As Pellius Alazario walked down one of Korvosa’s many streets on his way to find Field Marshall Kroft, he reflected on his last conversation with the Acadamae’s headmaster, Toff Ornelos.
Perhaps ‘conversation’ was too generous of a term. It was more like each told the other something, then they went their separate ways. More like two wagons passing on a dusty road, their drivers nodding at each other briefly, before continuing on their way.
It almost seemed like Headmaster Ornelos had wanted Pel to leave. Pel wasn’t exactly on good terms with all of his professors, but thanks to his excellent grades, they couldn’t readily complain about him. Perhaps they had done so in secret. If so, Pel’s resignation kept Ornelos from having to expel a son of a nobleman. A minor nobleman, to be sure, but a nobleman nevertheless.
Pel recalled looking back at the Acadamae one last time. After what Headmaster Ornelos had said, there would be no going back. Pel was unwavering in his decision, but there was still something nagging at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was the fact that he would no longer be able to receive formal magical training. If he wanted to advance now, he would have to do so on his own.
That was a minor thing to ask compared to giving up on the search for his brother. Rut meant infinitely more to Pel than magical training. He would figure out a way to make do. He was Chelaxian and Chelaxians usually found ways to get by in Korvosa.
Still, it was only as he walked toward Citadel Volshyenek that the gravity of his situation truly began to sink in. He was homeless. Sure, he stood to inherit a sizeable amount once his parents and brother were officially declared dead by the city, but that could be months or years in the future given the current crisis in Korvosa. And as much as he hated his parents’ beliefs and rigidity, he didn’t actually hate them or want them to be dead. As faint a hope as it was, he hoped he would find them and Rut together, perhaps hiding somewhere safe to ride out the turmoil that had engulfed the city.
As Pel reflected on his current situation, he said a quick prayer to Cayden. Drunken Hero, guide my path.
The rioting in the city was evident even so close to the Citadel. Pel was troubled by the sight. Perhaps the Guard needed more help than even Zandu realized.
As Pel approached Citadel Volshyenek, he adjusted his appearance with his Sleeves of Many Garments to one more appropriate for his noble heritage. His casual brown pants and brown tunic were replaced by straight, black pants and a black vest with a white shirt underneath. If he was to be taken seriously, he needed to look the part.
He listens silently as the sergeant and her guard exchange words, all the while hoping they’ll grant his request to help. Cayden Cailean wanted him to be brave and asking the guards to let him speak to Field Marshall Cressida Kroft was the first tiny step.
When the sergeant mentions Pel’s motivation being money, Pel has to bite his tongue to keep from replying. He neither wants nor needs anything of the sort, but he isn’t going to tell her that lest it anger her.
He raises an eyebrow when a guard mentions something about a group. If the Guard was already working with a group outside of their own ranks, perhaps they would actually let him help after all.
I wonder who these Gray Maidens are? he thinks after the sergeant mentions them.
Before he has a chance to ask the guards, he finds himself being let in to see the marshal, or at least her aide-de-camp. Perhaps he can ask the guard assigned to escort him about these Gray Maidens.
At the guard’s questions, Pel says, “The rest of the city is worse off than you are here. It’s only the third day after the rioting, but destruction is evident throughout Korvosa. I passed through High Bridge once since the rioting, but it seemed no worse off or better than the rest of the city. I hope your family is safe, but I sadly have no way to assuage your worries.”
When Pel mentions ‘family,’ he winces a bit. He worries for his own family, particularly his brother. And unlike the guard, he has every reason to fear the worst.
“What do you know of these Gray Maidens that your sergeant spoke of?” Pel asks. “And you wouldn’t happen to have seen someone named Rutilus come through here, would you? He would look similar to me, same hair and eyes, but a little shorter and younger.”
0 Level: Detect Magic, Read Magic, Dancing Lights, Daze, Mage Hand
1st Level: Magic Missile, Grease, Color Spray
Otto smiles and nods, whispering, "Of course. You know them, there are always leftovers." He winks and heads off to the kitchen.
Your parents look up as you enter. Garrick tips his glass of port in acknowledgment but says nothing. Marrisa stands and smiles, holds her arms out in an invitation for you to approach and give her a hug, then returns to her seat. Your father accepts any familiar expression passively, at best with a tight smile. Formal, as always, even in the privacy of your own home.
When you tell them of the gigs you've had lately (whether real or fabricated), your mother notes how wonderful that is and that surely you have a bright future ahead of you, when you father scoffs. Practically growling, he looks at Marissa and says, "Fat chance. The whole damn city is burning down around us. Peasants. The king did naught but fornicate and frolic, and now we've this..." His lips twist as if tasting something sour before he spits out, "Chelaxian harlot foisted upon us. We're doing all we can to keep order, but the Guard is stretched too thin and everyone else seems to have holed up in their enclaves, including the priests."
Just as your mother is preparing to interrupt and lighten the mood, he turns to you and snaps, "And where exactly have you been? You know someone was shooting at us the other night! Your mother nearly died!"
She sputters, shaking her head and blushing as she looks at you, "He exaggerates slightly. The arrows didn't hit us. I'm sure they were stray shots from the riots."
"BAH! Rioters don't shoot arrows, woman! It was an assassination attempt because I'm an arbiter!"
Before he can go on, Otto enters the room with a soft cough and a full plate of food. "Pardon me, m'lord, m'lady. I've some food for the young miss." Garrick gives him a hairy eyeball for a moment, then waves a dismissive hand before staring back at the fireplace. Otto places the food near you along with a glass or mug of your preferred beverage and, after the half-elf departs, your mother chimes in, "What your father means to say is we were worried about you, little one. How are you?"
He sighs in disappointment. "No better or worse is, I suppose, all I can hope for. Thank you for that. As for the Grey Maidens, not much to tell you. I'm surprised the sergeant hasn't joined herself, despite the grousing. The Queen's recruiting the finest women in the guard and Sable Company to join an elite unit of her own bodyguards. Good pay and benefits and the ear of the royal court." He shrugs, then chuckles dryly, "I'd apply myself if only I had the right tools."
When you ask of your brother, the guardsman looks at you then shrugs, "Um... sorry, no, though not sure I would be able to tell. Dark hair and dark eyes ain't exactly all that unusual, uh... m'lord." He adds the last with a degree of uncertainty, as if noticing your clothes and bearing for the first time. "We're just trying to keep order. Have you tried city hall or the Longacre Building?"
Zamanda hugs her mother when she offers before sitting down and giving them an update.
Zamanda pales slightly as they mention being shot at, but smiles and tells them that she's been busy with her studies. She found someone to teach her draconic, but it's a tough one to master. She's also been writing and composing, and working a little more. There's always a lot of work down by the docks of course, but I didn't think that you would want me working over there she says, which is a half-truth... true that they wouldn't want that, but deceit by omission because she *has* worked there. She just tries to get better gigs when she can. People are way too handsy in those places.
I'm so sorry though that you were in a position like that. Is that why you have the door barred? Because you think there is an assassin after you? Has anything like this happened to the other arbiters?
Pel nods and does his best to smile as the guard explains who the Gray Maidens are and his desire to join them. At least some in Korvosa could still find humor in the midst of so much sorrow.
Pel thinks that perhaps it is a good thing that the Queen is forming a personal guard. Not everyone in Korvosa thinks fondly of Chelaxians, but when it comes to running a government, Pel thinks they're probably the best at it. It makes sense for the Queen to better protect herself after all the rioting. Pel does think it's a little strange, though, that she is only recruiting women for the duty.
Whatever smile Pel had managed fades when the guard says he hasn't seen Rut. The hope of finding his brother, alive or dead, seems to be fading fast.
"Pellius Alazario," Pel says, giving his full name to the man. He didn't know the guard. Though he hates the formality that goes along with being a noble, perhaps it's best to stay formal to leave a good first impression on the Field Marshall. "What's your name?"
"And thank you for the suggestion. But I've looked all over Korvosa. It seems it will take Desna's luck to find him."
==Back at the Eel's End==
Quin: Throws Alchemist's Fire - Hit
Bashiel: Attack and Hit
Varor: Attack and Miss
Ilsa: Two Attacks; two hits
Varor: Channel (and things just got interesting... math time)
Chaos erupts into fullswing as flasks of fire are thrown, Kalem begins screaming at the eight-legged buggers latching onto his legs, Bashiel squashes one of the psychedelic spiders coming for him, the enforcer is singed by one of the alchemists fires, then Varor channels a burst of healing energy.
Devargo's eyes blast open as he gasps and sees Kalem over him, then notices the pair of spiders nearby... and just then a pair of his enforcers slam through the door, longswords drawn.
The spiders continue their mad attacks, driven to a frenzy. Most of their strikes are fruitless, though another of the dreamspiders in the hold manages to sinks its fangs into Bashiel.
The surviving enforcer continues to slowly shift his way towards the doors to the outside deck of the old warship and his allies, swinging his blade at Quinlan though hitting nothing but air.
For his part, the "King of Spiders" remains still, too shocked to feign death but also realizing he's in no position to fight the raging tiefling.
plus Fort DC 11 or WIS damage
==Upstairs==
Devargo: -42 + 8 = -34
Enforcer: -1 - 8 + 8 = -1
Giant Spider: -0
Dream Spider next to Quinn: -3 + 8 = -0
Dream Spider next to Kalem: -3 + 8 = -0
==Downstairs==
Giant Spider, Downstairs: -3 + 8 = -0
Dream Spider east of Bashiel: -17 = DEAD
Dream Spider NW of Bashiel: -1 + 8 = -0
Kalem brings his hammer down on the giant spider that he threw off of him. It landed with an audible crunch. The tiefling then looked down at the king of spiders and growled "Surrender. Or you'll be the second crime lord I kill this week."
After releasing the energy Varor dodges an attack by the spider and takes a swing himself, missing by a wide margin and has to catch himself from being caught in the spider webs around him.
Bashiel dislodges another spider, but staggers a bit as its venom works at his mind.
After a quick shake of his head to clear it, he steps into position to flank the giant spider with Varor and delivers a powerful swing of his longsword. He aims for a soft gap in the back of the creature's carapace!
Transferring his longsword to one hand, he quickly unslings his rope and grappling hook from his pack with the other hand.
He nods to Varor, "Lets see if we can't get back up top."
Quinlan takes a step back and tosses an alchemist fire at the spider (splash on the guard of course).
After throwing it, it occurs to him perhaps I should have thrown acid... starting a fire on a boat I'm on might not be such a good idea.
Kalem and Bashiel kill the giant spiders.
Varor attacks and misses
Ilsa readies an attack
Quinlan tosses another alchemists fire; debates the wisdom of his life's choices
Kalem and Bashiel dispatch the two larger spiders while the dream spiders continue to frenzy. One continues to uselessly attempt to bite Kalem while the other continues to nibble away at Bashiel
Devargo, bracing himself against the deck with one hand while holding up the other in a helpless gesture, says, "Surrender? You've already beaten me. Them, on the other hand..." He glances towards the door outside through which yet another enforcer arrives as the three already in the room take up positions blocking the exit.
The one Quinlan and Ilsa had been squaring off sneers, "Yeah, maybe we'll kill him and the lot of you to take over..."
Devargo blinks, "Wait... what!?"
plus Fort DC 11 or Wis Dmg
Devargo: -34
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Ilsa's gaze again remains on Devargo.
"I'll have those letters!" she yells. "With or without your help. If you won't tell your men to stand down, or if they no longer obey, we can't have you behind us. Let's put you back to sleep, and we'll talk again later!"
"If you live..." she adds darkly.
The mesmerist, her sickly claws still extended before her, rakes at the prone man once more.
[-4 vs. melee for prone, +4 for full defenes.[/ooc]
"Noooo!" Ilsa cuts off the man's screaming with a strike from her ghoulish claws, rendering him unconscious yet again and bleeding out.
*snip*
"I'm so sorry though that you were in a position like that. Is that why you have the door barred? Because you think there is an assassin after you? Has anything like this happened to the other arbiters?"
Your father continues to glower at the fire, as if by thought alone he could make it burn hotter. "Who knows. People are dying every day and night. It's only truly safe near Longacre." He refers, of course, to the Longacre Building from which the arbiters dispense justice to the city. "Riff-raff and ruffians litter the streets. Speaking of which..."
He turns his glower towards you, "Why you do this is beyond me. Naught but drunkards and hooligans at those public houses. I thought I raised you better." You mother starts to protest when he shushes her, "But perhaps I can put this frivolity of yours to some use. Maybe you could ask around, some of your 'friends' and whatnot, figure out who would want to kill your father. Then take what you know to the Guard."
*snip*
"Pellius Alazario," Pel says, giving his full name to the man. He didn't know the guard. Though he hates the formality that goes along with being a noble, perhaps it's best to stay formal to leave a good first impression on the Field Marshall. "What's your name?""And thank you for the suggestion. But I've looked all over Korvosa. It seems it will take Desna's luck to find him."
"Uh, Guardsman First Class Kevyn Donahue, sir. I'm sorry to hear about your brother. I wish you luck with it." A few steps later, and you've arrived at the base of the keep, which serves as one corner of the citadel as an enlarged and more heavily fortified tower. He nods to the guards standing watch and they let you pass. Donahue leads you up several flights of stairs, down a corridor and into a sitting room of some sort. "If you'll wait here, sir, I'll let the lieutenant know you're here about volunteering or some such."
"Lay down your arms now. Nobody here is being paid enough to die." As he said this, his eyes still glowed with internal power, and his hammer had smoke rising from the flames which so recently enveloped in. One of the largest spiders in the room was little more than a broken pile of carapace at his feet...and to top it off, Ilsa was standing next to him. Her claws red with Devargo's blood.
Of course father, I'd be happy to do that for you.
She's not *actually* happy to do that for him, and she worries about stirring up old contacts and getting trapped again, but... she does wonder if there is more to it than his paranoia and her mistake, and she wants to make sure that the arbiters don't have targets painted on their backs, so she decides to ask around.
It was good to see you, mother. I'll get going and ask around now, but I'll be back for Sunday dinner. Thinking of bringing my new... girlfriend. You don't mind, do you? She says it with a glimmer in her eye, knowing that her mother is inured to her announcements. It is almost a game with them... her father though. He takes almost everything dead seriously so...
She waits to see if there is an explosion.
"Thank you, Donahue. Again, I hope you find your family safe and sound. And I'll be happy to wait."
Pel lets Donahue leave and takes a seat. Perhaps it is a good thing he has to wait for a bit. It at least gives him a chance to calm some of his nerves.
More importantly, it gives him a chance to figure out what to say. Not an easy task.
Yes, I would like to help Korvosa out during these troubled times. Won't you let me, please? Might be too whiny.
Thank you for your time, ma'am. I've come during these grave circumstances to offer my aid. Way too ominous. And she doesn't even know Pel.
I appreciate you taking the time to see me. I would like to help Korvosa, if possible. I have some skill with magic. Is there somewhere it could be put to good use? That was better. Not perfect, but better.
Letting out a breath that he had been holding for what seemed like at least a couple minutes, Pel risks leaning back in his chair for a moment. But quickly sits back up straight and silently chides himself.
Perhaps it would have been smart to ask Donahue about what to expect from Kroft, but alas the chance for that had already passed. Still, he has accustomed himself to thinking on his feet.
Among the many classes he took at the Acadamae was one titled Exigent Circumstances and What To Do In Them. He had to figure out how to make spells work in time-sensitive situations they weren't intended for. He could only memorize so many in a given day, so he either had to make do with what he had prepared, or - when his professors weren't looking - draw from within himself the power needed to substitute one spell for another.
Pel decides there's not much use in worrying about what's to come. He had already lost his home and possibly his family, so what was the worst Korvosa could throw at him now?
All that is left is to wait. And so that's what Pel does.
The last of the dream spiders are squashed or scurry away and an uneasy stalemate unfolds in the old captain's cabin-turned-throne room. The King of Spiders' enforcers exchange uneasy looks while various voices can be heard outside directing the crowd and summoning further reinforcements.
Two of them glance at Devargo, back at each other, and one of them -- the one who spoke up earlier -- breaks the silence. "You can go, but you leave the King of Spiders. If he dies, so do you. Window's closing. What do you say?"
They keep their weapons drawn but definitely have some of the wind taken out of their sails.
Kalem looked at the men and narrowed his eyes. The rage left him as he weighed their options. He couldn't tell how serious the men were, but...
"I can hear, what is it? Four men? Out at the bow of the ship. I'm not walking into your ambush. We carry Devargo with us until we get outside. You lot put your weapons down. We leave him, and take what we came here for. Decide now, and we'll stop him from bleeding out."
Then, without breaking eye contact with the men, he says "Varor. No healing him until they agree. Quin, look through his clothes. Get our gold back, and any other letters or information he has on him. Ilsa, if they make a wrong move, give Devargo a new smile."
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Like Kalem, Ilsa appears to be settling down. Her ghoulish claws retract, her hands return to those of a twenty-year-old young woman, and she looks down at the bleeding Devargo with eyes no longer glowing with magic.
"I will have what I came for, and anything he has on him," she says loudly to the enforcers. "We beat him and all your spiders, and we'll beat you, too. Now bring me what we'd bargained for and he can live. If not, he'll bleed out and so will you!" she demands.
Only Kalem is close enough to see Ilsa's lip tremble and a single tear roll down her face.
The chatty guard shakes his head. "Not to be ungrateful or anything, but I'm going to have to say no... You take that long and carry him out, he bleeds to death. We disarm, you kill us. You leave with his gold AND whatever he agreed to sell you, he kills us. You paid for what... some letters?" The guard who went downstairs nods sharply. "They pay?"
"Just half," is the reply.
The leader says, "Fine. You pay the other half, you get the letters." He holds out his free hand to the other enforcer, gesturing for the letters -- which the other guard procures from a vest pocket and hands over to their temporary leader -- as he continues to speak to Kalem. "I yell out the door for everyone to back away, out of reach so they can't attack you, you get out while we tend to the King. Deal is a deal. That's the best one you're getting, boss. Recommend you take it."
Kalem looks at the guard, and then down at Devargo. "Oh, now that is rich. You'll yell out the door for them to back off, and we trust that they won't just fill us full of bolts the second we stroll out? I think that maybe *you* should listen. I've got a cleric right here who can stabilize him with a snap of his fingers. I've also got a lass here who could carve him a new face before you take three steps. Make him as pretty as me. Now drop your weapons. We will take what we came here for. We will take our gold. He forfeited that when he attacked us. We will carry him out, and will put him down once we are sure you slimy bastards aren't waiting in ambush. And unless you enjoy watching him bleed out as much as I am, I suggest you make a decision soon."
Quinlan, not to be intimidated by numbers, collects the money handed over to deVargo for the papers and the bottle deVargo dropped as well... he moves to stand by Kalem's side for the outcome of the standoff. He looks down into the hole at Bash and Varor... "You two coming back up any time soon?"
As soon as the spider skitters away and there is a lull in hostilities, Bashiel sheathes his sword and uses his grappling rope around the throne on the floor above. As he swings the rope, he tries to process in his mind what must be happening upstairs. The spider venom makes that much tougher than usual.
"Quin, or Ilsa. Staunch Devargo's bleeding will you? There's no negotiation if he bleeds out on us here."
Bashiel climbs up the knotted rope and watches warily for any action from the enforcers. If he's not interrupted, he climbs out of the hole and stands next to Ilsa.
Quinlan sighs... and shakes his head to Ilsa.. "We don't want to bring him back around just yet I don't think... I'm not even inclined to stop him bleeding out, but I'll try."
Varor takes a moment to look over the giant spider making sure that it is really dead.
When he catches his breath and finishes examining the spider he looks around to see that Bashiel is gone and a rope leading up to the hole where a conversation is being held, "Bashiel, you are aware that I can't climb the rope right? How am I supposed to get out of here?" He asks, clearly irritated about being left in a hole.
"SUre you can do it, Varor.. a little guidance from Sarenrae and some effort, I know you'll make it!"
The enforcers let Bashiel come up without any hassle and watch quietly while Quin applies first aid. That done, the one whose been talking switches his emphasis to Bashiel, "There now, a nice little good faith gesture. Thank you. See? We're all breathing maybe a little easier now. Okay... let me reciprocate." He yells out over his shoulder, [b]"Stay there at the bow. We're negotiating."
He looks back at the lot of you, "Now, I don't know who you are. Maybe you think you're a bunch of heroes here to right the wrongs of the world. And I don't know what happened between you and the King. But here's what I do know and I'll testify to when the guard arrives, and they have been summoned. That you were alone in the room with the King, five to one, when a fight broke out over negotiations concerning these letters..." He waves them in the air. "You'll say you were attacked, but at five to one odds, who'd believe the King was mad enough to do that? Besides, not only does he pay his vice taxes but a good number of the guard and arbiters are our customers. This won't go well for you."
"That said... we'll call it even. Keep the rest of the gold. Take the letters. As for him, only way he's going with you is if you wake him up and he tells us to let you. And Unless you were hallucinating, you didn't see any crossbows or shortbows out there, so you should know if we're back far enough, you'll be able to leave. Or...stay. Let's see what the guard says. Maybe the crazy chick wants to gut him again now hat he's all tied and trussed like a turkey. That'll be great evidence of your innocence. "
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While the enforcers address mainly Bashiel, Ilsa searches Devargo, looking for any papers he might have on him, but also taking any weapons or other items off him.
Once she has heard the continued threats, she says "I think it would be in your best interest, when the guards arrive, to tell them everything's been resolved. Though your lies sound convincing at first blush, I wonder what the guard will think about the trapdoor that opens when he pushes the button on the throne.
She gestures into the open pit. [b]"Oh, and about all the bones down there. I'd say they could finish up a number of missing person investigations in a hurry. So I don't think you want them coming in here."
She looks to the others.
"Plus, if you all want to go, that's fine. But I'm not leaving without what I came for," she adds as menace creeps back into her trembling voice.
He shakes his head, clearly frustrated. "You keep calling them lies but I think it's because you're uncomfortable with certain truths. We pay our taxes. Everything that happens here is legal... and if it isn't, it can't be proved and the Guard knows it. As for that," he gestures to the pit, "looks to me like you killed a vile monster lurking in the hold. I'm sure the Guard will have questions about it, you're right, and the Crown and the barristers can take it up with the arbiters. If you think we don't have contingencies for that, why do you think we've called them?"
"I'm offering you the letters at half the price you agreed to pay. It's a fair deal. And I only see your side making the threats. So far, nobody has died. Let's keep it that way, shall we?"
Bashiel focuses on Devargo's limp form and judges the evil within ().
Once he's done, he closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath, and mentally calls out 'Can I find some way through this tangled mess? Halt the bloodshed, but ensure justice for Ilsa and for Devargo's victims?'
Varor finished his climbing up the rope to a standoff between his companions and Devargo's lackey's, knowing full well that this is merely a short breath and that battle that's about to continue. Besides even if that wasn't the case he doubted that any of them could let what happened today go.
Kalem look at the men and smirked. He had seen their kind before. More importantly, he was adept at the spreading of falsehoods, and he thought he could tell that not everything they said was with true confidence. As such, he said to them...
"You talk about the guard as if though you are confident that you are the only one with friends. It is amazing how blind they can be in overlooking a few corpses when one knows who to talk to. Now then, I understand where you are coming from. So in the interest of returning your good faith...I don't give a fig about whether you live or die. Nor do you scare me, little man. I can crush you with the same ease that I crushed his spider, and that is if you are lucky enough for me to not just give you to this lass here. Also, with this 'fair deal' that you are offering me, killing you and paying off my friends is cheaper than your deal, and your life isn't worth a chipped copper in my books. You're out of your league, boy. We came here for information about people the like of which you'd shyt your pants if you met. The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because it'd cut into our bottom line, and you aren't worth it. So step down before you get me angry enough that breaking your bones becomes worth losing gold over."
After eating your meal and saying farewell to Otto, you head back out into the evening and begin trying to track down some of your old colleagues. Is it your father's over-inflated sense of self-importance or do even the paranoid have enemies? You decide to avoid mentioning anything about your own role in anything that might have happened and instead inquire about people trying to assassinate the arbiters.
A few hours later, you find yourself in a raucous speak-easy that has sprouted up over just the last few days, probably fueled with stolen booze, and are chatting up a halfling named Natan Silvertongue, a low-level rumor monger who holds himself out as a high-level information broker. Still, sometimes he managed to strike gold.
Just as you're getting down to business, the doors to the establishment are knocked down and heavily armed men and women dressed in the livery of the Guard storm the place. "By the order of the Queen, stay where you are!"
Of course, nobody does. It rapidly turns into a free-for-all as everyone tries to scatter and shove their way through the blocked entrances. It's over within minutes when you find yourself and Natan manacled and being shoved into the back of a horse-drawn wagon. Natan mutters something to one of the guards, perhaps hoping for preferential treatment, when the guard looks at you with an arched brow. "Oh, is she now? Well too bad. Daughter of a city official doesn't get you anything, criminal!"
As the liquor is being gathered in another wagon for 'evidentiary' purposes, you see the guard talking with a sergeant. The sergeant glances at you, then shrugs and says something back to the guard.
An hour later you find yourself at the Citadel. The Longacre Building is overflowing so the cells at the Citadel are now being used for even petty crimes and round-ups. As everyone else is being processed and divided up accordingly to alleged crimes, you're grabbed and taken out of the line by a pair of guards.
They march you back outside where a light rain is beginning to fall, across the courtyard and to a larger structure against the wall, likely the Citadel's keep. After going up several floors and down a corridor, you find yourself...
Zamanda is marched into the waiting room, bound in manacles and accompanied by a pair of guardsmen. They sit her on a bench across from Pel and one of them says, "You'll be waiting here until you can be seen." One of them seems to be carrying a rolled parchment; some sort of report from the sergeant in charge of the raid? He takes it through a side-door while the other waits quietly at the door through which they and Zamanda had entered.
With the guard standing at the door, though, Pel doesn't want a report getting to the Field Marshall about his willingness to interact with a potential criminal. Or worse, a report indicating the two might know each other.
So instead of saying anything to the mysterious newcomer, Pel pulls out his spellbook and pretends to study it. Every now and then, he'll look up and steal a glance at the woman to make sure she isn't about to lunge at him.
Pel is waiting for the Field Marshall so he can try to help Korvosa. Getting caught up in the woman's troubles won't make his goal any easier.