"My lord, if you could direct me to the garderobe, please?" Melia asks.
On receiving directions, Melia excuses herself for a moment and walks down the hall to the restroom. She closes the door, and takes a moment to concentrate. "What jobs are currently open at the Harcourt manor?" she mutters to herself.
A babble of voices rises to fill the quiet of the well-appointed garderobe, and she listens intently, picking out details from the chatter.
Through the babble of voices, Mel can make out a few useful bits of information. A scullery maid shakes her head while chatting "Another tutor gone! Young master Harcourt turns them out like unwanted guests!" A finely-dressed woman complains "I MUST have a new chef! I can't serve these dishes to company!" And lastly, a man's voice says "Eberman is getting too old. I'll let him go once I can find a new valet."
"Pity," Mel mutters. "I was hoping they would need a maid. Dusting would have been a wonderful excuse for snooping around. Oh well. The tutor position is perfect for Hal, at least."
She makes use of the garderobe, washes her hands using the pitcher of water laid out for that purpose, and rejoins the others.
"Don Haroldson and I will need letters of recommendation," Melia muses out loud. "We could fake those, but if Count Harcourt were to follow up on a fake reference our cover would immediately be blown. M'lord, would you be willing to supply those? Or if you would prefer to keep your name far removed from the investigation, perhaps a retainer or ally of yours might oblige."
”Well, Fyrtor, let’s case the place out. Then move in and rip them a new one, aye?”
"May I suggest..." the don interjects "that a psuedonym is critical? After all, if I'm going to use my own name I can procure my own references! And a noble far away is preferable, as it makes follow up more difficult. May I also suggest we have a reason to tie us together, being less suspicious to have a pair apply than two singles from the same previous employer."
After a moment of careful thought "I suppose, given the difference in ages, perhaps we should consider parent and child, rather than siblings, or lovers." "A pity. Lovers would give an easy excuse to seek out rooms from which staff are normally excluded." The don starts, and bows to Melia "My apologies for the forwardness."
"Don't worry, gramps," Melia drawls, eyes twinkling. "I know what you meant."
"Agreed, I just want to pick up something before we do. You remember that think Brolin had that he could turn into all sorts of things? I want to grab one. Might come in handy."
Before everyone splits Fyrtor pulls Mel and Turion aside and casts pack empathy on them. "Stay safe, we'll try to do the same."
The viscount thinks about the letter then nods "It would be wise to keep my name out of it, for the time being. It will take some time to communicate secretly with an ally to provide the letter. Perhaps I could show you some examples?" He searches through his desk and pulls out three example letters of recommendation that he referred to when making recent staff hires.
Fyrtor drags Khas along with him as he buys a few things before they go. Along with the any-tool he purchases a narrow knife, and a spare spell component pouch all of which to into his seemingly normal belt pouch despite the obvious size discrepancy. "Right, now that that's taken care of let's see if we can case this hideout. We probably can't go in, and if last time is any indicator we should assume we'll be recognized if we hang around in the open. We'll have to see as we get closer, but I think our best bet is to try to find a spot where we can watch without being seen. Or we could gamble and go straight in, and hope that the surprise is enough to give us an edge. What do you 5hink?" As he asks Fyrtor draws his shrunken scimitar and plays with it absentmindedly.
Kazador thought about it for a moment. "I'm nay the most stealthy person around. And these fookers likely have some sharp eyes watching around, especially after what we did last time. If I were them, at least, I'd be watching me back. But only an idiot would just stroll in, right? So let's catch them by surprise by just walking in and bashing their faces in."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"Hmm, you're probably right. Lets try to disguise ourselves a bit first then. If Melia were here she could have done us up, but since she isn't we'll have to make do. One more stop then." Fyrtor grabs a disguise kit at a nearby store and works up an alternate look for himself and a younger nobel of little account.
Fyrtor works something up so that you won't be IMMEDIATELY recognizable, at least to a passing glance.
"I may be able to reduce the time - I know a very fast courier. Dependable as well... though for this perhaps some additional security might not go amiss." the Don offers.
Don Haroldson's shoulders slump a little as they leave the Viscount's house and blend back into anonymity.
"Well, my dear, I suppose our next step is to find out what positions the Count needs filled. As it happens I know some people who should be able to make some discrete enquiries."
He straightens a little "While we wait, I rather desperately need some new supplies. I have a list as long as my arm, but the vast majority can be acquired from an alchemist. Might I trouble you to assist an old man with his shopping."
The viscount looks conflicted. "A legitimate letter is... a risk for any of my allies. If you are discovered, your aggrieved employer will follow the letter back to the recommender. I am loathe to ask that of one of my friends. If your man is capable of making a believable forgery, I would prefer that."
It was too bad that a fake mustache wasn't going to cut it, but at least Fyrtor had worked something up. With his hammer magically disguised as a walking stick, Kazador boldly walked over to the safehouse, fully intent on just walking right inside. Knowing that Fyrtor had his back filled him with confidence.
He then casts when path splitting the time between the two of them. "Ok, let's go.
You reach the inn without difficulty and walk inside. A man behind the bar shouts gruffly at Fyrtor "No weapons! Never been to a tavern before?!"
A thought strikes "This gentleman in the country might work. If the person you hired can be trusted to brief us, and we arranged for some 'brigands' to cut off the estate from contact... yes, that could work well indeed."
She takes the example letter from the gentleman in the country. "We'll get Janus to copy this and make do," she says. "And keep you apprised of anything we discover. Thank you for your assistance, m'lord."
"Do any of those stand out to you? I would be hard-pressed to pass as a high quality chef for long."
"And certainly, I would be happy to assist with your shopping. I have a few items in mind myself."
When they meet up again before splitting up for their tasks, Mel presents Túrion with some letters of recommendation. Túrion looks through them, then considers which noble families in remote locations have ties to the house of their target, and begins writing up a forged letter of recommendation for both Mel and Hal, using whatever alias and family connection they decided on to refer to them.
Afterwards, he provides Nelly with another of Fyrtors "Reduce Animal"-Treats, then heads off towards the archive. Arriving there, he'll use the Viscounts provided credentials to ask for a room to use for his research, and sets about collecting all the documents, ledgers and books that may be remotely relevant for his purpose. It would not do to stand up and make runs for additional source material every other lead - better to fetch all of the stuff in one place, then work on it with focused determination. It was the advantage of a place like this to have all the information available, after all.
Kazador chuckled. ”Oh, yer afraid of a wee lad like him?” He said with a smile. ”Must be thinking that this be a posh up-town establishment. Doesn’t smell like it, so why act like it?” He watched the man’s reaction. Kazador wanted to make sure that this really was a Reaper base before he went on a killing spree. He reasoned that real Reapers wouldn’t stand for such disrespect.
The barman looks confused and offended. "If you're here to insult our fine establishment and threaten our patrons with weapons, then leave!" A couple of burly fellows, though they aren't carrying any obvious weapons, stand up from the bar to help emphasize the barman's instructions. Apparently, they are bouncers.
Fyrtor was reluctant to suggest such a course, but could see no other way forward aside from doing as the barkeep said, and he would not let his father's blade out of his possession if at all possible. The mere thought of it galled him, and some of the bitterness laced his otherwise sweet words.
"Nay, I'm not here to insult yer establishment. I'm here to insult Repears." Kazador said, leveling a glare at the bouncers. "I'd offer to let anyone who isn't a Repear walk out now. But everyone knows that they're all yellow bellied cowards, the lot of them, so if I did that then there would be nay anything here but piss on the ground."
"Congratulations my dear! You have taken the first step in controlling your gift more rapidly than I expected." Haroldson offers, still in role and accent.
The old man taps on his chin. "Tutor, Chef and Valet?" Haroldson looks thoughtful. "I am afraid it has been... a long time since I've cooked, and even then it was more about survival than the science of gastronomy. I suppose I could pass as tutor or valet, though I doubt I will be considered an exemplary employee."
"Please - check my logic here. I dare say it'll be difficult for a young lady to pass as a man's valet given the potential scandal involved, so perhaps that would be the better role for myself? Of course the issue there is that if they are looking to remove a man for his age - a scandalous betrayal of loyalty - they are unlikely to want to hire someone of a similar generation."
"That being the case, we must consider whether it is easier to disguise your gender, or my age. As it happens I believe that age will be the easier attribute to manipulate."
"While few transformation spells last any length of time, there is a relatively well known spell that restores the appearance - if not the functionality - of youth. I should be able to maintain such a spell through regular castings near indefinitely. Possibly even permanently... no, not in time. That will necessitate covering my natural aura with a synthetic one - something I am happy to do for you as well. Said aura is not foolproof, but if they are using the level of divination necessary to pierce such a disguise they are also likely using mind probes and we need to give this up as a fool's errand now."
"If this plan is acceptable, I will need to add the acquisition of such a spell to my shopping list. As it happens there are any number of such spells, but most have ethically questionable requirements I refuse to accept."
The don pulls out his list, and scribbles another item.
"Most of these can be acquired by visiting an alchemist, a few specialist shops, and seeking out some booksellers. If I can find a few hedges, the rest should be easy. I will need to spend a few days scribing, spelling, stewing and sewing while I wait for some of the more bespoke items to be made."
"May I ask what you were looking for?"
"Measures to prevent detection of magical disguises would be most welcome," Melia tells Hal. "And I'm glad you're interested in being the valet. I might have been able to pull it off, but it would have been difficult. A tutor I can manage more easily."
"Regarding supplies, I think a change of wardrobe is in order. I do have these enchanted sleeves that can re-do my garb in the twinkle of an eye, of course. But I'd rather use those as a supplement to a more mundane disguise. I would also like to see if I can locate a pedagogical text detailing a standard education for a young Iustian noble. That should help me build my cover."
"The most expensive item on my list, however, is some way to contact ... our friend to the south," she says, reluctant to name the Bishop aloud. "Perhaps he can look into the Lord's business dealings from the other end, and let us know anything useful."
Hal scatches his hair for a moment before catching himself. "The book we found does have a spell that allows for some impressive distance travel. If we can spare a little time it should be possible for you to report to the... friend yourself. Might also be a safer place to sell some of the rarer goods we've found. I've never cast such a spell before, but it looks reasonably doable."
Kazador hears the barkeep shout to the bouncers "Get them out of here!" and sees him begin moving to get out from behind the bar. Kazador can't tell whether the bouncers are Reapers or just doing their job but the barkeep looks more than just angry at your disruption of business.
One of the bouncers steps up to Fyrtor and tries to pummel him into submission. He lands a fist to Fyrtor's chin and a knee to Fyrtor's midriff.
The other two converge on Kazador and one jumps on an empty table to try to kick him. But even caught off-guard by the speed of their attack, Kazador's hidden armor is enough to stop their strikes.
Kazador couldn't tell if these bouncers were Repears, but it certainly seemed that the barman was. He knew his training, and his training said to kill the men where they stood. In this, he acted on instinct.
"Ye reap what ye sow." He said, as he took his hammer, disguised as a staff, and slammed it into the gut of one of the bouncers. Then he brought it back and stabbed it at the man's head, using the butt of the handle to strike. If he judged them right, then the man would probably survive the attacks. And if he didn't? Well, that was on him for being too weak. Looking back over his life, Kazador could best describe it as a mountain of regrets and corpses. While he didn't especially want the man to die, what was one more body among so many?
"Hmmm. If time is of the essence... I could take a message - sealed of course - for you, and you could apply for the known vacant position of tutor. You can then 'discover' that a new valet is needed and put me forward - as a brother or husband - as a candidate. I can wait until a response is ready, as it makes no difference where I do my preparations, and then return to apply as valet. Perhaps your 'friend' would be willing to trade the book and some of the other rarer goods for the resources we need." 'Don Haroldson' shrugs lightly "Up to you."
The don looks thoughtful "That said... the spell only works for trvelling to well known areas. Given time and magical defences I can only think of three locations I would risk travelling to... and the one I know best was where I was held incommunicado. While that should help with secrecy I would very much appreciate a second letter addressed to the gentlemen who held me previously to promptly take a letter to your friend."
Fyrtor curses as his vision sWims and he barely manages to keep his feet under him.
The bouncers have Kazador right where they want him and direct a pile of elbows and knees to him. His hidden armor blocks many, many blows but he still gets a lip split and a tooth knocked loose!
Meanwhile, the barman leaps over the bar and heads toward a door, which he throws open.
Túrion, having fetched all the material he needs, sits down, focuses(Heightened Perception), and starts going through the books and entries. This would take some time,
He also took the time to compare the reported numbers to what seems reasonable for similar businesses in the vicinity.
But most importantly, he also checked to see if there were any documents that were not authentic - an altered shipping manifest, falsified tax records, whatever seemed important and suspicious.
It wasn't very witty, but Kazador merely cursed loudly as he flailed about, seeking to punch, kick and headbutt his opposition into unconsciousness.
Hal nods, triple checks his preparations - including a detailed sketch of Mels' room - and vanishes.
Kazador misses once but then connects the second time, knocking out one of the bouncers.
Turion finds two points of interest.
1. Over the past year, Harcourt has repeatedly bought small parcels of land from one Tyron Alabaster. At face value, these transactions don't seem remarkable. But upon closer scrutiny, Turion determines that one, specific, piece of information was forged on all of these documents: The crown's appraisal value on the parcels for tax purposes. With careful detective work and research on this land, Tyrion determines that someone has been very carefully concealing the fact that Harcourt has, most likely knowingly, been massively overpaying for these plots of land.
2. Turion also determines that Harcourt has, through proxy channels that Turion unravels, bought up several tracts of land in the Bishopric but is seeing small revenues from these tracts of land.
[dice=Stealth Optional]
Kazador gave a bloody smile as the first of the bouncers went down. Hopefully his companion would get the hint. Otherwise, Fyrtor was still standing, and the man could be a bag of tricks.
"Lad, can ye stop the bartender from fleeing?"
[/spoiler]
Having found a connection between Harcourt and land purchases in the Bishopric, Túrion attempts to focus his attention on those, figuring that if he could find why Harcourt had special interest in specifically these lands, they would find more puzzle pieces for the overall picture.
Unfortunately, he had only passed through the Bishopry himself, and had little first-hand Knowledge.
But he did have very extensive understanding of the expected prevalent ecosystems and their effects on the area.
And he had read some parts about the history of the regions of the Bishopry - he did like to learn about foreign places, but was not certain he was able to remember all the relevant details.
Once he was sufficiently certain he had missed nothing regarding the lands, he focused further on Tyron Alabaster. With money channeled through him to fund operations the crown would likely not approve of, it seemed sensible to learn more about this agent of Harcourt - he was likely complicit in many events, and most certainly could be useful, one way or another.
Fyrtor's head clears after a moment as he hears Kahz set him a task. "On it"
He draws his sword and moves passed the bouncer that struck him, blade ready to deflect any attacks. He then takes a brief moment to size up the barman and casts a spell. A thick yellowed fog spread out from the door he just opened spilling into the room.
Turion determines that the lands in the Bishopric hold a fair number of rare, Darkwood trees, very valuable for their tough wood and bark. But these trees grow very slowly over the course of centuries and the Bishopric has placed strict limits on the harvest of these trees. Iustia placed no such limits and lost all of its Darkwood trees several generations ago.
Under the Bishopric's laws, the lands generate only a small amount of wealth every generation. But if the Bishopric came under Iustian hegemony and law, the situation would be very different.
Just by recalling what he knows, Turion is aware that Alabaster is a second son of a lesser noble house known for his "charm" and affinity for ladies, both nobles and ladies of the night. There are plenty of ways you could find out more.
In Iustian law, piracy is treason. So aiding and abetting pirates would make one party to treason. You only have Van Beem's word that she worked with Tyron Alabaster and only have the property purchases indicating that Harcourt is linked to Alabaster. This would not be enough to bring Harcourt down or even discredit him. But it is something to start with.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
In addition, she has one book entitled The Four Pillars of Refinement, laying out a course of study aimed at the high class Iustian children. She had thought she might need to spend the evening rapidly scanning its pages to get an idea what other books a tutor might be expected to have -- but when she lay her hand on it in the bookshop, she briefly heard voices whispering to her, and learned that the Four Pillars are arithmetic, geometry, music, and arcana, which are built upon the Three Foundations of grammar, logic and rhetoric.
With this information, she acquires separate textbooks on each of those topics.
Despite having the outline, Mel takes further time that evening to rapidly scan through The Four Pillars. It differs considerably from her elven education, not least in that everything seems so dreadfully compressed. How, Mel wonders, Can anyone get a proper understanding of any of these in such little time? The Three Foundations would take at least a decade apiece to really grasp thoroughly.
But she shrugs. Most of these at least overlap with things she has already studied. And I am so glad I had that job as a tutor in my senior decade at Etsi Paljon, she thinks, as she finishes perusing the book by the light of a late candle. Surely it can't be all that different.
Weary, she crawls into bed.
Her dark brows do not quite meet over a pair of fierce black eyes, and the severe bun of her hair shows a set of ears that have never known piercing. A leather bag swings from one hand, and the other holds a folder by her side.
She sets her leather bag on the ground by the door and knocks firmly, without hesitation.
Fyrtor is punched once as he moves and fails to parry it (4 dam). The barman is confounded by Fyrtor's spell and stands dazed and fascinated. The bouncers don't seem to know what to do so they keep punching and kicking at Kazador. Only one blow lands home (3 dam).
The door is opened by an older man wearing the fine clothes of a high-ranking noble’s valet. He inclines his head in an obligatory show of respect to a woman and rasps ”Good morning, madame. To what does House Harcourt owe the pleasure?”
Kazador looked at the man who punched him and growled "I've been hit harder by elves." Which was true. He had been hit pretty darn hard by elves in the past, though he was still here and they weren't. The thought crossed his mind that it wasn't a very good insult, given how hard elves could hit. Not that it really mattered, given that he took the butt of his hammer and slammed it into the man's forehead, which meant that he had far more serious concerns to ponder.