Valcia
Game Master Darksmokepuncher

Lord Rodrik wriggles out of his chair to totter on his undersized feet.

"I appreciate your discretion as ever Spymaster, but I will not tolerate delays when it comes to my heir. Speak what you know. If needs be, I will remove any who should not know what you say."

Anga maintains the bow. "Of course my Lord. I believe that lord Bearach may yet live. Unfortunately I have no proof of this, but in my wanderings of the city I overheard no talk of slain nobles." He straightens somewhat and raises his eye to meet the Lords, as ever, his face a mask. "There were many whispers regarding the destruction of the Rudianos villa, but none spoke of Bearachs death. And as my Lord is aware, news of nobles deceased has a tendency to travel quickly."

The keeper of secrets bows again. "I will of course maintain my investigation until the truth is revealed. By your leave my Lord."

No bluff roll because he didn't tell a lie. :)

"Interesting. So when do you tell us about the part where you saw my brother being tortured. You may have worked to liberate him, but instead you conspire to keep this truth hidden and now have given his captors days to move him and continue his torture."

"In what way will you attempt to justify yourself, I wonder?"

The lord's eyes go wide as he looks to his youngest living son. They narrow as he turns his gaze back to Anga.

"Is this true? You had better have an impeccable explanation for this treason."

The aged scholar releases a long sigh as he covers his face with a hand for a moment. #faceplam
Really. Well, that changes things. I must have a word with this halfblood later…
Thaegrin avoids the Halfblood’s eyes as he looks back up to three nobles, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “This secret-keeper must have his reasons no doubt, but I must point out, my lord, that openly opposing Veir would be counterproductive in reclaiming your son. If he is indeed moved as the Grand Confessor suggests, the trail will begin in the capital city, and gaining the Emperor’s trust could expedite Sir Bearach’s discovery and recovery.”
Diplomacy 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24
The arcanist folds his hands simply at his waist, hoping his council might blunt the rage characteristic of the Rudianos line, and encourage them to think clearly.

What does Seek Thoughts pick up, in regards to joining the empire?

"I have to agree with you about openly opposing Vier, Thaegrin. I am not convinced that is wise, but neither have I abandoned it as an option. Furthermore, it is somewhat comforting to hear you vouch for Anga, however, in a matter of this weight, I think we still ought to hear his explanation."

He turns to his father. "And treason is really too harsh a term at this juncture. Surely someone who has served as faithfully as Facion deserves the benefit of the doubt?"

He looks past Anga's eyes as if into his soul. "I pray for his sake that he proves worthy of it."

Bump

Anga?

Anga maintains his blank stare, any eyes that could see past his, would know indeed that there is no soul to see.
"I had wondered if that might have Bearach. I'm glad to have that confirmed." Turning towards Lord Rudianos he continues. "Dispose of me if that is your desire. But you My Lord, know better than all that I am not employed for half-measures. Nor do I provide half-reports." He pauses before speaking again. "By your leave I will complete my task, fully. With the Grand Confessors apparent knowledge I'm sure it will be considerably easier than I had foreseen."

The man of shadows falls silent and waits.

"But Anga, this information comes to me from your own mind. If your will were stronger I would not know of it at all."

The Grand Confessor smiles a smile that clearly likes to watch others squirm.

"You have always been loyal and dependable,, but you must admit your mistake in this. If you had told Thaegrin what you suspected at least, he may have been able to better hone his divinations. Had you informed the Thelkonlanders or the Lord Jathus they may have mounted some kind of rescue. Who knows, if successful, Bearach could have taken control of your little group and Jathus may never have died."

"It is well and good to be a keeper of secrets, but secrets can hurt as much if kept concealed as if allowed to roam free. Is this not so?"

Sense Motives might be good here. Your welcome.

Facion executes a half-bow. "Perhaps, my lord."

Sense Motive (BECAUSE WHY NOT) 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24 On Rodric
Sense Motive 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26 On Eonan
Sense Motive 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28 Drostan

Thaegrin watches the exchange between the Grand Confessor and the master of shadows. He clenches his teeth to keep back a smile at the tensely polite interrogation. His gaze wanders from Eonan to his brother, then Lord Rodrik, curious on their feelings on this development.

Sense Motive 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16, on Eonan
Sense Motive 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27, on Drostan
Sense Motive 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29, on Rodrik

Thaegrin wonders why the war-bringer remained silent at the implication of his captivity. Probably not accustomed to using his words to solve his problems, but canny enough to know he will die if he draws a sword here. In light of the halfblood’s actions, his case will be better received later…

The aging adviser gently clears his throat, and lowers a half-bow. “Your graces, shall we revisit the house’s position at another time, perhaps after the rites of Jathus’ passing? I would like to collect more information so that I might better aid your decision.”

He straightens silently, letting the unspoken askance of leave hang in the air between them. There is much to do, and too little time.

The Grand Confessor looks to the Lord Rudianos, who nods curtly. The three Rudianos men leave the hall.

You are now in alone in the hall save for 3 servants. What do?

As the three exit the hall, the old scholar motions for a scribe slave. As one approaches, he instructs, “Go to the Arcane section of the house library. Bring research on the Transmuting branch of magic, pertaining to the subjects of polymorph, age reversal, and chronomancy, to my study. The head bookkeeper and I have an agreement, if he accosts you in any way.” Thaegrin turns to speak to the halfblood and the Thelkonlanders, but stops and adds, “Oh, and an encyclopedia on extraplanar beings. When you leave the books on my desk, you will find a bag just inside the door. Take the bag and sell the items inside; I expect you deliver the coin to me two hours before sundown. I will be in my office, and I know exactly the amount the items will sell for in a fair trade.”
After a warning look to the slave, he again turns those he entered the city with. “I have work to do that requires quiet concentration. Is there anything else I should know, before I lock myself away?”

He ends his question looking at the halfblood with a patient expression.

When will the funeral of Jathus happen? Tonight? Tomorrow?

Tholan's face remains impassive as they leave the court, showing very little in the way of his thoughts. "I have nothing further, good luck in your work this evening. If you need nothing of us..." He turns to his brother, his eyes glinting a little. "It seems we have much to discuss. We should find some place more... private."

The arcanist nods, but shows mild concern at Tholan’s words. “It would be inappropriate for the house wizard to have an active hand in your release, but I can surely answer any questions you may have in your upcoming negotiation, from the specifics of the damages accrued over the years kept in the ledgers,” he nods to Ezkal, “or the proper language with which to present your case. It might be best to address the issue after the funeral of Jathus.”

His shifts his weight, eager to leave. “Just promise me you are not plotting to earn your release with violence. It would be such a waste.”

The scribe snaps a salute and is at the door as Thaegrin finishes his instructions.

The wizard gestures a farewell to the three, glances curiously at the silent halfblood, and strides across the empty, wide court. His muddled blood must be the cause for his lapse in judgment. I hope he learned something today. An unlearning mind begins to rot.
He ascends the stairs and walks the corridors acknowledging the guards and servants with a quiet look and brief nod, ever mindful of the slave tattoos he shares with them, even though he also bears the mark of a freeman. He reaches the door of Sir Bearach’s chamber and enters without a word. Inside, he scours the wardrobe, bedding, and other furniture for a hair or bit of nail from the missing knight. When his quarry is found, he resumes his quick stride to his own study, closes the door behind him, and studies the office for any change. He also throws open the door to his bed chamber, and conducts a similar search. Perception 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Satisfied, he unshoulders his pack and places Basher’s shortsword and headband in a bag near the door. Lighting a few candles in his close-windowed study, he scratches out and seals a note and places it near the bag. Under the seal, he writes:

The stone-walled room is bathed in dim amber light; his Feraweni eyes preferred the low light when he needed to concentrate. Sighing deeply, the wizard sinks into his high-backed oak chair, mentally reviewing the events of the day. Only a few moments pass before he curses. He forgot to eat, again. Later. There is much to do. He rises and reorganizes his notes on the mandragora sap-blood mixture to be readily available, and out of the way. The scholar then retrieves the notations made on the journey back to Lehrehn, and pours over them. He crosses the room to open a drawer of various crafting supplies and tools.

Over the next four hours, the seeker of knowledge works to apply his findings to a more tangible form.
Spellcraft, DC 17 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (10) + 16 = 26. Sweet. I can’t find the rules for progress when the DC for magic item creation is exceeded so far. Little help on that one?

Oh, and Thaegrin gets 7500gp from sold items. After the four hours, it should be about 2pm, yes? We entered the city fairly early...

"Indeed brother. We have much to discuss. Let us talk in a more quiet environment, if we're allowed to that is." Ezkal muttered as he threw a glance over the Rudianos family.

Tholan nods, and murmurs a goodbye to Thaegrin. He gestures to his brother and begins moving through the courtyard, his eyes scanning courtyard, picking out every detail his clouded eyes could see. "The House Rudianos is filled with interesting people..." he idly mutters.

Tholan and Ezkal can retreat to a place of at least 99% seclusion. Talk it out bros.

THAEGRIN IS THE 1%

Brother, what are you plotting? We were so close to your freedom, and now apparently we are both being held captive.

Tholan remained mostly quiet, until they passed through a small gate. Within was suddenly wild - a small shrine of forest and vegetation in the middle of the compound. Tholan moved deeper into the wood, signaling for his brother to follow. A small opening in the wood marked it's center, and Tholan stopped there. After taking a look around and pausing to see if anyone was about, he sighed and began to speak in a low voice. "Lord Rudianos has made his intentions clear, brother. I do not intend to remain his captive. However, I see an opportunity here, one to strengthen the holdings of our family. Why should these weak, soft, Southern lords hold the power when they lack the will or strength to control it? We could take control ourselves, or place someone in power who would be more... amenable to our interests. Think of the glorious battles we could cause, the riches and wealth to control wars and create more... opportunities for our prowess to be demonstrated. We could be lords over more than just our beautiful north." Tholan's eyes glinted as he spoke, pacing quietly around clearing.

Perception to spot anyone trying to listen in 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
If anyone is spotted, Tholan wouldn't say any of the above...

Tholan does not detect anyone watching.

The door to Thaegrin's office opens with a soft click despite the lock being firmly in place, and the Grand Confessor glides into the room. He acknowledges Thaegrin with a respectful nod of his head.

"Teacher. It is good to see you."

Ezkal pauses and listens to his brother's words. "This sounds something Gorum would approve up. How do we go about this though?"

"It would be made far easier with the aid of allies. Thaegrin has taught me for many years, and though he can be... grumpy at times, he's a powerful man." Tholan ponders for a bit. "Broaching the subject could be a challenge, but I suspect he may be... unsettled at how things stand."

Thaegrin? Ezkal? Anga? One of you is due to act.

"Will Thaegrin be unsettled enough to lend us aid?"

“Likewise, young one. Prepare for an alchemical application to the practice of divination,” Thaegrin replies as he lays down the tools on the workbench. He steps over to his desk and hands a thick stack of notes on the mandragora sap-blood to his former pupil. The edges of the pages appear to be singed, well worn, or dotted with stains of long dried chemicals. “Before leaving for Veir I experimented with mixture of the poison and sap-blood of a mandragora, a thumb of powdered sulfur, a drop of dragon bile, two pinches of diamond dust,” he points excitedly at the written formulae on one of the pages, “brought to a simmer before adding half a vial of thistle oil, and another of infernales sanguine. Let it cool, congeal, and drain the excess fluid. Return it to a simmer and add two doses of the crag-spider venom –be very careful in this step, the poison is designed to liquefy flesh- but it keeps the concoction in a liquid state even in the most extreme conditions. As it says, this formula was completely theoretical, and the political intrigue in Veir pressed me into testing the mixture’s function. Admittedly sloppy, but my hypothesis was supported completely, and well worth the risk. The notes in your hands detail the alchemical reagents necessary to form a sort of fluid window to use in out-of-body surveillance, such as scrying, and an exposition on how and why each ingredient interacts as they do.”
The aging scholar looks up, his face maintaining a nonchalant air, but his posture betrays the thrill of fruitful academia. He gestures to the inverted star displayed by the man of the cloth. “I understand some of your fold associate with devils, and this discovery would be relevant to any with access to infernal blood and a desire for knowledge. And,” he taps the recipe, “following instructions is a precept taught to even the newest convert, yes?”

Thaegrin meets the eyes of Eonan before shrugging, “Take the notes with you –I won’t need them since I’ve already memorized them. The last fifty pages are dead-ends I would not wish anyone to repeat.”

His eyes idly study the dimly-lit leather map stretched over one wall of his study, taking a few ponderous steps closer, clasping his hands around his back. “I respect your thoughtful approach to the political situation, Eonan. Tell me, is there a strong following of the Lord of Darkness in the mines of Thanon?”

The court wizard turns to see the Grand Confessor’s reply with an eyebrow raised, hinting at the weak wordplay.

"Most intriguing wizard." Eonan replies when Thaegrin concludes his explanation. "This will certainly aid in our intelligences."

When Thaegrin asks about the mines, Eonan raises an eyebrow. "Why no. There is no following there to our knowledge. What are getting at, sir?"

"It is difficult to gauge, but I believe that at the very least he would offer as much aid as he could without condemning himself. He is significantly more powerful than he lets on, it's just a matter of conveying to him that our interests and his are aligned."

The aging scholar rests a bony finger on Lehrehn, and then touches QuanLo. “Mere strategy, young one. Alas, that I hoped for a foothold. It is known that the slave legions of Rudianos are the hardiest fighting force to march the realm. We ‘control the spears’, as it were. Imagine then, if we annexed the raw materials of our weaker neighbor?” he lets the question hang a moment before continuing, “I understand the QuanLo people retreat into their mountains when under threat, where the quarters are close, and the skill of every sword counts.”

He gently clears his throat. “And what work force parallels our labor slaves? In regards to rightful property, those with the power to better accomplish a task bear a responsibility to delegate the inferior and lead all to prosperity.”

His hand opens and he runs a palm over northern Erenon. “Those that oppose or ally with this emperor will have their eyes on the wealth of Thanon. ‘A starved soldier fights himself and his foe.’ For the moment, the emperor believes the Rudianos are reorganizing to support his rule. The rebels are scattered over the southern ports. Only the northern nomads could rush to the aid of QuanLo, but the hooves of their horsemen will find no purchase in the Thanon crags.”

The adviser shrugs. “Just an opportunity to consider, when you reconvene to form a decision. Speaking of, when will the family be seeing Jathus off?”

Eonan’s teacher meets his eyes with a concerned look, unsure of the relationship between the Grand Confessor and his late brother Sir Jathus.

Sense Motive 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21
Diplomacy 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29, in case anything was said that stepped on toes.

Anga waits until all have left the room, and then waits longer. There is much and more to think on, he would need to visit the wizard ere too long.

Facion will find Thaegrin in his office once he is alone.

The Grand Confessor considers. "Hmm. I see your point. Interesting indeed."

At the mention of the deceased little brother, Eonan's face loses all emotion. "We send Jathus off this evening at eventide."

Anga can see Thaegrin in his office whenever. Use spoilers if the convo with Eonan isn't over.

The wizard nods respectfully. “Just so. His end bodes an ill omen for things to come, and I am hopeful that the rites will settle the unquiet in this old soul. What worries me more, is the missing heir. Afterwards I intend to retry an attempt to scry the location of your eldest sibling. I expect we will not encounter another misstep in the coordination of our knowledge and efforts, for it is clear that one was already too many,” his eyes wander to the stack of tomes on his desk brought by the scribe slave, thinking to himself, “There is much and more to do…”

The silence lingers for a moment. The Feraweni suddenly straightens and takes a few steps toward the mountain of literature that rests beside his cluttered workbench.

“Yet here I prattle. You must have much to do today; I will not keep you any longer.”

He offers a hand to Eonan Rudianos.

Sense Motive 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15, specifically during the mention of Bearach. Curious if Eonan has ambitions to rule the house.

The Grand Confessor pauses at the door and inclines his head to his former teacher.

"You haven't changed at all Thaegrin. I will see you tonight."

Thaegrin quietly locks the door behind the Grand Confessor and wordlessly turns to the disorganized office. Grumbling, he quickly orders the tomes of research according to topic, and returns to the workbench. The rumpled grey cloth seems to smooth as he weaves arcane power into its fabric. The wizard passes the time-consuming process by practicing Spreading Root, allowing him split his concentrations. He remembered his teacher Cervantes claimed to manage five divisions of the mind, when a very young Thaegrin struggled with the basic concept, a practice learned from the Feraweni mages centuries ago. Even now, the aging seeker of knowledge could scarcely produce a three-part mind. He internally smirks. Even his death served as instruction. A shame that he miscalculated the effects of his new self-made spell…

The old wizard grumbles indistinctly. I must remember to mention our sighting of the Grok’Toh on the return from Veir at the next Rudianos council…

We're waiting on Anga to visit the wizard and whatever the bros are doing.