"What, you wanna go in too?" Anneca taunts the sailor who takes the place of the dunked sailor, but her attention is mostly on the strange fish. She notes how desperately the other sailor is swimming, and puts the facts together. "I've got enough firepower to put the whole boat underwater!"
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Tobias takes a step forward and cuts down the man taunting Feth and turns his head to the other constables.
"Go help Anneca with the rest!"
Fethryth opens her mouth, intent on cursing out the man who dared to call her slave, but Anneca blasts him off the deck before she gets the chance. Grinning she shouts "So long sailor!" as she follows hot on Anneca's heels. She dances around the other woman and rushes the Captain, trying to get a hit in on him.
Catching sight of the school of fish flashing in the light she attempts to recall anything of note about them...
Gemma curses that she's not as fast as she'd like to be in her armor and makes a note to try and do something about that at a later time. In the meantime, all she can do is move up and try and take a shot. She wants to take out Deornn Feldman but doesn't want to risk hitting her fellow constable. So she does the next best thing and takes aim at the man next to him carrying the heavy chest.
The shot is barely a glancing blow but it still hits the man nonetheless.
Gemma’s pistol shot seemed true but hits the wooden stairs before the sailor, as from her vantage point she can barely see the man between the wharfhouse corner and Fethryth’s left shoulder. Yet with the final bravura struck down by Tobias and his Beran warblade, only Deorn Feldman makes for a serious impediment against the constables overrunning the entire lot of smugglers.
Captain Deorn Feldman, second-rate Risuri smuggler and willingly in the employ of the Crysilliri-led Family syndicate, answers to Fethryth’s strike with an overhand chop of his own. Her magically enhanced defenses are much too formidable for the cut and it is deflected aside to the wooden plank railing. The two square off with one another, looking for an opening even as the sailors try again to heave their cargo towards the Silvo.
Seeing an opening, Emerson continues to move forward to the railing next to Anneca. From this distance he’s confident he can hit Feldman unopposed and still have cover from the smugglers. He draws his pepperbox and fires at the leader. Deorn is completely engrossed in his melee with Fethryth and takes a wound for his trouble. ”Here is where you might think about surrender! I can put the next one through your head!”
Anneca maneuvers through the tight walkway of the ship, bumping into Emerson and stopping behind Fethryth. With her ears ringing from the gunfire, she tries to angle around the elf. She's close enough to be able to hit all three of the blocking sailors at once, but to do so would risk scorching Fethryth - along with the chest that the pair are carrying. She instead angles her flames upwards and around her fellow constable, not threatening the captain but engulfing the pair carrying the chest. They bellow in pain for a moment as her fire overwhelms them, before dropping to the deck. The heavy chest hits the wood with a resounding thump. "Anyone else picks up that chest and they'll get the same treatment!"
Jesslle continues to mvoe forward with ehr companions. Once closer she comments, "Be careful to stay on the docks there are piranhas in the water."
Two more sailors are down and smoking, with the heavy wooden chest now unable to be hauled to the Silvo. Deorn Feldman still stands strong despite the musket shot, but time and men are now clearly running out for him…
There is a momentary pause as the sailors fending off the Audacious turn around to see two of their own collapsed and burned, with a third desperately swimming into the gloom. For each of them, their own fate has become very real. They continue to load and fire crossbows at the attackers, but now start shouting for Captain Feldman to get to the Silvo as fast as he can to lead them to safety…
The one hapless sailor that Anneca blasted off into the water now reaches the edge of the rowboat with the look of sheer panic on his face. Experienced with boats as he is, he deftly hauls himself up and into the boat without tipping it over on himself, lying now flat on his back as he has reached what he thinks is relative safety…
…and it seems that he was correct, for a slight churning and splashing of the murky bayou water appears just a few moments later in the waters where he had just swum to. The school of fish that Anneca and Jesselle both discerned are real and hungry, making any who enter the waters around the smuggler’s wharf now a juicy target…
================================
Having taken care of the brute taunting Feth, Tobias turns to see where else he might be needed, unfortunately the area around the chest is too cluttered for another melee combatant, so he begins casting a spell.
Fethryth circles around to the left, hops over the unconscious sailor in her path, and places herself between the Captain and his boat. "The smart move is surrendering now. Or we can keep burning through your men. Literally." She punctuates her words by rearing back and slapping Deorn upside the head with all her might.
Gemma sees that her options are limited so she decides to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. She quickly advances her pepperbox in a swift action and then runs forward. Taking a little jump to the side on the stairs past Deorn, she makes her way towards the boat, effectively blocking his egress. She knows it's a risk. Deorn could take a swipe at her on the way past. He could decide to bullrush her to get to the boat, possibly knocking her into the water. Either way, it's worth a shot.
Now let's see what happens...
”Oh is that right elfie? You’re gonna be sorry that…that you…” Deorn Feldman’s jaunty retort against Fethryth’s slap is interrupted momentarily as Gemma boldly jumps to the wood stairs right in front of he and Fethryth, then off again to move past the smoldering wooden chest to block off the Silvo, effectively trapping him between the two female constables should he try. With an abrupt snarl he slashes at her back and misses wildly, nearly losing his cutlass in the wooden steps of the wharfhouse.
Deorn takes a second swipe sideways at Fethryth – a good stop cut to her right elbow, but nowhere good enough to breach her combined arcane and divine defenses. Gunfire from the Audacious further hampers him as bullets strike the wharf.
Even Deorn realizes he has no chance to make his boat with the chest now, and he risks being surrounded by multiple kingsmen. ”Yeah? Well you’ll see!” Deorn fakes a motion towards Fethryth and then pivots the other direction to careen over the dock railing and into the water below with a murky splash, still with pistol and cutlass in his hands.
”SHOVE OFF BOYS AND THROW ME A ROPE!” Shouting and sputtering, Deorn has every intention to gain the Silvo as fast as he can before the hungry fish get to him first...
Hill can tell that the Silvo is practically theirs. Deorn just won’t admit it to himself. Instead of risking a shot that could incapacitate Deorn in the water, Emerson decides to get on the boat itself.
Anneca clears the distance to the ship, stepping over the charred, unconcious men. She draws in more fire, starting the mental processes but not yet finishing the incantation. Her hands glow with power as she threatens the rest of the crew. "Time to surrender if you want to live," she says. "Throw down your weapons and someone throw the captain a rope."
Jesselle quickly follows after Emerson onto the boat. As she moves by her companions she draws out her rapier. When she ends beside her fellow officer she looks to the men on the boat and comments, "In for a Pence, in for a Crown."
”AWW TO THE BLEAK WITH…YOU JUST LET ‘EM BOARD LADS? C’MON NOW!”
Deorn’s exasperated exclamations from the murky water are almost comical, as it was clear he didn’t anticipate how easily he’d be outmaneuvered once he went over the side. With Anneca’s already-demonstrated fiery threat, backed by Emerson’s pepperbox and Jesselle’s rapier, the four sailors on the Silvo look to each other and then hastily throw down their weapons in surrender. Moments later, two of the sailors drop to the deck sound asleep, as Tobias’s mental spell succumbs half of them to its effects in similar fashion to the Family bravura on the front walkway. One sailor does manage to throw a mooring line down to their captain.
”WHAT A BUNCH OF YELLOW-DOG LIVERED LITTLE…HEY OW! OW! GET OFF ME OW!” Deorn suddenly finds himself a tasty meal by the bayou piranhas, and hastily swims and scampers up the offered rope out of the now-churning water, blood dropping from his legs. He takes a seat at the stern by the tiller and spits down into the water where the hungry fish are, his pistol and cutlass lost in the murky drink. He holds up his bucklered hand up in clear surrender and motions to the constables that he’s reaching for a vial in his vest pocket, then pops the seal and quaffs it; the bleeding subsides after a moment…
…though Deorn clearly flinches when two musket shots spray splinters by his face as they kick up from the wooden railing of his ship. ”HEY HEY WE’VE ALL GIVEN UP YOU SODS! CAN’T YOU SEE THAT!?” Apparently the Battalion cadets cannot see that and it takes the constables a few shouts to the crew of the Audacious to get them to stand down. As more lights are raised in the area, it’s clear the Silvo didn’t have a way out of the narrow bayou channel from where Leftenant Smithe parked the Audacious, and the smuggling captain of the Silvo clearly knows he’s been beaten. Only one of his men isn’t accounted for, the lone man that Anneca blasted into the water has made off quietly into the dark with a rowboat to save his own neck…
On the wharf are all the collected smugglers of the R.H.C., wounded or otherwise: Deorn Feldman, six of his seven Silvo sailors and four Family toughs. Weapons are crudely collected in a heap by one of the wharf sheds. Two Battalion cadets sternly stand guard over the smuggler prisoners, while the other two are with Ian Smithe on the main deck of the now-tied-up Audacious, where they have yet even more prisoners below: Danisca Wareye, Aris Bailey the shop guard who soiled himself, Ford Sorghum and Travis Starter the former Goodson prisoners now in R.H.C. custody. Blander Wareye sits nervously by the back stairs of the wharfhouse under the watchful eyes of Gill Gamble, the helpful shop guard now auditioning for a better opportunity.
For the constables themselves, they cannot help but be focused on the charred but otherwise serviceable wooden chest that seems to be at the heart of the weapons exchange still set for midnight: a heap of golden coins, gold and silver jewelry and other kinds of treasured objects claimed from the sea fills the top portion of the chest. Yet that is not the whole of it – in a small coffer underneath are dozens of elaborately engraved small rectangular steel bars of the Gilded Bank of the Free City of Nalaam – widely considered the most trustworthy independent guild of financiers in all of Lanjyr. All told, the constables count and estimate the golden treasure to be worth roughly ten-thousand crowns, with another one-hundred and fifty thousand crowns in Nalaam Bank bars to seal the deal for illicit Crissilyiri weapons to be smuggled into Flint.
”That’s a lot of money.” exclaims Gill Gamble with an appreciative whistle. ”Where’d you say your friend got all of this booty anyhow?”
”Not Nilasa’s treasure, but Gale’s finds,” answers Blander glumly, who seems more interested in the Audacious and how Danisca may be faring as a captive. ”Gale has friends amongst the fey of the sea you see, and there is a remarkable amount of wealth buried in all the ‘wrecks from the Yerasol Wars over last two centuries…and even just other ships in the Avery that go down due to storm or mishap. To us land-dwellers it’s just lost, but to those that dwell in the ocean it’s ripe for the picking.”
”Huh.” Gill Gamble scratches his head and muses on that thought. ”Never thought about it that way…too bad I can’t breathe like a fish!”
”So what’s the play now, constables?” Deorn interrupts the reverie around all that gold and waves his shackled hands to the waters where both ships are moored. ”Whatta we doin’ besides bein’ eaten by bugs out here? Tide’s startin’ to rise, so if you wanna claim yer weapons you gotta be talkin’ to me sooner or later. My lads and I aren’t the sort to just hope for the mercy of Goodson’s barges or the rope ya know!”
"Too bad we can't all breathe like fish Gill." Emerson laughs quietly to himself at his own remark before responding to Deorn. "Good point Mr. Feldman." He turns and faces the man squarely. "I'm sure we can come to an arrangement where you can avoid most of the charges likely to be leveled at you and maybe walk away with a few fines. If you tell us the location of the meet tonight so we can capture this 'Family' ship, that is."
A couple of the wounded Family bravuras start threatening Deorn Feldman for his ‘traitorous’ words, with Deorn trading curses and retorts about how their “protection” wasn’t worth a damn, up until the two cadets guarding them tell them all to quiet down or take a musket stock to the face.
”Looks like there are plenty of betrayers of this so-called ‘Family’ outfit here to go around,” says Gill as he points down to Blander Wareye, ”or at least to take the blame for it goin’ all wrong...and you four ‘Family’ outsider blokes fer all yer talk got thumped pretty handily by these constables here – some gang o’ hard-nosed turf-toughs you turned out to be!”
”You will be paying for that insult in your blood and off of your skin you dog…OOF!”
The seemingly toughest of the Family toughs threatens Gill Gamble until Cadet Thomas steps up and delivers a stock-butt blow to the shackled bravura's stomach, forcing him to fall over and gasp for air in clear pain. The cadet steps back to attention and says in apology to the constables, ”I didn’t want to knock out his teeth as he may need to talk later for you, but outsiders shouldn’t be threatening Risuri on our own soil, respectable or not.”
”I’m ruined in Flint however this goes,” interrupts Deorn Feldman glumly with a nod to Emerson, ”so I’ll see to your ‘arrangement’ as long as me and the lads are outta Pine Island and across the bay before dawn…and these here Family men aren’t anywheres around us to give us bloody smiles, if ya take my meaning…” With that the failed smuggler captain of the Silvo is drawn off into the wharfhouse to speak to the constables in privacy. He reveals that he was to meet the Crisillyiri Captain Amba Bandia and his four-masted trade galleon off of an uninhabited rocky island in the Ayres at midnight, each sounding a series of five short horn notes every few minutes to identify themselves and mark the rendezvous, with a single long horn sound indicating trouble and calling it off. The chest of booty was to be exchanged for five crates of weapons, with the Family taking one for themselves, one kept by the Wareyes for distribution to traditionalist sympathizers in Flint, and the other three taken up by Nilasa into the Cloudwood by way of the Stray River for Gale and the brigand bands to use.
Lieutenant Ian Smithe briskly comes off the Audacious then to speak to the constables about their options. ”So there’s too many prisoners to all go back on the Audacious alone constables, and if it were me I wouldn’t trust any in Pine Island to keep hold of any of them tonight, what with all this Family business. The Battalion cadets and I can add these four Family toughs and Feldman to our existing lot of four and sail the Audacious, though the ship is going to be slow and ungainly. If you can keep the Silvo sailors in line and have them sail it back with you, Blander and Gill, we can all make for Upper Flint Bay and the Royal Shipyards in just over an hour. I’d say we’d have just enough time to offload all the criminals and take on proper Navy-types to bring both ships out to this midnight meeting in the Ayres…that is if you’re still inclined to go that far with it.”
"Sounds like an excellent plan Lieutenant. Then we can meet Bandia with overwhelming force tonight. With any luck they'll surrender before things turn ugly for them."
Jesselle also takes the time to use one of her arcane powers to see magic, as she looks over the Smuggler's and Family thugs. 'Something might be of use for our later encounter tonight...
She then joins the others. "Agreed," Jesselle comments from beside Emmerson. She nods to her colleague. "But let us not get too ahead of ourselves. It has been one heck of a day so far. We should also take stock of what we resources we have left."
Jesselle scans the weapons and goods removed from the prisoners. From Deorn Feldman she identifies another Risuri Old Faith curing tonic similar to the one he drank after gaining the Silvo in defeat. From each of the four Family bravuras, she spies similar abjuration dweomers in four honey-hued vials with white wax stoppers. The five curing potions are minor, but magical. Aside from this, Captain Feldman’s armored coat is well-made but non-magical, and the other equipment of the bravuras and sailors are unremarkable.
Leftenant Smithe nods and looks around the dingy wharf in dismissal. ”Best be on our way then, constables. Out and around to the bay and onto the Royal Shipyards of Central. You can make your final plans from there.”
”I helped you all as I promised...so now I want to see my Dan Dan!”
”And you too will die for that betrayal of our trust, little gnome trickster…” A second bravura speaks up to shrink back Blander’s outburst in fear, only to flinch himself when the cadet guarding him raises his musket to butt him in the mouth if he continues.
”I…I want asylum for Danisca and me!”
”Sniveling little…YOU’RE RISURI YOU IDIOT!” Deorn Feldman roars with angry disgust at the House Elf and shakes his manacle chains with a vicious leer upon his face. ”You scared now, Wareye? Cm’ere little fake fey, I’ll give ya a hug and keep ya from worryin’ about what the Family will do to ya!”
Eventually the constables get a hold of the contentious captives and divide them up between the Audacious and the Silvo, with both ships bearing enough sailors and guards to keep matters in line. Both ships are heavy in the water and barely get out of the bayou channel to the shoreline waters, but manage to get a good wind from shore and tack their sails to sail close-hauled towards the “beak” of the Pine Island jut and into the Lower Flint Bay. While the Silvo isn’t nearly as fine of a cutter as the Audacious, its lack of armaments and the way Feldman had the riggings gives it enough speed to keep up.
For the constables, the experience of sailing in the nighttime air reminds them briefly of their action out at Axis Island in early Spring during Ethelyn’s Rebellion. Interestingly, the most renowned teams of R.H.C. constables have been known to sail their own smaller ships for discreet missions and prepared escapes, not relying on the Risuri Navy to ferry them to where they need to go. As it stands, they have enough skill in the sailors under their watchful eyes to keep on to the Royal Shipyards and the specialized docks where the dedicated R.H.C. ships are moored while in Flint.
Cadet Thomas and the other three cadets stand by the gangplank to the R.N.S. Audacious, even as other Risuri Naval Marines finish hauling off the last of the prisoners of both that ship and the Silvo, escorting them down the docks to where Fleet Square lies on the heavily fortified harbor island. Already awaiting them are two prison wagons with Risuri Army soldiers of the R.H.C. Flint Branch detachment sent by Lieutenant Dale, ready to take the prisoners on and convey them back to the Flint Branch compound and the main watchhouse brigs for processing: Deorn Feldman, Danisca and Blander Wareye, Aris Bailey, Travis Starter, Ford Sorghum, four Family bravuras and six smuggler-sailors round out the tally, separated into small groups for safety. Only Gill Gamble stays back with the constables and the soldiers, his useful efforts so far keeping him from not becoming another prisoner in shackles. Also too the heavy wooden chest with its hefty treasure is now off the Silvo, under heavy guard as it makes its way to a third R.H.C. carriage sent specifically to carry it out.
For the four Battalion cadets, they insist that despite their non-commissioned status they should be allowed to see the constables’ mission through. Leftenant and Chief Engineer Ian Smithe has no intention of bowing out at this point either, having gathered up several Navy Marines and sleepy-but-able veteran sailors to fully crew both ships and finish the job. Intelligence gleaned from Deorn Feldman suggests the Crisillyiri trading galleon will be larger than their two cutters, but with the extra manpower and firepower now augmenting the constables it seems like it will be enough. In any event there is little choice now, as no constables are up at Flint Branch HQ and only a few sleepy researchers are present in the R&D wing. Aside from the added marines and sailors, it is up to the constables to finish the job.
”So the Silvo will be the bait and will rendezvous as expected with this Crisillyiri captain – assuming of course one of you can blow a signal horn on five short-notes every minute or so once we’re out in the Ayres. Maybe Master Gamble can show his useful quality by blowing the horn for you.” Smithe taps a rolled-out chart of the Ayres to where Feldman indicated the meet was to take place off of an uninhabited island at the bottom edge of the chain. ”You’ll have the four cadets to provide you cover if it comes to a fight, and you won’t have to worry about piloting the ship. Meanwhile, I’ll bring the Audacious out about a mile from you and bring her up to cutoff her escape…when ready throw open the shutters on your bow lanterns and we’ll move in. Hopefully it won’t come to using the swivel guns on ‘em, but just the same don’t come up along her side to give her an easy broadside on you.”
Tobias stifles a yawn while listening to the plan of attack, the night had certainly dragged on longer than expected, but there wasn't much to do for it now.
"It would certainly be beneficial for all of us if we can solve this diplomatically. I think we all took more than a few shots running down those docks, another fight tonight isn't going to see us without injury." He fingers a hole in his shirt as he speaks, as if to drive the point home.
He waits patiently as the boat continues toward the rendezvous point, practicing a couple new techniques he'd been working on with his falchion and generally just trying to keep from falling asleep.
”IN THE NAME OF KING AODHAN AND THE GOOD PEOPLE OF RISUR, SURRENDER YOUR ARMS AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!”
It was almost a near thing it seemed, at least from the constables’ point-of-view. The initial approach was right according to plan, with the Silvo gaining the location for the meet at quarter-till midnight, with the Audacious somewhere off to their starboard to circle around the engagement from the east. Gill Gamble took pride in sounding the horn with its five-note short pattern, and within moments the answering horn call was heard in the blackness and humid mists. Another call of notes and another reply, this one closer still. By five-till midnight the bow lanterns were unshuttered upon both ships, giving the constables a first look at their unsuspecting quarry, the Crisillyiri galleon Li Grifoni Grinyande.
It was an imposing sight at first: a full four-masted ship with three decks, a raised forecastle and a two-tiered aftcastle from where the ship was piloted. Cannons could clearly be seen broadside on the middeck, three to a side. With a ninety-foot length and near thirty-foot beam, it could easily hold three-score men and make more than a match for a single cutter. Shouts were heard from the foreign sailors as preparations were made to come alongside and cast lines to bring the ships together, the protocol apparently working as Feldman had described.
As the Crisillyiri sailors cast down lines to the smaller ship on their forward port side, sailors up in the forecastle and masts clearly began to notice that the Silvo was not bearing simple smugglers. Frantic shouting began and sailors began to rush about deck while others gawked at them, even as the constables and cadets prepared to do what they could to quickly board the Grifoni and take the fight to them before canons could be fired. Yet the height of the decks between the ships was greater than they anticipated, with boarding ladders barely going to reach. Anneca and Gemma both had powers of their ancient Axis coins to make the deck, but what about the rest? And how many men did the foreigners have with which to repel their boarding action?
It was the Audacious that made the difference then: suddenly unleashing their bullseye lanterns from directly aft of the sterncastle of the Grifoni, their two forward cannons ready-to-fire and Risuri Marines ready with aimed muskets to pin down defenders at the stern. Still it might not have been enough, given the disparity of size between the two Risuri cutters and the Crisillyiri galleon. For Captain Banda though, the constables would later find out that where he saw two Risuri ships flanking his own, he thought there could have been a third or more that he did not see. That, and the imposing size of the Grifoni with its castle decks and broadside cannons masked the fact that he only had fifteen sailors at his command and not sixty. After all, they were outfitted for trading and smuggling, not fighting. Whatever Banda’s disposition, he was not willing to fire first on Risuri kingsmen and soldiers in Risuri waters. After a long, tense minute of contemplation amidst shouts from both cutters to surrender, the captain yielded.
”Found ‘em! Five crates just like it was said to ya…sailors bringing it up topside now for ya to inspect.”
Gill Gamble gives the constables a knuckled salute and a nod from the aft stairs to the hold, even as other sailors have taken over the riggings and check the lower decks for signs of trouble in how the galleon was set. Their four Battalion army cadets and a full squad of Naval Marines are also onboard, the cadets dutifully collecting up weapons from the Crisillyiri sailors while the marines keep the captives huddled together on the top deck between two mainmasts, under the direct threat of aimed muskets and bayonets. Captain Banda is separated from the rest of his men on the forecastle deck and in shackles under guard by a pair of marines, with the constables free to question him and search the ship at their leisure. So far though, the foreign captain has been tight-lipped about his ship or his cargo, hinting that any violence inflicted upon he or his sailors will be heard about by the Crisillyiri diplomats at their embassy in the city.
In just a few more minutes the object of all the day’s troubles are hefted over to the six constables and set before them: five large but otherwise unmarked and unremarkable wooden crates, which could easily have been mistaken for rudimentary supplies on any standard dock from Pine Island to Bosum Strand to Parity Lake. Each crate appears unopened and nailed down, taking two men to carry each over with wooden beams to lift from each side. Too light for cannons, and not quite large enough to comfortably pack muskets or long-barreled firearms. Unlike Drakr or Danor, the Crisillyiri are not known for their firearm technology, being more adverse to it than Risuri or even the Berans are. Gill comes over and quips that it’d be a fine jest if they open all these up only to find flasks of Crisillyiri brandy or Clergy holy water inside.
Wordlessly, two Risuri marines shoulder muskets and heft up black iron crowbars with a stern look at the quipping interloper, waiting then for the constables to give them the order to open one of the crates up for further inspection…
"Might as well be sure." Jesselle comments as she nods to the marines.
With the others she turns back to the Captain. "Do not worry Captain, you and yours are being treated quite fairly. considering. We both know what you are here and who you were to meet.So, option one, you show yourself to be the good Captain who looks out for his men agree to speak with us and we let consider turning the the rest of your crew over the Crisillyri embassy and they are free to be on their way. Option two, you refuse and you and all of your crew are all charged with the multitude of crimes committed this night and take your chances."
She turns and looks at the huddled crew and back to the Captain. "Please take a moment to consider, but decide quickly."
Jessell looks to her companions to see if they wish to add anything. She does try to put on a good face but it has been a long day and she knows that it is not over yet. She and her fellow constables need some rest before the perils of the next day begin.
"Is it trapped?" Anneca points to the crates, thinking that they might be unsafe to open in some manner. It wouldn't be the first time, especially if the smugglers were planning on double-crossing the Family. "Are any of our people going to be injured in any way if we open it now?" She opens her magic senses up to analyze the crates for magical protections, aiming to scan them completely before it is time to open them up.
Captain Amba Banda says boldly to Jesselle that any detainment of he, his men or his ship will be undone within days by "their betters" and that it is in their best interests to let them be on their way. Otherwise, he says nothing except that the crates are "curios and property of Crisillyr" and are not to be touched...though even Banda seems resigned to the fact that there is no chance of that happening. Finally, he concedes that there is no harm in opening the crates themselves, that they are not trapped, but that they should have a care before picking up any item inside...and to not wave "them" around at his crew, the masts, sails or rigging.
Anneca detects a whole panoply of magical auras radiating out of each crate, with most minor but some moderate in intensity. Much of the magical auras are from the evocation school, though conjuration, transmutation, illusion and even necromancy are detected by her. It's clear they are dealing with a multitude of different objects within each crate.
After a few more minutes of discussion and preparation, the constables ready themselves as a brave Marine sergeant hefts a crowbar and volunteers to open the first crate. He pries open the nailed boards and quickly tosses aside the lid to the deck, taking a step back in readiness for something to emerge, magical or otherwise. Nothing does however, and with curiosity overcoming their concern, the constables move in to the opened crate...
...only to find...wands. The crate is carefully set with smaller lined boxes that are braced in place, each box containing a beautifully styled wooden or metal wand, each wrapped delicately in silk or linen wrappings that are embroidered with tiny warding runes. No two wands are the exact same size or hue, becoming clear that this is no work of recent production by a single source. Some appear quite old in terms of their rune carvings and the worn nature of the material, while others seem newer in appearance. A quick estimation suggests approximately fifty wands in boxes in the first crate alone.
"Archeological study...private collections and meant for...study by your sages at museums...nothing wrong with that!" Captain Banda's halting words in his Crisillyiri accent sound sheepish and false, as if he couldn't even convince himself that was the case. If the first crate is any indication of the rest, the constables are looking at two-hundred to three-hundred wands of unknown function and power.
Tobias raises an eyebrow at the crate contents and steps toward the box, picking up the closes wand. He looks it up and down, studying the magic within to determine what spell it fires.
"We'll determine how wrong it is for you to have these." He mutters to Banda.
Anneca picks up one of the wands, carefully, as if it could explode at any moment. It is a beautiful thing made of polished and stained red wood, with embossed gold lettering. Taking pains not to point it in anyone's direction, Anneca opens herself up to the leylines and takes an inquisitive look at its aura. "Be. Careful." She says it to herself as much as she warns the other constables.
Jesslle looks to Captain Amba Banda skeptically and looks the man in the eyes and how he has been acting to see if he statements ring true.
She also looks to the rest of the captured crew, "It would appear your Captain is willing to have you all arrested this night." She gives a shrug, "You had your chance."
After several minutes Jesselle does step forward with the other Constables looking at the wands and finds a one... of interesting look and design and picks it up to examine it.
Gemma has been standing back a bit from the rest of the other constables. Primarily, it's been to keep an eye on the whole situation. The other is strategic...to appear as the brooding tough, staring down anyone that even twitches the wrong way.
As soon as she sees the crates opened and what's inside, she crosses her arms and lets out a slow whistle.
"That does not look good, Captain. Not good at all."
She then levels a hard stare right at him. "You may want to consider your next words carefully...or, better yet, change your story to the truth."
All wand holders instantly know the spell contained in the wand upon grasping it…and somehow it is attuned to allow you to cast it once, even if you have no arcane magical ability whatsoever! Astounding! It's a good thing you took the Grifoni so well as you did, for the prospects of a running fight with panicked sailors slinging spells from these wand crates could have made for a rough night...
Fethryth watches the rest of the constables pick up the wands, and when it seems to go well for them she shrugs and picks one up herself.
"Not that it would do me any good..." Emerson glides over to one of the crates and picks one up as well.
Fethryth indeed picks up a wand and suddenly feels a jolt of understanding from the sculpted piece of magical wood. It gives her the distinct understanding that she could disappear as effectively as Blander Wareye and his marvelous “House Elf” illusions!
For Emerson, his bold words are cut short when he picks up a fine white ivory wand with elegant swirl carvings. Instantly, he knows he holds something precious from the Clergy...and something that recalls his mind to the deva that blessed him so many years ago during the war. A power to dispel the darkness and wither a shade from the Bleak back beyond the gate for good...
An appreciative whistle comes from their newfound civilian ally, Gill Gamble, who smiles and saunters over to pick up a wand himself. His progress is stopped however by no less than three marines with muskets and bayonets, threatening to impale his hands and gouge his middle if makes another motion towards the crate. ”Peace peace friends…all good Risuri patriots here and all that…jeez…”
Meanwhile, Jesselle and Gemma finally work to crack the bravado of Captain Amba Banda, who simply cannot continue to pretend he was out with his ship on a simple excursion across the Avery Sea and not smuggling magical weaponry into a foreign land. Jesselle determines that the Crisillyiri captain probably has no idea who the consular is for Crisillyr in Flint, and has no letters of marque, family name or grand title from his homeland that would protect him automatically from Risuri law – certainly nothing that would look to embarrass the R.H.C. if they arrested him and impounded his ship. Yet Jesselle senses that the Captain isn’t bluffing completely, and he has some confidence in a source that will come to his aid…most likely a Family connection that caused him to undertake the smuggling drop in the first place.
Gemma’s hard stare causes the man to eye her stance, her hands and the sabre affixed to her belt…with his own fine rapier confiscated upon the ship being boarded, he seems to know a little about swordplay and the martial sciences. He swallows noticeably, glancing every so often at Jesselle who seemingly can see right through him, then back to Gemma. ”It seems I am the rat caught between the cats, no? What ‘truth’ do you want of me? Very well, it was my purpose to rendezvous with the Silvo and a Captain Feldman, and make the exchange. Those were my instructions. I have no knowledge or participation in what the crates were to be done with afterwards, and that is not part of my business. That is the truth, agents. I swear it on the holy and humble Hook…” Amba nods vigorously at his oath only to see several Risuri marines and sailors blink at him in confusion or derision. ”The Hook of holy Triegenes…you have not heard of…oh nevermind!”
"This would have been dangerous in the wrong hands" Fethryth thinks to herself. "Thank the dream we stopped the trade off". She places the wand back in the crate and heads over to where the Captain is being interrogated. Catching the tail end of the conversation she tries to remember if she's heard of this holy Hook thing before..
It just sounds like some mumbly-jumbly nonsense of foreigners, though even Fethryth assumes it has to do with the Clergy faith. Why stuffy Clergy-types would talk about hooks which would seem to have more to do with some sea-god or such is not apparent to Fethryth, though she's certain she could ferret it out with one of the instructors or researchers back at Flint Branch if she cared to.
"The Holy Hook of...what?" Tobias frowns in confusion, thinking over any history lessons that might have made mention of this hook, wishing he'd paid a little more attention to religious studies in retrospect. Just something to study when we're back home I guess.
"Grease...by the way, is what this is for. Seems these were crafted for utility, or at least some of them were. Seems to my like someone planning for any contingency, or someone planning a very specific routine, to what end, I haven't got a clue though. You really swear you know nothing Captain? I'd hate to think you were withholding anything. Particularly when we're so well situated to provide a good word for you."
Captain Amba Banda holds his hands up in protestation to Tobias, eager to talk to someone other than the stern face of Gemma or the glaring marines with their shiny bayonets. "I move goods from here to there, agent of your Risuri king. I move goods discretely, for suitable buyers. Buyers in Alais Primos, or Vendricce, or Seobriga or Orithea...or Flint in this circumstance. It is not my trade to browse in the affairs of those buyers, what they buy or why they buy them, for I am no spy and have no wish to ply in the secrets of the wealthy and powerful."
Banda spreads his hands and asks earnestly, "Here is a truth for you to consider, agents of Risur. I do not deal with your enemies, the twisted Danorans and The Cursed that lead them to ruin the waking world. Nor do I deal with the metalbound Drakrans that support and supply their rabid desires. Here you Risuri are considered the origins of the world's magic...tainted by the demonic fey even as you are with your accursed Pact. What are these minor trinkets then to be feared by those who are said to hold the most powerful mages in all Lanjyr?"
Jesselle looks over her want before she considers the outrageous name of The Hook of Holy Trigenes.
Gemma looks to Captain Banda as she stands next to one of the open crates and then picks up one of the wands.
"Problem is, Captain, that there are a whole lot of minor trinkets here. Minor trinkets that can seemingly be used by anyone on the street, not restricted to just mages and magic users. That could give someone a pretty large advantage."
Even as Gemma states her claim to Banda, she herself knows it for truth - the wand she picks up gives her a instantaneous sensation of what it can do, lobbing an arcane sphere of intensely cold ice crystals that would give a shuddering freeze upon impact. She would have to see its effects in action - preferably in a controlled firing range environment - but senses this little 'trinket' could do more damage to a living target than her own pepperbox pistol.
Banda shrugs at Gemma's claim, though he clearly tries to avoid her gaze while being at least more sociably compliant than earlier. "As you say, yet again I do not know who the...ahh...collector was in this transaction. Only the man named Feldman. This was his ship, this Silvo, and you knew the prearranged calls, so I assume you have him in your custody as well...or he was foolish enough to betray his employer who arranged the transaction."
Though Jesselle is no Clergy worshipper, she has heard that utterance before by Clergy faithful, who seem to count that as one of their most sacred oaths to act upon - not so much unlike swearing on one's family name - if the family's surname had any honor or integrity that is - or swearing on the King and the Pact. She recalls with her brilliant memory a time of instruction on the politics and faith of Crisillyir, which are often or have been one and the same. The name of Triegenes, the humble fisherman from a thousand years ago who rose to divinity and inspired the religion of The Clergy in its current form, founding the Sacred Kingdom of Crisillyir that once had its capital as Methia in current-day Danor, the kingdom that rose to rival the mightly Elfaivar Empire. In those teachings - mostly in how he rose from what is current-day Danor to lead a holy crusade against corruption and evil, overthrowing tyrants and infernal warlords to what the texts say was a foul demonocracy that had taken root in what is now present-day Drakr. The "Humble Hook" is a reference to a simple harpoon hook that Triegenes carried with him, which became the Clergy's most profound relic in a land devoted to relics and obsessed with objects of magic.
The Crisillyiri captain seems to know little else, other than it is clear to the constables that he is well aware of 'The Family' and will not do anything to purposely betray it. He gives no names to them other than Deorn Feldman. His intention after the exchange was to sail to the Malice city-state of Orithea across the Avery Sea, take supplies and entreat with the Gilded Bank representatives there, then chart a course back to Vendricce.
Wands are counted, re-wrapped and stowed back in the crate that was opened, with four more crates speaking of an untold number of powers and possibilities that could be used to spectacular or dreadful effect, depending on one's point of view. To the constables, the imparting surge of limited magical know-how for each wand is fascinating. Powers include: sapping a warrior of his or her strength, a rolling ball of flame that could roll up a wall or mast, magical bolts of energy that fly unerringly true, a summoned traveling horse that needs no sustenance and does not tire, and other powers aside. It's a fine entertainment to capstone a long, tiring day of sleuthing, searching and fighting.
Near the bottom of the crate, Jesselle and Tobias spy out an unwrapped wand that seems precariously wedged and not in a proper wooden brace: a foot-and-a-half of simple but pristine gold, bearing at its base the sculpted profile of an aged man just past the handle. Clearly different from anything else they have seen, the pair of constables rush to grab it first, with Tobias just barely edging out Jesselle in the childish contest. When he grasps it he finds it eerily warm to the touch, as if something left outside on a warm summer's day. Nothing comes to hims mind in terms of an attuned spell that he can cast from it like all the others, but somehow he knows this wand has power to augment his own mental spells as long as he is wielding it when he does so. He also is aware somehow that the gold is pure, with its effects on fey jaunting and teleportation magics well documented.
Tobias looks at the wand in his hand and raises an eyebrow, wondering what possessed him to act so out of character in order to grab the wand.
"This...this wand would significantly empower my spells. Pure gold, too, not that I need it." He says, subconsciously touching the gold ring on his finger.
"Might come in handy. Might have to ask how much this beauty will cost to requisition." He shrugs off the temptation to pocket the device and places it back in the box. Honorable as always, but not without regret.
Jesselle does raise a brow at Tobias' comments. She weaves a hand to detect magics and looks over the item that her colleague has found.
She comments to Tobias, "We are allowed the use of items that we discover on a mission for the duration of the mission. This is only part, we likely have several days before you would be required to turn over the item, per regulations that is." She gives a shrug and lets the man do what he will with it.
She turns her attention to the others, "It is late, and we have an early start to this day, I know I need to rest to face what we are going to face up on Cauldron Hill.
”Well now, so my chickadees have once again shown their true claws as raptors tonight, is that right? And here I thought you were losing your touch after the Coaltongue and Axis Island, resting on your laurels as it were. Well done you six…just don’t get fat heads about it, and before you ask we’re still starting morning briefings promptly at eight sharp…”
Assistant Chief Inspector Stover Delft was awaiting them personally at the R.H.C. quay for the Audacious when they tied off for the last time at quarter-till two o’ clock in the morning, looking well-dressed and alert despite the hour, his usual wit and sarcasm on display as always. Standing with him were two of the senior constables of the Dauntless team who had apparently heard of the unfolding events that evening – Constables Serena Taflis and Kaea Than’dil, both smiling in appreciation and nodding sincere acknowledgments to the six constables as they revealed the grand cache of magical weapons that would have armed countless traditionalist rebels and other unsavory sorts within and around the city. In a display of humor, Delft chimed in that he’d let the constables “off the hook this time” and write up a requisition for Research Wing to catalogue and document the wands so that the constables didn’t have to.
Also with the Inspector was the compound’s Nightwatch Lieutenant Cason Dale and a full squad of soldiers from the compound, ready to receive both the latest batch of Crisillyiri prisoners and the full five crates of wands taken by them from the Crisillyiri ship. The R.H.C. section of docks upon the Royal Shipyards were busy with sailors and soldiers, with the cutters Audacious and Silvo tied up opposite the much larger galleon Li Grifoni Grinyande. Coupled with the amazing treasure haul brought in earlier just before midnight, the “take” by Flint Branch this night was visibly nothing short of extraordinary. No doubt with all the men and women about at this late hour and with such activity, something was bound to leak to the public on it by morning.
Their four “commandeered” Battalion cadets were commended by Lieutenant Dale and invited to barracks for the night at Flint Branch, whereupon he’d speak to Captain Umurn in the morning shift change and gain them commendations, as well as a ride back to Battalion Academy. Gill Gamble would ultimately be taken into “protective custody” at Flint Branch, at least given a bunk in the watchhouse instead of a shared detention cell underneath it, as Amba Banda and the fifteen sailors of Grifoni would receive.
It was well past three in the morning by the time the constables were able to gain their abodes and gain what little sleep they could, having to change and be back at R.H.C. HQ Building for what would surely be an interesting briefing session at the eight o’ clock hour.