Callista smiles encouragingly as the man offers them information on the rabble-rousing councillor, a plan forming in her mind even as he speaks. The fact that Kinch was married was unfortunate, but she had other means at her disposal, and had already seen Lavinia's capabilities at certain things. If there were dirt to dig up on this man, she had no doubt the two of them could manage.
"Thank you for your time, Maester Horn. Andoran is appreciative of its brave, loyal souls such as yourself. We shall endeavor to bring you the support you need as quickly as it can be managed." And that was the game...building hope while promising nothing. It was a tiring game, a sad game, but one that must be played. She curtsies once again to the man before walking with Lavinia to the entrance.
As they get out of earshot, the dark-haired Calistrian leans close to Lavinia, grinning as she whispers, "I think a little breaking and entering is in order, Captain. Such a change in behavior is unwarranted, and I wish to know what caused it. If he is compromised, I doubt Kinch will volunteer it to us."
Or at least, something that looks like support. The short term battle is for the people's loyalties, not against the Chelaxian armies Lavinia thinks as Callista pays her respects to the aging half-orc.
"Allow me to express you the People's gratitude as well, Sir. This meeting has been... most enlightening" she says shaking the Maester's hand. Falling back into her usual military composure, she turns around and makes her way out of the room, past those same corridors and halls they trod on their way there and then finally into the training grounds. At the Calistrian's whispering she can't help but assume a pensive expressions – which nonetheless soon turns into the faintest of smiles.
"We are of one mind then. Perhaps we'll find out he has nothing to hide, perhaps not – either way, we must know for sure" she whispers back. "And since you're all set on checking this out yourself, I'd be a terrible guard if I didn't accompany you."
Sebi bows again. ”Thank you, Lord Thorn. It would be most gracious of you to write a letter on my behalf. I look forward to tonight.” She turns to the professor after a few moments. ”Professor, let us be on our way so that we do not take up any more of this good man’s time.”
On their way back, through the crowds, she keeps an eye out for anyone following behind. She whispers,”Professor, take care to notice anyone following us. Do you think our guest to be trustworthy?”
Both parties leave the Aerie, and filter down to the square before the main entrance, where they meet amidst the gathered crowd. Neither Sebi nor Cawmirth notice any sign of pursuit.
Rahgnall lowers the banner of Andoran just before stepping back outside, stowing it quickly in his pack, and the four men form a tight square around Sebi and Cawmirth, their attitudes relaxed even as their eyes betray their tension.
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Having kept his mouth shut, lest he offend Thorn further, the sharp, sarcastic chuckle, thick with phlegm, communicated his feelings on the head of the council rather succinctly. Being succinct about his feelings was never Cawmirth's particular forté. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have wanted to be forthright with his thoughts in such a public place, but the soldiers gave them a bit of breathing room.
Stooped low, and his voice taking on a slightly conspiratorial hiss, Cawmirth began his expertly informed s++!-talking.
"Not in the least, though, I have only my personal interpretation of his reaction to us by which to judge. Troublingly subjective, but one learns to count on such things when separating students beset by true setbacks from the self-serving, entitled little bastards paid for by daddy's mercantile enterprises." A hint of Galtan anti-plutocratic vitriol oozed out along with his justification for his perspective on Thorn.
"In his eyes, his frown, every small detail of his reaction to us, envoys sent by the central government, was both surprise and dismay. Therefore, we can take it that our entry into the situation is one he finds unwelcome. What, then, are the possible situations in which he would find our involvement a detriment to his own interests? I suppose first, we might consider those possibilities that assume he is being truthful with us..." Cawmirth glanced to the two who had just returned from meeting the military commander, nodding to them and nothing much more. He'd lay out the points in support of his argument, so there was no real need to otherwise get them up to speed.
"Assuming he is, indeed, loyal to Andoran and simply without the resources to secure Alastor the only reason I can assume he would find our presence here unwanted is that, in the circumstance we are able to repel the Chelaxians, he would be replaced by a mayor chosen by the People's Council. While certainly a possibility, he seemed to suggest he had no such faith in our abilities, though, perhaps he's just waiting to personally probe your abilities later tonight, Lady Moncrief." Cawmirth took a moment to cast a sidelong glance at Callista, feeling she would have played off that invitation they'd received in a far more entertaining fashion.
"If he is being coy as to his ability to guide the situation, then we would most certainly be unwelcome. Alastor has been largely been giving to the war effort with little to show for it. If Thorn were to remain as the head of an independent polity without such obligations it would be a net benefit to him. The presence of a populist arguing for secession provides a convenient scapegoat where any direct action of his own would be blatantly treasonous. In fact, there is a rather interesting anecdote from the history of the Tien people about an Empress Dowager similarly making use of a mass uprising against an invading army while publicly disavowing the rebels..." Cawmirth let his voice trail off as if to indicate he was just about to launch into a retelling that would last many a paragraph. But they were rather constrained for time, weren't they?
"Regardless of Thorn's intent, I feel the next steps key towards securing Alastor are to, firstly, see if this Kinch fellow is someone willing to listen to reason and, secondly, to make the next use of our teleportation to go visit those mercenaries. The people here are scared and we will make little headway without some assurance of military support for them." Cawmirth scoffed a bit. "It'd hardly be worth our while if we spent all week negotiating with a room full of representatives only to have a mob burst in and lynch them for blatantly going against their constituents' interests. The people do have a somewhat legitimate point in demanding professional soldiers if they are to remain loyal to Andoran."
Sebi whispers, partly bent over and trying to keep a fraction of grace in the position, "We should be careful, this is true, Professor. And you offer wise council. However, after obtaining the mercenaries, we may face not a city mired in upheaval, but a militia army loyal to Cheliax when next we wish to enter the city if these events are left to boil over, so to speak. But our next destination is clear in Kinch."
She continues walking, short steps away from the Aerie. "Thorn and Kinch, I believe have the most to lose, and the most to gain, respectively, if they are working together to fuel this rebellion. Thorn is a politician though. It will be difficult to catch him in any kind of falsehood as he is likely toeing the line between the factions, waiting to see who will come out on top.
"Regardless, the Iridescent Repose, and his dinner offer may be a trap. I assume you are as familiar with traps as you are with locks, Professor?" A half smile lights across her face. She holds Cawmirth's gaze for a long moment.
When the others join them, she looks to them and bows her head to Lavinia and Callista and says, with too much exuberance to be real, "Good to see you again, friends. I have heard of the most wonderfully exclusive inn just now. Should we go there and talk? Somewhere else?"
Callista grins wickedly at Lavinia, "I appreciate your enthusiasm for the safety of my person, Captain. I'll try to make sure I make your job as easy as possible."
The priestess smiles at Sebi, nodding. "Yes, let us go to this exclusive Inn you know of, friend. I am weary and seek a bit of refreshment, and perhaps a nap. You know the saying about all work and no play." The woman grins at the matriarch, then turns to Cawmirth.
"What a gallant tengu companion you have, my lady. Would you care to offer me your arm, sir? I am so very exhausted and could use a bit of support." Callista grins impishly, looking if anything more energized than before. She intended to enjoy herself as she worked, however, and not let this whole grim ordeal be any more dark than it had to be. They'd have plenty of time for moping and conspiring later.
One final flight of steps and the long descent down the Dead-Drop Stairs is behind them, just in time for the two women to overhear the closing statements of Cawmirth's analysis. Control of the city slipping from the Council's hands, frightened people claiming Andoran abandoned them and demanding secession, a dire need of troops in the streets. Sounds familiar.
As the newly-reunited group starts making its way back towards the lower city, she finds the time for a quick quip. "You've heard that, Rahgnall? You travel with a Moncrief, you get to live like a Moncrief. It's going to be a rough awakening once this assignment is over, if we allow ourselves to get pampered like this."
Turning serious once again, she turns to address Sebi walking to her side, a few steps behind Callista and Cawmirth. "This theory of Kinch and Thorn working together is intriguing – if quite discomforting –, but I agree with you in that even should they succeed, the Council Leader would have no public recognition for his efforts nor a political capital to spend – besides Kinch's willingness to stick to whatever terms they agreed upon, that is. And we all know how frail a currency a secret agreement is. Still, it bears considering" she ponders thoughtfully.
"In truth, I believe it's a delicate power game we've stepped into. Until now, everyone but Kinch's been careful to keep their cards concealed, but our presence here has precipitated the events somehow, or it will soon by forcing them to act. And both Thorn and the Griffin Maester have a very weak game to show" she says as they walk, from time to time casting a sidelong glance as if trying to breathe in the city's atmosphere as much as possible, in what is likely to be one of its last moments of quiet before the storm comes.
"The people are feeling ruefully under-protected, and that's without them even knowing the Aerie is only manned by a skeleton crew" she says hushing her voice. "The fires of secession are only going to be quenched by a show of strength on Andoran's part. And with our troops being spread thin, Granthelm's mercenaries seem a conveniently close option, as the Professor wisely pointed out. In the meantime though, let's see if we can at least contain those flames by placating the arsonist."
"That said, am I right in understanding you've got a date with Thorn tonight, Lady Moncrief?" she asks the Matriarch, her tone suddenly turning casual, even playful.
The quickest way down to the lower city is also the most obvious: follow the Silver Road as it sweeps broadly down from the slopes of the mountain to where the buildings fan out along its base. It's just past ten in the morning, and the skies are refusing to relinquish the sun; chalky white and oppressive, the clouds hang low and give the day a twilight feel.
The Silver Road widens as it descends, the cobbles ringing with the turning of iron rimmed wheels and the clatter of pony hooves. Yet the traffic is perhaps not as dense as it could be; there's a sense of the city holding its breath, of people staying out of sight, or gathering in public houses, inns, and pubs to talk and listen and argue.
They group passes several such places, so thickly crowded that people are willing to stand by the windows so as to peer inside, or simply fan out around the main entrance and do their arguing there. Voices are occasionally raised, and everywhere people's faces are pale and dominated by large and staring eyes.
You notice that your group attracts a fair amount of attention, though the people who glance your way do their best to appear covert. Most gazes first alight on the four soldiers, and then drift curiously to those contained within the square. The gazes don't seem to be hostile, but rather guarded, curious, and speculative all at the same time. A few people trail the group for a few blocks before peeling away, but none seem determined to follow.
Descending the Silver Road is as quick as climbing it was laborious; soon the grade begins to level out, and the view of the rooftops below is hidden as the homes themselves block one's line of sight. The buildings grow less tightly packed, and as the conversation between the members of the group continues, the Silver Road opens into a large market square.
Half the stalls are closed, however, and few people seem intent on browsing the wares of those that stand open. On the far side of the market rises an elegant building whose architecture suggests a Tien temple; the tiled roof curls out at the eaves, a set of broad steps rises to a covered porch whose pillars also support covered walkway around its perimeter. Done all in black, white, and with crimson trim, it seems at once stark and serene. A sign before it proclaims it to be the Inn of Iridescent Repose.
Sebi keeps her voice low to the captain as they walk. When she talks, her voice is half her own, and half something, someone, else. She says thoughtfully, "Indeed I do, Captain. It presents an odd dilemma, or, an opportunity for one with a talent for larceny. I'm sure a skilled burglar could slip in and discover any evidence of Thorn's deeds whilst this dinner is conducted and be away without anyone the wiser.
"It would be a risk. Many moving parts."
She looks a girl and not a girl. Confidence and fear. Fire of youth, frost of the dead. When she is at her best, she exists in the center, a special place. A memory: a hint of her mother's arm wrapped around her infant body. She can never see her face or anything else about her but her arm, and feel the warmth coming from it. She holds it as long as she can, but it quickly fades, leaving only the girl behind.
"Come, let us go inside and see about our rooms."
Once again, the matriarch is proving a conundrum. One moment she's a young woman, barely coming out of her teenage years, the next she speaks with the wisdom of the ages behind her. As they move past the half-empy market, Lavinia falls silent for some time, considering their options.
"It's curious that you mention it, since truth be told Callista and I were making similar... ah... arrangements for tonight. Only, we were in the mood for hanging out in much lower places, so to say" she replies after a short while.
"If I had to judge based on what little we know, I'd say Thorn is but a politician, albeit probably a cunning one – or he wouldn't have clung to his power for as long as he did. One thing I've always liked about politicians is that they can always be counted on acting in their self-interest. In this particular case, I believe his aligns with ours. Unless your talk have led you to believe otherwise, of course" she hastens to add, deferring to the matriarch's wisdom on the topic.
"Kinch, however... Maester Horn told us his behavior shifted dramatically in the course of these last few last months. Apparently, Almas having forsaken Alastor has always been the prominent topic of his political platform. Indeed, no surprises here – but just about three months ago, he suddenly fell silent, only to make a comeback shortly after the fall of the Iron Keep, this time advocating secession. The only jarringly erratic role in what would have otherwise been the perfectly recited play of Alastor's politics."
Her speculations are interrupted by their entrance into the elegant Tien-like structure. A cursory look around before uttering a few words of caution. "I take it it's Thorn who suggested you this accommodation? If it is so, a further proof he's a man of good taste. However, one does not get to rise to political prominence without keeping tabs on what's happening in his city. We should weigh our words as long as we're within these walls."
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Cawmirth gave Callista a very long, very dry look from the old stink eye. She didn't get an arm or anything of the sort. His interest in playing along with her flirtatiousness began at the tongue and ended at the beak. He simply shuffled his way along with them towards the inn, content to hear what had been gathered from the military authority of the town and the thoughts of other two ladies.
That comment about breaking into Thorn's offices did make him click his tongue in disapproval. Really, who'd be so rude as to do that?
"I believe Thorn feels our interests don't align with his. Whether he is correct or incorrect in that assumption, I cannot judge, but I would recommend someone more flattering to the man's ego accompany the lady to her dinner engagement. We have entered into a game of webs upon webs. We ought be careful not to go alone unless it is a dire necessity."
Cawmirth took a moment to appreciate the architecture of their recommended lodgings, before glancing to the ladies present. "Speaking of carefully weighing our words... while it would be a small benefit for me to know what languages you are all familiar with, besides the common tongue, it is hardly a fully secure means of communication."
Cawmirth reached into his pack and produced a small bracelet, ten simple clay beads with different (and distinct) geometric shapes visibly raised from the surface of each. "Are any of you familiar with the braille bracelet? It is hardly the most convenient means of communication, but, if silence is necessary, or we wish to leave a message surreptitiously it may be our best, non-magical option. As long as we agree to a set of meanings to associate with each bead, it is easy enough to pass a silent message along, in the dark or with a subtle gesture..."
"I've never been very... academically inclined, I must confess" the Captain admits reluctantly, as if embarrassed by that particular shortcoming.
"Besides Taldane, the only tongue I've taught myself is the Celestial language of the Upper Planes" she says as she looks at the wristband with curiosity.
Sebi says, "In my studies I have learned a few languages. I know the language of the Abyss, the Celestial tongue as well, Elven, Devil-speak or Infernal, and the trade language of the Darklands."
Callista laughs melodiously at Cawmirth's refusal to play along with her, holding her hands up in mock travesty as they start towards their destination. Her face and manner remains animated as they discuss events along the way. As the talk turns to language, she shrugs. "I know only the common Taldane tongue and the Varisian dialect. Might I say that if this place was suggested by our esteemed councillor, that we make arrangements somewhere else? We could retain more of our privacy, and make observations based on his reaction to our refusal to use his accommodations."
Keeping her voice low, "I know Lavinia can move about silently, and I have a certain skill with it, as well. Figuring out Kinch's motive is paramount. Is he acting as a rogue, or a puppet of some higher power? We must know."
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Cawmirth didn't say anything immediately, as the various dialects each had studied came in. He nodded to Sebi and Callista both, but spent the longest thoughtfully bobbing his head to Lavinia's answer before fixing a look at her from his stooped, squat frame.
"Indeed. Why study one of the dozens of languages actually spoken in Almas when there's Celestial to be learned? I mean, you get so much use out of it! Just think of all the times you're in a tight spot and your Celestial saved the day..." It didn't take a high sense motive check to tell that Cawmirth was mocking the guard captain's choice of languages, though, it might not have been immediately obvious that he was just salty she'd managed to choose one of the few languages he wasn't able to communicate in.
Looking to Callista, he then noted, in Varisian, "It is, unfortunately, a rather common language, but thankfully not one spoken by a great number of rural Andorans. I agree whole-heartedly with your assessment as to the importance of investigating Kinch and the dubious security of the inn, but if Sebi is to continue to maintain a friendly facade, it wouldn't do for her to doubt Thorn's trustworthiness. Though, I am under no such compunction."
Cawmirth then glanced to Sebi, speaking in the soft, ethereal tones of the elves. "Given what we are dealing with here, I imagine Infernal would be rather useless as a code. However, if you wish to play at being double agents ourselves, making use of stage whispers in the language, I will follow your lead."
He then simply sighed and returned to the common tongue. "I suppose, if it comes to us wishing not to be overheard and understood, the Lady and the Guardswoman are a natural pair. Oh, how I struggle to keep up with you, Ms. Jeggare..."
"In some ways, it actually did save my day, in my past at least" the Captain gently replies, unfazed by Cawmirth's sarcasm who, despite everything, clearly holds a point. And yet, her memory is now going back to the days of her youth, when a much frailer girl used to spend hours deciphering long forgotten texts of planar lore, finding in her faith whatever solace from her grim reality she could.
"Still, I usually confide in other means to get myself out of tight spots" she nonchalantly adds, pointing at the big sword strapped to her back with a backward nod of her head.
The group mounts the broad and shallow steps to the covered porch, and then passes through the broad double doors to an airy entrance. The walls are painted a stark white, with black trim outlining the doors and windows. Pale light filters into the room through the broad windows, made diffuse by the sheer white curtains that hang before them. A glass pane covers a shallow depression in the center of the room, in which a complex pattern of white and black stones has been laid with impressive intricacy.
A broad desk is set to the left, black with crimson trim, behind which a Tien woman of middle age stands, her lustrous black hair done up in an ornate bun. She is handsome, her face broad, her lips generous, and she sets down a sheaf of papers as she turns a polite and attentive smile to the group.
"Welcome to the Inn of Iridescent Repose. My name is Mistress Ling. How may I be of service?"
She scans Thorn's note, and then bows at the waist, clasping her hands before her in an attitude of prayer. "Friends of Master Thorn are always most welcome in my humble establishment. Please, be at ease. You have arrived at a home far away from home."
She claps her hands sharply, and a moment later two young men rush into the room, eyes cast down in a diffident manner, bearing trays on which small white towels are rolled and piled. Steam rises from them, scented with what might be eucalyptus.
"Please, refresh your hands and faces. Will you each require a separate room? If so, I ask that you select the where you wish to rest. In the clouds, high above Andoran? In the depths of the ocean, lulled by the currents and visited by curious fish? A forest glade, a castle suite, the heart of a glacier...?"
Raghnall casts a questioning glance to Alysandra, clearly awaiting her decision on how best he and his fellow guards should be deployed.
"Three rooms for each one of our dignitaries, if you please, Mistress Ling. Adjacency should be favored over view; and I'd appreciate if glamors could be eschewed altogether. I'm afraid we're not used to such... fanciness in Almas" she replies in a firm tone, yet tempered by a courteous smile.
"Raghnall, Nyle, I'll entrust the Professor to your care. Seberg, Edvard, likewise with Lady Moncrief. I myself shall share a room with Lady Jeggare" she says while taking advantage of the refreshing towels, wiping away the long ascent's sweat.
Callista nods graciously to the Tien woman, a thin smile on her lips. "I appreciate your hospitality, Mistress Ling. You are a sight for sore eyes after a long travel and a day of climbing steps." She grasps a white towel, her green eyes closing at the sensation as she rubs the sweat from her skin, the heat soothing muscles not accustomed to this kind of physical labor.
"Your arrangements are wise, Captain. I shall enjoy spending the evening with you." Callista's manner is playful, the triple-entendre clearly amusing to her. She puts her hands on her lower back, stretching backwards in order to keep the muscles limber so they wouldn't tighten up on her. In truth, she wasn't too wore out...but traveling dignitaries wouldn't be expected to be in good shape, so she had to play her part in the facade.
Ignoring the Captain for now, as though she is just an upstart servant, she turns to Sebi and Cawmirth. "My friends, shall we relax and discuss things here in the city while we decide on where to dine this evening?"
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Welcomed into the rather distinctly themed building, Cawmirth bowed his head to the lady of the establishment, though he never took his eyes off that note. He'd be damned if he didn't want to get a look at it for anything at all out of the ordinary.
Thorn was no fool, so it was probably all above board. Probably.
"Captain, really!" Cawmirth squawked with a flap of his arms. "Well, I suppose it is your job to keep us protected, but still, these rooming arrangements..." Cawmirth shook his head sadly.
Still, it was hard to know if they were safe from the prying ears of the mistress. He hadn't the means to communicate with Lavinia. The need to draw a reaction made most anything he could say to Sebi entirely inappropriate for maintaining the gravity of her situation. And Callista? Well... he simply didn't want to encourage her.
He briefly looked over to Callista, a silent moment before he let out a short, rough "Heh!". "Now that's the spirit. Ms. Jeggare, you so often lend yourself to discretion and that poker face of yours. It's good to know you are quite well aware of when to remain professional and when not to." His gaze lingered on her, a pregnant pause before his attention shifted.
Cawmirth sidled closer to the captain, casting a glance over to the madame before he began to speak in a voice that was just low enough to suggest he didn't want his volume to overly distract the others, confident in his meaning being entirely lost on those assembled. The meaning being lost on the others because he was speaking so very casually to Lavinia in Varisian. "Why are you playing coy now? Weren't you saying how we could get away from prying eyes out here in Alastor? About our... tastes?"
"Just last week you were talking about that thing you have for tacky orientalist kitsch. Seraglios and servile eunuchs, opulence and nigh-on offensive exoticism all bound up in an absurd sexual fantasy." Cawmirth pointed his talon at one of the men who had offered them warm hand towels. "That one would be perfect. You know it as well as I do. I just want to force-feed him cheese until the smell of curdled milk radiates off him. And the other? You could have him speak in that broken accent they use in the stage plays when they're delivering noodles as a plot device while he rubs buttered sausages all over me." Cawmirth paused, drawing back a bit and clearing his throat to look at the others, seeing if any of them registered a hint of awareness regarding his words.
Cawmirth demurely mumbling in Varisian, still. "You know how I get with dairy products. And that duty-first, Andoran guard mystique you like to hide behind."
With Callista authoritatively taking control of the situation, Lavinia was about to fall back to her standard, professional self when suddenly she finds herself the addressee of a long-winded speech she can, however, make little sense of but which sounds conspicuously similar in tone and utterance to the words the Professor spoke to Callista just before they entered the exotic inn.
Has he misunderstood... No, the Professor's far too smart for that. Guess I'd better play along she thinks as she displays her best conspiratorial smile towards the crow-like scholar.
Sebi bows to Mistress Ling and says, "Yes, thank you very much, madam. These arrangements will do just fine."
Safest to assume Thorn an enemy for now, and also to assume he has eyes and ears at a locale he would recommend.
She remembers her aunts' lessons, especially Kalie's, the enthusiastic raps on her knuckles when a spell turned wrong. "You're giving it too many parts. Simplicity. Magic is a shortcut, shortcuts within shortcuts, a web bending in on itself. The less complex, the less ground you stand to lose."
The simplest option would be to shift locations. Two sets of rooms. An excuse that they stayed out too late, too far away. That we can control, but how best to shift Kinch's location without being in front of the entire council? I'll have to think on it more...
She says to her companions, "Let us discuss our plans for the evening while we get situated."
Callista, being accustomed to hiding her emotions when needed, keeps a straight face during the Professor's absurd proposal to Lavinia, though anyone paying close attention could see her eyes crinkle slightly in amusement as the ridiculous got to the ludicrous point. She thought she understood Cawmirth's ploy here, so merely looked to Lavinia, waiting for her reaction to the silly speech from the tengu.
Afterwards, she nods to Sebi. "Perhaps we can get some refreshments and retire to your room to discuss what might be next, Lady Moncrief? Perhaps a stroll through the city?" She shrugs, as though many options were available.
None of the employees react to Cawmirth's scandalous comments, indeed, the two boys with the trays of towels could be automatons from how composed and serene their faces appear to be. When the towels are either used to refused, to hasten away.
Mistress Ling's eyes, however, do widen in surprise at Alysandra's comment. "No illusions, my lady? But - that is the appeal of this humble abode. Would you care but to sample a... no? Very well. I must advise you, however, that our rooms are very simple without the expansiveness gifted by our glammers. If that is not a problem, then please follow me."
She leads the group further into the building, down a central hallway off which some ten doors give access to ten rooms. Each is large enough to accommodate four beds, and each is otherwise devoid of adornment. White walls, no windows, no paintings, no alcoves, no statues - nothing but the beds, each of which has a sample accompanying chest at its foot.
"Please do not hesitate to request any further assistance. Dinner is provided just before dusk in the central garden. You will know it is time when we ring the courtyard bell."
That said, Mistress Ling bows and departs, returning to the front desk.
Having situated yourselves, the group gathers in Lady Moncrief's room. Without prompting, Raghnall positions himself by the door, and sends the other three men to wait within the second room, ready to come running at but a call. In truth, the room would be otherwise too cramped to accommodate all eight.
Sebi sits on one of the beds and sloughs the pack from her shoulders. The magic strengthening her muscles to be able to carry such weight still doesn't prevent the soreness, she's found. Everything has a cost, she thinks.
"Now," she says, "I believe we were discussing where to go next. We still have some time before dinner...and on that point..." She turns to Cawmirth, then Callista, then Lavinia. "I had thought to borrow Lavinia for this dinner, if that is acceptable? Perhaps Callista too if you would like? You've both shown yourselves to be very capable. I can think of no one better suited to come with me."
"The only other person I would very much like to see before leaving is Kinch."
"Seeing our esteemed councilor in action is something I am pining for, surely. As for dinner, that would be fine with me. I noticed you didn't mention our esteemed colleague Professor Cawmirth. What is he to do while we wine and dine with the elite?"
The priestess taps her chin, then grins. "Perhaps Cawmirth and I can go on a date of our own. See what there is to see around town. Dig up the local dirt and whatnot. We had such FUN doing it before." She chuckles throatily, her pale green eyes cutting over to the tengu.
"Perhaps we can pay a house call, as well. Try to tie up some loose ends, you know."
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Cawmirth unceremoniously slumped down on a bed, hunched forward and looking at the walls with something between a forlorn sense of potential wasted and a creeping sense of alarm. "I am unlikely to be of much help at a dinner with Thorn. This and that." He paused. "As the only one of us with any arcane talent, are you able to ascertain how the room's illusions are controlled, Lady Moncrief? While we may have some piece of mind sitting in this dreary room, I fear we might have the room's capabilities used against us one way or another." Cawmirth stated rather flatly, before nodding his head to Callista.
"Loathe as I am to admit it, I think it might be best if we accompany one another, Callista. I found myself a bit frustrated in my meeting with the Councilor as I hadn't any means to discreetly communicate with Lady Moncrief. You and I may speak in Varisian with some semblance of security, and the Lady and Captain may do so far more securely in Celestial. Of course, we must still be circumspect, but it does allow us a degree of secrecy in our communications." The bird shrugged and wriggled, taking off his haversack.
"As for visiting Kinch, there is something to be said for visiting him as he is orating and another to be said of visiting his bakery. If you wish to know a man's secrets, find where he sleeps, as my elders so often liked to say. I am pleased enough to go on either visit. I have little preference in the matter." The bird reached a talon into his sack, rooting around a bit and peering here and there.
"Do any of you wish to have a braille bracelet? I may have one or two extra stashed away here. Though I'd appreciate it if you compensated me the twenty five gold pieces I paid for them."
"I'd love that, Professor. Thanks" Lavinia says handing Cawmirth the required sum.
"About our facund friend... I'd recommend we do both, in that order. We still have more than a few hours of daylight left, it'd be a pity to waste them without taking a leisurely stroll around such a picturesque city. Only, I'd suggest we tone down the pomp of our function a bit, lest we attract unwanted attention. The tension in the streets is palpable, the calm before the storm; I've noticed how people were looking at us as we marched down the hill. News of our arrival must have spread already."
With that, a whispered word and her uniform disappears, replaced by a plain set of sturdy if slightly worn-out travel clothes. Her features also shift subtly: he hair turns brownish, cut short, with hazelnut eyes to match. She smiles, a pair of imperceptible dimples appearing on her now freckled cheeks.
"Come evening, we can proceed to our dining arrangements as we see fit. I had half a mind to assign Seberg and the others as your honor guard once again, Lady Moncrief, but if you insist on my presence..." she lets the sentence hanging in the air and turns towards Callista, nervously biting her lip. The memory of their last break-in is still vivid in her mind, and it's pretty obvious the idea of sending Cawmirth and Callista alone unsettles her quite a bit.
"Regardless. Such plans can wait for the time being. Lady Moncrief, would you allow me to help make your appearance less... Moncrief-esque before we depart?" she asks rummaging through her backpack.
0 minutes
Once the group is suitably disguised, the four of you head back out into the city. Where before you drew gazes from every direction, now you feel a comforting sense of anonymity as you make your way across the small market.
There's a subtle sense of a flow to people's direction, as if a center of gravity were pulling them toward a location in midtown. It's easy to fall in step with the locals and move with them slightly uphill, along cross streets, and then finally to a main avenue which spills out into a large square like a river into an ocean.
The square is hemmed in on all side by tall buildings. These have an official air, looking to be wealthy residences, a large inn, what could very well be guild houses and the like. Three storeys tall, with their frames limned by black timbers and with peaked roofs, they turn the square into an auditorium of sorts whose focal point is a massive man that stands above the crowd.
For unlike the streets, the square is flat, dug into the side of the mountain and giving welcome relief to calves from the constant tilt of the city. The far end of the square terminates in a sheer wall that rises some ten yards to where the mountain slope and the city streets continue, and where the Plynth is located. There a figure ten yards tall stands, faintly insubstantial and glowing, gesturing and speaking in a voice that most generals would die for.
The man is wild in appearance. His hair is gray and shoulder length, his beard darker, and his eyes a brilliant blue. His features are rough as if worn by the elements, lined and scarred by a life hard lived. His hands are powerful, his fingers blunt, and his frame radiates an energy that is palpable.
" - for are our lives not worth more than that of mere cattle? What are we, friends, if not individuals, each containing within himself a multiverse of ideas, thoughts, emotions and goals? We are not cannon fodder, we are not expendable, we are not numbers on some far removed general's balance sheet. We are mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, each and every one of us deserving a life that is lived on our terms, that is lived according to our principles, that is first and foremost ours and nobody elses!"
Ragged cheers greet these words. The man pauses, hands raised, and then slowly lowers them.
"The politicians of Almas would have you believe otherwise. After all these years of neglect, they will come running to us. 'Sacrifice yourselves for our great nation' they will cajole. 'Die for us. Throw yourself uselessly on the swords of our enemies so that the rest of the country may profit.' Pah! Do they think us fools? That we will believe them when they claim that only now are we important to them? Of course we are! For now they ask for the very last possession we have to give: our lives!"
His voice rises to a shout. "Shame on them! They ignore us while it is convenient, happy to pursue a pointless border war with Taldor at our expense, and ignore the true enemy at the gates! Shame on them! Their criminal neglect has created a situation that need never have come to pass! And now that is has, who do they expect to pay the price? Us! Innocents! Private citizens that never signed up for war!"
A roar greets his words.
"Friends. This is a time of reckoning. Who are we, and what do we stand for? Are we 'Andorans'? Do we lay down our lives for that ideal? What does that even mean? What does it mean to be an 'Andoran' citizen, if we never see any love from the nation's government? If all they do is take, take, take? Or are we citizens of Alastor, are our loyalties first and foremost to our families, our sons and daughters, our neighbors and friends? Do we sacrifice all for distant and callous rulers, or do we rally and seek to survive this crisis, look out for one another, and fight to stay free?"
"Freedom!" comes the roar in response, over and over again.
"Now. We have but one opportunity to take control of our destiny. One chance to define our fate. I say we are not Andorans, but citizens of Alastor. I say we should not sacrifice ourselves for short sighted and murderous politicians, but seize control of our destiny by declaring our independence! Will this path be easy? Of course not! We are not fools. We are not naive! But it will be our destiny that we fight for. It will be our freedom for which we struggle! Damn Almas! Damn the Supreme Elect! Damn his grasping, groping greed! Unite, my brothers and sisters! Unite! Stand tall together, clasp each other's arms and say unto each other, we are no man's slave, we are no butcher's cattle, no, we are free, and we shall stand free, and we shall seize the day and declare ourselves independent and let the rest of this blood sucking nation earn the fate it has deserved! Let Cheliax pass us by! We shall deal with them as best we can, but come dawn a month from now, in one form or another we shall still stand - proud, free, independent - and we shall gaze with sorrow at the wicked fate that befalls those who have sought to use and abuse us!"
The crowd begins to roar it's approval, and high above it all, Kinch gazes down with a grave face and raises his fist in a gesture of defiance. Immediately the crowd does the same, and chants over and over again, "FREEDOM!"
Callista watches grimly as the man orates, stirring the crowd into a frenzy. Not wanting to look out of place, she clenches her fist and shouts along with the rest of the noisy plaza, but her mind is troubled indeed. Kinch had progressed farther along than she had thought. With the fervor this group of people was in, he could likely take control of Alastor any day he so chose.
She turns her concerned gaze to her companions, subtly nodding back towards the Inn. She had seen enough. They needed to act, and soon. It might already be too late.
As they exit the room, Lavinia gives the four guards the order to wait for them at the inn while making sure their rooms are not tampered with. Finally arriving at the square where the Plynth is located, and to which it acts as a natural amphitheater, her jaw clenches as the soldier within her writhes in disgust. Kinch's inflammatory rhetorics are everything she has expected, and more.
Hypocrite. He tells them they're more than numbers for a general to tinker with, yet he implicitly regards all those who died on the Taldane front just as such.
Any reserve or pity she might have had for the man drowns and dies among the enthusiastic cheers of the surrounding crowd. He is either a deluded populist or a dangerous provocateur. Either way, he must be disposed of, sooner rather than later.
"A pity he wasn't around at the time of the People's Revolt. I'm sure all those who died in it would have been delighted to know that their freedom could have been more easily bought by simply surrendering to Cheliax rather than fighting against it" she finds herself sarcastically muttering under her breath. She's about to let her frustration get the best of her when she sees Callista subtly indicating it's time to make their way back to the inn. It would be foolish to challenge his views where he's at his strongest she realizes, immediately nodding back.
Even through the crowd's cheering, Sebi can hear the japes of her ancestors. They say, "I died for this?" and "Freedom looks different from my day." and "Tell this fool, girl. Put him in his place."
She turns to her companions and reads the looks on their faces. Time to go. She turns back to Kinch and looks at him again. It is tempting, to face him here and now, can feel the pull of the girl in her, to rise to a challenge. But she manages to quell the voices and thoughts, at least for a time. She distracts herself by looking around, trying to see if there is anyone else of interest in the crowd.
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Noting the efforts everyone was making to be rather unobtrusive, and being about as obtrusive a racial minority as one could find in the small city, Cawmirth piped up. "This scholar's cap of mine is, in fact, possessed of the same enchantment as yours, Captain. Though, if you might, ah... give me some advice how best to look human..."
And with a few pointers here and there, Cawmirth soon managed to have the suitably bland appearance of a middle-aged, dark-haired man of mixed heritage (that Chelaxian/Taldane mongrel type) with a bit of gray at the temples and a resting b++~~-face that let everyone know what an a##@#@# he was at a glance. Perfect for going out and listening to secessionist windbags.
As an audience-member, he was one of those kinds that could fluster a speaker if given attention (looking incisively skeptical and somewhat bored at once). Which made it all the more curious that, despite his appearance of wanting to give Kinch a swift kick in the balls, Cawmirth honestly found himself rather sympathetic to the man's position. The grumbles of his companion suggested he best not be too open about that.
Clearing his throat and speaking in a low voice, Cawmirth opened his mouth to give a brief aside and ended up delivering yet another long-winded lecture. It wasn't (just) that he liked hearing himself talk, but one had an obligation to properly support any propositions put forward if one was to treat his listeners with any respect.
"Whatever disagreements we may personally have with his positions, a seed doesn't grow in barren ground. The council holds... what? A career politician, a moneyed plutocrat, a clergywoman, a disgraced nobleman, a long-serving military officer, and a baker. While it may be easy enough to see him as the minority from that perspective, from the looks of this crowd, he may be the closest to the majority opinion here. Not that he hasn't been rather active in pushing that opinion toward his own position..."
Cawmirth tapped at his chin, narrowing his eyes and staring up at the glowing, impassioned figure. When they moved, he'd certainly be a difficult obstacle to overcome. Silence him, and turn him into a martyr. Find some means to coerce him into cooperation and the fires of dissatisfaction could spring free of the reins he held. They could pray he had some dark secret to discredit him, but... if not? Cawmirth reached into his pack, pulling out the Pathfinder Chronicle he had on the role of large kin-groups on the democratic process in the country's long(ish) history. The professor was already trying to think of all he could as regarded the current war with Taldane, from its causes (better and lesser known), to its progress, and results up to now; some perspective from his tome would no doubt help in the endeavor.
"Be it because of maliciousness or simple detachedness, The Council appears to be a poor reflection of the people's intentions, on that we agree" an inconspicuous brown-haired traveler replies to the grim man.
"Even should we manage to take Kinch out of the equation, Alastor won't be secure until we've rooted out the underlying causes which allowed him to rise to such prominence in the first place. Mainly, fear" Lavinia goes on in a steely voice. "We need those mercenaries, and we need them soon. I'll see if I can put a temporary patch on that, but I don't expect miracles."
True to her word, back at the inn she briefly excuses herself, heading to her room; behind closed doors, she dismisses the charm and starts penning her report.
The situation in Alastor is direr than anticipated. Talks of secession run rampart in the streets, amid accusations of betrayal on Andoran's part. Jain Kinch is the one pouring oil upon the flames, the fall of the Iron Keep having suddenly turned him into a vocal separatist after months spent in relative silence – a coincidence worth investigating. Aurion Thorn still professes himself a loyalist, though his enthusiasm as well as his grip over the city are waning by the minute. Ossok Horn has retired himself into the Aerie. With a mere 200 men under his command, his main goal has been to prevent the people from noticing how ruefully under-defended Alastor is.
Eliminating Kinch would probably turn him into a martyr. Possibly disgracing him by uncovering evidence of Chelaxian connections might help stabilizing the city, though neutralizing the arsonist once the fire's already spreading is only one part of the equation. Securing Granthelm's mercenaries to our cause might go a long way to give the people the sense of security they so desperately need. Unless new information emerges, those are probably going to be our next steps.
In the meantime, I can't stress vehemently enough how tenuous Andoran's presence in the Windburn Vale is. Fresh troops, newly trained recruits still unfit for combat duty – whatever the Supreme elect can spare but that wouldn't be useful in the Eastern Campaign anyway, I humbly urge to be sent here to corroborate Horn's Legionnaires. As of now, a show of force is more important than actually capable soldiers. The short term battle isn't against an invading army, it's for the people's morale.
A.d.E.
P.S.: Professor Ravenheart posits the unsettling suggestion that Thorn might actually have ulterior motives in his political maneuvering. Maester Horn confirms the Council Leader presently has the largest military force in Alastor under his direct command, which might give credit to this theory.
P.P.S.: I'd like to recommend agent Onario for his commitment to the Andoren cause. He proved a veritable mine of information and, more importantly, the only stalwart figure we've met among the rapidly deteriorating loyalties of the population at large.
The thinking of a soldier, always hastening to the sword.
Sebi says to Lavinia, a slender hand to her chin, "The mercenaries would indeed be helpful, but we have come on a diplomatic mission, and so I believe force should not be our first move here. Callista and I are more than capable of meeting words with words."
"To drown in the words, the words, the words..." The voices say in their room, amidst the creaking of old boards now bereft of their illusions.
Callista looks thoughtful, her eyes taking on a distant look as she taps her chin with her painted nails. "True. We must know if Kinch is just a true 'man of the people', or someone's paid s#!#-stirrer. Or something else. If we remove the man, we have to deal with the clamor that will undoubtedly arise. However...if we discredit him..." She grins at her companions, her look devious.
"Let us see where his loyalties lie. If we believe him to be a true enemy of the state, then we can manufacture a story, and evidence, that even the most fanatic separatist will despise. I believe the Professor here can likely produce a suitable forgery, and all we need is a document with Kinch's handwriting." She shrugs. "Should it come to that. Let us learn what we may."
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Moving to quickly support Lavinia's position, Cawmirth addressed Sebi rather bluntly. "We don't need the mercenaries for their force of arms, we need them for the fact that the people here have seen every able-bodied soldier shipped off east into a war with no clear goal nor end while they are under the very real threat of being invaded and enslaved by Hellknights. Your words, and Callista's, will likely be well-served by any soldiers we can get here." He glanced to Lavinia. "...and if things do erupt here, I'd rather Thorn didn't have his thumb on every man trained to use a spear in the whole damn city."
As to Callista's statement, Cawmirth gave a nod of agreement to that too, helping her move the argument along its natural conclusion. "Yes, it would likely be for the best to fabricate evidence to convict a man based on our own instincts. It's the only way to preserve Common Rule and a free and unbiased system of representation and justice against the depredations of a state that treats its people like pawns to be thrown away for the greater good."
Cawmirth crossed his arms and glanced at the rest of them, not entirely surprised a military woman and an aristocrat would see things from the viewpoint of the top (and not faulting them for it either), but feeling a little bit flustered that Callista couldn't be a bit more pedestrian in her perspective. "Look... we potentially have before us two enemies, one material and one not. The former, Chelaxian agents, may or may not be present. I'm personally of the view that Thorn, if anyone, is likely to be in league with them if they are present, but it's not entirely clear the Chelaxians, our true enemies, are even present, though it is fairly likely they are. All that we do know with complete certainty is that there is a very real danger of secession here."
Cawmirth lifted a hand, the index and middle fingers moving together given his own somewhat less numerous anatomy, hidden behind his human mien. "Bringing me to the second enemy, the secession movement. Is Kinch fanning the flames of it? Absolutely. Does this serve the interests of Cheliax? Yes. Does that mean he is working with them? Not necessarily. While I have the talent to create an absolutely perfect confession of the man to any and every crime we might wish to throw upon him, I want to make immediately and quite clear that I will not unless we have some convincing evidence he is in league with enemy agents. Mere supposition is not enough, or I'd have Thorn''s in hand. There is a great difference between putting the safety of one's community before the safety of one's country and betraying one's country for gross personal gain. Particularly relevant to this distinction is that I get the impression we have a city that is vastly in favor of the former, and I don't think I have quite enough time to write 10,000 incriminating letters. Blackmail, extortion, bribery, they all have their place, but when it comes to popular movements, our only option, given that governmental legitimacy here is based on the support of the people, is persuasion."
He glanced to Callista, shifting his tone into something a bit more personal, given they they would be working together. "Regarding Kinch, I do think we are best served, at least in our direct dealings with him, to present who we are. For the time being, he is a lawful representative of the local government and we are lawful representatives of the national government. If we present ourselves as who we are to every council-member but Kinch, I can't imagine the people of Alastor will find that very trustworthy behavior. We have to win the hearts and minds of the citizens, right?"
Cawmirth shrugged and lowered his voice a bit. "Besides, if that doesn't work, we can always just watch the place for a day, find a good time to break in, and look for anything incriminating."
"Rest assured, Andoran would never officially condone blatant violations of its citizens' rights" Lavinia reassures Cawmirth. That's why they sent me here she thinks remembering Lady Eregina's words in her last briefing. She quickly makes a mental note of the Professor's stance on the matter, since knowing what she could and what she could not expect of the people she's working with has always been a vital part of her job. Despite everything, she feels a sting of pride in hearing the tengu's word – a living proof that all the work they've done has allowed the Andoren spirit to grow strong yet unspoiled by the notion of necessary evil.
"I personally hope it doesn't come to the point where we're forced to choose between the preservation of this nation and the principles it was built on, as neither could survive without the other. It bears remembering, though, that among all the dignitaries Andoran has in its employ, Lady Eregina handpicked three people who'd had until yesterday absolutely no ties with the government whatsoever" she says smiling subtly, leaving the sentence hanging as well as its implications.
"Still, I'll defer to your opinion on this particular matter, Professor. Even from an exquisitely pragmatic point of view, I'd rather have Kinch's opinions discredited than the man himself. Mostly because if allowing Cheliax to engulf his soon-to-be free Republic is his idea of doing his countrymen's interests, he and I have very different notions of what safety means."
The official cause for the Taldane war as given by the Andoran government is the apprehension of an armed scouting Taldane force that had crossed into Andoran territory. A regiment of fifty armed men were captured by Andoran border forces, and when Taldor demanded their release and refused to explain or apologize, Andoran refused and began holding a military trial.
Tensions ratcheted up as the trial progressed, with Taldane threatening serious reprisals if the men weren't returned immediately. These threats goaded the judge into pronouncing a guilty sentence on the men (some say at the insistence of Field Marshal Jahane, who oversaw these developments), who were each lashed thirty times and turned out on the Taldane border naked to stagger home. Their officer, Corallo Hoam, was accused of crimes against Andoran, and imprisoned for life.
This treatment caused such outrage in Taldor that they mounted a second expeditionary force into Andoran territory far to the north, where a much larger force of five hundred mounted soldiers captured a border patrol of about one hundred men. These were held captive and would be released in exchange for Hoam. The Andoran government, furious, refused, and war began.
However, it's whispered by some that Hoam's original regiment had strayed accidentally into Andoran territory, having lost their way in heavy fog. They were also apparently badly battered having fought a large band of bandits, and were simply trying to make their way back to their city.
The Andoran government staunchly denies this, claiming it's a pathetic attempt at a cover story meant to engender sympathy for the Taldane government.
The Vale, being on the far western side of the country, has suffered little compared to the eastern cities. No doubt it has been drained of resources and men, but it has seen no actual violence. The damage has been indirect; resources have flooded out, but nothing has been returned, leading to a general impoverishment of the city and feeling of growing frustration.
The pen begins to write a response almost immediately.
As I stated, we have a small reserve force that can be deployed to whichever destination you believe needs it most. I will give the command that these soldiers be dispatched with all haste to Alastor. The first force will be led by Golden Legionnaire Sir Dunstan, and is comprised of twenty mounted knights, forty mounted archers, and forty mounted light skirmishers. They will be sent north from Alvis, and should arrive in three days. Two hundred infantry will follow on foot, and should arrive within the week.
Exercise all caution so as to prevent the beginning of a revolt. Neutralize Kinch if you must, but we cannot afford open rebellion in the streets. Of potential interest is that the latest levy of Maester Horn's men was volunteered by Aurion Thorn.
The Captain grinds her teeth as she reads the words rapidly being penned on the parchment by an invisible hand. I'd rather have picked quantity over quality, though evidently every recruit has already been dispatched to the eastern front. At the very worst, they can be redeployed as need arises.
This particular train of thoughts is short-lived, however, as the closing statement suddenly catches her attention fully. I'm personally of the view that Thorn, if anyone, is likely to be in league with them if they are present, Cawmirth's words echo in her mind. It could be the backfiring gesture of a local politician eager to curry favor with the central government to regain his lost prestige... or a part in a far more sinister plan. She hopes the coming evening would help dissipate at least some of her growing doubts.
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"I've just got news from Almas. A hundred cavalry is coming within three days, followed by two hundred infantrymen. That'd make for a thousand soldiers defending the city, equally split between the Maester and the Council Leader." She pauses for a moment, as if she's about to deliver some bad news and struggling to find the best way to tell them. "I also received confirmation that Horn's men were volunteered by Thorn himself. It's no coincidence he's now the first military power in Alastor. He's made himself into it."
"Well then, we might still need to perform our snatch and grab job later this evening, then, just in a different residence, depending upon how your meeting with Thorn goes." Callista smirks, shrugging.
"The extra manpower would be great, but Kinch must be removed now. The Professor and I will see what we can, but even if he is sincere he is still a major firestarter in this border city. Thorn seems like he might be tied in, as well, but we 'know' Kinch is, whether as a sympathetic believer in representing his peoples' best interests or a Chelaxian agent intent on handing Alastor to the advancing Hellish armies."
"Let us be off." She moves up and gives Lavinia and Sebi each a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. "Be careful." She nods to the Professor, for once not teasing him or otherwise trying to make him uncomfortable, perhaps a symbol of the serious predicament they found themselves in."[/b]
Once everyone is ready, she changes her appearance, dressing up in a yellow gown, with shoulder sleeves and a relatively modest neckline. She intended to be a merchantess from Westcrown, coming to attempt to start trade negotiations with the soon-to-be free city of Alastor.
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"Good good. I'm glad to hear it. Having some already en route and the possibility of other mercenaries to come... well, I'm sure it will shore up our position here..." Himself, rather prepared to step out with Callista, Cawmirth didn't respond immediately to Lavinia's comment about Horn's last dispatch of soldiers. An entirely voluntary dispatch of soldiers.
He simply stared at the captain for a few long seconds, placid and thoughtful. Then, carefully, he lifted up one talon as if to make a point before suddenly both claws upward in a paroxysm of curmudgeonly "I told you so!" rage, eyes burning with righteous fervor. The pantomime of academic rage, one he and his ilk were far too well acquainted with, passed and he turned to Callista.
"Yes, well, I suppose we ought to let our friends enjoy their dinner with Thorn. Perhaps they can lift his spirits up about how utterly empty and defenseless the city is after he chose to send its garrison away without being prompted." Unlike earlier, he didn't bother to change his appearance this time, simply appearing as his regular, hideous old self as they departed.
Cawmirth leaned back through the doorway, leering at Sebi unpleasantly. Or imploringly. It was hard to read his body-language sometimes, but to know that it wasn't something one really wanted to be exposed to overmuch. "Oh, could you trade poems with Councilman Thorn or find some other means of acquiring his hand-writing? The more the better." It would be wrong to do anything with it before they'd proven his guilt, but Cawmirth was certain enough of that that he just hoped to have it ready if the need arose. With that he whipped back like a tree snapping up from being bent over, trotting after Callista.
"Before we arrive, perhaps it would be best to ensure we are on the same page. I was curious as to your thoughts as to how we ought to proceed." Comfortably slipping into Varisian, Cawmirth's claws cartwheeled a bit as he shuffled alongside the priestess, weaving and waving along more often than not when he was speaking more casually. Cawmirth nodded thoughtfully to Callista's Westcrown plan, which his player blithely assumed she'd tell him about. "Well, I would hardly want to dictate to you what to say, but, being far and away the most intelligent member of our team, I fear it's my obligation to do so." Oh, Cawmirth, don't be so modest. "We know Kinch is angry that his city is being bled dry. That the last levy of soldiers was volunteered for the war effort is a rather key piece of information in prompting a response from him. For one, finding if he was aware of Horn's last levy being sent off without so much as a request from the People's Council. For another, reading his reaction when it's pointed out that Thorn personally signed off on this. The latter, in particular, will likely tell us whether they are in collusion or contention, from Kinch's perspective at least."
"Secondly, our excuse for visiting. Now, I am an honest tengu, as you've no doubt picked up, so I have no desire to go misrepresenting ourselves. Particularly since you met with Maester Horn, complicating any desire for subterfuge." He cast a glance to her, feigning reluctance (poorly). "...though, I think we can have it both ways, if you insist on it. I think we can present ourselves as being somewhat aligned with Kinch's thinking within the confines of our mission. Or... I can, at least." Cawmirth hunched his shoulders, his head rolling a bit between them. "While I disagree with him about the advantages of secession, I do agree with his stance on this war, generally, and his complaints about the nation's priorities. Now, if he's so utterly soured on Andoran that any cooperation with the government is off the table, so be it. But, I think I can paint a win-win scenario for him."
Cawmirth at that point turned his head to clear his beak, making a few heavy, phlegmy croaks before continuing on without a care as to Callista's comfort around bodily functions. "I'm a scholar sent by the People's Council in Almas, under the direct authority of the undersecretary to the Supreme Elect, to apologize to Alastor and make things right. Soldiers are on their way, soldiers Thorn specifically sent out of the city, but more than that... I've been sent to find the man best able to represent Alastor to speak before the People's Council. This is where the official can segue into the personal. A man of his eloquence, of his fervor, of his authenticity, is needed in the capital. Not just for Alastor, but for all of us. The war is emptying the classrooms of the nation, putting sabres in the hands of its best and brightest so they can die for nothing. It's choking the sea-lanes with blood, and letting other mercantile interests crowd out our own. And, in city after city, town after town around the nation, just like Alastor, people are crying out for someone like Kinch to speak truth to power. If he is ignored, he can return and no one could ask any more of him. But, if he succeeds... it isn't Thorn and his soldiers who win Alastor peace, but one man, doing so bloodlessly, with naught but the truth and his convictions..."
"I... ah... could go on at voluminous length painting the scene, but I'm saving it for Kinch. In any case, that's what I feel is a fine approach to take. If he refuses, I can spew some creative invective at him and storm off, at which point, being a businesswoman, I imagine you could shift to seeing if you could ensure that your timing and place ensure you can keep profitable relations with Alastor. Either ensuring materials continue to make it in via smuggling and personal deals, if you wish to present yourself as Andoran, or through official channels, if you wish to play the Chelaxian and bedevil my arguments with doubts and rebuffs. You could do either."
Cawmirth shifted his voice down a bit, as if speaking to no one in particular. "Though, someone on a purely mercantile mission would likely skirt the fiery populist and either go to dinner with the head of the council or go to see the wealthy merchant on the council, Lysander Poolt. Unless the dark lord Asmodeus has suddenly begun demanding sacrifices of fresh-baked, whole grain bread." Cawmirth shrugged once more, threatening to give himself a repetitive stress injury. "But what do I know? That's just what I'd be thinking if I were him. Why are these people coming to see me?"
"Hmm, it's only a shred of evidence amidst conjecture, but it gives some credence to Thorn's character. That means we should be more cautious than ever around him this evening."
When Callista and Cawmirth go to make their exit, Sebi says, "I believe this night will carry the fate of Alastor. Please, whatever you do," and she glances at Lavinia, "Don't get caught. And don't trust anyone. There is no safety net here; no guards that are above reproach. Be careful."
She takes a few steps across the floor and gathers her things.
"Shall we be off, Captain?"
"Yes. Let's" Lavinia says to the Moncrief matriarch, gesturing to her men to fall into formation. She has nodded in agreement with Sebi's urging of caution, trying to mask her own anxiety over the whole ordeal; one part of her clinging to the belief Callista and the Professor are up to the task, another one questioning whether she's neglecting her duties by leaving the two diplomats without any protection.
And yet, what if Cawmirth was right, and Thorn's the real threat here? Even then, Lady Moncrief would be better served by her diplomatic immunity than her own fighting skills, stepping as she was into the enemy's lair. With the Council Leader supposedly having 500 spearmen in his service, the Captain has little confidence in their chances should a fight occur.
Those are the thoughts that accompany her as the six of them climb the Silver Road once again. Unlike Callista, she has opted to keep the Andoren livery she has worn through the day, chain shirt glistening over blue and golden coat matched by white, tight-fitting pants. As they reach the Aerie's massive doors, she discreetly approaches one of the Golden Legionnaires standing guard in front of the gate, identifying herself as a Steel Falcon Captain on a diplomatic trip from Almas. A folded note quickly changes hands, along with a request for it to be delivered to Griffin Maester Ossok Horn.
as you read this note, one hundred cavalry and twice as many infantry are on their way to Alastor, scheduled to arrive within three days the former, one week the latter. Far from the numbers you required, but it's my hope the sight of a column of men entering the city could at least ameliorate the people's morale, a sign that Andoran hasn't forsaken Alastor after all.
In the same spirit, it has come to our attention a troop of mercenaries calls Granthelm home. Trying to secure their services is likely to be the next step in our mission.
Yours in the People's name
L.C.
"Thorn is probably counting on an intimate dinner for two. I shall introduce myself as merely the Captain of your retinue of guards, so that there'll be no need for me to sit at your table. I'll just stand guard and let you do the talking, Lady Moncrief. Be sure to spare a glance toward my wrist from time to time" she says, indicating the bracelet Cawmirth has bought her.
Dusk has fallen on Alastor, and with it most of the foot traffic has retreated to shuttered homes and watering holes. Gone are the fervent presses of crowds gathered on street corners or assembling in market squares. In their place are hurried footsteps, sidelong and suspicious glances, and a sense of siege, of a waiting for the inevitable to finally take its place on center stage.
Alysandra and Sebi march up the Silver Road with their retinue of four soldiers. They ascend. Below and to the south stretches the vastness of the Windburn Vale, disappearing into a distant gloom that no doubt hides Granthelm out in the center of the plain. Is it fancy, or can distant twinkling lights be made out in the gloaming?
Overhead the raucous calls of the occasional griffin coming in from patrol can be heard, their dark shapes flitting before the appearing stars, their wing beats driving down blasts of cold air. Or perhaps that's just the mountainous chill, growing colder as the party climbs ever up.
For Lord Aurion Thorn's manor is the highest building in all of Alastor. Only the peak of the Silver Aerie commands a more stunning view. The slope of the mountain grows more acute the higher one climbs, such that the Aerie itself is built into a cliff wall which rises up vertiginously overhead. Thorn's manor is embedded in the cliff face to the Aerie's left, its gates just off the Aerie's main square.
Where the Aerie is a dour escarpment, leaden and without windows or illumination, Thorn's home has the appearance of a delicate diadem of lights rising into the night sky. The gates are ornate, spun from dark steel as if by mad driders, and guarded by a detachment twenty strong. These men and women stand with exemplary discipline in three groups: nine assembled in squares three wide and three deep to either side, and one central team of two in the center.
The flanking guards are armed with light crossbows and halberds, while the two central guards wear only longswords at their hips. Each bears an emblem over their heart, that of a figure eight of thorns, with a silver sword slid through each loop, point down.
The gate is an outpost. There is space beyond it for perhaps three or four carriages to park, and then nothing but cliff, all encircled by a high, spear-tipped iron fence. A platform stands stark against the white crushed gravel that fills the enclosure, railed to waist height and ornately carved. No mechanism is evident for its locomotion, but high above twinkle more lights, as if a balcony or ledge awaits them, rising out from the cliff face. Beyond that? A second, and then a third.
The two central guards step forward and bow. Their faces are clean shaven, yet there is something hard bitten about them, weathered and lean, that makes them appear slightly at odds with their finery.
"Welcome to Thorn Manor. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?" He then looks at the guards. "And I'm going to have to ask that each of your men accept a peace binding on their swords while they're on the property of Sir Thorn."
Cawmirth and Callista turn their sights to the bottom of the city, where it spreads out toward the plain, humble and mercantile in nature, with little to do with the prestigious heights of the Aerie and Thorn Manor. The streets grow broader as they descend, more level, with homes no longer cramming against each other for breathing space but luxuriating in a more normal sense of city planning. Great trees rise up here and there, while overhead the ruinous aqueducts mark dark bands against the night sky.
The pair pass through the city walls, the gates open to allow free passage up and down. The walls band the base of the last of the steep slope, and beyond which the lower city extends. Unprotected. Ribald and chaotic, far from the watchful eye of the Silver Aerie, and without protection. There's more street traffic down in the lower city, a greater sense of life and of fear. The open plain of the Windburn Vale lies just beyond the last few homes, and all who hurry back and forth cast glances in its direction, as if expecting to see the hordes of Cheliax at any moment.
It is easy to locate Kinch. His name is the talk of the town, and people are streaming to the square before which stands a massive inn named The Cask & Flagon. A crowd mills before the inn, knots of people arguing with each other, gesturing with cups of wine in hand, pulling on each other's elbows, turning away in disgust. The inn itself is packed to the gills, with its massive common room on the ground floor so filled that people are standing outside the open ground floor windows, leaning in to get a view of the conversations taking place within. A fan of people mill before the great double doors, and lights burn in the second and third story windows above.
Kinch, the pair are assured, is within.