Willem whispers to Emerson and Jesselle, [::]"I am sensing that Jered Lawman and The Band are about class demographics. This may be the hardest one yet especially if they think we are cops hired by the wealthy to restrict them or what they would say, put them down? Constable Wesmere, you may want to be less refined with these folk than you have been?"[::]
A handful of hours later, Fethryth and Gemma find themselves sleepily eyeing each other from opposite benches of the smaller 4-person R.H.C. enclosed carriage, their driver taking them down the last stretch of the southernmost Cauldron Way into Bosum Strand from Parity Lake. The air is now actually chill in these early morning hours, and the streets are quiet with the pre-dawn fog rising here and there in clumps and patches. Working along Cauldron Way is the fastest route from Sechim’s out of the Parity Lake District, through southernmost Bosum Strand and to the Northgate of Central District proper, though at night the route by the ominous Cauldron Hill can only bring chills to their spine unassociated with the air. Their driver said that his horses can travel “the Way” without being spooked, but that’s not a guarantee for all horses.
Heward gave is goodbyes and retired to bed at 2am, professing that even a partial insomniac such as he needed some sleep in order to be effective for his morning shift’s workers. Truly the factory seems to be well in-hand, and so both constables decide to leave back to Flint Branch HQ where they can at least get some shuteye in a makeshift cot and refresh themselves prior to the morning eight o’ clock briefing – plus they have their day’s reports to fill out beforehand. So it is off to Central by the way around The Nettles and the infamous Cauldron Hill, with the full gloom of Parity Lake turning to the softer salty-aired soup of Bosum Strand until they can reach the walls of Central and make through the gate. For them of course, no trouble in passing at this time of night is to be expected.
Gemma eyes Fethryth but says nothing, with Fethryth wondering if Gemma is thinking of something to say, but not doing so. Weary eyes flicker back and forth as well as down at the benches, the carriage floor, the drawn shades on the windows. Neither constable is known for their talkativeness and the hour is beyond late, but what has been seen in the day of 1 Summer suggests the new day of 2 Summer could be just as interesting…
Tobias grimaces as he sees the cart and it's contents strewn all of over the street. It, however, does not slow him down much. As he nears the mess he holds his breath and dives forward. His form is perfect and he's hardly concerned that he'll get any of the fould stuff on his suit.
Landing safely opposite the obstacle he rushes forward and sees a number of barriers still to overcome before he can catch up. Not quite ready to use it, he dips on hand into his coat pocket and fingers on of the power crystals he keeps on him at all times.
Last resort. He thinks, but he doesn't let it go as he keeps running.
Tobias enters through the gates of the unfinished mansion’s grounds, seeing a elaborate display of wooden scaffolding by the mansion’s foundations, with Anneca and the mysterious man farther up the scaffolding ramps and around the corner to its front far side. At this point Tobias cannot help but think that the mysterious man is making his way towards the top of the building’s partially finished roof…which is all but certain to trap him up there with no chance of escape. It makes no sense, but somehow Tobias knows the mysterious man did not come all this way with intent just to trap himself – there must be another purpose.
Anneca sees the man clambering up the last elements of the scaffolding ladders to the unfinished roof after he veered left over the gap, while she herself tacked right and barreled through the barrels and crates to the easier-ascending sloping ramp up there. She’s just about to the end of the ramp before the unfinished roof when she sees him on it himself, using his agility and skill to nimbly walk across roof beams and wide gaps in the construction of the expensive tiled peak roof. The man makes his progress across the unfinished roof seem easy, but one misstep would send him falling through to the stone foundation over forty feet below. With a final twist and leap, the man tightrope-walks the last roof beam and deftly jumps into a high observation “gazebo” tower with an elegant dome roof but open to the air at its sides. Oddly, he seems to relax as soon as he’s inside, as if he’s safely made it to his intended destination.
For Anneca there are but two options: either leave the scaffolding ramp and go across the ascending peaked roof beams and gaps in the roof tiles herself, or from nearby scaffolding attempt to climb up the iron framework of what appears will be a spiral staircase from the unfinished second story up into the observation tower itself.
Emerson waits an appropriate amount of time after MacBane leaves the table before getting up himself. He waves over to Tad Hilly behind the bar and motions for another round of drinks for the Sailors courtesy of Hill himself. ”I’m going upstairs.” he says to Willem and Jesselle. ”Meet you back down here to talk to the last group in a minute”
He trots on up to the second floor and hovers over the table with LaMont, Dane, and Grimesley. After trading a few insults with Devinn, he exchanges pleasantries with Thames and laughs loud enough to draw the attention of those below, and hopefully that of Jered Lawman.
True to his word, he comes back down and joins his companions before approaching ‘The Band’ with two pitchers of Redcap in hand. He sees a few of the men look Jesselle up and down and turns his head back towards her. ”You do the talking. You’re much prettier than I am.” Setting the pitchers down he manages his best smile and starts off with ”Evenin gents. Mind if we could have a seat with you for a moment?”
Anneca follows, breathing hard at the exertion. She doesn't have the acrobatic skill of her target - but she does have a near-endless supply of both grit and paranoia. She follows towards the roof beams, but she has to take it slowly to prevent herself from falling to a sure injury. She nearly slips off one of them, righting herself at the last minute. She looks back to see how far Tobias is behind her, then turns her attention back to the man. "Looks like you're cornered. Why don't you come out with your hands where we can see them?"
As opposed to scrambling around looking as if he is cornered by Anneca, the mysterious man simply laughs at her coldly. "It seems you've learned a thing or two in your time with the Constabulary - I must admit it was poor observation on my part that I did not see you of all people at the bar. This does make it far more delicious however, little meat."
As Emerson she looks to the band and comments to her two friends, "I may not be the best one to talk with this group, they 'might' see me as part of the problem merely for the life I was born to." She nods to Willem thought, 'I will do my best..."
She follows behind Emerson...
She nods to The Band, "We would ask for your help, as much as you are willing to give mind you, with finding out who killed a young woman that you know, Nilasa. We believe that she got mixed up with some highborn who either go her got her into more trouble than she knew about... Or, one of them might be responsible for her death. We were wondering if you might look beyond who you are helping, to stick it to someone who you don't like even more?"
She looks about the assembled group and to their leader, Jered Lawman, "Point us in a direction at the least?"
Gemma sits just a foot across from a woman she doesn't know at all. She wouldn't even know where to begin. She knows she likes her personality and her moxie but isn't really sure about anything else. Either way, she's the first one to break the uncomfortable silence.
"So...how long do you think this is going to be awkward? I mean...sorry...that didn't come out quite right. What I meant was, do you think we'll ever all be a close team? We never really got off to a great start."
Gemma looks down at her boots and then back out the window. "You know, on second thought, nevermind. Every time I speak, I remind myself why I don't talk a lot."
”Oh me darlin’ I can most assuredly "point" you in whatever direction you’d care ta go,” answers the halfling Docker named Jered Lawman, ”with my wee-little pinky no less! HAHAHAHAHAAAA!” Jered places his ocarina in his lap and references his little finger in an obscenely rude gesture to her, even as he takes a sloppy drink from an oversized tankard with his other hand. Almost immediately the rest of “The Band” busts out laughing and guffawing, with several challenges and gestures to both Emerson and Willem while another one plays a discordant jig on his lute and dances in place.
”There once hailed a kingsman from a p!$$ bucket…”
”Three Cauldron witches pulled down the King’s britches and…”
”Wee da ley wee, lie dee da lie, my father was a sorry sod who ate the rich lord’s pie. His lickspittles came and snatched me poor dad up, and ere dusk his bits lay boiled for the lord to give sup! But we, the merry Band, keep hid our nasty bits! There’s better things to feed on lads, such as the…”
The irreverent and mocking limericks and jigs go on for a minute or so, each trying to outdo the other in making the three constables angry, uncomfortable or both. That is, until Jered Lawman waves a hand and quiets them down, he himself standing on his chair to give equal height on par with the constables. ”Well well now, that was a fine little speech you gave earlier – I must profess you have a gift of the muse in yer oratory. But what I want to know is this: who here among ya three will raise a mug with me and drink to me toast…DOWN WITH THE ADDLED KING, ALL HAIL ETHELYN AND THE RETURN TO WAYS OLD AND TRUE!”
Even as Jered drinks down his ale and throws the mug down to the ground, his bandmates cheering him and doing the same, he watches the three constables for their reaction and next words to him. All around the common room some patrons cheer as well, though a great many scowl and grumble at the toast, with some even pouring out beer to the floor in a display of anger at the toast. Even here in The Thinking Man with Docker culture and anti-establishment sentiment running strong, the name of the former Duchess and her rebellion are not universally admired. Whether or not Jered Lawman knows this and is simply baiting the constables, or truly believes in her rebellion’s stated goals, remains unclear to them.
No sooner does Gemma utter her words and turn back towards the carriage window then she sees a blur of movement coming towards her that she cannot react to.
"THUNK!"
Shattering the thin glass and part of the wooden panel shutter is a war arrow with a black shaft, crimson fletchings and barbed steel tip; the arrow bites deeply at a downward angle into her right shoulder just above the lung, narrowly missing her cheek and neck by mere inches. Blood sprays across the inside of the carriage's damaged window as a result.
Tied to the arrow's shaft seems to be some sort of parchment and twine but before either Fethryth or Gemma can react to it a second arrow is heard coming towards the carriage at its rear. "THUNK!" It lodges into the back of the carriage with a disturbing cracking sound and pierces through the thicker wood paneling, the barbed tip dangerously close to where Fethryth's head was resting by only a couple of feet.
"ON NOW! HEEAAAA!" The next sounds are that of the exposed R.H.C. driver above them on the front bench, cracking his whip and urging the two horses to a full gallop; the carriage starts to bounce and slide the two occupants around as the driver attempts to put as much distance between them and the ambush as possible. The whip and shouts intermingle as the carriage bounces down the cobblestones at the far end of Cauldron Way, just a hundred yards or so from the walls of Central District and the Northgate...
”F*$%” Fethryth lunges forward, grabs Gemma around the waist and drags them both down to the carriage floor. She covers Gemma with her own body as much as she can while making sure not to touch the other woman’s injuries.
Being this close gives her a good view of Gemma’s wound. ”Just keep your head down, everything’s gonna be fine. Nothing I can't heal right up for you."
Emerson is all smiles during the trove of limericks and insults thrown at the three. At the last toast his eyes narrow and his temper boils over. He takes the mug of ale that he had been sipping on and tosses the contents full into Jered Lawman’s face. He shakes a finger at him while resting his right hand on the grip of his pepperbox menacingly.
”It’s easy to poke fun and belittle others while you whine about your sorry lot in life. While I have empathy the working man, your perceived grievances with us does not justify your words. We’ve battled both men and fey alike in defense of this country, In defense of YOU! So you can sit here and mock us? You wouldn’t last five seconds on the line in any battle my ‘friend’.” He says the last with dripping sarcasm.
”Now, you can cut this nonsense out, or my friends and I here can treat you in the same manner as you have with us. Be warned, that you won’t like how the conversation ends.”
Sputtering and dripping with ale, Jered Lawman blinks twice and curls his mouth into a scowl, only to look down and see Emerson’s hand resting on his weapon. It seems that the halfling Docker suddenly realizes things are getting all too real for him here. Several members of “The Band” shout in outrage at Emerson and take threatening steps forward…but they are only marginally more threatening than The Professors, and while they have numbers they don’t seem to have the gumption to back their leader up in the showdown.
”Easy! Easy then - no more jibes then since you can’t handle a little fun…” Jered plops down on the wet chair sullenly, putting his hands out in a mock display to be shackled. ”You arrestin’ me, kingsman? You oppressing me now, me and my mates on account of…”
”HILL!” Tad Hilly shouts from over behind the bar, the barroom and common room as well as the balcony above growing quiet at the confrontation. Tad steps around and snaps his fingers for two burly-looking Dockers to stand up, with Tad himself wielding a stout iron-capped truncheon. ”Hill, you draw your piece in my place, and laws or no I’m gonna have you dunked in the bay by your good foot for breaking the peace here.”
”YOU SEE TAD?!” shouts Jered Lawman as he points at Emerson and tries to gain the proprietor’s support. ”He’s OPPRESSING ME he is!”
”Shut yer vile vomiting mouth,” answers Tad Hilly coolly, his hand tense and his eyes still on Emerson, ”or I’ll have it sewn shut for spewing your bile and riling things up out-of-hand. This here is a respectable place for civil talk, a place for ideas and thinking and not just p!$$#$#% on my floor just because you got a grudge with half of Risur. That, and your music is terrible…I should boot all of ya out just for that alone!”
A rousing chorus of laughs echoes across the tavern at Tad’s insult of The Band, seemingly just enough to lighten the tension a bit so as to not have a full brawl erupt in the downstairs. Tad Hilly smiles at his patrons for effect, then looks back to Emerson Hill and the other two constables. ”Your call on what happens next,” he says.
Entering through the gates of the unfinished mansion Tobias rushes into the construction area and immediately regrets it. While attempting to jump over a pile of supplies his foot snags on something and he just barely recovers, thrusting an arm out to prevent himself from falling.
I've lost all the ground I gained back near the bar. He thinks to himself angrily. The crystal in his hand begins to pulse as he begins to ready the psychic energy in it. He'd get to the mystery man one way or another.
Emerson looks over at Tad, and relaxes his stance a little. He puts his hands up in a placating manner as he turns back to the proprietor. ”Technically, I have not drawn anything. Except for your ire which I regret.” He bows his head a little before continuing. ”See? I was just having a little fun with these guys. Dishing it back out at them, as it were. Although truth be told, I may have taken it a little too far.”
He shrugs his shoulders a bit and looks back at the visibly shaken Jered. ”Sorry about that Jered. I guess Docker humor and Navy humor don’t quite mix as well as I thought.” He points at Jered and flashes him a big grin. ”You didn’t think I was serious did you? That was just a joke. Pullin’ your leg is all. No hard feelings?” He offers the hafling his hand.
Gemma hits the floor of the carriage at an awkward angle with a loud "THUMP!" and can't help but cry out.
"What the...?!?! They f~@&ing hit me with an arrow!" The sting of surprise is matched by the pain where she's been shot. She knows it's not life threatening but the position in the carriage and Fethryth on top of her makes the wound extremely uncomfortable. She briefly notices the parchment attached and makes a mental note to read it when she's not bleeding.
"Can you see anything?!?! What's going on?!?"
Gemma winces in pain again and grabs at the arrow to try and steady it as the carriage bounds forward, hopefully, out of harms way.
Jesselle stands there and crosses her arms across her chest as the halfling rants on. She is surprised at Emerson outburst but found it quite appropriate right up until he said he was joking. She lets out a light sigh at that.
"Seriously, would you really know you were oppressed? You sit here in this fine establishment, drinking away, playing... whatever that was you were playing. You sit here freely saying basically whatever you wish, and yet your are oppressed? How does that work?" she says raising her arms in wonderment.
"When there are people out there," she points out the nearest window, "In the dark, that have maybe the clothes on their back, a hunk of rotting bread, and a squalid corner to curl up in. Are you," She points to the halfling, "Doing anything to help them? You are a king to them, sitting on your throne basking in all this..."
She looks at the halfling and his mere 'band' with a pitied look, "I am asking nicely for you to help someone who you obviously knew. Either help, or don't but do not waste either of our time with feigned oppression."
”Daft…you’re daft man,” utters Jered Lawman as he looks at Emerson in a state akin to shock, eschewing his offered hand. He blinks twice as if to wake up from something. ”Bloody crazy you are…”
”C’mon Lawman, let’s get gone from this bilge and find someplace more fun to play,” says one of the Dockers of The Band, with other members muttering to each other and a couple already hefting up their instruments to head out the front doors to the patio. Barb quickly comes over with another brief scowl at Willem Muhnee, and goes about curtly telling The Band how much they owe for their tab tonight before they leave, causing more grumbling and a tossing of shills and pence to the table. Around and above them at the other tables, the conversations turn back to more normalcy, the brief standoff soon forgotten.
Jered Lawman finishes wiping his face off from the ale thrown at him, and grabs up his ocarina to stow it in a small leather satchel, even as he extracts a full crown to give to Barb directly. He ignores Emerson Hill completely and doesn’t even look at him now, but his jaw moves in anger as if he wants to say something that’s on his mind. By all accounts it appears their encounter with The Band has ended in a failure to learn anything about Nilasa Hume’s activities, yet right before Lawman leaves as the last of his troupe he gives Jesselle a nod. ”Walk with me,” says Jered curtly to her - and her alone - before exiting the common room.
The mysterious man nonchalantly reaches over in the observation tower and picks up what appears to be a dark-colored amulet or pendant, putting it around his neck even as he laughs menacingly at Anneca. He then turns his head to peer down at Tobias, raising a hand to his mouth to help carry his voice to him. Oddly, his tone is neither menacing nor rude to Tobias, but almost respectful and professional to him.
”Constable Tobias Utegg! I know of your record and your service to our country. I know that you performed admirably at Axis Island to capture the former Duchess and bring her to justice. I would label you a patriot, Constable Utegg. I am a patriot of Risur as well, and as a fellow defender of Risur’s honor I implore you to cease this investigation of the traitorous Hume girl! Her killer is already known to you, the security chief who defended Danoran soil against a heinous robbery. You have all that you need to lay this matter to rest. I implore you to do so now.”
The small R.H.C. carriage jostles and bounces along the cobblestones of the end of Cauldron Way, until it turns south and merges at the circle with Guild Street just north of the Northgate. Their driver shouts a cry of alarm at several nightwatch guards as they pass through the thick walls of what was once the edge of the city well over a century ago. ”Alarm! Attack! Alarm! The carriage was struck by arrows!”
Soon there are other shouts and cries of alarm by men both up on the walls and down at the always-opened gates, with the carriage slowing down just beyond the other side of the walls. A half-squad of musketmen trot out from a guardhouse and rush to form up a line of men obstructing the gate entrance, peering north towards the Bosum Strand side to see if they spy any signs of movement or additional attacks. A harsh knocking at their carriage door is followed by a gruff-sounding officer addressing them. ”Constables! Are you hurt? Did you see those that attacked you? Are you exiting the carriage now or driving on?” At that they hear their driver hesitant with indecision – the status of the R.H.C. is such that they are not required to stop here, and can order their driver to drive on all the way to Flint Branch. The choice is theirs…
"How come he gets credit and I don't?" Anneca inches her way closer to the mysterious man. Having cycled through possible known persons and come up with no possible leads, she begins cycling through unknown persons. Considering the evidence - his knowledge of her, his surveillance of Tobias, his disdain, his agility - she narrows it down to a single suspect: the assassin that she thwarted from killing Logan Milsup the previous year. "I could light the building on fire if that will make you feel more at home. Your face must be red from recognizing me," she taunts, knowing that he will understand the message if he is who she believes he is. The assassin left her with several scars on her face, but she repaid him in kind with her fire.
Gemma HP 18/24
Gemma tries to right herself as the carriage slows, holding onto the arrow as best she can so as not to exacerbate the pain. She gives a "THUMP!" on the side of the door with her fist and yells out to the driver. "Drive on! We need to get to headquarters!" Gemma has no desire to stop and chat. She just wants distance and to get the evidence to Flint Branch intact as quickly as possible.
She yells out to the unknown officer as well. "Keep an eye on the road! You see anyone with black arrows and crimson fletchings, detain them!"
Lawman leaves as the last of his troupe he gives Jesselle a nod. ”Walk with me,” says Jered curtly to her - and her alone - before exiting the common room.
Jesselle looks at him with a skeptical look before she finally and nods... As the halfling walks away she looked to William and Emerson, "If I am not back in five minutes, please coming looking for me...
She than follows the halfling.
Jered Lawman and Jesselle Wesmere walk out together to the front patio of The Thinking Man’s Tavern and its noted flotsam statue, the night air still muggy with a slow fog rising out in the bay beyond the docks. Several members of “The Band” head down the street towards the larger Musing Way, starting up a newly-famous tune by the celebrated Docker Rock Rackus, entitled “Too Poor to Be Lazy.” Jered, however, does not instantly rush to join them, but instead loiters by the statue as he looks up at Jesselle, evidently deciding something in his mind.
”Look, I’m gonna make it clear I’m gonna be no stooge for the greycloaks and your witless puppet King that you serve – he’s a downright puppet of Danor with strings leadin’ all the way back to Cherage he is! I supported the Duchess because she was right about that part…and now the Danorans have their grubby fingers in all our pies here in Flint, and elsewhere. The Duchess knew that, Gale knows that…and so did Nilasa. You kingsmen spend your time tryin’ to hunt down Gale and havin’ your blackboot police dogs arrestin’ good folk…or worse…when the real enemy has been right in front of yer sorry noses. Doesn’t take no wars for them to invade and corrupt our ways these days.”
Jered has his smaller chin jutted out in defiance, but his next words are unexpected. ”But your words just now struck a chord in me, because it was the exact same kind of thing Nilasa said to us back in Spring to just stop drinkin’ and talkin’ about the movement, and actually doin’ something about it. Said we was all talk, she said. Said we should do something to show we were more than puffed-up preeners. She was right, and she was doin’ something about the injustices against the people.” Jered looks away from Jesselle and out towards the bay. ”Now she’s dead, murdered by those filthy Danorans who are up to somethin’ bad on us, but the cause goes on. This only proves she was right, and Gale was right. You should be helpin’ Gale, not hunting her down.”
”Nilasa was workin’ a job directly for Gale with what the Danorans were up to, and had her confidence - had one of Gale's own tokens to prove it, a necklace and charmed pendant. That, and Nilasa was also workin’ a deal to bring in the goods needed to fight the usurpers, if ever it was a comin’ down to a fight. One of the Cloudwood bands up there is led by a true Risuri man named Renard Woodsman, and Nilasa had fair dealings with him to help get things where they needed to go between here and there. That’s all I’m gonna tell you, constable, but if you actually aren’t a liar and mean what you say about helpin’ the poor and oppressed here in Flint, you should listen to those that are fightin’ the true fight. I can only hope to do my own small part with what I’ve been given.”
"I'm not in the habit of taking advice from strange men who run me ragged through the city!" Tobias shouts back, wondering if Anneca can take a shot at the man. "Why don't you come here and show me your credentials, then maybe we can talk?"
He'd be unnerved at the casual tone from the stranger if it wasn't for the fact that the man had proven himself capable in the chase. Obviously he was no ordinary person. What was worrying was how much he knew about their current case.
He hears his colleagues taunts and wonders what history the mage has with their spy from the restaurant.
”Don’t pull that out” Fethryth cautions as Gemma grabs hold of the arrow. ”It’s keeping your blood in your body.”
As they continue down the road she moves so she’s not on top of Gemma anymore. With the way the carriage is rocking it’ll be hard to heal the wound, so she holds her magic for now.
The elf reaches out and pats Gemma on the knee. ”You’re doing fine. Let me know if you feel like you’re going to faint.” She pauses for a moment, then says ”I’m awful at the whole ‘social’ thing too. But, yeah, I think we’ll get there.”
Gemma HP 18/24
Gemma smiles a little. "Don't worry, I'm too pissed off to faint and I'm certainly not going to pull it out. I'm just trying to keep it steady, for what it's worth. I'm guessing it's just like the one that ended up near your head. If I'm lucky, they'll be able to push it through without too much damage. Although, I may need a little hand holding when that happens or at least something to bite down on."
It's the first genuine exchange that the two women have had since they met, and the thought of Fethryth being there when they get the arrow out is somewhat comforting, in its own way. "Bonding through crisis, I guess?"
Jesselle listens to what Jared has to say and waits until he is done. "Thank you, Lawman I hope your information will help us."
She than politely adds, "A word to wise, things are always more complicated than we might see them. The Duchess for instance, was not out to help those of a living on teh streets. I saw how she and those loyal to her killed and murdered for their cause. Just as the situation our King finds himself now. I do not have the answers, but I suggest you go out there and learn, become knowledgeable about the things you wish to criticize. Learn the truth... it is what I intend to do."
With that she gives the halfling a respectful nod, "My thanks for speaking with me. I wish you well, Jared Lawman."
She departs and returns to Willem and Emerson with what she has again learned.
”Great work everyone. Let’s get out of here and write down all of our leads while they are still fresh in our minds.” Emerson walks over to Tad and puts another few coins on the bar and gives him a wink before joining his fellow constables. On the way out he remarks to Jesselle ”I’m sure glad that Halfling decided to talk to you. I think I might have shot him after he spilled his guts just for being a self-righteous little ignorant piece of @#$%.”
As Constable Wesmere walks up, she can see Willem checking his RHC pocket watch checking the time, he keeps his voice low, [::]"Welcome Back Constable Wesmere! I know it didn't take you long to talk to Mr. Lawman but when people start dividin' us to discuss matters with them, I get a worried. Especially the more uptight ones like The Band."[::]
Willem nods his head in agreement, "I agree, let's go 'n' review the information you two received and the evidence we already gathered. I am glad you didn't shoot the halfling even though the twit deserved it. Hate to see you lose your career over the ignorant Emerson. I still need to brush up on my city livin' and diplomacy."
The two constables hold on together through the violent jostling of the carriage at full gallop, even as they race through the broad and well-lit thoroughfares of the Central District: along Guild Street and through the Flankgate, to Cheshire Boulevard, to the Penrose Circle and along Penrose Street, up to Old Bell Lane and finally to Gladson Way. As they approach the outer walls of the R.H.C. Flint Branch Compound, their driver blows a series of short-and-long whistle notes twice in succession – apparently a signal changed daily to alert the guard detail and allow for swift entrance through the front gates. Gemma and Fethryth hear alarm bells sound in return, and as they slow to make the turn into the compound’s gates they hear the shouts and orders of soldiers in alarm to ‘protect the carriage’ and shoot down any hostiles in pursuit. Their driver shouts out ”Billiards!” as a code word and is immediately through the front gates and past the entry block; only once within the outer yard before the turreted blockhouse does the carriage roll to a stop.
There is no polite questioning or knocking at the door – two Risuri army soldiers in their black uniforms with the forest-green trim open the door and instantly go to work in extracting the two lady constables from their seats, checking each for the presence of wounds and shouting the injuries to their sergeant. At least Fethryth is on her feet, as almost immediately Gemma is carried over towards a cot-like stretcher being run out of the main blockhouse by two other soldiers, with a third older and balding man dressed in R&D robes running forth to start prodding and pressing her blood-stained shirt around the arrow wound. ”Not as serious as it could’ve been, not as deep,” murmurs the support-staff healer, extracting a scalpel from a chiurgeon’s satchel and starting to remove buttons and cloth around her chest and shoulder clinically. Besides the pain, all-in-all it is relatively embarrassing with so many soldiers around her, but she forgets her unease as the arrow is extracted suddenly from her, the pain sharp and shuddering. ”Apologies, constable,” says the healer matter-of-factly, ”but worse to talk about it much…and I need the arrowhead checked for poison.” Before Gemma can reply he places a hand unceremoniously upon her chest and utters a prayer to the Old Faith, the warmth of healing energy surging through her and easing the pain immensely . He checks the closing of the wound afterwards and grunts a note of satisfaction, then produces a clean cotton blanket and lays it atop her for both warmth and modesty.
Meanwhile, Fethryth goes over the attack with both the driver and the nightwatch sergeant, even as several soldiers are extracting the second arrow from the carriage and pouring over it for any other signs of assault. She interrupts the sergeant in order to get her hands on the now-removed first arrow from Gemma, taking off the attached note before it is hurried away to the blockhouse for examination of any poison. Before she can read the note however, a hard-looking man with blonde hair, a severe scar across his face and the cadence of a practiced swordsman with a sabre at his side approaches from the blockhouse, the insignia upon his uniform indicating his first lieutenant officer’s rank: Lieutenant Cason Dale, the ranking officer of the R.H.C. nightwatch.
”Constable Atherton, Constable…ma’am,” says Lieutenant Dale with a slight hesitancy that he doesn’t know Fethryth’s name. Yet he continues anyway in a no-nonsense attitude. ”I’ll need a full report on this by dawn, constable, for Captain Umurn. If you have description and location of your attackers I can sally forth a squad to go back out with you, but it looks like that’s a waste of time if this occurred outside the walls of Central.” His eyes narrow at the bloodied and folded note in Fethryth’s hands, and while he orders his men off to give both constables privacy in reading it, Lieutenant Dale himself remains nearby to hear it himself.
For this, We, the Chosen of the Seeds of the Everburning Flame, condemn Gemma Atherton to death by vendetta, in a manner of our own choosing. We grant Atherton a grace of three days to set her affairs in order, and to make whatever amends and atonements necessary before passing through the Bleak Gate. All friends and associates of Atherton be warned that, should there be any interference in the Chosen obtaining righteous justice for this act, their lives shall be considered forfeit and consumed by the Everburning Flame as a consequence. Do not stand in the way of the Chosen and their quarry. This is Our final word and warning.
”Ech…Vekeshis and Seedists,” utters Cason Dale, spitting in distaste upon the ground for emphasis. When the pair of constables look at him, he merely shrugs and explains as if it is obvious. ”Looks like you’ve run afoul of the cult of Vekeshi mystics in these parts, Constable Atherton. Those who never let go of the lost Elfaivar Empire and their fallen goddess. Nasty, radical group they are – I studied the Dark Arts for a time at the Battalion and been subjected to the Trials of Cauldron Hill once before graduating…mostly Bleak Gate and Old Demonocracy lore, with more modern emphasis on witchcraft covens, counterwarding rituals and anti-possession charms…even wrote my first thesis on it to try and go that route. Anyways, my Dark Arts instructors did talk about these Vekeshi cults running about here and there. Big on vengeance they are, and fire of course. Somethin’ about an “old stag” leading them around these parts. Sorry to say that it had some popular notions with the academy cadets in my time, what with their notions of secrets, power-mongering…and access to the Dreaming to cavort with the Fey, if you’re willing to pay the fickle price. Not my brand of whiskey, if you take my meaning.”
As the three constables walk down the street away from the bustle and liveliness of The Thinking Man’s Tavern, a fourth figure comes up behind them from that direction, giving a little whistle that they recognize as friendly. Constable Talyssa "Jet" Dane smiles and without prompting takes the arm of Emerson Hill, adjusting her scarf about her neck in the nighttime air. With almost equal surprise she holds out her other arm and with a whished swoop her clockwork raptor familiar, Skimmer, lands upon it and clambers up to her shoulder, giving the other three constables a tinny screech in recognition.
”Well, that was interesting downstairs!” says Talyssa to the trio, chuckling openly. ”Dev thought for sure he was going to have to come down and mollify Tad Hilly when it looked to turn sour. You know, when you threw the mug in Jered Lawman’s face!” She laughs at Emerson and shakes her head. ”Devinn wanted me to tell you it was a good thing you threw your ale at Lawman and not any of the sailors you were talking to before, or else we’d all be sitting in a holding wagon with black eyes and bloody noses. Said to tell you he's thinking of calling you either 'Quickdraw' or 'Nodraw' from now on, but hasn't sorted out which.” With a exaggerated sigh she adds, ”Anyway, he’s staying back to talk more business with Grimms…I mean Thames Grimsley…and to see if he can pick up on any residual talk from what you three stirred up. Anything solid turn up?”
While Anneca is certain that she has never seen this man’s face or description before, there is something about his voice that is both familiar and chilling to her. Yet it is the burning hatred in his eyes that confirm her well-reasoned supposition: somehow the mysterious man is actually Grannan Telbor.
”You talk boldly, Anneca Summers, but we both know you were merely lucky that night – you will not catch me unawares with wizardry the next time we meet.”
The mysterious man Anneca now knows as Grannan Telbor turns and gives a shout down to Tobias in the scaffolding below, again showing a sign of respect to him. ”I am afraid good sir, my days of displaying credentials and conducting mission briefings are well behind me now. Please believe me when I say I admire both your commitments to duty and dedication, but your efforts in this regard will only serve to harm Risur, not help it. I implore you to see reason, and close this case with the ample evidence provided.”
Though Tobias cannot see it from his vantage point, to Anneca it seems as if the man is slowly losing his color – even his black coat and hair seem to be turning shades of gray, though it is possible she is just seeing incorrectly in the poor light and encroaching fog. Grannan still makes no attempt to move from his position in the tower, instead turning his head to regard her once again, his face returned to one of fury and hatred at seeing her. His voice starts to sound hollow now and is too soft for Tobias to hear from below, but Anneca can make it out perfectly.
”I assure you little meat, the pain of your burning my flesh shall be returned thricefold! Hide in your dead friend’s lavish little gilded cage all you wish, but she is no longer here to protect you from me! Nor is the entire city warded beyond your confines. Sooner or later you will make a mistake, and I shall be there to collect on it.”
With that the mysterious man now known as Grannan Telbor starts to change, the color draining and then darkening to appear almost as if he is made of living shadow, even as the features of his face and arm starts to distort and change, like unblotted ink running across a page. The clothing is no longer fine as a gentlemen’s suit should be, but seems more like the coat of a uniform or nondescript livery, utilitarian and functional. The face he wore for them distorts and turns to that of Grannan Telbor in truth, with the skin from the left side of his face burned, scarred and in some places missing altogether, including most of his nose and left ear. He leers at her with that horrible face, the teeth showing through a gap where part of his left cheek should be, giving his terrible grin almost a skeletal appearance. What is more terrible to Anneca, however, is his scarred and burned left arm: the arm’s lower extremity actually seems to grow and elongate, the digits of his left hand lengthening into sharp claws even as it turns completely black in color, the claws twitching and pointing to her as if longing to tear out her throat. Even more oddly, his right arm darkens but remains otherwise unchanged.
In those last moments, Anneca sees Grannan Telbor for who he really has become – something not only burned and scarred from their last confrontation, but twisted and mutated to a shadowy thing that defies explanation. The last thing she sees of him are his eyes burning with hatred, and that leering gaping smile. Then he simply seems to fade from existence entirely, not moving in the slightest from his place in the observation tower before disappearing.
Tobias and Anneca can hardly believe it, as there was no incantation, utterance of command or any indication of dweomercraft used to do it. It simply doesn’t add up. Anneca’s rudimentary studies on teleportation magics, not to mention Tobias actually having directly participated in such teleportations at the Cloverdelve Circle in Slate, suggest the man simply did not teleport away with the illumination, signature cracking sound and rush of air associated with the intensely powerful process. He simply faded away to nothing. While it takes a few minutes for them to carefully climb across to the tower safely, upon inspection they find only one oddity that stands out to them: a rough makeshift circle made of bent iron bars from the manor’s construction lies upon the gazebo tower’s floor, clearly having some sort of purpose. Yet this is no teleportation ring, with no etchings or inscriptions on the bars whatsoever, and no trace of feysteel silver or other reagents that would be required. The iron bars also radiate no magic to both of their cantrips, and if it was teleportation they both believe there should at least be some residual trace of a conjuration aura there still, but absolutely nothing is detected.
Exhausted from chasing her shadowy would-be assassin down, Anneca examines the location as meticulously as she can. Teleportation in such a manner is thought to be impossible - but so was magical flight, for many years. There is still much they haven't discovered about magic, even though the pretentious professors at Mitchell University would say otherwise. As Tobias makes it to her side, she looks up from the evidence. "It's a good thing I spotted him. I ran into him before I was with the R.H.C., while I was working as a bodyguard. He came one night to kill my employer, and it didn't work out for him. It took a lot of research just to learn his name: Grannan Telbor. He is a legend, and not many people believe he actually exists. I don't know if he was planning on killing you or your date tonight, but he probably would have succeeded if he had tried. Were you close enough to read his mind?"
• Mission Status: First Tier Verdant Seer with Staff on Crossed Bars
• Resources Assigned: Dauntless Team
2) Investigation of Gale terrorist cell contacts within Flint (focus on known Dockers in Bosum Strand and list of inciters in Parity Lake, possible links to eighteen factory arson fires and 40+ deaths)
• Mission Status: Second Tier Verdant Seer with Staff on Vertical Bars
• Resources Assigned: Alastair Rayne, Devinn LeMont
• Note: Undercover status approved by ACI Delft
3) Search for “Ragman” serial-murderer in Parity Lake district (18 deaths officially recorded, coordination of investigation with Parity Lake Police Inspector Filby)
• Mission Status: Second Tier Crimson Wolf with Spear on Three Starbursts
• Resources Assigned: William Coin, Talyssa Dane; two full police squads assigned to search detail
4) Investigation of death at Danoran Consulate (confirm relationship to Gale, if any, and promote full disclosure of evidence by consulate to R.H.C. without diplomatic incident)
• Mission Status: Third Tier Azure Bull with Rose on Starburst
• Resources Assigned: Emerson Hill, Anneca Summers, Tobias Utegg, Fethryth Teldanona, Jesselle Wesmere, Willem Muhnee and Gemma Atherton
”So let me see if I get this straight.” questions Chief Inspector Stover Delft in an irritated huff, looking at “The Seven” constables arrayed before him in the briefing room before looking back down to the large pile of 1 Summer constable briefing reports and R&D forensic analysis reports on his podium. ”I send the ‘Axis Seven’ out to collect up a body at the Danoran Consulate, which I had hoped would have been Gale but assumed I wouldn’t be as lucky as all that, and which you all find out is a foolish young nobody named Nilasa Hume, intent upon stealing Danoran treasures in some hair-brained con and heist she concocted up and failed at…wait wait where is the morgue report on Miss Hume?” Delft looks up again irritably to Researcher Effram Mifrain for the right report, which Mifrain turns to a nervous Junior Researcher Trellen standing at attention with another stack of reports, pulling one from his stack and producing it for the Inspector.
”Here you are sir.”
”Excellent…yes…yes right here it assesses her death most attributed to gunshot wound from a pistol…though the range of impact seems to be somewhat inconsistent on this analysis…yes well in any event she was killed by Chief of Security LeBrix. Correct? He confessed to doing it. But you all don’t think he did it, and that he was lying to protect someone else…” Delft goes on to summarize their differences at the consulate with LeBrix’s official story, the inspection of the nearby alleyway, the House of Blue Birds with the missing doctor, the wounded “Officer Porter” who was trailing after (and possibly wounded by) him, the review of Nilasa Hume’s arrest record in Parity Lake as a petty criminal, and the interview with Heward Sechim on his uncle’s premonition of Nilasa’s death and possible ties to Gale in the Cloudwood. After this, Stover then says, ”It’s clearly more than I expected, I’ll grant you all that. But then you go on last night to…try and ferret out intentions with Miss Hume and various Docker groups at The Thinking Man’s, even as two of you clandestinely meet with a Danoran consulate staffmember to glean state secrets and get noticed, while the other two of you…how do I say this…spend the night with the slain girl’s adopted father who also happens to be the nephew of a famed old skyseer that may have ties to Gale.” He leans forward to stare at each of them. ”Do I have all of this right?”
”Don’t forget the part Chief where Heaves over there gets shot by an arrow and has a blood-vengeance pact on her head,” quips Devinn LeMont from his chair in clear glee at the late night developments.
”I for one would like to know how two of you cornered a person-of-interest in a tower and had him disappear right in front of you,” comments Alastair Rayne thoughtfully, but with a slight tone of criticism all the same.
”I for another want to know how well those two both “protected” the Sechim nephew,” chimes in William Coin with a wicked leer at both Gemma and Fethryth. ”You “protect” him in turns or both together?”
”Coin, LeMont,” interjects Inspector Delft caustically, ”shut up the both of you.”
”Yessir Chief!”
Talyssa Dane is the next to speak, her thoughts going back to the encounter with the “mysterious man” and his disappearance. ”You two are certain there were no somatic or even verbal components before he disappeared? No residual traces of magic?”
”And what’s the name you said there Summers in your report…Grannan Telbor?” Alastair Rayne wrinkles his brow in concentration. ”That name seems familiar to me for some reason, though I’ve never met the man. Do we have an official record?”
Researcher Effram Miffrain chimes in then, referencing a ledger in his hand while addressing the constable’s question. ”No ‘Grannan Telbor’ ever on the R.H.C. rolls, and strangely no reference in Flint’s Hall of Records this morning on him, though I would like to cross-check with Slate Branch for…”
”No need Miffrain,” interrupts Stover Delft without looking up at him. ”Telbor is known to the R.H.C., but the records are ‘Sealed to the Inspectorate’ and under Slate Branch purview. Let’s keep this just to the room from now on until I say otherwise.”
”Yes, Chief Inspector,” Effram answers simply with a deferential nod.
”Now then…” Delft flips through two of the briefings by the constables and then irritably tosses several to the floor, only to be dutifully picked up by Junior Researcher Trellen before standing back at attention. ”So none of this really tells us who murdered Nilasa Hume. Only that you seven are convinced the Danoran security chief did not murder her as he claimed, and that the Danorans have fabricated evidence to conceal something else. Any of you - not you LeMont – any of you seven care to tell me what you would even guess as a perpetrator, a motive, and why we should continue devoting resources to this mission?”
Anneca, now wearing her uniform and weighed down by an unhealthy number of scrolls for a wide variety of situations, is the first to offer a reason. "Well, for one, one of the most dangerous assassins in the world was watching us as we investigated. You know from my report that he is aware of our investigation and wanted us to end it. Someone is paying him, and I doubt he comes cheap. Whoever his employer is wants this to go away, and I don't do well when told to go away quietly."
"All right Summers, I suppose that's a fair assessment at that," answers Inspector Delft with a grudging nod, tapping his fingers atop some of the case files while he leans on the podium stand. "I don't agree with 'one of the most dangerous assassins in the world' mind you, but it's not the first...ahem...ahh Researchers Miffrain and...whoever the new one is...that will be all for now...except that I'd like the analysis on the soiled oil rag brought to me if that happens to be ready."
"Yes, Chief Inspector." Effram Miffrain bows in acquiescence and motions for Junior Researcher Trellen to head out the door to the briefing room, closing it behind them. Delft waits until they are gone before continuing his line of thought.
"Now this is 'Sealed to the Inspectorate' by general rule, but it's not the first time Flint Branch constables have heard the name 'Grannan Telbor' before, so I'll authorize the information I'm about to share with you and square that away with Slate Branch. Telbor was a spy for the Risuri Special Service. Far from their best in the agency mind you, but not a greenbuck either. Like so many in that corrupted agency by its end after the war, Telbor was considered too much of a risk to be considered for a R.H.C. transfer when the R.S.S. was disbanded. Naturally we had him observed, and naturally he gravitated towards mercenary security work and shadier dealings for those with money needing discretion in Slate, but nothing sinister enough to call for his incarceration." Stover spits with his usual flair into a nearby spittoon and looks at Anneca then. "He was out of sight for several years, until Makala Fileccia reported he was operating in Flint, just a fortnight or so before the arson and attempted assassination at the Milsup mansion...you remember a thing or two about that, eh Summers?"
"What you do not know is that Makala was running down activities that potentially linked Telbor to two other "accidents" of Flint industrial financiers before Logan Milsup. Reasons unknown, but this is why she went undercover on Milsup's private security detail. After your fiery tangle with him Summers, the trail of Grannan Telbor went completely cold...no pun intended. Makala had some credible evidence that the rogue spy was being backed by a benefactor with both wealth and power, but no names ever surfaced - not even speculated ones. The case was sealed and that was that. Until yesterday it seems."
Tapping the briefing reports once more, their boss moves them around until he finds Anneca's report on the chase, musing over one of her last paragraphs. "This part that you saw where his arm went dark and...grew...the part with claws? There's nothing whatsoever in Grannan Telbor's sealed history with the R.S.S. or any of Makala's briefing reports that mentioned anything like this. Either you mistook what you saw last night, or something has changed with the man since the Milsup mansion incident."
"Sir." Emerson interjects. "While I was not present for that encounter, I would suggest that Anneca's description of the man was accurate. We've seen stranger and stranger things ever since that night on the Coaltongue." He's sure he'll get an earful from the Chief, but he continues. "A few years ago I'd call you daft if I heard stories of the like. But since Axis Island? I'm willing to suspend my disbelief when it comes to the security of the country."
”I was…killed. Murdered. Murdered by that terrible man who found me…I was too slow, too long. Found me the man did and his face was smiling at me, but it was a false face, a face of death. Turned…to…shadow. The shadows moved and I ran for the window, to freedom, but he was always there! How did he do that? Slashed…my face…with his cruel talons. It hurt so much, so very very much, and I could not see, but I did not stop. Then I…hit…and flew with my charm…I was free! The air rushed about me and I felt I could soar to the very clouds! But…it was not enough…and I fell…and…hit again. Ohhh. Pain, so much pain and I knew what had happened to me…OHHHHHHhhhhhhh!”
Gemma starts to tap her fingers on a wooden desk nearby, faster and faster until she finally turns to Jeselle. "I think I've got something. Remember what Nilasa said? And what I found when I examined her?"
Knowing that most of the people in the room have no idea what she's talking about or haven't read her prior report, she goes on to explain with a quick sigh.
"In my report I wrote down what the shade of Nilasa Hume said when Constable Wesmere questioned her. Miss Hume was very specific about the person who murdered her." Gemma looks up a few times, trying to recall the exact wording. "She said something about the man having a false face or face of death and how he turned to shadow and then clawed at her with his talons."
She looks to Delft. "It's all in my report, sir. Including the physical examination findings that showed claw marks on her face. I examined her myself less than an hour after her death."
Gemma then looks to Anneca and Tobias. "I'm thinking we may have found our killer?"
Anneca crosses her arms, a bit grumpy that a great deal of information was available to her and only held back because of secrecy rules. It had taken her months to find out the assassin's name after cross-referencing hundreds of reports - but Makala had known the entire time as she searched in vain for more information. She feels a lump in her throat at her friend's lack of trust, even though she was following protocol. She brushes the hurt away to discuss the case. "He's certainly capable of it, and the description matches my own observations. I knew that I had burned him badly, but that was beyond mere burning. There was something wrong with him, something dark and evil and unnatural." She reaches up and touches the scars that mar her face. "He left me with a few scars, but it seems I got the better of him after all."
Jesselle sits and listens to what is said during the briefing. The new information is enlightening but only adds more questions.
"But something could well have happened between then and now, Sir." adds the young woman as she thinks aloud, "Turning to a shadow... with claws. This sounds a lot like what Nilasa's spirit describes and the evidence within the consulate of the marks spotted by Anneca, Willem, and Tobias.
She looks to Delft, "Sorry Sir, I know you want proof not supposition. If you are looking for why we should continue, Nilasa has been connected to a known terrorist, Gale, and we might have a way to gain more about her."
She sits back and gives a shrug, "Thin as it is, perhaps it is worth looking into it?"
Stover Delft watches his constables intently, listening to the reasoning of Emerson, Gemma, Anneca and Jesselle. "Yes, it is at that," he says at last. "Not necessarily a thin set of observations to go on; more that it's complicated, contrary and confusing - typically the realm of more veteran and experienced constables, some would say." He looks around the room to see if there is any dissenting opinion on the value of pursuing this matter further, but finding none. In fact they all seem to feel an palpable energy in the room that there is something real to this mystery.
Delft breaks the silence by, predictably, throwing a barb at Emerson Hill for his prior comments and pointing a finger at him. "Suspend your disbelief all you wish, Constable Hill, but it seems to me that you were simply duped by LeMont here into running down all of his local leads on the Gale Contacts Case for him last night." With an irritated look at Devinn LeMont who smiles and merely bows at his seat, the Inspector takes another spit of leaf into the spittoon and looks over at the mission assignment board.
”So the assertion is that Miss Hume’s killer is Grannan Telbor and not Julian LeBrix, that she was murdered for reasons inconsistent with the Danoran consulate narrative, and that we assume Telbor is acting on the orders of another…what is the Arrovian doctor’s involvement in all of this and is it intentional or accidental?” Delft once again thumbs through the reports looking for something. ”Hmm…aside from all of that, we apparently know Miss Hume was associated with Gale and acting upon her behalf for a purpose, including stirring up local contacts in the city with various Docker factions. I agree with you, Constable Wesmere, that the connection to Gale is one that cannot possibly be ignored – while her wanted status has been reduced to being a local threat of Flint Branch since the rebellion, she is still wanted for the attempted murder of Kane Westman and probable involvement in these deadly factory arsons…I’d even throw her in for these recent quakes if I could credibly manage it.”
Delft spreads his hands wide to the room. ”So. You have these spider strands of Grannan Telbor as your primary suspect, the ferreting out of what the real motive for Nilasa Hume’s heist was, a missing foreign doctor that may or may not be her accomplice, the very intriguing connection to Gale with the old skyseer fellow, and the possible involvement of other factions in the city attempting to inform and supply her.” He glances furtively over to Gemma before adding, ”Let’s exclude this threat from the Vekeshi radicals for a moment as separate business. How then do the seven of you proceed?”
”While we were investigating I noticed that someone’d picked the lock to the Consular’s office.” Fethryth interjects. ”I’m assuming it was Nilasa, and that means she could have gotten away with some very important papers. Why she’d give them to the doctor is anybody’s guess, but it would explain why he’s running and why there’s someone frantically chasing him down. If that theory’s right then it begs the question of why the Danoran Consul is trying to cover it up.” She shrugs. ” Maybe there’s something there they don’t want us to see.”
”As for where we go now, I want permission to meet with Nevard Sechim. Both for the connection to Gale and for his Skyseer abilities. The only vision I get anymore is him asking for help ‘seeing the sky one last time’. I think it’s too important to ignore.”
”And, one more observation.” Her voice turns icy and drips with disdain. ”Finding a Vekeshi vendetta funny”.. she turns and glares at Devinn LeMont ”You know, If I wanted to kill myself I’d climb your ego and jump down to your I.Q”
Gemma can't help but smile at Fethryth's quip, but her seriousness returns with the thought of the vendetta.
"Don't worry about it, Fethryth. I've been on LeMont's short list since day one. I'm sure nothing would make him happier than to see the vendetta play out."
But then she looks to Delft. "Yes, sir. I suppose we can exclude the threat for now. That then would give me approximately 48 hours to continue this investigation. After that, I suppose I may be off the case in one way or another."
The statement was supposed to have some humor and wit, but Gemma can't quite muster it. Most of her wants to tell the Vekeshis to go f@!@ themselves but there is that young girl part of herself that does have pause about the situation. She knew that killing Sorkana would have consequences but didn't quite anticipate a vendetta killing. Ultimately, she knows that if it's her time to go, then it's her time to go. She just doesn't want the bastards taking anyone else down around her, which is exactly why she hasn't shared the information with her sister.
Trying to change the subject, she brings up another point. "Has anyone considered the fact that Grannon Telbor may be Julian LeBrix...or at least posing as him? Usually assassins and that type are pretty good with disguises and it seems as if Telbor has some extraordinary abilities. Maybe that might be an angle to pursue, but I'm in agreement that Fethryth should visit Nevard Sechim, probably sooner rather than later."
”And, one more observation.” Her voice turns icy and drips with disdain. ”Finding a Vekeshi vendetta funny”.. she turns and glares at Devinn LeMont ”You know, If I wanted to kill myself I’d climb your ego and jump down to your I.Q”
Emerson sputters a semi-concealed laugh as he looks over to Devinn at Fethryth's comment. "I.Q." he whispers as he points to LeMont, now fully trying not to lose it completely in front of the Chief.
Quite the contrary to showing bruising from Fethryth's insult, Gemma's derision and Emerson's snickering, Devinn LeMont actually grins at Fethryth and gives her a salute as if to say "well played" in her barb. From his appraising look, Fethryth realizes he will now take an active interest in verbally sparring with her in the future, whereas previously he has largely ignored her since her arrival at Flint Branch.
Inspector Delft cuts off any continuation of the repartee for now, giving Devinn and Emerson hard stares before nodding at Gemma. "No need for the fatalistic talk Constable Atherton. I'll authorize a protection detail for your residence and request Captain Umurn to pick two of her finest." He spits once again and looks at the mission board again, apparently deciding on something.
"LeMont. Rayne. Since Hill, Wesmere and Muhnee here have made such progress on Gale's dealings inside the city, I'm giving these seven here your case. In place I'm assigning you two the first-tier mission assignment of ferreting out this Vekeshi threat against our own." Stover leans forward and clenches his fist for emphasis. "I will not stand for such a bold attack and lethal threats against our people. Use the detail as your diversion and go dark if needed, but bring these radicals to ruin."
Both constables nod, and though Devinn LeMont does not seem happy about the abrupt mission change, he is wise enough not to comment about it in front of their boss. Delft in the meantime continues to review the mission assignments.
"Coin. Dane. I cannot pull you from this Ragman hunt for another three days - Saxby has given assurances to Mayor Gohins after all. But while in Parity Lake, see if you can find any connection between the prior arson fires and this account of strange men trying to extract illicit dealings from Heward Sechim. Maybe there's a connection we haven't considered regarding the factory fires."
"As for you seven. I would love nothing better than to bring Grannan Telbor to account for his crimes. The solving of Miss Hume's murder to full satisfaction is authorized for another three days, but that alone is not enough to pass skeptical scrutiny I'm afraid. So, you'll be adding the secondary assignment of these dealings of Miss Hume in Flint City and her Gale sympathizers to your mission, arresting any that you can prove aid and abet her cause. Thirdly, I want you all to see how much useful information you can glean from this Sechim connection in the Cloudwood...for now this is a gathering of useful information and scouting of Gale's movements only. I leave it to you seven in how you wish to proceed, but after three days I want to see solid and actionable results."
Tobias continues leaning against the wall, listening to everyone speak, and keep himself uncharacteristically quiet. He'd missed a lot while they'd split up, but he and Anneca had quite an eventful night too.
That they'd run into Hume's real killer, that he had been a spy, and a spy that knew Tobias' service record all made him uncomfortable. That could have been me in a couple decades. He thinks, recalling all his training. I'd be a fool to think they don't still keep tabs on me too. He finds himself tapping his ring against his necklace rapidly and forces himself to stop.
And because we're so busy we need to trust LeMont to keep Gemma safe. He'd realized he was starting to think of the seven as a separate entity within the R.H.C., maybe the next elite team. He's so lost in thought he nearly misses Feth's quip but manages to provide him with a bit of levity he could use at the moment. With a smirk he shakes his head as though to clear it, and looks at the rest of his colleagues.
"Well, I'm definitely in for meeting Nevard Sechim. Whenever we do, it should probably be before we start arresting Gale sympathizers, you know, if we'd like to secure any sort of meeting with her. If we're lucky maybe we can even take her in first."
Stover Delft nods at Tobias and looks around the room for any opinions on the matter, for or against. Finding none, he says, "Well then Utegg, since you and Teldanona think that's the priority, let that be your agenda for the seven of you today. Requisition out horses and/or a carriage as well as any essential provisions for a day-trip to the Cloudwood. I'll ask Umurn to post spyglass spotters just in case...Summers you know your way around pyrotechnics signaling scrolls so take one with you, just in case."
Spitting in his spittoon, Stover adds firmly, "Remember, this is a meet-and-greet, and at best a scouting mission. Try to give us a useful foothold up there, which we've not been able to do to-date. No engagements, even should you suspect Gale is close by up there. I don't need to fill out the paperwork for seven missing constables, after all. I'll expect you back before the day's end, so come find me in my office as soon as you return back to the compound."
As the mission board is updated and the briefing is just about to end, Researcher Miffrain returns with a new report from the R&D wing concerning the oily rag analysis. "Initial conclusions indicate two substances on the otherwise unremarkable cloth. One is a standard light high-grade cleaning oil used for steel - blades and pistols and the like. The other is...well sir..."
"Well?" Delft gestures impatiently. "Spit it out man, however it sounds."
"Yes Chief Inspector. The second substance is unknown to our lists of known substances...Research has never seen anything like this before and we are finding it difficult to classify. It is a single compound, having the viscosity and similar structure to blood, yet its color and odor and aspects of its composition seem much closer to heavy machinists' oil. Such as that used to lubricate components for printing press machines, factory works or steamship engines." Effram crinkles his nose in distaste, trying to explain further. "One would assume it is simply blood and oil mixed together, but it is distinctly one compound, having the properties of both. At this time, we are unclear how the fusion of this substance has occurred...and offer that whatever it is, it is not found naturally. It does not show any magical dweomer in and of itself, unlike a potion or elixir enchantment. It does, however, seem to respond to necromantic energies - more tests are being performed today, and I should have an updated report for you before the day is out, Chief Inspector."