Gemma tries to take the older man's metaphor with sincerity, as it was intended, but then can only let out a sigh when she sees him eyeing Fethryth and talking about stars and telescopes.
"I have no way with the stars or visions and it's debatable if the air would be any clearer up there than down here. You two go along and I'll keep watch. I'll take whatever clues we can get, even if it is from stars or dreams."
Gemma takes another sip of tea before standing up and straightening her clothes and weapons. "Maybe I'll take a little stroll all along the interior but far away from the heated chemicals." She smiles a little to the two of them, knowing that it will be an incredibly short and smelly stroll, but thinking maybe she'll at least get a look out a window or something.
Jesselle watches Willem's social faux pas but as Bard departs she takes a long of her drink and than speaks with the two men..."Let us chat with the Professor's first... I think a more intellectual approach might be the way to go. " She turns to Willem, "Perhaps you can size them up first?"
She will let the man see what he can come up with before she approaches with Emerson at her side, after another long pull from her drink.
”Oh. Well, all right Gemma, if you’d prefer to,” says Heward as he stands up as she stands with a slightly perplexed but polite demeanor. ”Just be sure to pick up a scarf and goggles from the equipment room at the top of the stairs before you decide to head down to the factory floor. I would ask that you not touch any equipment…and for any reason should one of the workers ask for you to move or run please heed their instructions without question or hesitation. We’ll see you in short order then in a little while for some attempted stargazing?”
Gemma just smiles a little at the two and heads towards the equipment room. "Will do. I have no desire to get too close to your chemicals, although the process is intriguing."
Gemma heads up the stairs to the equipment room to grab a pair of goggles and a thick cotton scarf. When she puts them on she chuckles to herself a little. It all makes her feel like some kind of thief with her face covered as it is.
She makes her way downstairs, keeping a wide berth around the smoking and boiling vats of who knows what. She wants to talk to the workers, some of whom may have known Nilasa, but is reluctant to distract the men from their work. In lieu of that, she simply makes her way around the bottom floor, stopping sometimes to watch the process of alchemy and sometimes to see if she can find anything out of the ordinary.
The very mention of telescopes makes Fethryth perk up. Anything that’ll increase the chance of a vision is worth trying, especially if can shed light on this case. She nods enthusiastically but doesn’t get a chance to speak before Gemma stands up.
Gemma’s sudden departure surprises Fethryth, but she appreciates it; something’s been weighing on her mind and she’d rather discuss it with Heward in private. She waits for the door to close before speaking.
”So. You asked me about my visions. There’s a recurring one, started after I moved here, and it’s not pleasant. And your uncle’s in it.” She takes a swig of tea before continuing.”There’s a lot of blackness and scary s&#&, but then there’s this small light, and somebody’s asking me to help them ‘see one last time’. It never made sense until today.”
Jesselle and Emerson explains what Willem missed and what he did wrong.
Willem follows Jesselle towards the Professor group, "I would think to entice them, brandy would be best and then talk about academia."
Willems observes the Professor Group but he is having a hard time and shakes his head, he whispers to them, [::]"That is not my kind of crowd my fellow Constables and having a hard time reading them."[::]
Tobias starts to follow behind Anneca, but before he does he catches the bartender's eye. "Here, this should cover the nights bill, please in form my date that I was called away on official R.H.C business."
He pulls out what he assumes is more than enough to pay for the drinks and food then rushes after his colleague, thanking every star in the sky that the date is over.
"Anneca do you see him?" Tobias scans the patio hoping to find their target.
If Anneca points him out, Tobias stops the chase begins casting.
Anneca’s dagger is at hand but her shouting for the mysterious man to stop has no impact upon him; the dark-coated man darts around the corner of the patio and down a series of steps to a rearward open area by the inn’s kitchens, where a host of cooks and servingmen are cooking fine meats on a spit over fire, and an entourage of bakers are bringing up some elaborate cakes and pastries on silver trays to the back kitchen entrance. The mysterious man leaps down the steps and with a ”HA! MOVE ON!” shout runs right towards the main baker, darting one way aggressively to instinctively make the baker move while veering the opposite side to weave right around him. Bounding at the bottom of the area onto the street he takes a hard left onto it, then abruptly crosses the main street past a rolling carriage and leaps nimbly over a sizable pothole to move into a smaller side alleyway…
The action is far too quick for Tobias to even begin to bring his psychic powers to bear upon the mysterious man, so it is all he can do to keep up with Anneca and give chase. Fortunately his powers have not been wasted, but the chase is on…
Emerson stands up with his drink in hand and follows Jesselle in the direction of Hennet Rinus. He hadn’t been to the Thinking Man in a while and wasn’t as familiar with groups as Devinn. Wracking his brain, he remembers this group from an encounter with them a few months prior. Before Jesselle can speak, he gently grabs her by the elbow to whisper in her ear.
"Rat bastard!" Anneca looks over at Tobias as she puts her dagger away and starts after him. "You wanted a way out, right?" She jumps into a sprint, wishing desperately that she'd brought a scroll to accelerate her speed. As the mysterious figure easily makes it over the myriad obstacles, Anneca grimaces. A physical contest is not something that she is likely to win - but she has to try to make her own luck any way that she can.
She pulls out her badge as she comes up onto the bakers, hoping to startle them into staying in place. In her experience, people will manage to put themselves in the way as they try to get out of the way. "Don't move or I'll shoot!" The servants totally freeze out of fear and confusion, not even dropping his cake. Anneca darts past them without stopping to explain the situation. "Got another one coming! Don't move!"
The “Band” and Jered Lawman are known to Jesselle, though mainly through various R.H.C. reports on the activities of various Docker groups and their relations to possible rebellious and ultra-traditionalist factions in the Flint area. Many of its members have performed as part of troupes for the likes of Rock Rackus, Gibbs de Jape and other soloist Dockers; Jered Lawman has tried to rise his star in the popularity of the Dockers but isn’t as talented in his lyrical prose to do so. The Band itself isn’t actually a band that plays, but a collection of radical Dockers who gather to drink, play instruments poorly while drunk, and generally make mischief on the streets. Reports by Devinn LeMont suggest The Band doesn’t pose a harmful threat…though Devinn’s reports have been known to be biased in stating that about nearly every Docker soloist or group in the region. Some reports have tied their activities to rebel (Duchess) sympathies back in Spring, but neither Jered or his fellows have been charged for any such activities.
Hey look, they’re sailors! There’s a lot of sailors in Bosum Strand! It only stands to reason that some of them have the relative wealth and tastes to frequent The Thinking Man’s tavern over the cheaper, shoddier rough-and-tumble taverns elsewhere in the Strand near the docks and warehouses.
”Ahh, I see” answers Hennet Rinus with a raised eyebrow and a slight nod to Jesselle as she makes her introductions to them. Several of the other ‘gentlemen’ around the table have snide visages and superior-seeming demeanors; about half of the men ignore her opening remarks by continuing to read their manuscripts or chat amongst themselves as if she hadn’t spoken, with the other half being attentive and more congenial in their reactions. Jesselle, Emerson and Willem note that the words “murder” and “Nilasa” raise a few eyebrows, but do not garner any visceral reactions as they had with Barb the barmaid.
”Well now, I must profess that your attire, while pleasing to the eye, represents a marketed shift in the dress protocols of the Royal Homeland Constabulary, hmm?” Hennet’s jest generates a round of laughter from the group as well as from a couple of the nearby tables. ”I suppose you are working “undercover” tonight? Well it is no affront to me, Constable, yet your manners and words do not, ahem, ‘match up’ as it were to the eye.” Another round of chuckles and snide looks, with a few of them eyeing Jesselle boldly up and down her fine figure. ”Yet I detect a distinct air of fine upbringing and education in your words – far beyond that which I attribute to the likes of R.H.C. teachings! Am I correct, Constable? I think I should remember you from the grounds of Pardwright if you had admittance there, but perhaps you have had education at Pardwright? Or Mitchell perhaps?” Hennet snaps his fingers suddenly as if receiving an idea like a thunderbolt and says, ”No matter! My considerable intellect has illuminated a fine idea to give this potentially droll and chance encounter much more a modicum of appeal!”
Standing up at the table while setting down his pipe that possesses something other than Yerasol tobacco in it, Hennet Rinus holds out his hands and garners the full attention of his fellows at the table…and as it happens the majority of the patrons at tables in the common room itself. ”Hear me, esteemed colleagues! In any society there are rituals of interaction to establish authority and mark the passage of one stage of life to another.” He turns to Jesselle and waves a lazy hand at Emerson behind her and the table just beyond with Willem seated there. ”You, as law officers must be familiar with these rituals, particularly the one where you ask questions, the suspect claims he knows nothing, and you by turn explain how you will punish those who do not cooperate.”
“Yet this is an old tradition, and we live now in modern times. At the dawn of a new century, we live in what some would call a new Age of Reason. Now then, a few of the ladies and gentlemen in this fine establishment would prefer if it were an Age of Revolution!” Raising a mug from the table, Hennet salutes the tables in the common room around him as he says this, getting a chorus of ”Huzzah!” and ”Here here!” and other various cheers, raising of mugs and slapping of tables from the patrons, even as members of The Band hiss at the three constables and supply rude gestures to them while grinning.
Hennet in the meantime continues his speech unabated. ”And like a revolution, reason requires us to turn our thoughts. Always approach a problem the same way, with the same ritual, and you miss other possible paths to satisfaction. So I pose to you, constables, an assignment. Rather than convincing us that your authority is mighty and that we should quail at the thought of disobeying it, can you give us reason why your authority is legitimate? We can leave for another day the discussion of whether it serves our interest to let watchmen hold us to account for actions when we are arguably individuals of free will. Today, though, just tell us why you think you have the right to enforce the law.”
Heward Sechim breathes in sharply as if deeply affected by Fethryth’s dreamspun revelation, though her impression of his reaction is that he is not shocked by her vision in and of itself. Sitting next to her, he takes a moment to gather his thoughts and reply with purpose, not being a man who rambles or chats idly without thought despite the fact that he is socially adept. ”Well now. I am…pleased to hear this, Miss Fethryth. Truly I am. And I agree with you wholeheartedly – you have experienced a true vision of my Uncle Nevard and his desire…no…his need to see the Heavens with purity and clarity before he passes beyond the Bleak is of the utmost importance. Not just for himself, but for all of us.”
Heward sighs and his eyes are lost in thought a moment, taking a sip of his own tea before he turns to her next to him and says, ”I think if he does not do this, Fethryth, it will mean something dreadful and dire for many of us in Flint. I’m not a man who speaks excitably without cause or confirmation, but I believe in my uncle.” With a quirky smile he adds, ”I’m glad you have seen this too, that you have the sight. It warms my heart that you understand the potency of these visions, and do not dismiss them out-of-hand as so many would. There’s a reason why you have come to my door today. This is not a chance encounter, chance as it may seem. Should you have doubts as to the potency of your gift and the Old Faith, I know of no wiser mentor than my Uncle Nevard to answer your questions and dispel those doubts. I know now that you’ll persuade the others to help him as much as you can, and give a dying skyseer his last request. For all of us.”
Setting his teacup down gently, Heward looks at her intently. ”Though it may be bold of me to say, it also gladdens my heart that I am now acquainted with someone who has the sight, even as my uncle passes on to the afterlife.”
Emerson strides forth and looks down with a smile that does not leave his eyes. ”You have spoken like a true modern scholar. Why indeed do we have the right to enforce the law? For one, we are sworn constables of the RHC and could run you into the closest jail cell. But!” he holds up a finger for emphasis. ”that would be quite Parity Lake of us.”
Hill can tell the mention of arrest does make a few of the patrons uneasy but he ignores the looks and continues. ”No, sir. We understand that is an ineffective and heavy handed way of dealing with things. What we do ask is that you be rational in responses to our questions, for a fellow Risuri and frequent patron of this fine establishment was murdered, most likely by a primping Danoran fancy boy who is doing everything in his power to deflect our investigation elsewhere. Do you think it fair that a foreigner should be allowed to hide being rank and privilege, and not be held accountable for his actions? Why if we let that happen, what good is the rule of law in our lands?”
Emerson looks over at Jesselle waiting for her to help him convince Rinus into telling them what he knows.
Tobias smiles at Anneca as the chase starts. "Yes, I did need to get out of there, I owe you one."
As they move through the streets he sees the bakers and starts to slow down to work around them. Hearing Anneca's threat, Tobias grimaces and stares down the baker as he runs near. "That's right. You almost just died this night." He slides between the stunned man and a few of his workers. Since Anneca paved the way, he manages to keep up his full speed and launches himself over a size able pot hole in the road and down a side street after their quarry.
"This way!"
As Emerson anticipated, several of the "professors" throw up their hands or waggle their fingers at Emerson's feigned mention of arrest, with several patrons listening at the tables hissing and booing. Yet Emerson seems to turn it around well enough that he is against such heavy-handed and outrageous tactics, even earning a few scattered cheers and raising of mugs from nearby patrons over his words against the Danorans.
Hennet watches Emerson intently with a small smug smile playing across his lips, and even goes so far as to nod in appreciation that the constable is indeed playing his game. "Ahh! I see where you are going with your logic, Constable Hill! You know how to play to your audience it seems!" He holds up a finger at him and counters, "Yet the fact that the murder could be committed by a Danoran - or a Beran or Crisillyiri or Drakran or even an Eladrin from the old Elfaivar Empire - is immaterial to the resolution of the crime itself is it not? Or are you claiming separate justice based on nationality? Shame shame constable, you'll have to do better than that! Yet I applaud your earnest engagement in the rules of my contest."
Looking to Jesselle and Willem, he gives a rather bad flourishing bow and asks, "Well? Care to play you two? I pose the question once again - why do you think you have the legitimate right to enforce the law?"
With Tobias right behind the mysterious man, and Anneca not far behind in visual distance, the chase is on through the murkier back streets of North Shore’s upper west side. The mysterious man skirts down the smaller side street past the pothole blocking access from Sterling Boulevard and the road that the back end of The Silver Swan is situated. As they trail after him, they see that he moves past a service entrance backing up to a townhouse property, and weaves past some stacked crates towards a crudely erected wood-plank barrier fence that prevents egress from the alleyway proper.
The mysterious man nimbly leaps up to grab the top of the wooden fence and hauls himself up to the top quite easily. Turning to look at his pursuers, he gives them a mocking salute and then leaps down to the other side. Somewhere beyond the constables hear a commotion – it sounds like a group of North Shore police patrolmen are just on the other side in a larger street. ”Hey! Hey you! Where’d you come from thief! Stop right there and give us yer business for skulkin’ around after dark here!”
Anneca huffs as they chase the man, a bit annoyed at how easily Tobias overtook her. Still, she approaches each obstacle methodically, so as to move through in an efficient manner. It may not be her nature to not go full speed ahead without regard for the consequences, but she knows her physical limitations. She makes the jump over the large hole without breaking her ankle, which should count for something.
She nods to the assembled 'Professors', "Good Sirs, Ladies, why do I have the legitimate right to enforce the law?" She pauses looking at her audience, she is an performer in her own right, she normally pays to a much different audience... or are they?
"Beyond the legalese and the badge of an officer, I know I have the right to enforce the laws. Just as you," Jesselle points to Hennet, "And you," and points to any of the naysayers in the assembled crowd, "And you. We as the people who have laws have a right, perhaps even a duty, to enforce the law. Not just the laws of the land, but when person does wrong against others, we need to be able to bring them to account. And no one person is above being accountable for their actions. I not only have the right to enforce the law, I have a responsibility to do so; because I hold all to account, myself above all."
Jesselle's bold oratory concerning justice makes a deep impression across many of the patrons' tables in the common room, with many heads turning to listen to her from both the adjoining barroom as well as the upstairs balcony. There is a general mixture of nods and thumping of tables in agreement, with several patrons voicing their approval...including a rousing "Huzzah!" from Devinn LeMont peering down at her from Thames Grimsley's table.
"Well well!" proclaims Hennet Rinus in slightly deferential appreciation, his face still smug but regarding Jesselle with what could be considered respect. "Though I find your assertion rather simplistic in nature and could counter it with inquiries as to a lawful claim to duty versus mere vigilantism, it seems you have 'won the room' as it were." Hennet looks to his fellows who either smile or shrug at him and mostly return back to their own papers or intellectual conversations. Sighing theatrically, he steps forward to her after picking up his pipe from the table. "That, and you did accede to my challenge without protest, something I did not think the “royal” constables would be able or willing to do. Good show, good show!” Offering his arm to her, he asks, ”Shall we take a brief turn of the front patio, constable? I should like some air and the statue, crude as it is, gives me proper inspiration.”
Once outside on the patio, Hennet Rinus makes a concerted effort to study the statue made of flotsam and driftwood, nodding to a couple of men talking by the front door, before walking with Jesselle around the patio as if taking a stroll along the grounds of some fine gardens. ”Ahh, refreshing except for the smog of course. Now then, your inquiry on my dealings with one Nilasa Hume. Let me see, let me see…” Hennet makes a display of recollection, though it is apparent to Jesselle that he is being careful in his selection of words to her. ”Miss Hume approached me several weeks ago, apparently taking some interest in discourse with my colleagues on my year-long sojourn to Crisillyir, whereby I had been studying the excavated fossils of ancient dragons and demons near Alais Primos. Now Miss Hume’s interest was far from the worthy pursuits of archaeology and historical discovery! Merely that she found my recent experiences of the intricacies of Crisillyiri customs and culture of some worth to her. You see, Nilasa asked me to help her write a short series of correspondences to a “Monsigneur Morgan Cippiano” of Crisillyiri nationality, and wanted to impress him with her feigned adequate knowledge of their colloquialisms and writing style. We completed our bargain on writing these letters approximately a fortnight ago, and I have not had dealings with her since then.” With a sidewise glance at Jesselle, Hennet adds, ”I will deny this formally of course, constable, but I must profess that her intentions were to acquire something illegal or illicit in nature, though she did not specify what that was of course in the letters. It was something she desired from him, something that he and his “associates” could deliver to her cause. For what purpose I could not say, other than it was for a cause that was obviously dear to her...for that you would have to speak to the likes of Jered Lawman and his band of miscreants. A 'true believer' I would suspect, and it is not uncommon for zealots to die for their causes, is it not?”
Although Willem attended the RHC Academy, he is more of a rustic warrior type than a city academic. This is why he has a deep relationship with a politician and city academic because she is not looking for one of her own but the more rustic rough exotic type. Starting off poorly with Barb, he does not say much but remains friendly and lets the more academic speak. He watches over Jesse as she exits on to the patio with Hennet Rinus. After she returns, Willem suggests quietly, [::]"Let's talk to the sailors next. If they served during the war and we add a round of drinks, it maybe an in for us?"[::]
Willem observes the sailors to see if his assessment is accurate.
Willem is feeling hopeful make up for his blunder with Barb and keeping quiet around the academics to not ruin the moment with his less "refined", more rustic verbiage, [::]"I've got this observation!"[::]
As Jesselle walks off with Rinus, Emerson decides to keep their good fortune going and pulls up a chair near at the Sailors’ table. He orders a round of drinks for them all and directs a toast more towards Griggs MacBane than the others but looks around at all the men none-the-less. ”To Nilassa! A good lass. May her spirit rest in peace.” He is content to drink in silence for a while hoping the free round will loosen some tongues.
After her conversation with Rinus Jesslle returns to the others and finds them with the Sailors. She joins Emmerson, "I am sorry for your loss. Though difficult, might we ask you for your aid to help find those that did this to your friend."
Tobias curses under his breath as the man he's following nimbly navigates the terrain. When he reaches the wood plank fence and leaps over it Tobias picks up momentum and tries to follow.
His ascent is not nearly as graceful, but he manages some measure of success and manages to land uninjured on the other side. He sees Anneca not far behind and is glad for the back up when he hears the shouting ahead.
Looks like I need to work on my fence hoping.
After making at least two turns around the interior of Heward's building, making sure everything is secure, Gemma returns to the seating area. Assuming everything is well with the two stargazers, she decides to pull up a chair and take a little cat nap. She's near enough to the stairs that no one would be able to go past without her knowing and she's a very light sleeper. After years of nightmares, she's learned to go on very little, or at the very least, restless sleep. There were times, when she was a girl, that the only way she could close her eyes was if her sister stroked her hair and hummed to her. As an adult, she's simply learned to live with it.
Joining Emerson and Jesselle at the bar, being around Constables Emerson and Lanvaldan enough, Willem knew some sailor lingo to help Emerson break open those tongues, "AYE! A GOOD LASS WAS SHE!" Willem also holds his glass up for a toast.
Fethryth’s quiet for a minute, her fingers tapping absently against the table while she thinks. Finally a smile blossoms across her lips. ”Well, I am stubborn creature, and I am quite determined to get your uncle the help he needs. My magic’s entwined with the Dreaming and the Old Faith, so I’d have to be an idiot to not take visions seriously. It’d be like denying part of myself.”
The grin fades and is replaced by a serious look. She’s pretty sure he meant that last sentence as a compliment, but years of people misjudging or trying to use her gift for themselves have left her wary. Heward’s been rather honest with her, so she decides to be open with him.
”When I first came to Slate I worked as a cook for a tavern. Partly because I loved it, but also because working as a Skyseer wasn’t going to pay the bills. I’ve got the gift, and I’ve got the training, but I’ve never had big or consistent visions. S@&+, half the time I don’t even know what they mean.” She rolls her eyes and smiles slightly.
”What I’m saying is, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I wouldn’t expect your uncle to crown me his successor or something. I know my limits”
Anneca arrives at the makeshift plank fence just as Tobias leaps down from atop it, landing on the other side into a proper street to see quite a commotion brewing. About ten yards away lies an overturned cart of horse manure, the result of which seems to be a busted axle and wheel on the rearward portion of the cart as it made its turn towards the west. A cart driver and two laborers with heavy canvas aprons and wide shovels shout and argue with each other, even as they are being shouted at in turn by a full patrol of four North Shore police footmen who have happened upon the spill. Two carriages on the far side of the spill have their drivers shouting at the laborers to clear the street and for the policemen to do something about it. The fact that the normally pristine streets of North Shore should be partially blocked by the lowly calamity would be humorous, except for the circumstances which brought the constables there in the first place.
The mysterious man is confronted by three of the four policemen, who challenged his presence as soon as he nimbly leaped down from the fence moments before. One of the three now point to Tobias and exclaims, ”Blimey! Another one! What’s goin’ on in that alleyway…HEY YOU HALT RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!” The three officers have batons drawn and look like they mean to use force at the slightest resistance…yet a glance at their disheveled uniforms and slight slurring of their words suggest the patrolmen are used to taking liberties in their evening patrol route.
The mysterious man seems to understand this quite well himself. Glancing back to Tobias at the fence, he deftly twists and weaves around two of the men and ducks under a hasty swipe from the third, his impromptu dance turning into a fast dash as he looks to move towards the chaos of the manure spill as a method to evade any pursuit.
”To the dear lassie fair!”
”A fair wind blows to the Heavens!”
”To Nilasa, pulled before her time she was…”
The almost immediate collection of tankards raised at the mention of Nilasa’s name – particularly by Griggs MacBane himself – seem to confirm Willem’s astute assessment about the matter being of a personal nature to the sailors collected around their table. Griggs slams his tankard down hard after draining it, the hardened weathered face showing signs of emotion even as he shouts for a barmaid to fill his cup and be quick about it. Tad Hilly peers over from behind the bar with a scowl at the harsh tone to his barmaids, but says nothing for the time being.
Clearly Emerson’s offering of a round to them has an initially positive impact, even though the sailors remain somewhat scowling and wary of he, Jesselle and Willem as they move closer to their table; Griggs nods to Emerson slightly as he sits, but addresses Jesselle first. ”Pretty speech from before there, lassie constable. All high-minded that was, talkin’ about responsibilities and justice and all. Thing is, my lot already knows how justice works on the high seas and we have our own code, so no need for you landies to muck it all up on us.”
Griggs MacBane takes a sloppy drink once his refill is poured, and as he sets it down and wipes his mouth on a soiled sleeve he gives Emerson a bold look at his leg and points to it. ”You injure that during the war, Hill? From your toast and the way you hold your ale, you seem like you might have seen a ship as a greenhorn. Now what’s your concern with Nilasa besides all of this #$&! talkin’ up with those learned Pardwright #%%&! eh?”
Anneca bursts into a sprint, knowing that the man will get away if she doesn't speed up. Seeing the fence come up on her fast, she does what comes naturally to her: she blows it up. She conjures water from the moisture in the air, gives it form, and lashes out with it. The barrel of water sprays out with tremendous force, shattering the fence entirely. She barrels through it, not even stopping her stride to duck under it. She slows down, casually grabs a handful of coins from her pocket, and tosses them to the shocked guards. "That should be enough to make that right." It was more than the value of the fence, though she doubts with disgust that it will get to the owners of the fence.
At least she didn't light it on fire, she thinks as she starts running again. She is just a few paces behind him as he tries to make it over the overturned cart. She ponders lighting everything on fire and running through it.
Otherwise, Heward’s opinions to her feel honest and thoughtful.
”Oh, from what little I know about it, the frustrations you’ve encountered with your sight has been something affecting all the Skyseers for decades now. No one seems to know why, including my uncle. Some believe it’s the encroachment of technology and industry upon the Risuri traditions…which is why several openly rebelled with the former Duchess against the King. Others say it’s something related to a shift in the Heavens as we come to a new age.” Laughing then, Heward says to her, ”I shouldn't presume to speak for Uncle Nevard, but I’m sure he’d appreciate your honesty and humility over your gift Fethryth. Why, even when he left the Royal Conclave and came to Flint to raise me, for years afterwards there were Skyseers that came to call upon him and gain his blessing or tutelage – most were arrogant and overly prideful in their “gift” and for that my uncle turned them away. Those few he did spend time with were of humble origins and had perspective...’How can one learn the mysteries of the Heavens when they do not even know how to understand their own mind and spirit?’ he would say?”
Heward stands then from the couch, smiling politely and gesturing towards a hallway. ”Well, I’m sure you’ll do fine. In the meantime, how about I find those hand telescopes and tripods that I used to use? I’ll find a polishing rag and some cleaner as I’m sure they’ll be dusty, and with a good cleaning we three can try for a viewing on the rooftop. Excuse me.”
”Well, as a matter of fact I did serve in the Royal Navy in the last war on the Argentum. Got my leg torn up in a failed raid on Sirai. Spent the last days of the war as a POW.” He looks Griggs squarely in the eye and continues. ”I know something about the laws at sea. I know when the chips are down, every man has a duty to see his fellow crewmen make it back home.” He takes a pull of his ale to wet his throat and leans in a little to MacBane. Lowering his voice so only the immediate people at their table can hear, he says ”Now don’t go telling too many folk, but Nilassa was murdered at the Danoran Consulate. She was playing that fool guard to get on the inside and got caught during whatever mischief she was up to. Problem is, the Danorans’ stories don’t add up. The whole thing smells funny and we want to make sure there isn’t a bigger plot afoot. Think you can help us put the pieces together?”
”The Argentum eh? Naval marine then. Well, here’s to all those sorry sods who went down in the war doing their duty.” Griggs and several others around the table take a solemn drink at that, and while Griggs ignores Emerson’s question for the time being, he seems to be in recollection of the past.
”It was just after the war when I first met Nilasa…me and a few of my war mates who survived the Yerasol came here to get in on the action here in Flint.” Griggs smiles a toothy grin as he remembers. ”She wasn’t all grown up and captivatin’ the lads like she…had been doin’ lately. No, she was all spindly-legs and hunger-thin and gawky, like so many living on the streets of the Strand, Parity and the Pine. Still she had a spunk about her and a good humor, unbeaten like. I met her right down the street of this here tavern, her running little cons and the like when she wasn’t snatchin’ purses off of drunk men coming out of the taverns. Said to me ‘Griggs you’re called, like the fey – you don’t have no cricket legs or a fiddle!’ she said! Any man who would’ve said that to me I would’ve split it up his middle from groin to ribcage! But she said it and I laughed.”
Griggs drains his tankard again and sets it down, ordering one of his younger men to get a bottle of “good” whiskey from Tad Hilly at the bar, setting two crowns in his hand for the payment. He then turns back to Emerson, his face dour. ”Nilasa introduced me to this place, to Barb and Tad, to a lot of folks. She wanted to be a Docker she said, and to perform one day in the Navras even. Yet even I knew she had no talent for singin’ or music, not like what you’d need beyond the streets. It went along for a couple of years, but I knew one day she’d get nabbed up in one of her cons or run afoul of the wrong mark in a botched burglary, and like so many strays one day she’d just be gone. So I provided for her whenever I was in port – workin’ it through Barb whom I’d been friendly with during the war. I wanted to take Nilasa with me on ship and teach her the life, but she was growin’ up and filling out…well you see I had an all-male crew back then, and I couldn’t take a chance with her on board and some of them. That, and she loved the land too much, I could tell. So I heard that the Skyseer’s nephew Heward was a hirin’ with his new startup on Parity Lake, and that he was a decent sort. I talked to him once or twice here in this here tavern after Barb introduced me, and so I struck up a deal with him. When I introduced Nilasa to Heward she seemed to take a shine to him, with his famous Uncle Sechim and all, and that was that.”
”I thought I’d done right by her, but maybe I should’ve taken her with me out to sea and chanced it, and she’d still be alive.” Shaking his head grimly, Griggs turns to look at the other two constables, Jesselle and Willem, and stares at them menacingly. ”So what’s yer story, eh? Just another pretty speech to write or to get your name in the dailies with this?”
Tobias, seeing the mystery man dodge the group of officers, Tobias is confident he can do the same. Given all his training, it should be simple to slip by a haggard patrol. Unfortunately, it seems that they aren't took keen on letting a second 'thief' slip by and they close ranks fatser than expected. them. Awkwardly he bumps into one of the officers while trying to slip between them and he looks up angrily. Deciding whether or not it's worth it to show his own proof of authority.
Before he can really think he hears the fence behind him explode as Anneca bursts through and tosses a few coins in the guards directions. He's unfortunately as stunned as they are and doesn't use the opportunity to slip by.
The commotion of the fence bursting and the chaotic scene in the street does not faze the mysterious man’s escape. He moves around one of the befuddled cart laborers and takes a running leap at the manure spill just to the side of the overturned cart; with evident practice and skill he clears the spill and uses his hands to propel himself into a tumble on the other side, rolling up into a full stand. Ignoring the patrolmen completely and with another jaunty salute at the constables, the mysterious man takes off down a lane where a partially finished edifice of a mansion stands with an opened gate, the grounds darkened and seemingly unguarded.
Anneca cannot let this man get away. He might not have committed any crime, but she can tell in her gut that he is up to no good. She barely glances back at Tobias as he runs into trouble with the guards, so focused is she on the mysterious stranger. The stench of the manure hits her like a wave, nearly stopping her in her tracks. With a grimace, she pushes through it and runs straight through. Perhaps if she had more talent with the physical arts she could have merely jumped over, but instead she takes the most direct route. She gags as she moves through, clearing to the air on the other side - now just a few steps behind him.
Shaking his head grimly, Griggs turns to look at the other two constables, Jesselle and Willem, and stares at them menacingly. ”So what’s yer story, eh? Just another pretty speech to write or to get your name in the dailies with this?”
Jesselle's left brow raises at the vitriol aimed at her and Willem and replies, "Firstly, my companion here also served." She motions to Willem knowing that he could stick up for himself, but at the same time knowing she had a better way with words that usually did not end with someone bloodied on the floor.
"Secondly, I do not know the other members of the Royal Homeland Constabulary that you have met... maybe good, maybe bad, but please do not lump us all as one. Just as I would treat you, a good Captain of one of the main ships of Risur as an individual and not lump up you and yours as some of the more disreputable out there plying the waves for plunder."
"Lastly, and to answer your question directly, no. No speeches, no dailies to get my name in. As you heard already, I serve as well, just in a very differnt way than you did. I use my talents to help keep you, those who enjoy their time here, Flint, and all of Risur safe from the threats you never hear about."
She takes a moment to choose her words and get less preachy, "I go out there to do my damnedest to protect others and in this case find out who in the Bleak Gates murdered Nilasa." She stands gazing back at Griggs for any other questions or challenges.
Tobias glares at the guards who seem to close in after he slammed into them. He takes a step back and jukes to the left. As the move to intercept he spots an small opening between them and, not for the first time, is thankful that he isn't a larger man.
He narrowly dodges a pair of hands grabbing for his coat and regains his footing on the other side of the patrol, bursting for speed so he can catch up with Annec and provide her some back up.
Taking a page from the mystery man's book, he looks back with a smirk.
"Better luck next time!"
His smile dies when he sees the manure in his future.
For a long moment things grow tense at the sailors’ table, as Griggs MacBane eyes Jesselle harshly, his powerful muscles and weathered hands flexing at the table. The three constables know that it would only take an instant for the grizzled sailor to throw back the table and start a tavern-clearing brawl that would lead to many injuries…or worse. Griggs stares her down, and it is all that she can do to maintain her calm composure, but despite her youth and her lack of war experience, Jesselle Wesmere is no mewling girl to be frightened down with hard stares – what she went through on the Eminent as well as on Axis Island made certain of that.
”Well well, look at this hard-eyed lassie, eh gents?”
”Aye Griggs,” says an older sailor with even more gnarled hands and weathered face than his captain, ”she’s one to take her shots across yer bow and holds fast with the weather gage this one is.”
”A bit o’ spunk in her at that,” says Griggs as he agrees with the older man, taking a pause as his younger sailor comes back with a bottle of good whiskey from Tad Hilly’s stocks behind the bar. Pouring himself a drink first, he sets the bottle hard down on the table nearer to Emerson, Jesselle and Willem. ”No, not as pretty as my dear Nilasa, and filled with too many highborn words for my tastes, but you got a real fire in you it seems. So, constables, I’ll drink to your oath to find her killer if that’s what you truly mean to do – your true oath then, and not just filin’ $%&! papers about it, or leavin’ her another unsolved case that gets forgotten about!”
Even as Tobias headlong approaches the wreck of the overturned cart and its foul contents, the mad dash of the mysterious man – with Anneca close behind - now enters through the gates of the darkened grounds with its unfinished mansion looming before them. The mysterious man seems to know exactly where he is going, dodging around two distinct piles of boards and crates, and then up a plank ramp to some scaffolding anchored against one side of the stone mansion’s foundations. Anneca can see that the man is seemingly weaving around a corner towards where the construction work leads to the unfinished second-story of the mansion, with only a partially finished roof and frame tresses over what would likely be an upstairs dining room or large study, a completed fireplace chimney stretching up to a competing height nearby.
The scaffolding to the second story has two options to it – either left over a several-foot gap between the scaffolding and up the some makeshift wooden ladders, or right through a pile of barrels and crates to a reinforced ascending sloping ramp. The mysterious man veers left and easily clears the gap with a nimble jump, scampering up the rickety wooden ladders with ease even as he heads towards the location of the unfinished roof.
A couple of hours later finds Fethryth, Gemma and Heward atop the roof of the factory, each with a “handheld” telescope about twice the size of a naval spyglass and probably five-hundred crowns per scope, each mounted on a sturdy custom-made tripod for their convenience. He has brought a small amount of brandy in a decanter as well as a port dessert wine, with three small glasses for sipping. A makeshift table holds several charts depicting the Heavens and the major celestial objects that are known to them: Jiese, Mavisha, Avilona and Urim, with the moon of Av charted to be in a waxing crescent or “early Hunter’s” phase. Though the midnight sky is not fully clear from Flint’s smog and the rising fog along Flint Bay and The Ayres, it has dissipated enough to at least see the moon at times, as well as a brief glimpse of some of the other heavenly planets with the power of their scopes.
”I’m certain Fethryth that if you happen to stay the eve up in the Cloudwood with Uncle, well if the mountain mists are clear enough you should get a much better visage of Av than here,” says Heward jovially, taking a brief sip of brandy before taking another view from his own telescope. The factory owner has spent the last couple of hours cleaning up the telescopes for use, and also toured the downstairs shift with them in tow, checking on his people and the late shift’s work logs for anything amiss but finding all well-in-hand. Also, nothing unusual from the guards at their posts or patrols to report. He has checked on Fethryth’s telescope directly several times, regarding her intently every so often and making small adjustments to her scope for the best possible view. ”You know in just a few nights on the tenth we shall have the “Husband’s Moon” – the first Hunter’s Moon of the Summer season so-named, followed by the “Marriage Moon” for Lover’s in full-phase and the “Bride’s Moon” for the Maiden’s third-quarter. It seems the Skyseers had foreseen lots of ceremonies this time of the new year with their pronouncements! Hopefully the Summer shall see more ceremonies such as that as compared to the Spring…”
Gemma seems to have ill-luck with spying out the various celestial objects besides the occasional glimpses of the early Hunter’s moon…which is still bright enough to nearly blind her if she stares at it directly for too long with her telescope. From the roof she can look out over the dark and polluted waters of Parity Lake, and notices for a brief time a dark line of barges that trail westward across the lake before being lost in smog and early-morning lake mists forming up. When asked to Heward Sechim, he shrugs and merely says, ”Uncommon to be out at this late hour, and technically against city regulations because of the darkness and lack of visibility. Yet like some of the factories you see still belching out fumes at this late hour, some industry refuses to let up, wanting to be the first to get their goods to port. The lake barges would be heading west towards the Stanfield Canal, though they would not be unloaded to Bosum Strand warehouses or transferred to docked ships yet, as the dockworkers in both the Strand and Central docks won’t work before the near-dawn. At one point I wondered how much might be pilfered off to black market ships or warehouses in Pine Island, but it’s a known fact loaded lake barges can’t handle the rough seas of Flint Bay and would founder.”
Emerson looks for shot glasses to pour the whiskey but, seeing none grabs the bottle from Grigg’s and takes a pull from the bottle. ”You have my oath to find her killer” he says holding the bottle for Jesselle or Willem to take.
After rubbing her eyes a minute to get out the soot and moon-blindness, Gemma gets a small pad of paper out of her pocket. She makes a note of the number of barges and where Heward says they might be going. Thinking it might help somehow, she takes another quick look trough the telescope, seeing if she can tell which factories are "belching out smoke" at this hour.
By the stars, I'm still hungry...and bored...really, really bored. I don't know that soot and and a few barges will lead to anything, but one never knows, right? Worth a shot anyways.
"If you two don't mind, I think I may go back downstairs soon and grab another spot of tea before our shift is up. We should be out of your hair soon Mr. Sec...I mean...Heward. Hopefully, you'll be able to get back to your normal business within the next few days."
Single-minded Anneca won't let him escape, even though a footrace does not lend itself to her natural talents. She focuses instead on her natural talents, sending another blast of water ahead of her rather than try to leap over the gate. The force of the watery whip smashes a hole in the side of the fence, clearing the way for her briefly. The destructive power of her spell leaves an open path for her, but it is probably too chaotic to help Tobias once the wood and masonry finish landing.
Jesselle nods her head to Griggs in respect. As Emerson holds up the bottle Jesselle takes it up, "My oath. Finding those responsible for Nilasa's death." She than takes a pull from the bottle... She swallows feeling the burn all the way down but plays it as if not a thing in the world bothered her.
She holds the bottle for Willem.
Willem takes the bottle and he toasts to the sailors, the constables, and if Barb has come back out, "You also have my Oath, to find the culprits who are responsible for Nilasa's death and bring them to justice, Dead or Alive!" He also takes a swig but like all those who have served in the military, he swallows the whiskey with ease. Then waits for another toast. If none materialize, he takes one more swig to reaffirm the toast, then sets the bottle down on the bar. Can not be getting intoxicated in here and while armed.
Griggs nods firmly at both Emerson, Jesselle and Willem at their promises to him, though he does take on a grin at watching Jesselle down the whiskey. "Aye it's a good "vintage" I'd guess you say lass, that you can be sure of!" Yet he doesn't continue his jesting any farther, his face becoming solemn once again. "Here's to it then with you three."
Taking another drink for himself, Griggs motions for all three of them to come closer for his next words. "Just about a week or so ago, Nilasa comes to me and asks me some questions about a sorry wretch of a bilge-captain that plies the Pine Island routes across the bay. Smugglin' is what I mean here constables, black market goods. Nilasa wanted to know if I knew a Deorn Feldman, if I knew if he was any good at what he did, and if she could trust him to get the job done." Shrugging his shoulders and with a look of distaste at the name, Griggs continues on. "Well I said 'no' I said, no and that Feldman was a sorry sod and a p#$$ poor captain at that, losin' his prior boat on account of bein' pinched by runnin' in daylight, and runnin' aground at least two times I heard of before that."
"Last time I bumped into he and his crew last Winter, Feldman was workin' for some Pine Island small-time boss and nearly got dumped into the bayous for being so poor at his job, and it'd be lucky if he could pilot a rowboat. But then this boss of his gets disappeared in a sudden turf war over there, and other local bosses of the Pine are soon wiped out too, taking out each other in a series of feuds. Only by Spring someone new is settin' up shop over there, someone from the outside with lots of resources. Deorn Feldman was somehow lucky enough to get a piece of it, so maybe he wasn't as stupid as I thought. Got a new ship too - single masted cutter - but I don't remember the name except it wasn't a proper Risuri name. So he's back in the smugglin' trade and has a shiny new boss to run for, and word is he knows he's gotta make good on it."
"So I told all this to Nilasa, but she said she had an 'agreement' with this new outside group, had something comin' in soon from them and she wanted to know if Deorn was up to the job. Said she had to use him regardless, but wanted to know the tally in case she had to bring in some extra friends of hers to keep him honest. She had a cause, Nilasa did, but I really didn't want to know more and Nilasa knew not to push that with me neither - don't tell Barb I ever said that 'cause Barb doesn't want to hear that little Nilasa had grown up and was playin' grownup games over there with higher stakes. But that's all I know. Deorn Feldman of the Pine, with a new ship to run goods for his new benefactors. What and when it was though, well I don't know."
Willem grabs the bottle of whiskey again, issues a toast back to Griggs, and takes a swallow once more, then hands the bottle to Jesselle ...
"Unfortunately Nilasa got in over her head but so far we don't see a justification of killin' her in cold blood. Like we said, we will get to the bottom of this. Do you have anything else for us to make note of Mr. Griggs before we continue our oath to you?"
"No, nothin' more, other than I don't think Deorn Feldman was the cause of it," answers Griggs with a slow nod. "She was all caught up in the "cause" after Ethelyn's Rebellion, and spent a lot of time with that Lawman twit over there and his 'Band' of misfits - all talk of revolution and changin' things but no action...like most of these Dockers do. It all sounds good until yer guts are spillin' out across the deck and your mate's head is blown clean off from a broadside. Then the talk doesn't sound so fine eh?"
Taking the bottle of whiskey back, he tosses a couple of crowns to the older man and says, "With this news I'm in a mood to drink hard, and don't want to break the faces of these pukin' turds around us, so I'm headin' back to the ship. Make sure the men get back in one piece by midnight. We set sail with the morning tide for Gailsward Cove."
"Aye, capt'n," answers the man who seems to be his first mate, and with that Griggs stands up and leaves both the table and the tavern. While the sailors at the table don't seem to have any issue with the constables being there, the talk turns to other trivial topics important to them, none of which pertain to Nilasa Hume.
Willem gets up from the sailor's table, "Please excuse us, while we love to talk scuttlebutt with y'all we have an oath to fulfill to yer Capt'n."
With that he leaves the table, waits for Emerson and Jesselle to follow ...
- SUCCESS!