Inside Heward Sechim’s factory, the six constables can clearly see the bulk of it is devoted to one wide open factory floor that goes thirty feet up, with catwalks and chain pulleys twenty feet up all around the workroom floor. Stout barred windows are interspersed along the very topmost portion of the walls, closable from the catwalks with heavy grab-poles stationed at each interval. There are dozens of employees on the main floor or on the catwalks above working the pulleys, with easily a dozen areas of vats and piping producing a variety of alchemical acids and chemicals. Four large pipeworks over the floor with clockwork mechanical fans seem to pull up toxic fumes near the ground up into the ceiling far above. Right now it seems that more raw materials are being brought into the factory from doors on its other side that open out to a pier and the lake of Parity itself, with many workers hustling goods inside in an organized fashion.
To Anneca, each area with its vats, piping and other smaller holding tanks has various stations that govern a particular process of mixing, refining, distilling or collecting the alchemical product; she quickly deduces the areas are laid out well logically, with both an eye to efficiency and safety for its workers. Only one area seems out of place with the rest – a rear-corner section of the floor is walled off with a low ten-foot interior wall that is guarded at a single door but not showing any worker’s activity there, with no obvious signs of equipment or piping visible.
All about them they see men, women and even older children working these areas of the factory’s processes, with nearly all wearing goggles and heavy wetted scarves to protect their eyes and mouths, or even full leather masks with odd breathing apparatus affixed to them if they are mixing the contents of the largest vats. The place seems relatively clean and orderly, though the air is very acrid and stings their eyes as they walk across a section of the workroom floor towards a metal staircase that ascends up thirty feet to the next floor above.
The ascent to the top floor on the staircase is a little dizzying for those that look out across the floor of the factory, but soon they pass through the main room’s ceiling and to a heavily reinforced landing with a strong door that is seemingly unlocked for now, as Heward opens it without a key. Once inside this area the sounds of factory work diminishes greatly, and they see an empty common lounge area with well-used, threadbare couches and chairs. Coming off the common lounge are two open archways to adjacent rooms, and two closed doors. The nearest adjacent open room is unlit and set with a dozen simple cots, mostly filled with sleeping factory worker types; the other adjacent room off the common lounge holds goggles, masks and heavy scarves with bottles of some clear alchemical agent in neat rows on shelves. Heward puts a finger to his lips to ask them to be quiet as they pass the common lounge, moving to one of the two doors that opens into his work office.
The office is well-used and seats several people for what must be administrative work: small desks with stacks of papers and ledgers on them, as well as inkpens and counting tools for calculating various numbers and figures. A large clockwork timepiece of brass sits on one wall, calmly tick-tocking the time in a precise manner. On another wall are several diagrams and instructions for various alchemical processes posted on heavy paper, with smaller hand-written notes and calculations written on the margins. On a side table are several glass decanters of what appear to be pure water, as well as a section where metal teapots hold hot tea and perhaps even Yerasol coffee.
Heward Sechim offers the six constables to pull over chairs from the other desks to his own, which is larger and a bit finer than the others, though nothing extravagant. He also directs them to the refreshments side table as a courtesy, and then sits down heavily at his desk, putting a hand across his face in apparent fatigue before speaking.
”First constables, before you relate to me the circumstances of Nilasa’s…death…I should disclose to you that I feared this might happen. I feared she was caught up in the movement, you see, though I warned her not to on many an occasion. Not that I don’t understand the sentiments and her desire to see change come to this city, but because I was afraid for her safety. She was…she was like a daughter to me…or perhaps a favored niece I suppose…as I’ve never had children myself to know. But I loved her, and so did my uncle. He feared this would happen…he saw it in fact...”
Heward’s words trail off then, his face having a haunted and sorrowful look with eyes distant in some memory.
Gemma quietly listens to the men, taking in all the information, appreciating their candor. She's had to stop herself a number of times from apologizing for not only the horrible conditions but also the police brutality. She knows that no apology from her is enough to make up for the mess, but she does make a private vow to address it at a later date with someone who might actually be able to help.
With the mention of "strangers" walking about, her ears perk up. "What strangers would those be? Some of our business has been a bit out of the ordinary lately. Anything you might be able to tell me could make a big difference."
During the ride through the Parity Lake district Fethryth gets angrier and angrier. She knew that the smog would be worse around the factories, but this? This is a nightmare. These monstrosities are poisoning everything around them. Air, land, water, people- all care for their well being swept away in the name of “progress”. It’s barbaric.
She’s never supported the Dockers, law breakers that they are, but she feels a flash of sympathy for them. Those poor people, locked in the factories against their wills...they remind her of her ‘training’ in the enclave, of being forced to practice spells over and over again, no rest or food until she got them right. How in the Bleak Gate is this behavior legal in Risiur? It turns her stomach.
Inside the factory Fethryth stares at the workers. She only gets a quick look but what she sees matches with the lack of protestors outside; Sechim’s not mistreating his people. The realization lets her throttle her anger back and listen to the man with a clear mind.
She immediately zeros in on his last words. ”When you say he ‘Saw’ it, are you talking about the Old Ways? Is your uncle a Skyseer?”
”Well,” hesitates the taller guard named Angus, ”beggin’ yer pardon constable, but it might be best if you speak to Master Heward on that. I don’t know what the talkin’ was about but these strangers came to meet with Heward on two different times, and they weren’t acting very friendly like, you understand. Wanted him to do somethin’ he wasn’t gonna do, and I guess they threatened him for it.”
”Not from around here ya understand,” chimes in the shorter guard named Hap helpfully. ”No ma’am, they weren’t the blackboot type of the rival places around here, that’s fer certain!”
Angus nods at his fellow and adds, ”Hap and myself and a couple other lads followed ‘em a week ago after they came back a second time, just to see who they were workin’ for, but they didn’t go to Alchemy Row or any of the other factories by the lake. No, they went east of here, deep into the back alleys of old Parity and we lost ‘em as we got closer to the shanties of the Nettles.”
The third guard comes back then from the rear doors, commenting the workers are nearly finished with getting in all the supplies from the lake barge and are about to close up. Angus and Hap both nod and suggest to Gemma that they finish their perimeter walk so that they can get back to guarding the front doors.
Heward Sechim looks at Fethryth with sad eyes but a slight smile forming on his lips as he replies to her. ”Yes constable, indeed I am. I’ve been around it all my life and respect those traditions, but in these modern times I generally do not speak in such terms, as it makes some folk uncomfortable talking about the Old Ways. My uncle Nevard is indeed a Skyseer of fair repute, though I myself have none of those talents.”
Sighing then, Heward says to the assembled constables by way of explanation, ”My uncle Nevard feared for Nilasa, regarding her as a beloved granddaughter even as I joked lovingly that she was like an adopted daughter to me. Just about three weeks ago he had a rare, clear vision and uttered to me the words, ’An adopted daughter will blindly ride the wind to her demise.’ We both felt what that meant…the meaning of the ‘wind’ was very clear to me. Gale. By that time, you see, I suspected she was firmly in the fervor of working for Gale, having flirted with joining the Cloudwood movement since last year, but making her mind up after ‘Ethelyn’s Rebellion’ in the Spring. Her home was here, with us, where we could make a difference in our own way, but Nilasa was headstrong and her blood boiled at the injustices and the lies, taking up the boldness of the Dockers, and she decided she had to make her own mark in the struggle for the people.”
”After Uncle’s vision of Nilasa, I was distraught to say the least. She hadn’t been here in weeks, and I just couldn’t abandon all of my people and my work to go chasing off after her. I had kept tabs on her at The Thinking Man and heard she was bringing around some ridiculous Danoran she had taken up with, but she’s not a child after all. The last I saw her was just about a week ago, when I paid her bail at the Parity main stationhouse after she had been rounded up with two “friends” of hers that were arrested for some sort of petty criminal activity or what-not…she had been staying with them for some reason she wouldn’t specify. She promised me she wasn’t going back to her old habits of thieving at least, and I believed her. She wouldn't even take any money from me, said she didn't need it. I asked her to come home and help me once again at the factory, but she wouldn’t…said she had something to do first…and I tried to tell her that Uncle had seen…”
Heward starts to tear up then, and abruptly stands up from his desk and turns around to dab a linen kerchief at his eyes, clearly trying to gather himself. ”Ah…well you see she was bold and headstrong, Nilasa was. She knew what she was doing and was being careful, she said. Said that what she was doing was worth doing, and that she’d be helping a lot of good people by uncovering the truth of the wicked oppressing the people. She wouldn’t tell me what that was, but whatever it was she believed in it.” He breathes heavily and says, ”I blame myself, really, because she listened to me perhaps too well all those years whenever I would talk about how horribly other factory owners and industrialists treated their workers…I just wanted to instill a sense of pride in what we were doing here…”
Tobias frowns as he hears Nilasa's story. That this young woman could be inspired by both Gale and Ethelyn was worrying in and of itself, that old Skyseer's were seeing visions of her fate was potentially worse.
"You said you kept tabs on her at The Thinking Man. Do you have the names or descriptions of anyone she spoke with frequently? Not the Danoran, I'm fairly certain we know him already, but other contacts of hers might be helpful." He adjusts his vest and checks the time, trying to ignore the feelings of remorse and sorrow emanating from the man.
"We have reason to believe she was also worried about your safety. Do you know why that might be? Do you need us to secure you protection from the local authorities." He stops and things about where he is. "Or maybe some authorities from a 'cleaner' district?"
Anneca scoffs at the idea of predicting the future. Still, she doesn't vocalize the thought out of respect for the man's recent loss. She feels the pang of jealousy against the dead woman, for having someone who so seriously feels her loss. With Makala dead, who would mourn her passing in such a fashion? She is fairly certain that she will meet a bloody - or fiery, more likely - end, and hopes that someone will remember her fondly. Still, that is beyond the scope of their investigation here any now. She simply listens to the man answer the questions, unable to improve upon the mind-reader's interrogatory, and tries to figure out what was going on with the out-of-place section of the factory floor that she noticed while on the way up the stairs.
Jesselle looked from Tobias to Heward, "It was a plea that we protect you from whatever it was that killed her, Nilsa was sure it would come after you."
"I thank you constables," answers Heward Sechim with another deep breath and a return to his polite and controlled demeanor. "I can assure you that "protection" by the local police forces means something very different than what you would intend, so I respectfully decline. I have good and solid lads here that are loyal to me, and we have friends about Parity and up in the Nettles that keep us informed of most troubles. Years ago my uncle challenged me to create a place with his wealth that would serve as a modern example of how industry could be a boon to its workers and not just to profits. I won't abandon that now...there are too many here that need me. I will keep more alert however, and take extra precautions for my own safety and that of my workers, given your stated concerns."
Heward seems to remember something then in his expression, but whatever it is he shakes his head in dismissal and with a grim countenance he says to Jesselle, "It both gladdens and pains me that she thought of me before she died...and I should like to know what happened to her that ended her life, at least as much as the R.H.C. can share with me. Also, I would want to see her properly buried in the ways of the Old Faith, and will take possession of her remains when you allow me to."
"And as for the Thinking Man..." Looking at Tobias he smirks and says, "Well I go to the Thinking Man each week with my hardest workers and buy their rounds in appreciation, so I know the place fairly well. I can offer a name or two, but going in like you...well...in your greys and all official-like isn't going to go as you'd expect, if you take my meaning."
Fethryth’s been gawking at Heward since he mentioned his uncle. ”Nevard Sechim is your uncle? That’s amaz- um, err, not professional of me.” she finishes lamely. Her cheeks redden from embarrassment and she immediatly jumps to a new question. ”Did Nilasa ever mention a Doctor von Recklinghausen? Or someone named Porter? That one might be a cop."
"Well I go to the Thinking Man each week with my hardest workers and buy their rounds in appreciation, so I know the place fairly well. I can offer a name or two, but going in like you...well...in your greys and all official-like isn't going to go as you'd expect, if you take my meaning."
Tobias smiles back at the other man. "I can be pretty persuasive my friend, and these cloaks are easily removed." As he speaks he lets his country accent slip out and he slouches in stature a bit. "I'm jus' a boy from the country lookin' fer work."
"That being said, I do already have plans for this evening, unless my colleagues think this might be a better lead?" He raises an eyebrow at the rest of the constables, wondering if he should meet the Danoran secretary or do some recon at the Thinking Man.
"Do you mind if we look around a bit? She might not have been here for weeks, but there may be some evidence. Is there any place that she was known to frequent when she was here, or anyone else that she was particularly friendly with?" Anneca tries her best to couch the request in friendly terms, but it still manages to come out as if it isn't a request at all. Gemma is already on her own checking for leads, but there's no reason they both can't branch off alone.
Jesslle nods at Heward and starts, "Nilasa appears to have attempted to take something of note from Danorian Consulate. She did find what she was looking for, but we are not aware of what or much she had when she attempted to escape. That is when she was attacked by, an unknown being, before she tried to escape by going through a third floor window. Whatever magics she thought would help her did not and she fell to her death."
"Nilasa feared the being that attacked her, would come for you. While I am sure those in your employee can contain person or persons that might wish you harm, I would would want to ask if they can defend themselves and you against a supernatural force." Jesselle says to make a point.
Jesselle adds, "You are one of our first stops, as Nilasa made it clear that you might be in danger, but we are determined to find out what happened to her and deal with whatever might be responsible for her death. And why she thought you might be in danger is of some interest.
"Nilasa was bright and beautiful, bold and charming. She knew nearly everyone here by name, and for a time was happy here in uplifting the plight of the workers. She was one of the first hands I had hired five years ago you see, and so it's no exaggeration to say that she knew everyone here. Certainly she had her admirers and those that were smitten with her, but she was never deeply interested in any one man - that she had taken steady with a Danoran from their consulate was...unusual to my mind, and not like her at all. If she was using this man to find something at their consulate...something perhaps Gale herself set her to task...well that oddly makes more sense to me than her being smitten with the man."
Shrugging, he says to Anneca, "No, I do not mind constable...if anything you find can be of help to bringing out the truth of this..." Heward Sechim doesn't finish as he stops short before losing his composure once again, though he gives a wave to the other closed door back in the common lounge area. "Nilasa's room is...was...just through that door and the second down the hall on the left next to the washroom. She hasn't been there in weeks, but you are welcome to anything of interest."
Heward moves over to the side table and pours a full cup of clean water from one of the glass decanters, answering Fethryth's questions. "So you've heard of my Uncle Nevard then, have you constable? That is good, as so many have forgotten the old ways and stories here in Flint. Let me see...no...no I cannot say that I've heard of this doctor you mention, nor any policeman by the name of Porter. Because most of my shipments go directly to the naval shipyards, I have not had to make "deals" with the Parity police here...Mayor Gohins knows better than to tamper with those that have Risuri military contracts."
Heward sips his water and leans on the edge of his desk, his eyes sad but also lost in thought. He taps his chin a few times with his finger, and then points in the direction of the Jesselle as if making up his mind about something. "That you're willing to ferret out what's been done to my dear Nilasa...well it speaks volumes about you. Unlike the police the R.H.C. has had a fairer reputation, true, but now I see firsthand it's more than just what the dailies say." He points to Tobias. "Maybe you and your fellows can find out more from those she consorted with at the Thinking Man. A good word to the proprietor, Tad Hilly, might help you...and I also know that Barb would always draw her off in conversation whenever we and the lads went there together. Who knows? I see now that Nilasa was involved in her causes far deeper than I could have ever guessed. Maybe by not telling me she was trying to protect me from those who murdered her."
"Yet there's one more than any other I would think that could tell you what Nilasa was truly involved in, and that's Gale. As it turns out, there's one man I know whom Gale trusts, one that could possibly set up a meeting if you were so inclined to agree to terms. That man would be my Uncle Nevard..."
Willem takes notes of the conversation and then speaks up, "I will search for evidence in Nilasa's office to be efficient. We all do not need to stand here and we should hurry before the evidence grows cold. Please excuse me Mister Sechim?"
Willem walks over to Nilasa's room and begins to search the room in an orderly and respectable manner. Picking things up with gloves and placing everything that is not pertinent to the murder back without damaging it or displacing it much.
Using the evidence collection kit ...
Gemma comes in, unfortunately, towards the very end of the conversation, but she doesn't feel her turn around the building was time wasted. She clears her throat of the acrid layer that's starting to coat it and waits patiently for a a proper break in the talking.
"Master Sechim, before we finish up here, I'd like to ask you about some strangers that were here recently. Your men mentioned them and said they'd been by a couple of times to see you. They also happened to mention that their visit might have been a bit distressing."
Gemma gives Heward a moment to think but quickly adds, "However, your men also spoke exceptionally well of you."
She waits for his response, wondering what the next step will be and how best to protect him. They can't take him away from his business, but after seeing the situation here, she wouldn't trust any of the local police. She would trust Hap and Angus far quicker. Heck, she'd even trust someone from Gale's camp to protect him better than the local beat cops.
Willem takes notes of the conversation and then speaks up, "I will search for evidence in Nilasa's office to be efficient. We all do not need to stand here and we should hurry before the evidence grows cold. Please excuse me Mister Sechim?"
Willem walks over to Nilasa's room and begins to search the room in an orderly and respectable manner. Picking things up with gloves and placing everything that is not pertinent to the murder back without damaging it or displacing it much.
Willem leaves the rest even as Gemma joins the others from her perimeter walk with the guards; he makes way to Nilasa Hume's small room beyond the lounge room door where Heward described it. Unfortunately there’s not much to find: just some clothes, incidental money of some shills and pence, and a book for her to learn Elvish.
Heward looks to the newcomer, Gemma Atherton, even as he awaits a response from the other constables on his offer to them of seeing his uncle. Though he still seems mostly unconcerned about any imminent danger he himself is in, he does answer Gemma's inquiry about the odd visitations.
"Ah, the strangers. Yes they present a concern for me, having "met" with me twice and being so insistent about their offer. It's not going to deter me, or that of my work here, but I will relate to you all...please understand constables that I understand the feelings of both sides of this conflict. Gale may be many things and I don't endorse her violent methods - particularly the attempted murder on Kane Westman - but this business of the recent factory fires doesn't seem to be her doing, no matter what the Governor and the dailies say. Instead, I suspect these men who threatened something similar to my own enterprise. I couldn't confirm any suspicions though. My men couldn't track where they came from, but maybe you know something that I do not."
Heward then relates the story of two encounters with odd men he had never seen before, just over two weeks ago. The men, who smelled odd, sort of like burnt engine grease, wanted to buy a few cases of alkahest, but insisted he not report the sale. Since he sells to the government and his product is hazardous, he has to account for all his materials; so he refused. The men got angry, made some heavy allusions to the fires that have been striking around the district, and then left, saying they’d be back.
The second time, about a week ago, two different men came. Heward stalled, said he needed time to arrange something, then had the men followed. They went to a seedy part of the Parity district, away from the lake and nearer to the Nettles, but that’s as far as they could be tracked. That was a few days ago and they haven't been seen sense; Heward has taken precautions to arm himself and his men while on his property, doubling his guard during shifts as much as possible.
Willem returns to Heward Sechim's office and takes his time to return by taking in what is around him and anyone in particular who is intensely watching Willem investigate.
”As a Skyseer and a follower of the Old Ways, I would consider it an honor to meet your Uncle.” Fethryth watches Heward’s reaction to her next words. ”But, understand, Gale is a wanted fugitive. We are obligated by our duty and our vows to arrest her for her actions. I assume any terms would mean letting her leave our meeting? I have a problem with that.”
"A matter to be concerned about, for sure. I am not sure Nilasa's concerns for your safety related to it, I would be wary of most. if you have any further troubles whatever they may be, feel free to call upon me Mr. Sechim," Jesselle relates as she stands with the man as her colleagues look around.
She also continues, "I would also like to take you up on your offer. I do not know if its connected, but it cannot hurt to meet with Gale herself. Perhaps even come some sort of understanding, at least in the short term. Please speak with your uncle and inform me of the terms, if my friends her agree as well, they will be along with me."
Her thoughts swirl with the possibilities... so much was in motion it was hard to tell which would bear fruit and others a dead end and wasted time.
Emerson had been quite for much of the questioning, mostly just listening to Heward’s responses to the myriad of questions from his friends. At the mention of what the men smelled like, Emerson retrieves the envelope with the oil stained rag and produces it for inspection. ”Do you recognize it?” he asks Heward abruptly. ”I think this oil may be one of the ways we can find the men who threatened you.”
After waiting for the man’s response Emerson thinks about something else not mentioned before and pulls another item from his coat pocket. ”We also found this parchment. It appears to be a deed of ownership for a canal barge. Would you have any idea what Nilassa or Gale for that matter, would have wanted with a Danoran canal barge?”
Heward Sechim accepts the soiled rag and reviews it briefly, looking at its consistency and smelling it with some distaste. ”Hmm. To me there seem to be two different kinds of oil on this rag, but this dark-stained substance does remind me of those men I had the misfortune of meeting twice earlier. At least in the smell.” Heward inspects it further. ”It’s odd, like heavier oil or grease to coat crankshafts of machine engines, but there’s something else odd about the color here, as if it was burnt, and with a viscosity that doesn't seem quite right.” He nods and returns the rag back to Emerson, saying, ”I would assume you have alchemical laboratories and the like for analyzing this substance, but if that was an issue I would gladly do so myself with my own laboratory downstairs, though it could take a day or two to get accurate results.”
”As for the barge canal and the Danorans…well I’m afraid there’s nothing sinister or uncommon about the lake barges. Many factories own barges to ply materials across Parity Lake and the Stanfield Canal that connects us to Flint Bay and either the commercial docks at Bosum Strand or the government’s shipyards at Central. Some entrepreneurs even specialize in that trade for those like me who don’t own them myself. It is also known the Danorans have invested in such activities themselves here in Flint, just as they have ownership stake or investment in several of the factories in Parity, more so after the King’s announcement at the beginning of the year.” He frowns as he thinks about Emerson’s question. ”Nilasa would have no need of such a deed that I can think of. Neither would Gale, though I don’t pretend to understand her reasoning for many things that she truly does.”
The middle-aged nephew of Skyseer Nevard Sechim seems somewhat fatigued, rubbing his eyes and returning to his desk to sit down before the now-returned seven constables in the room. It seems he notes a difference of opinion between Jesselle and Fethryth, looking back-and-forth between them, along with a glance towards Willem who returned from Nilasa’s room. Their conversation is briefly interrupted, however, by a female supervisor in a heavy smock with a full mask in her hand, who respectfully excuses herself to the constables and relates to Heward that he is needed to approve the shift’s final batch mixtures before they commence the distillation process. The master alchemist and factory owner smiles tiredly and lets her know he’ll be downstairs soon, with instructions to begin cleaning some holding tanks before the afternoon shift begins soon. The supervisor nods and leaves, leaving them alone once again in the main offices.
”If you do gain a meeting with Gale, constable, I’d suggest you not do anything rash, duty or no.” As far as Fethryth can discern, Heward is speaking the earnest and unvarnished truth, such as he knows it. ”I do not know Gale myself, nor has she ever contacted me. I disagree with many of her extreme acts of sabotage and violence…and her recruitment of eager youth like Nilasa to her extremist cause will only lead to more senseless deaths.”
”Yet I understand the sentiments of those who follow her willingly, to a degree. In my youth I was angry and felt much like Nilasa did I suppose, revering the Old Faith and wanting to stop the injustices to my friends.” Heward smiles wryly. ”As I got older, realized I had no talents as my famed uncle, and became educated at Pardwright, I discovered my talent for equations and alchemy and became obsessed with methods of arcanotechnology, to deliver a new future in discoveries and inventions that could lead to real prosperity. You see, I’ve been on both sides of the debate, gotten into my fair share of trouble. I’ve come to realize each side – traditionalists and industrialists – have valid points and have a stake in Risur’s future. My Uncle Nevard encouraged me to find a way to bridge the divide…and I have done as best as I can here to show a balanced way.”
Smiling at the thought of his uncle, the smile turns to a sad and almost wistful expression. ”My uncle is dying, constables. He has foreseen his own last journey to the Bleak, and it is close at hand. He wanted to see clearly once again above the soot and smog, perhaps for the last time, so that if there was something that could help the Risuri people he could do his part to tell them. Right now he is deep in the Cloudwood at a campsite near an ancient henge he always loved to visit by foot in his youth. The traditionalists up there both respect and protect him, including those you might call bandits. I can give you accurate directions to go up there and find him…nearly a half-day’s journey through rough roads and game trails, so I would not attempt it after midday unless you are prepared to camp and spend the night.” Heward shrugs his shoulders to Fethryth and Jesselle. ”Gale respects Uncle Nevard, that much I know. Perhaps he can arrange for you to meet with her, perhaps not. If you do gain a peaceful audience with her, I would like for her to know from me that the tragedy of Nilasa’s death should not be repeated…that Gale should relent on using youth in her plans which will just get them killed. Tell her that for me, should you ever talk with her.”
Emerson retrieves the rag from Sechim and returns it to the envelope before storing it again in his coat pocket along with the scrap of parchment. ”Thank you for the offer. If our people come up short we may take you up on your offer.”
Once the smocked woman leaves the room, Emerson begins again. ”If you please Mr. Sechim, two more questions and I think we may be on our way. What potentially destructive devices could one make with alkahest?”
He waits for the response and follows with ”And without giving anything away, what alchemical substances are you working on that you would consider ‘top secret’? It may help in putting all the pieces together to this mystery.”
” You see, I’ve been on both sides of the debate, gotten into my fair share of trouble. I’ve come to realize each side – traditionalists and industrialists – have valid points and have a stake in Risur’s future. My Uncle Nevard encouraged me to find a way to bridge the divide…and I have done as best as I can here to show a balanced way.”
If only more people saw that way. Tobias thinks to himself, wishing that Risur could find some sort of balance and that his fellow citizens would stop killing each other.
"Sounds like the best time to leave will be tomorrow morning. Since no one weighed in, I'll just go meet with Tia tonight, then I can bring Doctor von Recklinghausen file with us on the way to meet with the Skyseer. We can go over the information together and see what else we can piece together about all this."
Willem returns from searching Nilasa room, during a break in discussion, Willem interjects, "Constables, Mr Sechim, I did not find any evidence pertaining to Miss Hume's case. However more sets of eyes is better than one set."
Gemma looks to both Willem and Tobias, as well as the other constables present. "I think probably between both you and Anneca, there wouldn't be anything missed in Nilasa's room. And Tobias, between you and Emerson, you both are more familiar with the Thinking Man than the rest of us. I know I'll stick out like a sore thumb there, so the two of you would probably do well speaking with Tia this evening. It's probably a good idea that we all make our way back to headquarters to try and get some more information on that rag before we all set out again."
Gemma then looks to Heward. "I think Constables Wesmere and Teldanona will do very well with speaking with Gale and your uncle if, indeed, an audience can be granted. As for myself and Constables Muhnee and Summers, I think we may do best in trying to track down your strangers. We may need one of your people to help us with where they were last seen though."
She lets out a small sigh. "I have a significant concern for your safety though. I understand that you cannot leave your factory, nor probably would you, and I know there would be no question of your men protecting you. But there seems to be a lot of discord and hate on the streets here and Nilasa was quite insistent that your life would be in danger. I think it would be wise that we send a separate detail to help watch over the place, and you, in our absence."
Emerson takes Willem's hint and tries to see if he can find anything of interest in Nilasa's room. After a cursory examination, nothing seems to leap out at him.
"I think Constables Wesmere and Teldanona will do very well with speaking with Gale and your uncle if, indeed, an audience can be granted."
"Woah woah! I'm not missing out on an audience with Gale! Heward said we shouldn't leave until tomorrow, so I can meet with Tia tonight. If Emerson wants to go to the Thinking Man, that'll save me from having to split my leads too, but there's no way I'm not meeting with Gale."
Tobias, with his background in diplomacy and espionage can't think of any task better suited to him then meeting with one of Risur's biggest criminals at the moment and at least trying to come to some sort of common ground, or at least profiling her personality for the the R.H.C.
Emerson nods in agreement to Tobias' comments but simply follows it up with a smile. "Hey Tobias, I can be your wingman tonight. If anything I can simply sit with some of the regulars and be a second set of eyes and ears in case she is followed."
Fethryth pinches the bridge of her nose and grimaces. "Alright, alright. It's like triage; handle the gut-wound first, leave the sore throat for later. I won't tackle Gale and clap her in irons." 'But after tomorrow all bets are off' she thinks to herself. "There are important things I need to ask your Uncle so I'm not keen on upsetting him. I think I..have..to be there"
The constable sighs. "I can't go with you to The Thinking Man, I stand out too damn much. That leaves me with a free evening, and I think I'll spend it watching after you." She points at Heward. "Paranoia's part of the job description. We don't have to spend the evening baking cupcakes and braiding each other's hair, but I want to stick around until we get a trustworthy watch in place."
Jesslle looks to Gemma after a moment or two of thought and asks, "And should we encounter trouble, especially if we are more than a few minutes apart, would we be able to help one another?"
"I am not saying that attempting to investigate different paths would be more efficient, just trying to consider matters if they were not to go well as we would like them too."
'I also agree that the safety of Mr Sechim an issue for me as well. What Nilasa said is most worrying." She says with a nod.
Emerson retrieves the rag from Sechim and returns it to the envelope before storing it again in his coat pocket along with the scrap of parchment. ”Thank you for the offer. If our people come up short we may take you up on your offer.”
Once the smocked woman leaves the room, Emerson begins again. ”If you please Mr. Sechim, two more questions and I think we may be on our way. What potentially destructive devices could one make with alkahest?”
He waits for the response and follows with ”And without giving anything away, what alchemical substances are you working on that you would consider ‘top secret’? It may help in putting all the pieces together to this mystery.”
Heward smiles and waves his hand in acceptance as if the questions are no bother to him. "That is certainly fine to answer constable - though my formulas and processes are secret, the results of the products are neither secret nor sinister in nature. Alkahest is an alchemy term for a "universal solvent" as it were, but in truth my products are acids of various potency and consistency. Most are very strong and corrosive in nature - the Risuri Navy uses my acids to etch arcane runes into the hulls and superstructures of its metal-clad steamships like the Coaltongue...as you know there are two new warships like her being laid in the naval yards. The Army has been experimenting with clockwork constructs with their new arcanotechnology research division, so that has been a newer order of fulfillment. Oh, and Pemberton Industries of course has a standing contract with me." He says proudly, "I have the finest liquid acids and corrosive glazes in all of Risur."
Heward smiles to Fethryth then, saying, "You're stubborn I see. I think my uncle will like you. How about we compromise and you return later this evening at the shift's end, and I can have something prepared for dinner while you "guard" me and we can talk about my uncle if you'd like...also I could then write up a letter for you to give him on the morrow if that would be acceptable."
Looking to the clock in the office and noting the time, Heward says to them, "The shifts are soon to change and I will be very busy this afternoon with preparing a new set of batches for my next fulfillment to the Navy, so I can only offer my lounge up here if you really want to stay. I assure you, constables, that the lads and I can take care of things for now, but if you'd prefer to add a watch detail with your clout and resources, I have no objections." He points to the window outside and adds, "As you can see, half the Parity police not on duty are at the factories anyway, so it's not unheard of."
For Willem and the rest, nothing else seems amiss of of note in the upstairs floor of Heward's factory. When asked about the downstairs walled-off area, he relates that it is his own private laboratory where he works on experiments of new products and conducts his arcanotechnical research - he has it walled off so as to prevent any accidents or mishaps with his workers in the main workroom floor. Currently he is experimenting with creating an enchanted urn that raw materials can be poured into, and after time a finished acid product is created magically. The urn and a nearby forge are not completed however, so he keeps them away from the other workers - including the more curious child workers he has employed.
Heward writes up a brief set of instructions on where his uncle's camp is located in the Cloudwood, and marks it on a basic map of Flint and the surrounding environs for them as well. With a clamoring of workers now lining up to ask Heward questions about progress on the workroom floor, he excuses himself to attend to the business of his factory.
The seven of you are crammed in the enclosed carriage, with your driver Mavery covering his mouth with his scarf up above on the front driving bench, awaiting your orders...
Willem looks at the crowd to see if anyone is watching the constables more than others. While doing that, he asks, "Where to now? Gale's since our immediate fresh trail has gone cold?"
Jesselle first looks to Fethryth, "If you are coming back here later, count me in."
Looking to the rest, "I am up for the Thinking Man. Might as well attempt to track down some more information before this evening."
"And for those that stay together, I have magics that may help so that we can stay in communication with each other." She describes the magics of the Message spell, its benefits and hindrances.
To Williem, "Thus far we have not even set up a possible meeting with Gale. We must first speak with Heward's Uncle in the Cloudwood to see if he would be willing. I know Fethryth is wanting to speak with the Skyseer and I did elude that I would be will to set up a meeting with Gale under her terms. Morning might be the best time to travel into the Cloudwater."
Though Willem is looking out the carriage window and paying particular attention to the various crowds protesting and opposing guards at the adjacent factories, he concludes there is scant attention being paid to them. Hoping that he might see some sign of someone sinister watching their movements of that of the relatively benign Heward's Alkahest & Etchings factory, he instead sees nothing of note in the smoggy gloom of Parity Lake.
A quick review of the map and instructions provided by Heward Sechim shows his uncle Nevard's Cloudwood encampment hours away , with horses or carriages possible on the roads and trails assuming fair weather.
Gemma looks to Jesselle and Fethryn and mentions that she'd like to come back as well to look after Heward. Then she suddenly gets a look on her face as if she's just remembered something very important.
She calls out the window to the driver. "Wait just a moment, please!"
"Emerson, may I have the evidence bag that contains Nilasa's note?"
She takes the bag and quickly steps out of the carriage and disappears into Heward Sechim's factory.
Covering her mouth and nose with the crook of her elbow to avoid the fumes, she calls out for the factory owner. "Master Sechim? I have one more question. It should only take a moment."
As soon as Heward comes towards her, she shows him the note with the alchemical codes and measurements written on it.
"This was found on Miss Hume. It seems to be an order of sorts but we can't make anything of it. Would you be able to tell me what it is or who's initials those might be at the bottom? It may prove very helpful in our investigation."
"Hmm..." answers a now-gloved and goggled Heward Sechim on the main workroom floor as he takes the note and peruses it. Two other workers near a large mixing vat as tall as the first story of a building come over and offer a spare damp scarf and goggles to Gemma as she stands there; the pungent acrid fumes burn Gemma's eyes and throat as she is much closer to the factory's work that before.
"Thank you Wat, Mabes...always help the constables that keep our lands safe eh? Keepin' a good eye around you too - both of you are on the roll for the end-of-week at Thinking Man's, all right?"
Both workers nod and thank him with a respectful "Good Master Sechim" and give a gloved salute to Gemma before hustling back to their positions by the vat.
Heward returns his eyes to the paper, scrutinizing it a long moment before handing it back to her. "Silvo, Deorn Feldman, D.W....no I'm afraid I don't know any of the names or initials there, and aside from the factory piers there's really no "family" wharves here to speak of - I'd assume that's all in the districts around Flint Bay."
"As far as these items go...my my that's an expensive sum for whatever's here!" Heward looks closer at the listing and shakes his head at the sum of nearly two-and-a-half thousand crowns. "I don't know what these items are with any degree of certainty you understand, but I can at least tell you they aren't alchemical in nature. Rather, they seem to be herbal or medicinal. The measurements in drams is shared by alchemists and apothecaries alike, so my guess is this came from an apothecary's shop. That's about all I can gather from it."
Handing the script back to Gemma, Heward makes his polite farewells and returns back to a review of the nearby mixing processes, with Gemma returning the goggles and scarf back to the door guards she met earlier as she makes her way back to the carriage.
Soon the R.H.C. carriage is rapidly rolling northward on the main streets of Parity Lake, their driver Mavery eager to be gone from the smog, soot, gloom and potential violence seething from the factory streets. They wind their way around the east side of the lake for a half-hour until reaching one of the main thoroughfares that tacks them northeast into the far edge of North Shore proper, the lightening of the gloomy sky and fleeting catches of salty air signaling to the constables that they are finally leaving Parity Lake behind them.
Soon enough, Mavery has them back on the main east-west boulevard of North Shore, rolling westward past large walled estate compounds, elegant shopping and dining plazas, manicured gardens and the fine splendor of Flint's elite moving about in carriages of their own, with the servants, couriers and laborers fortunate enough to serve them walking to-and-fro on various business. The playground of the elites and home to nearly all but the most wealthy who own plantation estates on the islands of the Ayres just offshore, it is said anything of idle pleasure or interest can be found here: jewelry and luxury goods, objects of art, the finest gambling houses and dance halls, the most exclusive social clubs for “lords” and “ladies” alike, exotic creatures from all over Lanjyr, and the most exclusive traders of magical and technological objects not devoted to the military or royalty. Not the mention the best tailors, chefs, doctors, healers, performers and other high-end artisans catering to even the most exquisite fashions and tastes on the leading edge of style. Of course, North Shore is known to have markets for the less approved but equally valuable commodities: the finest courtesans and “companions” of quality, the finest drugs and concoctions that black market money can buy...and rumor has it the choicest contract opportunities for saboteurs and assassins that money and power can afford, discretion nearly guaranteed. It is not lost upon the constables that burglary, extortion, murder, kidnapping, slavery and other illegal acts are part of the "trade" here in North Shore as surely as they are in Parity Lake, Pine Island or the Nettles - just that the stakes and the costs are higher, with a generally accepted notion to keep the "unpleasantness" discrete and underneath the glamor of the district's gilded veneer.
It takes Mavery some time to find the offices of Doctor Camp, but with the reference listed at the House of Blue Birds and a brief stop by the messenger and drivers pool just off the main boulevard for instructions, the constables soon come to a stop at a well-maintained two-story building just two blocks from the main road. The building is evidently devoted to new methods of surgical healing, and acts as a teaching academy of sorts for surgeons and chiurgeons both within Risur and beyond. Instructions to the place stated that Doctor Camp keeps permanent offices here and teaches at the academy often, though he does not live here.
With a white-coated servant coming over to help Mavery with watering the horses, the seven constables make their way into the building, the door opened for them by a burlier but respectful doorman at the front entrance. Within they are greeted by a businesslike reception clerk who quickly directs them to Doctor Camp’s office on the second floor, noting that he should be returning soon from morning teaching at the surgical theatre if he hasn’t done so already.
Once upstairs and at the door to his office, a respectful knock is received with a curt reply to enter. Inside there is both a formal office as well as separate sitting rooms and a cloakroom. Doctor Barnaby Camp is a portly, curly-haired man of somewhat past middle age, having gold-rimmed spectacles on while writing in some sort of ledger or journal; the doctor is dressed in fine garb befitting a doctor, with an embroidered white coat and silken kerchief tucked into a front pocket. ”Yes? Yes what is it…oh…” Doctor Camp seems curt and stern at most likely being disturbed, but is clearly surprised at the collection of R.H.C. constables coming into his offices. He sets his inkpen down and regards them with bushy eyebrows raised in surprise. ”My apologies, constables, as I thought you were the servant that is notoriously late with my request for tea and biscuits. I did not think to receive more unexpected visitors today…what may I be of assistance with in regards to the Constabulary?”
Gemma thanks Heward for his time and new information and assures him that one or more constables will be back later to "keep him company".
Once back at the carriage, she signals to the driver to get going while she talks to the other constables inside. She holds out the piece of paper all to see while she talks. "Glad I remembered this. It seems that this is a very expensive shopping list according to Master Sechim. He doesn't feel that it's alchemical in nature but more herbal or medicinal. Either way it adds up to almost two-and-a-half thousand crowns. He didn't recognize any of the names but said that "family" wharves, if that's what it's referring to, would be anything around Flint Bay. I think that's probably too much ground to cover unless any of you have some in's with locals in certain areas. Or if any of you know any apothecaries or doctor's. I know we need to follow up with the one. In the meantime, we may want to stop by headquarters so they can get that rag analyzed while we head back out."
She has a moment of hesitation though. "Emerson, maybe you can cut off a bit for us to hang on to, just in case? I'm not sure we want to give the whole thing up. And I'll copy down what's on this list."
On the ride back, Gemma will scribble down the note, word for word, onto another piece of paper before giving the original back to Emerson.
"At some point we may need to take a trip to the Parity Lake police station to follow up on Nilasa's arrest, too. I don't know how helpful they're going to be, but it's worth a shot."
Jesselle sits closely with a fellow constable on either side of her as the carraige rolls through the North Shore. she considers all that they have learned this day and is trying to put someone of the pieces together as best she can while lacking a lot of answers. She will ask questions of the others as she does so to refresh her memory on what they learned.
"Good day Doctor Camp. I am Constable Wesmere and these are my colleagues," Jesselle lists off each of their names in introduction. "We are here today to ask you about one Doctor Wolfgang von Recklinghausen. You were listed as his primary contact. Would you please tell us if you know the man and what you can tell us about him?"
The woman smiles at the good Dr. Camp awaiting his answer...
Tobias moves up next to Jesselle with a broad smile and a tip of his hat.
"And, I'm curious about who your other unexpected visitors today were as well."
Seems to a phrase we're hearing a lot lately. More leads? Or the same leads?
As usual Fethryth hangs back and lets the others do the talking. She lets her gaze roam around the office, looking for anything that stands out to her as either a constable or a healer. It’s been awhile since she took medical class and she files away a mental note to look into taking one.
Though Jesselle's greeting and inquiry is polite and businesslike, she nevertheless catches the eye of the good doctor and her smile seems to win him over almost immediately; the added words of Tobias gains almost an immediate nod and recollection of something unpleasant, and with their friendly tone they get Barnabus Camp to open up easily.
"I believe I can answer both questions for you, constables, for your two inquiries are strangely related. Would you care for some tea Constable Wesmere? For any of you? The service is slow but they do make a fair enough tea downstairs."
Fethryth finds the premises of Doctor Camp interesting, though somewhat at odds from a traditionalist point-of-view. There is nothing here that suggests Doctor Camp has any study or belief in the Old Faith, and is clearly not a "healer" in the traditional sense. Her visual scrutiny suggests he is not an adherent to the views of The Clergy either. Seemingly, his talents lie exclusively in the modern and scientific, eschewing the holistic herbal remedies or faith-based healing. Such modern practices of the chiurgeon have been said to be common in Danor and Drakr, outlawed in Crisillyir and growing in both Risur and Ber...though even in the capital of Slate these modern methods were not much more than an elite curiosity. Aside from these revelations, however, nothing seems amiss or out of place for the good doctor - certainly he has money and is well-to-do, but the books and decorations that adorn his office seem more akin to the learned scholars of Central's Pardwright University and less about the gaudy frivolity of North Shore.
"You are not the first to ask me about Wolfgang von Recklinghausen today, though you are much more polite than the appointed of North Shore's policemen - I was going to send a letter to the station commander on the rudeness of their officer's behavior, an Officer Porter by name. Perhaps if you are going that way you would deliver that missive upon by behalf? No? Ah. A moment if you please."
Doctor Camp shrugs and pauses while a servant comes in with a tray of tea and biscuits, ordering the young man to return with more tea for his guests and to be quick about it. When the servant leaves, he takes a sip of his tea and continues. "Officer Porter interrupted my teaching seminar earlier this morning in fact. Quite rude, quite rude, but he was injured with a limp and seemed quite put out as if in some distress or pain - I offered to treat his injury for free in exchange for a live review of my class of journeymen surgeons, but he rudely refused me."
"Doctor Wolfgang von Recklinghausen is an acquaintance of mine of some years now, a doctor and chiurgeon of some distinction from Arrovia." Barnabus takes another sip of his tea and reflects upon the missing doctor. "I surmise that you have come by my name as Officer Porter did, from the House of Blue Birds. I did give reference for Wolfgang there, and met him for dinner at least twice in the past fortnight after he arrived here. In fact, he did give a brief teaching seminar a week ago at my behest - brilliant mind and with keen and steady hands as a surgeon, reminds me of a younger "me" I suppose! Some of his theorems are questionable admittedly, and he delves into some topics of vivisection that are not popular in the Risuri surgical community, but much of that comes from the dour circumstances found in Arrovia, and I will attest to you that he is a man of good character. His arrival here in fact was to leave behind his backwards homeland of Arrovia and seek passage to Ber, to expand the new modern methods there...Reo Pedresco if I am not mistaken."
Gemma politely takes a cup of tea and a biscuit as she looks around the room.
She seems as if she's only barely listening to what the doctor is saying. However, with every word, she's trying to piece together all the clues they've gotten so far with any new information that he provides. It's disappointing that he's not more of an herbalist, but she feels they can find one easily enough to help with the list in evidence.
"Forgive me, Doctor Camp, but is there anything specific that you could tell us about Officer Porter...an accent or scar...anything really other than his surly nature? We were told he was equally rude at The House of the Blue Birds. Perhaps any particular thoughts about the wound? I know some skilled doctors can sometimes deduce the nature and severity of an injury within minutes of the patient walking through the door."
Jesselle nods and takes some offered tea, "Thank you Doctor."
The woman considers what the doctor has said before she asks several question, "Have you had any contact with Doctor von Recklinghausen since last night? Would you have any idea where he might go or be at present? Does he have any other friends or acquaintances that he might turn to?"
Tobias takes his hat off and shifts it between his hands as he thinks on the new information.
"Certainly no surprise to hear about Officer Porter again. Did the good Officer ask any questions that seem to stand out as particularly odd? Did Doctor von Recklinghausen have a particular interest or project he'd be working on when he reached Ber?"
Tobias frowns slightly as he asks about Ber, old family prejudices were sometimes hard to shake. "Ah, also what was his seminar about?"
"Forgive me, Doctor Camp, but is there anything specific that you could tell us about Officer Porter...an accent or scar...anything really other than his surly nature? We were told he was equally rude at The House of the Blue Birds. Perhaps any particular thoughts about the wound? I know some skilled doctors can sometimes deduce the nature and severity of an injury within minutes of the patient walking through the door."
Though Doctor Camp does not respond to Constable Atherton with as much enthusiasm as the questions Jesselle and Tobias ask of him, he nods at the keen insight to her questions. "It is true that I have skilled discernment of such observations, constable. After all, I did my part as many of my colleagues in triaging the wounded during the last war. I noticed Officer Porter was injured almost immediately - both with a limp in his right leg as well as a bandaged area around his middle. Oddly, the bandages looked freshly applied, yet there was no blood that would be the obvious product of a fresh wound. He was, I think, in some degree of pain, which influenced his rude behavior. He had an odd smell about him as well. Otherwise, I could not describe any remarkable features about the man - I would like to relate more to you, but as I stated he did not tarry after his battery of questions about Wolfgang."
Jesselle nods and takes some offered tea, "Thank you Doctor."
The woman considers what the doctor has said before she asks several question, "Have you had any contact with Doctor von Recklinghausen since last night? Would you have any idea where he might go or be at present? Does he have any other friends or acquaintances that he might turn to?"
"Ah, well our last dinner meeting was about a week ago and not last night. It was most routine, and he told me he expected for the Danoran consulate to gain his formal entry to Ber within a fortnight. You see, Arrovia of the Malice Lands does not have a consulate here in Risur, but their standing relations with Danor allows for actions upon their behalf. I wish I could tell you more, Constable Wesmere. Truly I do, though I must again insist that Wolfgang von Recklinghausen is a principled man of well-meaning intentions, not to mention possessing a keen intellect and sound faculties. I do not know what...troubles...he has become involved in, but I would ask that you treat him fairly and respectfully if you should find him." Barnaby takes a sip of his tea, sighs, and then continues. "Now then. I do not know of his current whereabouts, and he has not contacted me recently. He was married in Arrovia, but I believe that relationship ended on poor terms prior to traveling to Risur. I seem to recall he may have had another acquaintance here in Flint, but Wolfgang is a rather private fellow and did not relate details to me. A woman of education though would be my best guess."
Looking to Jesselle and then the rest of the constables in his office, Doctor Camp takes another sip of tea and says, "I suppose you won't tell me what this is all about? Even so, I have no interest in keeping matters from the R.H.C. - if Wolfgang contacts me I shall send word to you."