field. His reputation on the street is of a well-to-do and generous soul. He also has a reputation as something of a ladies man.
"Nebbin has a point." Emi crosses her arms and rests her chin on her hand.
"I figure the Korvosan Guard doesn't have extra people to send for checking out our claims, and even the best of its officers would put what we told them at the bottom of their priorities. But, if we need to take the brooch in anyway, it might be good to bring up the subject."
"That would be a fair warning about rogue guardsmen, and if things were to turn violent, we can claim self-defense after informing to correct authorities."
Maybe we should take care of the brooch first, to cover ourselves. We do that tomorrow. The day after we check into the butcher shop. What do you all say?"