"No... you have to die..." Amelia says out loud, once Lilly reads the words aloud. "Or, if you're already dead, you have to die again." A single bloody tear trails down Amelia's face, and several of Lilly's stitches pop, releasing a sound of rage. "Gar, please go and find a watch officer, thank you very much." Her voice is cold enough to freeze water, and extremely polite.
"Everett, I'd be lying if I even made a guess. Mama can think of a couple nefarious ways to use that compartment, but don't even want to talk about that. You mind if we take the items and do a little research on them? See if we can put two and two together and make some progress on following this up?"
It takes nearly quarter of an hour to find an Officer of the Watch, not unusual given that this is around the time of day when the night watch hands over to the officers responsible for mornings and early afternoon, but the response - once alerted to a violent death - is unusually prompt. Some five minutes after Gar huffs back to the Violet Lady's premises, there are five officers of the watch present and the street has been cordoned off...
And no more than five minutes after that, an inspector of the Watch - introducing himself as Inspector Scraggins - is overseeing the initial security of the crime scene. A long-term tobacco chewer, obvious from the darkness of his teeth and the phlegmy cough that he occasionally expells, he gravitates towards Gar and Amelia - and, opening his notebook, "Now then... how about you tell me why you were here... an' what you reckon you seen".
Everett frowns, "Now... I'm not too sure I've got the authority to let you do that miss... you can look at the stuff here, that's fine... I dunno miss, something ain't quite right here, who did you say you were working for?"
"A lot of folks have been turning up dead, Everett," Elliomander answers without moving his gun off the compartment, "the less you know about all this the better off you are. The best advice I could give you is to pretend you never saw any of this. Pretend it until you believe it yourself."
Shifting to get the clearest possible line of fire into the box, he asks Vera and Mama, "either of you got any way to see the invisible?"
"We were here to consult with The Violet Lady on a personal business matter, utilizing her services. We have seen exactly what you have, broken mirrors, trashed room, and a dead Lady Violet." Amelia's voice is cold, and even. "Who or what killed her, I do not know. However, I intend to find out. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting to attend." She then touches Lilly, and breaths in, Lilly vanishing into the inhaled mist. She stalks two steps away, and then she pauses. "On an unrelated matter, please inform Inspector Muncy that his presence is required at The Bounty Hunter's Guild at Noon, by the Ladies Blackheart, and they expect him promptly." Amelia then strides away, obviously furious.
She then heads for the Gear works, to find the others. "Gar, please procure us a meeting room at the guild?" She requests in a coldly polite voice.
Inspector Scraggins has barely finished scribbling into his notebook before Amelia, issuing her 'demand' that Inspector Muncy meet her and Gar later in day, turns on her heels and strides off... tapping his book with his pencil, he clearly considers calling Amelia back - before, watching the furious woman, decides the better of it...
"Sorry, sweetie. If something's invisible, Mama figures it just don't want to be seen. I've got no way around that type of magic, I'm afraid."
"Hmmm... Give me a moment." From her backpack, Vera takes out a leather satchel continaing test tubes, vials of liquid, powders, and other small alchemical equipment. In a beaker, she pours in some liquids, mixes in some powders, and drops in a small metal rod. The concoction fizzes like mineral water, turns an irridescent violet, and emits a caustic chemical odor. Just as the onlookers are about to ask the detective what she's going to do with this concoction, she raises the beaker to her lips and gulps it down!. "Ugh!" She shudders and winces briefly... and then her eyes glow with a pale bluish light.
"Let me see that bottle..." She then examines it.
Mama Frill smiles wryly. "And they say Mama eats strange things...even Mama wouldn't drink that purple metal water. Stay down, Millie. That stinks to high heavens!"
It is immediately obvious to Vera, now that she is able to see the arcane, that the cart - and all of its contents - are utterly mundane. There is nothing with magical quality present here... so, proceeding to examine the bottle further, she pulls the rag from its neck. Unsurprisingly, given how long the cart has supposedly languished in storage, any liquid content has long since evaporated... although the dried remnant of a blue powder cakes its interior.
The rag used as a stopper is also stained in the centre with the dried blue crust where it had at one time been soaked in the concoction.
Vera then examines the contents of the bottle, analyzing it with more alchemical equipment.
"Hmmm... This appears to be an unusualy infusion of blue whinnis poison, concocted into a vapor. If someone were to breathe the fumes, they would likely pass out for hours. It looks like all of the volatiles have long since evaporated, and this residue is harmless. My guess is that someone had soaked the rag with the poison and used it to knock someone out..."
Examining the box, from the outside and also looking at the internal dimensions, Vera concludes that it wouldn't be possible to fit an adult human within the cart's hidden compartment... a child or a creature of smaller proportions though, would certainly be feasible.
Perception
"Aww babies, Maka hate to be the bearer of bad news,but Mama see real good in the dark. There's a handprint in there, just about the size of a child's hand. Breaks Mama's heart to see that..."
"Another child-sized print... Interesting."
Vera looks at her companions and nods, then turns to Everett. "Thank you very much for you time, sir. I think we have learned what there is to learn here."
To her companions, "Shall we head back to my office?"
.... strangely crafted iron key wrapped in a piece of parchment.
Everett, increasingly alarmed as Mama Frill points out the child's handprint, "You kids won't remember the bad times thirty year back would you? Evil walking the street and children going missing... Bloody Jack? You've heard the stories?"
"We've heard some stories, but I'd like to hear yours before we go. Mama's not sure what is going on, and would like every bit of information she could get before we call this done."
"Brings it all back that does... I ain't saying Old Bill had nothing to do with that business, it's just all the, kids, you know? A couple o' years it must have been going on... Children going missing, all sorts of ages and from diff'rent parts of the city... Weren't no rhyme nor reason to it, half the kids they never even found", Everett scowls, "The Watch never found 'im, never even got close is what I heard... they just got lucky that it stopped. You want my opinion! We East Endings folk, we look after our own... I reckon Ole Jack got sloppy and one of the gangs found out who he was. That's why he stopped... Killed, deader than dead... an' a good thing too"
Everett smiles, a wistful look for sure, "Surprised you ain't never 'eard the rhymes... how's it go now, oh yeah...". Everett has a slightly musical voice when he sings the nursery rhyme... a perverse little ditty that, now the group think about it, they have heard sung on the streets by playing children...
"Bloody Jack Carver, he went down to the harbour,
Taking some children to play"
"An eel popped up its head… and ate them instead,
While Jack tip-toed away."
"Not the best rhyme Mama's ever heard, that's for sure. But Mr. Everett, sugar, thanks for taking the time to help us. Seems like we've made progress."
Frill turns to the two others. "Anything else you can think of, that we haven't covered so far?"
While Everett is singing Elliomander reaches into the box and takes the key from within. "No," he answers Mama, "nothing I can think of..."
When the trio exit the building, they find Amelia standing outside, with no one within 10 ft of her if they can help it. An aura of murder hangs about her. Her right cheek has a streak of dried blood leading from the corner of her eye to her chin. "Ah, you are done I hope. Please accompany me, the right honorable Inspector Muncy will be meeting us at the Bountyhunter's Guild at Noon, at least he will if he wants to live long enough to reach the rank of Chief Inspector Muncy. If you would all be so kind as to follow me there so we can get a full accounting from Muncy about his previous case." Her voice is hard and cold, and her eyes blaze with something very much like Lilly, as if the spirit were looking out through Amelias eyes. Her diction is very precise, and very very very polite.
Having said her words, she turns on her heel and begins striding toward the Guild, the sound of her boots hitting the street the only sound she makes until they are in the meeting room of the guild.
If Everett had any reservations about letting the group take the items away, he makes no show of it as Elliomander takes the key... The key is large and made of rust-flecked iron with a decorative bow. Cast into the key’s bow is an intricate sigil of a plumb bob and hammer.
Finally the parchment that the key was wrapped in is also of some interest. It is actually a piece torn from an age faded broadsheet that bears a charcoal-circled advertisement for one 'Madam Larua — Teller of Fortunes and Diviner of Secrets'. Printed in a faux-mystical script, it reads:
VISIT MADAM LARUA
TELLER OF FORTUNES AND DIVINER OF SECRETS
LEARN YOUR FATE LEARN YOUR FORTUNE
FESTIVAL SUMMIT BY THE SKEW, SOUTHWEST
****
It is approaching midday by the time that the group arrive at the guild of the Bounty Hunters, the sun nearing the highest point in the sky as the temperatures soar in the city... and the smell from the great river pervades the day.
Know local
"Look at the sigil on the key. That's a sign of the Sewagers and Ironmongers. His sign is also on many lock gates in the sewer tunnels and drainage channels. Makes Mama wonder if Old Bill had another place he took his prey. Assuming he did these awful things, that is."
"Another fortune teller? Looks like the turnover rate for that gig is higher'n the life expectancy fer its practitioners. If prior experience tells us anything, this one might already be dead."
Vera and Mama Frill, from their investigations and explorations around this part of the city, know of at least two of the sewer tunnel lock gates near Grindlylow's Grinders... but there are none, as far as they are aware, in the rundown tenements around Old Bill's shack.
"The Sewagers were as crooked as a crime family," Elliomander offers, "that's why they were replaced. If old Bill was tangled up in all that murdering there wouldn't have been many people asking questions about what was going on in the sewers..."
The Guild's proper headquarters is in a much higher end of the city, with fancy fittings and stained glass windows, where rich people come in and place bounties.
The Guild's real home is in a squat sullen looking building in the East End that takes up an entire block. The black bricks looks burnt, several times over, although that's more to do with the clay used to make them than anything else. The windows are barred, to keep vengeance seekers out, not the occupants in.
The four story building takes up an entire city block, although once you enter, the atmosphere improves significantly. The Guild is very much a meritocracy, with those who can get bounties and survive with tight lips being the more respected of the guild, and usually having higher rank.
Amelia is a middling ranked guildmember, in good standing, so finding a meeting room at her request was easy enough for Gar, despite his probationary status. The inside of the building is a mix of brick and wood, and while not stylish, is at least comfortably lived in. The conference room itself has a 'chalking board' on the wall, with chalk sticks in various colors scattered around under the board. The table is heavy wood, and the chairs vary from those built for a halfling to those built for a minotaur, it seems, although only two of the great huge chairs are in the room, both in the corner out of the way for regular use.
Amelia enters, and sits at a chair near the single door. None of the other guild members had approached her once the first one noticed the bloody mark on her face. Some hurried "Amelia's crying, warn everyone!" had been whispered back and forth as she stalked through the entryway, pausing only to ask which room she'd been assigned.
As Gar tells the story, Amelia's knuckles grow whiter on the shaft of the scythe, and her posture becomes more proper. Another bloody tear drips down out of her eye, tracing the same path as the earlier one. "My dear Gar, I would be ever so appreciative if you'd refrain from being so cavalier about the death of our dear friend, The Violet Lady." She says in a voice that somehow sounds like her own and Lilly's at the same time.
The room in which the group assemble has seen many covert meetings in which the fate of Castorhage has been shaped... and here, as they wait for Muncy's arrival, the group share their experiences of the morning. Gar and Amelia discuss the fate of the Violet Lady whilst Mama Frill, Elliomander and Vera talk about their discovery at Grindlylow Grinders and what it may mean...
As the trio explain about Old Bill possibly being connected to Bloody Jack, Amelia's eyes burst with blood, streaming down her face, and bloody sutures rip up through her skin, much like Lilly's. The girl gasps in a combination of anger and pain, and her eyes blaze with fire, quite literally. Red light runs up and down her form, and when she speaks it's with a dual voice, hers and Lilly's simultaneously. "BLOODY JACK! I'LL RIP HIS GUTS OUT! I'LL EAT HIS SOUL! I'LL SHOVE MY SCYTHE UP HIS A** AND #$*$* HIS GUTS OUT! I WILL BRING HIM BACK TO LIFE SO I CAN SKIN HIM ALIVE AND USE HIS SKIN TO MAKE A ROPE TO HANG HIM BY! I WILL..." She screams, snapping the arm off her chair with white knuckles and bloody fingernails. Her teeth show sharp, like fangs in her mouth.
And then she swallows, obviously struggling for control, and the sutures sink back into her skin, leaving blood streaks. Her eyes go back to near normal. "My.. sincere... apologies. Lilly was... murdered by... That man... He left her... body parts... all over the city. It took me a decade... to find all the parts... of her spirit... and knit them back together." She chokes out, coughing up blood into a black handkerchief. "There are still bits of her... that I have not found... I think. Which is why she cannot... move on..."
Before the Ameila/Lilly manifestation...
Sitting in the guildhall, Vera ponders the key embossed with the sigil of the old Guild of Sewagers and Ironmongers.
"If I recall correctly, the old Guild of Sewagers and Ironmongers originally built and maintained the sewers, and did so for centuries. The guild was disbanded due to rampant corruption by Crown Justice Moravin, and its responsibilities passed to the newly-created Office of Sanitation."
As the conversation brings up Bloody Jack and Amelia's reaction to the name...
Vera visibly shudders at both the manifestation and at Amelia's story of what Bloody Jack had done to the once-living Lilly.
Reflecting on the scene at the Violet Lady's residence, Vera remarks, "Amelia, would you mind if I had a look at the scroll you'd found clutched in the Violet Lady's hand?"
Looking at the scroll, she notices the bloody footprints on it. Did the print seem particularly small...?
The footprints on the scroll are quite small, at around four inches from heel to toe, they would seem to be those of a relatively newborn child... and now as Vera examines the scroll further, she sees other patterns of blood - the hint of a small handprint (again around the size of a newborn), short smears from something bloody being dragged along the scroll and an arc of blood spatter...
Frill will look at the handprint and try to size it up in comparison to the handprint found in the cart that she revealed to the others earlier. "Looks to Mama that there's a strange confluence of events going on around this place. Don't like the sounds of what's going on, no sirree, children!"
Bloody Jack.
So, the septons' fears were true.
I knew they's a reason those old dogs kept me alive. Seems my watch ain't yet done.
"How'n hells would a thing like that be possible? Why would someone as deranged as that gutter-dwellin' snake take a rest for nigh 30 years? Even for arguments sake, we say it's the same crazy a$#@*%!. Why this tiny footprint? Why the cryptic messages? This don't line up with Jack Caver's...modus operandi, aye?"
Elliomander's hand reflexively grasps the ivory handle of his trusty pepperbox at the gruesome display by Amelia and her friend.
He relaxes slightly as things return to... whatever was passing for normal these days. When Gar protests the likelihood of a depraved killer taking a thirty year hiatus he offers, "It could be a gestation period... I mean, if Bill had something kid-sized he was sneaking around inside that box, and now he seems to have been killed by something kid-sized that may've been cutting it's way out of him, it could be that the first monster died, or moved on and a new one was just 'hatched'? Or maybe it just hibernates?"
Amelia sits, gritting her teeth, her knuckles white on the remaining chair arm, while the other hand grips the remains of the arm she ripped off. "Or... to play... devils advocate... That One... and please stop saying the name... was in prison for some other reason... and was just released... although I lean more... toward... supernatural... given The Violet Lady's death... and Old Bill's... and the hand prints..."
Various theories and ideas whistle between the group - the meaning of what was found at Grindlylow Grinders - the cart and its hidden contents, the brutal murder of the Violet Lady and the written warning - so obviously meant for Amelia and her companions, the repeated evidence of children (or younger) being involved in the slayings... and, above it all, the suggestion of Bloody Jack. And soon enough noon has come... and gone...
...a further full hour passes, some simple refreshments are brought to the room - and still there is no sign of Muncy...
Amelia looks at the sun through the window, and stands up, grabbing her scythe. "Well then, since Muncy can't be bothered to show up, he'd best be dead in a gutter with small footprints beside him, or in jail, or both." Her voice is again that odd inflection of both Lilly and Amelia. "Anyone else care to go beat some information out of dear Muncy, or pay respects to his corpse?"
"Well, there's clear more t'be found beneath the surface of this scum-coated pond, beyond what we've seen. I figure a walk might do us some good, at any rate."
"A walk couldn't hurt nothing. Way too clean in here for Mama. Don't feel comfortable like," Mama coos as she rises to her feet.
"I suspect dead in a gutter is the most likely explanation," Elliomander replies with a frown. He looks down the barrel of his safely opened gun, blows out a speck of dust, and snaps it closed again. "Let's go pay our respects."
Out in the streets once more and with an increasingly cross Amelia leading the way, the group head out to seek answers from Muncy...
"I'm a bit of a persona non grata there, but we could see if Muncy is at the Queen's Own. It's a tavern frequented by the local constabulary. If he's not there, perhaps another Watchman would know where he is."
Reaching the pub is an adventure unto itself. Town Bridge is a hodge-podge maze of dwellings and businesses stacked on top of each other in dozens of levels and extending out over the waters of the Great Lyme in a desperate attempt to exploit every inch of space on the half-mile-long bridge. Its status over the river as being separate from the city exempts it from the city’s taxes and has coerced thousands of residents to take shelter and do business within the overborne length of its span. If occasionally a hovel falls off into the swirling brown morass of the river below, it is considered by some a small price to pay to be out from under the immediate boot heel of the municipal government’s restrictive administration.
The Queen’s Own is quaint enough, lying tucked between a modest haberdashery and the office of a coal speculator. Mashed atop it is a billiard hall accessible by an external stair with some sort of merchandiser atop that. The pub itself has a wooden façade with heavy shutters over leaded glass windows and a decorative pediment over the doors with the heraldry of the Office of the Watch upon it.
Within is a surprisingly large common room complete with a long mahogany bar along the back and numerous shadowy, curtained alcoves with tables where private conversations can be held away from prying eyes and ears. The establishment is bustling with patrons, most in blue constable uniforms but some in the less-noticeable coats of inspectors. Behind the bar, a balding man in a stained apron looks up from polishing the wooden countertop with a rag and stares at the group questioningly.
Mama keeps to the walls with her hood pulled tight around her face, not being comfortable in this well lit room with all of the gathered crowd in the small area. Mama sure don't like this one bit..
On the way to the Queen's Own, Vera mentions that non-Watch are tolerated at the tavern, but the expectation is that they're there mainly to obtain or provide information from the Watchmen. "We will also all be expected to buy a round. I'd recommend not failing to meet that expectation."
Once inside, Vera glances around the barroom, looking for Muncy.
Not seeing the Inspector, Vera sidles up to the bar, laying a gold coin in front of her. Getting the barkeep's attention, she says, "Good day! A pint of stout, please. Also— Is Inspector Muncy here at the moment? I have some juicy tidbits to share with him." Regardless of the answer, she doesn't ask for change.
"Muncy? 'fraid I haven't seen 'im in a couple of days... tell you what, ask Constable Jones. He's been here a coupla' hours - chances are he's happy to share stories with you", the drinks being served by the bartender are watered down... Constable Jones, sat in a snug near the bar, is a greasy-haired man - with three tankards in front of him already... and when the group approach him, he looks up lazily - and sees Vera, "Ms Marshall? ...and friends? Can I help you?" - his voice is laden with disdain...