Varor closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, holding the breath for a moment before exhaling. "You're right, I don't know Vancaskerkin, but you don't know me either, otherwise you wouldn't have brought up what I know about Gaedren. Now I'm going to leave before I say something I regret, good day." He turns and leaves the room with no further comment, slamming the door on his way out.
Let it go, she doesn't know me and she only cares on a professional level. Everyone's working hard and everyone's tired. Getting into a confrontation about the idiocy of the Guard with a naive guard is not a good idea.
The field marshal watches Varor depart with an arched brow then, with the slightest of shrugs, pushes off from her desk, walks around to open a drawer and removes out a series of small pouches. The contents of each clink and jangle as she deposits them on the desk.
"I believe the arrangement was for 600 gold pieces if you brought him in alive. That's 60 platinum, a bit easier to carry. Get yourselves fed and rested, then come see me at eight bells. Hopefully I'll have something back on these papers and from Orisini. Unless there's anything else?"
If there isn't, as you begin to leave she pulls the coded papers towards her, pulls out a fine piece of parchment from her desk, and begins writing a note while she simultaneously calls for her aide again and orders him to find a courier, two guards and horses for the lot.
"Very good." Bashiel bows and steps out as well, taking his pay with him. He takes Varor's as well, jogging to catch up with the elf and pass him his share.
After that, Bashiel heads briefly to the barracks to clean up a bit while he mentally rehearses for speaking with Vancaskerkin. He heads to the holding cells in order to catch the wayward Guard before anyone else can start their own work.
Following that, if Verik is still unconscious steps into his cell, checks and secures the man's bonds, and then calls again upon his god to Lay on Hands in order to heal and awaken him.
"Good evening Verik. I don't have much time here with you, so I suggest you listen well and think on what I have to say. You've been brought back to the Citadel to face justice for your desertion and subsequent crimes. As you know from your own stint in the Guard, Cressida has already determined your fate."
Bashiel looks steadily into the man's eyes. If Verik interrupts him while he speaks, he simply waits until the man has spent himself before continuing. "I'm not telling you this to look down on you. Instead, I'd like to offer you a chance here to redeem yourself for what you've done. Tell us the details of your operation at All the World's Meat. Who you worked for, who was disposed of, anything that you know. If your words are truthful, you would be doing the city a great service."
"Even if you don't care for the city, honesty will lighten the treatment you receive from the... less savory members of the Guard. It's in your own best interest as well."
Finally, Bashiel seems to hesitate. "And finally, if that doesn't sway you, I want you to consider your place after death. Your soul will travel to the boneyard to be judged, and there you will find what forces lay claim to your soul. For someone such as yourself, that might mean dark times ahead. If you earnestly seek your redemption, the Lord of the Living, the god Osiris, may see fit to intervene and give you a second chance. A reincarnation in which you can pursue a better existence, free from the mistakes and enemies you may have made in this one."
"I hope you'll think on it." Bashiel sighs, not totally convinced that anything he's said will make it through to the man. If nothing else comes of the meeting, he heads back to the barracks for a well deserved rest.
Flush with more money than he was used to carrying, Kalem left quite happy indeed. This was proving profitable enough to make an honest man out of him.
Varor heads out for a walk to clear his head, perhaps to the mess hall or barracks, but regardless it is someplace that takes him away from the field marshal and her unyielding mannerisms. Bashiel heads towards the prison and interrogation chambers, while the rest of you head for the mess hall.
Available for plating at the moment is a hearty stew and tranchers of sourdough. Clean water is readily available though alcohol is nowhere to be seen. As you settle down, you overhear a few snippets of conversation.
"No Korvosan monarch has ever died of old age. No Korvosan monarch has ever produced an heir after being crowned. They call it the ‘Curse of the Crimson Throne.’ No way in hell would I ever sit in that chair if I got crowned."
"No one’s seen Blackjack in action for years, and things are as bad now in Korvosa as they ever were. So either he’s retired, or someone finally killed him!”
"The Queen sent a messenger this afternoon. Her Majesty is recruiting the finest of the guards to form a Queen's Own. She's calling them the Grey Maidens. Women only. I've applied; you should too!"
Eventually he reaches a high security area, another guard post, and is then directed to the interrogation chamber. Three men are in the room already: the two prisoners, each chained to the wall and gagged to prevent speech, and a third who seems to be a healer of some sort. He is tending to their wounds and, based on the empty bottles on a table, looks to have even given the prisoners some healing potions. The prisoners are both awake and wide-eyed.
The healer looks over at Bashiel with a curious expression. "You're a guardsman, but you're definitely not the inquisitor. What brings you down here, sir?"
Brin will go get something to eat with Ilsa as they are waiting in line, Brin says very solemnly " I hate to say this, but you know that you need to prepare yourself just in case we don't find your daughter , Right?" for one of the few times Ilsa can see Brin isn't wearing a smile.
Quinlan listens more to the gossip of the guards than the chatter of his own group. When there's a break in the conversation, he'll speak up softly, "Do you think this Blackjack fellow is really dead? Wonder what he will do if he isn't and the city comes to need him in earnest.."
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Ilsa looks at Brin with a tired scowl.
"Briget is not my daughter," she responds. "She is my niece, though I am all she has. I suppose she is like a daughter to me."
She sighs, having no energy to chastise the baker. "I know she might be dead," she says. "I am not that naive. But I refuse to give up hope. If you knew what I could see, you would know that hope is all that could get me to take another step. Even when it all seems so futile."
She looks at the prepared food without appetite.
"So you and I seem to have something in common. The rest of our allies seem to have some experience. You and I, the baker and shop girl. What keeps you going?"
As he studies the man with his Detect Evil spell, Bashiel does not detect anything. To the extent he's been involved in some dark deeds, they are either so recent as to not have left a permanent mark on his soul or are counterbalanced by other motives and actions.
Bashiel can see why the man might have had an easy life. Even after the beating given at the butcher shop, the man has a rugged handsomeness about him, the kind that comes easily for some. Aquarmarine eyes gaze back at Bashiel as the man talks, and then Verik answers.
"Let's be clear... we both know whatever I tell you isn't going to spare me from the question. The Queen is a fraud, a gold digger, she's no true Korvosan. Soon enough, she'll fall. I saw an opportunity: get out, build a name for myself, some charity. I was promised..." He cuts off his voice suddenly, shakes his head, and looks around. You see it, too. One of the empty vials is slightly different than the others; a golden syrup inside. An alchemical concoction meant to loosen the lips and mind.
He spits on the floor and looks back at you. "No one lasts for long on the Crimson Throne. Not the king, and not his b%+&+ wife. Korvosa deserves better and the guard shouldn't be propping them up. I wanted to be part of that."
Quinlan listens more to the gossip of the guards than the chatter of his own group. When there's a break in the conversation, he'll speak up softly, "Do you think this Blackjack fellow is really dead? Wonder what he will do if he isn't and the city comes to need him in earnest.."
The two guards in the conversation pause as Quinlan speaks up. The woman shrugs while the man replies, "Dead? Maybe not, but it's been, what, five, six years since the city last saw him? He might as well be. Or maybe he left town, went to Riddleport if Magnamar."
The woman laughs slightly at this, "An' he what? Retired? Lives a life of leisure? Bah. He was a vigilante, didn't leave dealing with crime and criminals to the professionals, and probably got knifed in the back one night."
The man, "And if that's so, then how come we never heard anyone take credit for killin' him?"
The woman shrugs again, having no quick answer to the question.
His part said, Bashiel leaves and alerts the other guards that he's done with the prisoner.
This seems like an incredibly sensible thing to do. You're not sure why you don't turn around, particularly when Vancaskerkin starts going on about a something--does he sound scared? Yes, definitely scared--but after few seconds, he stops complaining. Odd, for sure, but you don't want to turn around.
You close the door behind you and talk with the guards and healer for a few moments until the inquisitor arrives. The gruff man looks at the lot of you, then snaps for the door to be opened. It is, and everyone with a few of the room falls still, shocked.
Still hanging from the wall, Vankaskerkin is dead, a rather plain looking dagger buried in his neck. The guards look at you, then at your belt. "What did you do, sergeant? Why?" You look down and see your dagger is missing. Or rather, it's no longer on your belt.
Looking back to Vancaskerkin, you all know exactly where it is.
Kralek: "That was unwise, son. Now it may be you who's put to the question."
" Well up until recently, Vengeance." he looks wistful and a small smile creeps into his mouth. " Now I'm just trying to make my way to find peace with my decisions."
Brin pulls out a cookie "Want some? I always carry a couple to spare."
Brin looks around for a place to sit to eat.
The messhall has long tables and benches, nothing fancy, and Brin is easily able to find a place to sit along with anyone else.
His confusion bubbles about in his mind as he suddenly realizes that there is a barrage of urgent voices in his head.
~Bashiel! Do not stand with your mouth agape. A hidden foe or other evil is afoot. Use your holy gifts and find what vileness lurks.~ Harize's voice pierces through the rest of the cacophony and sets Bashiel into action.
He casts Detect Evil, directing the cone to "seal" the passageway from the cell to the rest of the jail. As he concentrates on holding the magic in place, he speaks out loud.
"Inquisitor, despite appearances, another party was behind Vancaskerkin's death. While I will not resist whatever efforts the Field Marshal deems fit, we may have precious time here to find the true culprit. They may either be under veil of invisibility, or have superior skills at mental manipulation and stealth."
Bashiel's words come up oddly formal, with a hint of an accent, as Harize's influence bears strongly down on him. He glances at the other Guards "Please alert the others to the possibility that someone may be trying to escape the Citadel at this time. And send word to Field Marshal Cressida."
If the other guards and Kralek seem to hesitate, the formality disappears from his voice and he passionately says "Damn it, keep as much of an eye on me as you want, but I will not allow this man's murderer to flee unpursued!"
Kralek stares hard at Bashiel as the paladin speaks. Though there is no magic at play, the paladin gets the feeling his flesh is being peeled back to reveal his soul. Seconds pass that feel like an eternity before he grunts and nods at one of the guards. "Hold him here. You," he looks at the other, "with me." The guard draws a sword while Kralek pulls a dagger from beneath a leather apron, razor sharp on one edge while serrated on the other. They move into the room, one going left and the other right.
As Bashiel studies the room, nothing immediately registers under his Detect Evil spell. He continues to survey the room yet the only item that registers as evil is the dagger buried in Vamcaskerkin's throat.
Meanwhile, the healer has gone scurrying down the hall towards the gates and locked guard post, yelling to let no one past and summon additional guards and the captain of the watch.
Quinlan sits with the others, and like Ilsa, picks at his food... His thoughts are on his cousin and his business with Croft... and on his cousin and other business...
Brin eats all his course in-between chewing he says with food in his mouth,"Anyone know where Varor is? *Glug, Glug*... You shouldn't let free food go to waste, after ....*Burp*... all people currently think that the meat they are eating at home is good meat........*chewing*.. I mean it's not like we recovered all of it right? At least this isn't somebody....*Burp*.....Foot... " looking at Ilsa and Quinlan he says "You going to eat that?" pointing to their food.
Giving a good belch and hitting himself on chest at the end of his feasting.
Quinlan takes a last meager bite and pushes his plate toward Brin... "Help yourself." Instead of food, he does finish his drink, and then goes for a refill....
One of the guards Quinn had conversed with looks at the group and says, "You lot ain't part of the Guard. You the mercenaries the marshal hired this mornin'?"
"Mercenaries? I hadn't heard about her hiring any mercenaries... she did bring my friends and I in as a team of specialists to do a little investigation for her... but we are most definitely not mercenaries!" He shrugs and smiles at them warmly...
"Ah. I see." From the flat tone of his voice, it's clear he doesn't. He takes a drink of his water.
His conversation partner chimes in, though. "That makes sense. We're spread thin just trying to keep the peace. Whatcha'all investigating?" In contrast, she seems perfectly friendly.
~I have seen such things before. Terrible weapons all of them. Cursed. Unholy. There must be an inherent evil about them to be that way. But even you, stripling of a paladin you are, would have sensed yourself weakening if you bore such a weapon.~
Then, what?
~Seeing and sensing only what you do, I cannot tell. Perhaps this is another weapon, glamered to look as your dagger. Or your dagger was infused with evil magic by whoever bore it for a moment.~
Bashiel speaks up to Kralek and the guards "I don't sense the evil auras of any people still within the cell, they might have snuck out while I was talking to the guards outside here. However, I do sense an aura of evil coming from the dagger, maybe a byproduct of whoever used it. I wouldn't risk touching it until we have someone here to detect what magics might be on it. There is a team of specialists hired recently by Cressida, I know among them there are a couple of skilled spellcasters who may be able to help. Brin and Ilsa are their names."
The rest of the group is going to want to see this...
"Well, we investigated a little ring of law-breakers masquerading as do-gooders earlier today... I know how thin you guards are being spread right now. I'm sure you don't want to do this kind of mostly boring investigation. and we're waiting now to see if we're going to be asked to do more, or perhaps be let go after a successful mission... However things are tight in the city at the present, so I didn't want to turn down a free meal, yanno? I hope she has more work for us though..."
Kalem was fired. Tired and well paid. He thought little of the conversation, only idly paying attention.
After a moment, he turns away from it, returns his dagger to its place beneath his apron, and growls at the guard with him. "Fetch the marshal, tell her Vancaskerkin has been murdered -- use that word, murdered, she should not think this was an accident -- and Sergeant Eland was the last to see him alive. Ask her if she'd like to come down or, if not, whether she has any instructions. Understand?" The guardsman nods and takes off at a jog.
Down the hall, you hear a series of gates opening and closing as other guards move through the network of halls and tunnels. Kralek walks up to you and growls, "Be calm, don't make any sudden moves, and we'll get to the bottom of this." There are layers of threats within his words but also the surety that, one way or another, the truth will be revealed. But, the actual truth, or the truth extracted by a torturer's craft?
The idle conversation continues for about ten minutes before a contingent of four guardsmen led by a watch-captain arrive in the mess hall. "Field Marshal Croft requires your presence--immediately." No mention is made of confiscating your weapons but nor does he offer any details as to your destination or what is going on. If pressed, he demurs coolly, saying its a matter for the field marshal to explain.
With the captain in the lead, two guards between him and you, and the last two bringing up the rear, you move briskly across the courtyard, through the guarded door into the Citadel's innards, and are led through the warren of tunnels into the prison and, eventually, the interrogation room.
Croft seems to have arrived only a moment earlier. After speaking in hushed tones with Kralek, then looks at Bashiel.
"You," she says, fixing her gaze on Bashiel and then the rest of the party, "have explaining to do. Kralek, Neavu," she says to the inquisitor and healer, "join us in the chamber. The rest of you wait out here, but confirm the other prisoner is still alive. If not, let me know immediately."
A few of the guards seem perplexed by the first part of her instructions but they all obey without question. You're all ushered into the interrogation room where the scene is laid out before you. Once everyone is inside, Cressida looks at Kralek and gestures towards the door, which he closes. She then fixes a stony gaze on Bashiel, and with a voice like an axe snaps, "Explain this. Now."
Vancaskerkin's limp and bloody body hangs from the wall behind her, the dagger still embedded in his neck.
For Kralek
Quinlan lofts a brow, curious and dubious at the same time... He, too, turns to Bash, wanting to hear what happened. "He was no innocent bystander, but he shouldn't have died in custody like that... who could have done such a thing? Surely you can't possibly think... there's no way.... if Bash had wanted him dead, he'd have brought him in that way."
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Ilsa's mouth drops open. She stares at the limp body of Vancaskerkin. The corpse already seems bloated and decayed to her, with worms writhing in blank eye sockets. Perhaps she is the only one that sees it, she knows.
But the only thing she can think of is the dagger sticking out of the neck, and looks at Bashiel.
"Did...did you kill him?!" she asks matter-of-factly.
When Bashiel's eyes peel away from the dagger to lock his gaze with Cressida's, his face is one of thoughtful concern. "Of course, Field Marshal. Before I explain though, I'll give you all the same warning I gave the others. The dagger used to kill Vancaskerkin carries an evil aura, as anyone who can detect evil with their magic will be able to confirm. I'm not sure what it could do, but I'd suggest everyone stay well away from it until a skilled mage can identify what magics are in it."
"I spoke with Vancaskerkin minutes ago. I encouraged him to come clean before Kralek arrived, but he was obstinate not only in his silence but in thinking that he was doing the right thing. The meager details I gained we can talk about later."
"After speaking with him and leaving the cell, I spoke briefly with the guards here. During that time, I dimly remember hearing a muffled outcry from Vancaskerkin in the cell along with a voice suggesting I ignore what was happening inside. Those few moments are so unusually foggy in my memory that I expect some kind of mental manipulation or magic is behind it."
"Kralek arrived and both he and I noticed that Vancaskerkin had been murdered with the dagger. At that time, whatever effect that had confused me receded and I immediately suspected some evil force had attempted to silence Vancaskerkin. I called upon the magic granted to me by my god and tried to detect what evil auras might be around the cell and hallway, since I suspected an invisible enemy. Unfortunately, the only source of evil was the dagger."
"While the dagger appears to be mine, I can assure you that as a paladin I would not be able to wield such a foul and evil weapon. It must either by glamered to look like my dagger, or it was stolen off me by the true culprit while I was distracted, and then infused with evil magic."
"Whoever used the dagger to kill Vancaskerkin is likely long gone by now, unless they were caught escaping up above." Bashiel bows his head. "I'm sorry I wasn't sharp enough to catch them before the act was done."
His eyes break away from Cressida and stare again at the dagger before he looks at Ilsa.
"Sorry Ilsa, I'd hoped this was a lead to your niece. I may not have killed him, but I failed to stop the party behind his death."
Cressida glowers while Bashiel lays this all out. While her head remains fixed in the direction of Bashiel, her eyes flicker towards Quinlan and Ilsa when they speak. When Bashiel is done, she glances at Kralek, something unseen passes before them, and she grunts, mulling it all over.
For once Kalem remains quiet, waiting to see her reaction. Nobody had spoken to him directly yet, and as a tiefling he was used to being blamed for pretty much anything that went wrong. His comrades had already spoken eloquently in their defense as it was.
Cressida turns and studies the body on the wall. Still staring at it, she says, "Neavu, examine the body. Kralek, when he's done, wring the other guardsman dry. I will know what is going on here. A man has been murdered in the Guard's holdfast, on my watch, and for all appearances by another member of the Guard."
She turns back to your group as the healer walks over and begins to examine the body. "You say I'm seeing the shadows of rats, but suddenly someone who could have helped shed some light on all of this is dead, and the only suspect I have at the moment is one of my own...one of your own. I don't believe he did it, but I'm made to think he did, and whoever did it has left no evidence."
She sighs and shakes her head. "Sergeant, I have no choice but to order you taken into custody while we investigate this. I don't think you did it, but that's not for me to decide and I will enforce the Crown's laws." She smiles grimly, "At least you can get caught up on your rest."
To the rest of you, "I don't know what you could find, but if you want to search the room, you may, under my men's observation. Unless you've other suggestions?"
Brin looks into the cells. "Yup that definatly Basheils dagger.. however I cannot believe that this man did the deed. It goes against all reason that Basheil would kill him now when it would have been easier to kill him before taking him in. I mean personally Isn't it much more convenient to make a "accident" happen than to take the chance of being caught. " Brin looks around then casts detect magic to see if there are any residues. turning slowly around the room.
Brin does not detect any magic except for items carried by the party and a few items carried by Cressida.
"Understood, Field Marshal..." Bashiel's words are respectful, but his frustrated expression gives away just how hard he's chomping at the bit to chase down the culprit behind this.
He stares down his allies, trying to impart upon them a fraction of his determination, and then says "I'm counting on you to find who was behind this."
Now its time to not be able to fall asleep while I worry about where our assassin has disappeared to. He sighs slightly at the thought.
"Does anyone know how to check a body?"
Brin steps up picks up the dead persons hand and lets it fall "ya I think he is dead."
"I know you're trying to be helpful, but perhaps touching things before we investigate a little more would be premature."
Quinlan looks for anything out of place... a hair of the wrong color perhaps on the deceased, a footprint in the dust on the floor, anything that seems out of place or wrong...
The room is, perhaps surprisingly, clean and there is no dust on the floor that might leave footprints, and there are none (except perhaps Brin's) in the blood that has pooled beneath the body.
But, examining it closely, Quinlan does notice two small wounds, about an inch apart, between the back of the man's neck and his shoulder. Looking closer, he finds a similar pair of wounds near the bottom of his left leg and through the leggings he is wearing.
While the rest of the party begins to look through the chamber, Bashiel is quietly and respectfully escorted out. His weapons and armor are removed, he is offered food and water, then placed in one of the few cells with a window.
Cressida orders a pair of guards into the room to watch the rest of you. She then steps out into the hall, summoing Kralek and the healer into a private conference, presumably giving them orders before she departs.
Bashiel makes himself as comfortable as he can, hungrily finishes off any food and water he's offered, and then stares up at the ceiling of his cell.
Sleep might be a while. he thinks to himself.
~Trust in the others with you, rest, recover your strength. You'll achieve nothing if you're too tired to stand~ Harize's advice rings in his head.
Easy for you to say...
Quinlan seems curious about something on the body of the deceased and turns to the guards left with the party... "I've found something of note regarding this man's demise... please summon the healer and Commander Croft back if you can... they must see this!"
If they won't do it, he'll step out in the hall and interrupt the 'private conference' himself.
Croft and the healer step back through the threshold into the room. She looks exasperated. "What is it?"
Kalem looks at Quin expectantly. He was a fast talker, sure, but this was far out of his comfort zone. Kalem was glad to have someone around who knew what they were doing.
Quinlan shows Cressida and the healer the tiny wounds on the man's body that are not from the dagger. "Here... on his neck, and here on his leg... these are not natural, and probably have more to do with his death than that dagger does. Perhaps," he says to the healer, "You should have a closer look to determine what made them, how and when."