I can fight without and am not good at passing secret messages. Someone else should carry it. Idril maybe.
"I can use the short sword, and I can pass secret messages as needed." Idril said matter of factually. "Anyone else?"
Bastargrae admired himself in a puddle of water.Not a bad look. Shame what it represents, though. I do believe there is little difference in employing a sword cane and a short sword.
"I will take the sword." Said Idril firmly, to break the deadlock.
"Shall we continue then?"
Stricia takes a deep breath and nods.
Akukho shrugs his way into a uniform and nods as well.
"Before we proceed, let us practice our roles for just a moment. It never behooves anyone to rush in if we can instead stride in with confidence."
I am not good at lying. I will be silent. Stricia responds. I think I can help at intimidating someone however.
"Well, the one of us that is most capable of playing a role or "getting into character" is of course madame Ssethan.
Any pointers you could offer at all would be welcome."
Indio bows respectfully towards Idril.
In order to reach the Holding House well before curfew, you head out across town again. You arrive at Bleakbridge, and the guards let you pass with just a nod and casual salute of recognition... your uniforms appear to pass the first test.
The sun is nearing the horizon, and the streets are fairly busy as the townspeople rush to finish whatever they need to do before curfew begins. As you continue through Kintargo, you hear a herald's words, and pass a newly posted proclamation.
"POSSESSION OF POETRY OR PROSE WRITTEN
BY THE FOLLOWING AUTHORS IS HEREBY
FORBIDDEN AND PUNISHABLE BY A FINE
OF 100 GOLD PIECES OR IMPRISONMENT:
BOSWYTH THE BARD, CHARLETTA D’VANEP,
GHENRAIL OF VYRE, AND THE ANONYMOUS
MISCREANT WHO CALLS HIM- OR HERSELF
THE “POISON PEN OF KINTARGO.” ALL
DOCUMENTS BEARING THE WRITINGS OF
THESE MISCREANTS MUST BE TURNED
OVER TO THE DOTTARI FOR DESTRUCTION
BY SUNDOWN."
Idril nodded.
"Don't overthink it. We're Chelaxian soldiers, grim and purposeful. Refer any questions to your officer; that's me I guess." She said as they marched along.
She did a double take as she spotted the new proclamation.
"Boswyth the Bard? The prince's favorite author? And Charletta D'Vanep writes half the operas in the Inner Sea! Why is he..."
She shook her head and continued on.
I am capable of this! Stricia nods. Where will you tell them we are taking the prisoners? Is there a place where.. special questioning... is done?
Bastargrae read the latest proclamation, nodding curtly with a suck of his teeth.Denouncing even prose, are we?
"It should not come as a surprise, our "beloved" lord has clearly shown that he brooks no disrespect whatsoever, nor is he capable of understanding the simple concept of guiding with a soft touch."
"A rebellion is inevitable at this point, as I confidently predict that further proclamations will follow suit in restricting the liberties of the population."
"At the same time, a city without citizen is of little value, so I predict that sooner or later it will be made more or less impossible to leave the walls at all, to prevent a mass exodus."
Of course. Due to their love of Redactors...As they say, winners write history.
Not if I have anything to do about it. Stricia replies heatedly To Bastargae. The purpose of my order is to preserve the truth of history and not the horror that is done to it in Cheliax.
The Poison Pen... She mused to herself. What if we could...?
"Well, we were all aware of what we were up against.
I suspect though, that this little revelation has made it somewhat more...personal for some of us.
Be that as it may, we are burning daylight, let us move on."
You reach the Holding House, and see two sets of patrols - two soldiers each - slowly circling the building. They spot you arrival, and one patrol heads you off.
"What's this about?"
As you show them the sealed orders, one of the guards nods, and unlocks the heavy door with a ring of keys.
Two more guards are inside... the room appears to serve as a lounge for the guards - dice and cards are on the table - and a receiving room. As you file in, one steps up to Idril.
"State your business."
"Prisoner transfer." Replied Idril in a bored tone, showing the sealed orders.
Indio makes a show of being likewise unconcerned and bored, doing his best to add to the atmosphere of a bucnh of soldiers doing a duty that is so mundane that nothing could possibly be off about it.
Stricia on the other hand just glares at the one talking. We don't have time for this bull!
“Unexpected, but very well. I will alert the warden.” The guard gestures dismissing those who’d let you in, and they resume their patrols outside. The one who’d spoken exits through the northeastern door. A moment later the guard returns... “Warden Sabo will see you... this way.”
Bastargrae flanked Stricia, face coldly stoic, arms folded behind his back and spine sterl straight to lend to the appearance of being grim Dottari.
Stricia tries to see, generally how well prepared and drilled the soldiers are and get a sense if they could take them in a fight... should it come to that.
Well, this is a good first step. The trick is of course to convince the warden.
We do risk much by doing things this way rather than by stealth, but then again, this allows us to show competence in ways that does not include violence.
Warden Sabo's office is adjacent to, and a little smaller than the receiving room. As you pile into the room, the guards remain in the doorway. Warden Sabo - middle-aged armored woman with a tight graying bun - pushes aside a plate of beans and charred sausage. She wipes her hands clean and holds one out.
Her expression and tone suggest mild irritation "Let's have it." and she nods to Idril holding the forged orders.
"Tell me what I'm looking at." Her eyes scan the group.
Akukho stands as stiffly as he can, focusing on keeping his skin coloring accurate.
"Prisoner transfer ma'am."
She seems to bristle a bit, and corrects Idril's usage of "ma'am"
"Warden Sabo...." She shakes her head, and then looks at Indio with a slight smirk - somewhat of a "am I right?" with a hint of flirtatiousness mixed in.
She then takes the orders, briefly inspects the seal before breaking it.
As she looks over the papers...
"I've heard nothing of this. I would certainly prefer a signature from your commanding dottari captain... which I do not see...."
She breathes deep as if giving it a moment of thought...
"Where are you to take these prisoners?"
Indio indicates his head ever so slightly towards the warden, and offers her a half smile in return.
It was not much, but anything to keep her mind away from the documents as possible.
"They did not tell us much, Warden Sabo, again, Indio respectfully inclines his head, need to know information aye? Best guess though, Indio leans forward a bit and whispers, Hellknights interrogation..."
Hoping that the distraction was enough for Idril to think on her feet, Indio steps back and turns to Idril, a "your turn" expression on his face.
Idril fixed Sabo with a stony stare.
"I understand your... curiosity Warden Sabo. But are you CERTAIN you want to know?" Idril said, her emphasis suggesting that the less the Warden knows of her superiors hidden activities the easier her life would be.
Add 2 to that if Indio was Aiding Another.
Though there is no sign of increased suspicion, Warden Sabo's level of irritation ticks up a notch.
"I did ask. Do not presume me soft...."
The guards at the door shift uncomfortably - like the sibling of child about to get a tongue lashing.
Ungh...things are rather tense at the moment. but I cannot step in again just yet, madame Ssethan might yet turn this around.
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Idril paused a moment, as if considering, then nodded.
"Very well then."
She took a deep breath.
"In the gloom of dusk, after curfew has cleared the streets, right about now actually, we are to take the prisoners by a winding route to the Kintargo Opera House, Lord Mayor Barzillai Thrune's home away from home... but not the main entrance.
She leaned in.
"Around the back street there is a wrought iron gate leading into a marbled garden. At the back of the garden there is a sunken staircase leading down to a basement access door leading into the furnace room."
She straightened up again.
"Going through the suffocating heat of the red lit chamber, there is another stairway leading down into a sub-basement. Going down hallways with rack upon rack of opera costumes hung to either side.
"At the end of that hallway there is a stage lift, where we will descend into the deeps of the sub-sub-basement. There all around us in the darkness there are stored the heaviest and least used stage scenery.
"Winding through the bizarre shapes and incongruous styles, there in the back is a largish chamber well muffled for sound. The singers used to practice there, when the building lived to serve Kintargo's audience.
"In there has been moved the setting for the opera 'Atros the Mad', a torture chamber now fitted with actual working instruments.
"There our prisoners will be guests of honor of his Lordship as well as, if rumor is accurate, several ranking emissaries of Duke Titivilus of Dis at the interrogation."
Idril raised an eyebrow at Warden Sabo.
"I would hope your curiosity is now satisfied Warden. The presence of the emissaries is a delicate matter for the Lord Mayor; He might worry if too many know if it, and I trust this won't go any further." Idril concluded.
Warden Sabo nods repeatedly... “Interesting... very well.”
She hands the transfer orders back to Idril, and gestures to the one of the guards behind you. “Show them to the cells.”
You are lead through a hallway and small adjoining with two more guards. Those escorting you simply say "Prisoner transfer." as they pass the two on duty, and unlock the next door.
You then enter the large area containing maybe a dozen cells... heavy reinforced wooden doors line the walls in all directions.
"Gimme those names again...." One of your escorting guards asks as she flips through the keys on her ring. "The armigers, yeah? All of 'em?"
"Yes, yes;" Idril said, waiving her hand impatiently. "All of them."
One of the guards peers into a cell...“Uhh... this one is in with Ghenemahl. You’re welcome to go in and see if she’d be willing to abide by your orders, but I’m not about to step foot in there.” .. and gestures to a nearby door.
The other guard swallows hard “Me either.. best come back in the morning... maybe she’ll be done by then.”
We're to transfer ALL of them, regardless of whatever ministrations they're being subjected to. Bastargrae spoke up, making a severe face of disapproval.
"Hmm, we'll have to persuade this Ghenemahl then."
Idril steps boldly into the doorway.