"Either way, it seems like he's just moved to the top of our priorities," Malavine noted as she considered.
"Perhaps we could try to trace that delivery boy?"
Now who would have thought that Miselle would provide a useful contact? Alice has no doubt that the information broker is walking a thin line between law and shadows, but the location of Doctor Wolfgang grows more important by the minute. And if she lets her colleague do the actual speaking with her friend, she peeks around and talks to people with just the right amount of curiosity and badge-flashing to encourage Mister Junn to get rid of her as soon as possible, with the information they need.
It takes a few hours for Miselle's contact to bear fruit, but what she ends up telling you is definitely worth the wait. It seems there's another group of people looking for Doctor Wolfgang, which has the people on edge. A certain "Officer Roger Porter" appears to be in charge of the searchers. That's what you learn from the law-abiding citizens, at least. However, Fenarelle works equally well on both sides of the law, and so you learn some information held by the ... not-so-savory side of town as well. It seems that Lorcan Kell is protecting someone. All that's known is that he's a foreigner on the run from the Danorans, and that he's hidden somewhere in the Nettles.
Miselle made a face. "Kell. If he helps at all, it will be for a price. The good doctor must have been desperate, if he sought his protection."
"Even more of a question is what Kell believes he would stand to benefit from hiding him, other than money. Turning him over to the highest bidder?" Corynne wonders aloud.
"Not just that, but we may have pissed him off earlier... this isn't good. Does anyone at the RHC have an in with Kell? Or know how to get in touch, at least?" Ellena bemoans.
"I imagine we can find him," Miselle mused, "But an in? From what I hear, Kell is a beastly man in fine trappings, one dedicated to fear and violence even when it is not needed." She was willing to entertain Morgan's advances because the Family had a reputation for avoiding violence, using it as a tool only when they had to. Kell was said to the be the opposite.
"That he is, just ask the journalists he had murdered and displayed over the Stanfield. If anything, this tells us why Cippiano is making a move. Power struggles are never pretty for a city."
Alice absent-mindedly lights a cigarette, her hands itching for violence.
"I say we find him and pay him a visit. We say we have a tip for him, and we thrust he'll get the point. Put him a bit on edge, so to speak."
"Not that easy," Miselle replied, making a face. "He's very good at violence, and like as not has a very expensive lawyer. But knowing he's involved is useful. Perhaps we can simply bypass him and find where his men are?"
"I agree with Miselle. This man is like hydra. Cut off one head and he will just grow more and become more damaging. I think is better for us to work around as much as possible."
"At least until we can gather what we need to slay him, once and for all." She paused. "Proverbially." Although she doubted many would weep if Kell died 'resisting arrest', he was too smart to allow that to happen easily.
"So I guess we need to find some of his men?" Ellena asks. "...hey, here's a thought. Did those lizardfolk ever talk?"
"Not that I know." Alice says, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "Let's give it another try. And I wasn't suggesting charging straight at him, I'm not that blunt." She considers her words for a moment. "I bet the Army would lend us a cannon, though. It may help."
Back at the station, acting more relaxed than she actually is, Alice takes on the unfamiliar role of the Good Cop. "...so, I'd guess you work for Kell. And you failed miserably on your job, that's no guess. I don't thing he takes kindly to failure, does he? Especially as you were captured by the Family. Of course, if you'd cooperate, we could transfer you a bit further from Flint, make you safer from your boss' anger..."
Ellena sits in the back of the room, making no noise and hoping the lizardfolk forgets she exists. She's not used to these kinds of interrogations, she has no idea what she should be doing.
The larger lizardfolk chuckles. "We don't work for Kell, silly human. Whoops!" You can tell, though, that getting out of the city is of interest to him - although he's doing a pretty good job of acting nonchalant.
Az follows Ellena's lead here; while he might be able to use his gun to intimidate some, these lizards were likely not going to be of that sort. Better to be the silent type in a situation like this.
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Ellena leans over to Az and whispers, "They don't work for Kell, they don't work for Gale... who else could they be working for? The people on the 'other side'?"
"Hey, Corynne," Ellena calls out conspicuously, "want to test that ritual on them?"
"Hmm...that could work." Corynne replies with a detached tone. "Worst case scenario if it goes badly....well corpses tend to tell me more than living people anyway."
As she looks at the lizardfolk with intrigue, the notepad sitting on the desk beside her flips to the next page as the pen continues to write.....on it's own.
A muscle in Alice's cheek twitches as she gets called "silly", but she forces herself to be calm. "Well, it was just a guess. But if you are not working with Kell, well, things just got a lot worse for you, because it means that you are on the side of our real, immediate enemies. Therefore, we could justify Corynne's more... drastic measures. So, what can you offer us that may be worth preferential treatment?"
Both lizardfolk turned slightly paler. "Whoa there, there's no need for anything drastic. Damn it, we're not getting paid enough for this! We got letters - instructions that we've been saving - and a name. We'll give them to you if you get us deported to Ber. That factory was our last job, anyway. We'll even sign an affidavit that we won't come back to Flint. That good enough for you?"
Ellena looks at Az, shrugs. Seems good to me.
Miselle considered. She'd like to see the pair in prison. How many people had died as a result of there arson? But she wouldn't mind seeing them in a Ber prison instead, if that could be arranged.
Alice catches Ellena and Miselle's glances. "It could possibly be arranged, if the Beran consulate agrees. Now start talking."
"We never met our employer: he preferred courier-delivered letters for added security. Courier's name is Albert Eccleston. Everything he ever sent us is back at our safehouse. Go to the firegem repository in Parity Lake. There's an abandoned tunnel underneath it."
"How do we know tunnel is not trapped somehow? We could hit tripwire that collapses tunnel on top of us and you get to go on merry way."
"It's not trapped, but you'll just have to take our word for it."
"Not really," Miselle replied with a cheerful smile. "If we run into one and you harm a member of the RHC, you'll discover your deal vanishes in a puff of smoke. And you gentleman know all about things vanishing in smoke, yes?"
The reptiles look rather frightened by the thought and do their best to reassure you that there are no traps.
"These deals take time either way. So I say we go and check the tunnel while these two stay in custody. When we return we can sign the paperwork. If something unpleasant happens, well, they'll gain several counts of hampering a police investigation, attempted murder and, well, enough for a really harsh punishment. Shall we check it out now?"
"May as well," Miselle agreed, still smiling.
"If.. well, I mean, if there's nothing we can do about Kell... yeah. There's no way Albert Eccleston is a real name, right?"
As it turns out, the lizards were being truthful about the absence of traps in their lair. It seems they'd been relying on their skill at camouflage. With the directions given, though, you're able to find it after a half-hour of poking around the area. Inside, you find a large assortment of firegems, accelerantss, and other fire-starting materials. There are also a couple changes of clothing, a mattress, and two sets of false IDs - in addition to eight handwritten letters.
The letters are dated, and the first few are standard preliminary negotiations: passphrases for identity verification, dead drop locations for payment, etc. The later letters are of more immediate use. Each bears a single business name. The one on the most recent letter is Sechim's Alkahest & Echings
Ellena hates the smell of lamp oil, she really does. It's the way it covers your throat in an oily slick. Like you had inhaled a grease pan.
Still, if she wanted to get through these letters she had to burn a bit of the midnight oil. You'd think the RHC would manage to cough up for some magical lamps, but budget cuts were everywhere and there were 'more worthy projects'. In front of her, her desk had been transformed into a collage of various maps of Parity Lake; geographic and lay line surveys, the last census (incomplete as it was), and of course city streets. Each was covered in various multicolored pins - green for Gale, red for the lizardfolk, and blue for 'unknown' - plus scrawled-on markings labeling ownership and other details. LeBrix had found something, and whatever he'd found had started this whole thing.
It takes a couple hours of hitting the streets, but you're eventually able to get in touch with someone who knows where to go. He leads you to a seedy neighborhood in east Parity Lake where some of the slightly-better-off factory workers live. The atmosphere here is tense, and you can see people peeking out at you through boarded-up windows. You get the sense that local law enforcement doesn't come out here too often. Just before you turn down a new street, you hear angry threats, a man's grunt of pain, and a woman scream. A hundred feet down the side road sits a stopped carriage, its driver reeling on the ground from an apparent blow to the head. A woman kneels over the driver, screaming, "Someone stop them!" and pointing down the street. Two thugs wearing bright red scarves glance over their shoulder as they sprint away.
Your board is soon covered in dozens of pins. With that large of a number, it's easy to find numerous connections between them - from the trivial (factories whose names start with the same letter) to possibly useful (factories owned by native-born citizens vs factories owned by foreign immigrants). Miselle quickly notices that each of the red pins - except for Sechim's Alkahest & Alchemicals - marks a Danoran-owned factory.
Miselle considered for a moment, squinting at the red dot.. "Were those factories that burned Danoran owned before they were burned?" she wondered out loud. She began to check the papers they had, looking to see if they had been owned by Danorans before they burned.
"On it!" Az calls, quickly shouldering his musket and drawing a bead on one of the two runners.
Azaghal's bullet almost takes the runner's leg clean off. He collapses in a spray of blood. Everyone freezes: the second runner, the carriage driver, the screaming woman, even the onlookers in the surrounding buildings. Then you hear the sound of a bouncing ball. Turning, you see a man casually approach dribbling a leather football. He grins at Azaghal. "No hesitation. Precise aim. And an absolutely brutal takedown. Good show, constable! Speaking of shows, my boss wanted me to invite all of you to the theater to talk business while enjoying some light entertainment. If you don't mind, of course." He grins, and you notice that everyone around - including the onlookers in the windows - are armed. And a half-dozen more armed goons are stepping out of the carriage.
After double-checking some papers, Miselle concludes that all of the lizardfolk targets were Danoran-owned before they burned down. Five of them have since been repurchased: two by Danorans and three by Risuri.
Alice's muscles had tensed for a sprint, but as fast as she may be, Az's bullet is far faster. It's when the new menace approaches that she tenses up again, squaring the man with fierce eyes.
"Since this feels like a trap and smells like a trap, I'll be quite disappointed if it turns out to indeed be a trap."
As a confrontation seems to grow near, her awareness of the surroundings increases, expanding like an aura.
"If we resist here, I think he'll just run away and we'll kiss our chances to get info goodbye. Shall we go?"
It would have been easier if they'd all been bought after the fire by one party, but life was rarely that simple. Miselle sighed and started again - was there any connection between the new owners? It didn't seem likely, with a mix of Risuri and Danoran companies, but it wasn't impossible those were simply shells and the real owner was behind that front.
The people watching you from the windows have rifles, the ground-level people have pistols, and everyone is also sporting a long dagger in a sheath. The footballer, meanwhile, appears to be unarmed.
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The dwarf gives his teammate a very slight nod of agreement. "Your carriage goons should see to your man. Better that he lose just the leg instead of his life." he says almost casually as he begins the process of reloading his musket. Without looking at his admirer, he continues,"Do not show concern. Az is reloading from habit. He is no beardless youth, he knows when resistance would only mean quick death." he states, turning to head into the indicated theater.
A quick count of adversaries confirms her companions' ssuspicions, as Corynne nods with a sigh. " I sincerity doubt he's paid well enough to be worth the leg."
"Hm, probably. Something tipped of LeBrix, made him curious - here's a thought. The Danoran's don't have any mages. So, if you wanted to burn down some factories for some mystical reason, wouldn't it make sense to burn down Danoran ones to throw people off the trail?"
You're led down a nearby alley and through a backstage door to the Theater of Scoundrels. As you walk onstage, the lights come up, revealing a full audience leveling guns and crossbows at you from their seats. From a high box seat, a grizzled man of around fifty years beckons to you. Once you've entered his box, the man (who can only be Lorcan Kell) hollers for his men to "Put on a comedy!" before snapping his fingers until someone brings him a sandwich. He starts messily eating it while muttering for the three of you to "Make yourselves comfortable." There are no other chairs in his box.
In between bites of his sandwich, Kell tells you why he brought you here. "I know you're looking for that northerner doctor. Don't worry, he's fine. My men are taking good care of him. Handling him with kid gloves, you know? What's he worth to you?"
Tracing the purchase information of the factories will require convincing multiple bank officials to let you look through their books - a difficult task. You are able to eliminate Gale's targets from consideration, though. She seems to have mainly focused on factories that would make a political statement. The amount of collateral damage is also lower than expected whenever she was involved, as if she was trying to minimize casualties. That leaves the blue pins. There's no apparent pattern to them, but you do notice that over half of the targeted factories are Danoran. That implies a rationale to the blue targets, but you seem to be lacking a vital piece of this puzzle.
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Alice scoffs as the man mistreats the sandwich. "First of all, I have to ask, is it commonplace among crime lords to eat when speaking with us? Is it like when training a dog, trying to assert dominance by eating before they do? Or is it something about us that makes you hungry?"
She turns her neck to the sides, a popping sound coming from her vertebrae, before continuing.
"And you must feel pretty safe here, to bring us so close. As safe as a duchess in a fortress, one could say."
Mouth full, Kell guffaws as he encompasses the theater in a sweeping gesture. There are well over one hundred people in the audience. "Yeah, I'd say I'm pretty safe. My people know what's up." Your implied threat seems completely lost on him.
Miselle rubbed her head. "Well, I suppose we'll need to go bully some bank managers in the morning," she muttered, kicking her feet up. "Any oher ideas?" she asked Ellena