Fennith takes a step away from the new Foe - she was unused to combat, but she would not let her brother down:"Your luck has run out, evildoer."
Túrion finds himself backed into a corner. Quickly going through his options, he considers a defensive spell...or trying to topple his enemy again? Invisibility would be almost worthless, unless he was willing to step into the raging waters.
In the end, he settled for a compulsion - the same that previously failed to take hold in the smoldering caster.
Kazador's hammer slams into the man's head and then Turion's spell locks out some of his options. The man succumbs quickly.
When it becomes clear that the enemy will be unable to hit him, Túrion breathes a sigh of relieve.
Then, while effortlessly avoiding the blows striking anywhere but near him, he leans towards the pugilist and raises a finger:"Look, here...", he then moves the finger slightly to the left, slightly to the right, then back left:"Even if you lock on a target, like this finger, never - ever..." - KA-THUMP - "...forget about your surroundings...like a Dwarf with a Hammer.", he finishes his statement as the unconscious Pugilist folds down on the floor.
The diversion certainly was not strictly necessary - the guy was not yet done trying to figure out why he missed all his attacks - but even so, it helped make sure to get things done as swiftly as possible. Looking over to Mel and Fyrtor behind the Aquaeus Orb, Túrion gives a Thumbs-Up sign, expecting Voice to have trouble passing through the tumultous water.
"That's it then," Mel says, easing her defensive posture. "Fyrtor, I think you can let these spells go now."
As the spells fall away, she sheathes her dagger and walks into the room, checking their opponents.
"What a mess," she sighs. "But now we can teleport them straight back to our ally. A little cleaning and there'll be no evidence that they were ever here."
"Anyone need healing?" she asks, healing herself as she looks around.
Fyrtor nods at Mel's suggestion and dismisses the spells. "I'm fine." he pauses awkwardly for a moment before continuing. "Uh Melia? Sorry about, well, what happened back there. I didn't mean to leave you there like that, but the woman, well it's no excuse but I, anyways I'm sorry. It won't happen again" Fyrtor finishes sheepishly avoiding looking directly at her.
Melia scowls at the charred cleric lying on the floor. "Not your fault, Fyrman," she assures him. "It was hers. I'll confess, I wavered as well. I've never come across a servant of the Desolate Angel before. They are thankfully rare."
"Aye, she tried to mess with our heads as well. Luckily, we managed to overcome that, but we may well have our roles reversed next time, Fyrtor. We stand together, and have each others backs.", Túrion also attempts to console Fyrtor, understanding that what happened deeply concerns his companion.
Despite his disguise, Hal drops back into his customary accent.
"A little cleaning? Gunna take forever t' clean this up. Big problem is witnesses; C'n put on some wallpaper 'n' stuff easy enough. C'n even clean off the auras. Mem'ries are a site harder." he shakes his head "I worry we've fu...sc...messed up the madame's business right proper."
"C'n I suggest we search this lot for loot 'fore we deliver them? Might be we c'n sell something for enough to pay off the madame?"
"So; how many people am I takin' with me? I c'n do three no problem. Might be able to push it to four - possibly even five - for a single trip. So four there, three back, and an early night for me!"
Túrion takes a look at the corridor, and what lies beneath. Cautiously he makes his way towards the main room, wary for any signs that their short but intense struggle had been noticed by others.
As Turion comes toward the main room, the Madame comes around the corner. "Well there was some noise but I think I can convince people it was simply some wildness in the course of normal busine..." She stops when she see the lighting scorches and wetness in her hallway and furrows her brow. "What did you do to my hall!?"
Her level of frustration seems like she might not want to ever work with any of you again but not enough that she'd have any interest going back on your deal. She is genuinely committed to taking a risk to get Alabastter out of her sight, long-term.
Túrion defensively raises his arms, then answers with a whisper:
"Me personally? Nothing. However, I assure you that you will be financially compensated for the collateral. Consider it a free renovation on top of getting rid of Alabaster. I obviously didn't bring coin with me, but you know I'm good for my word. It looks worse than it is, and you will not be stuck with the bill for fixing this."
"All right, let's not dilly-dally," she says. "We need to get these three away from here and to Turick, quickly."
Mel pops her head around the corner. "Err, yes," she says quietly. "Things did not go quite to plan. Sorry for the mess. We'll see to it that you're compensated. On the plus side, Alabaster is thoroughly unconscious and we will be delivering him and his two thugs to the authorities shortly. Given what he's been up to, I think he's likely to be executed once they're done questioning him."
"Gi'me a minute!" Hal asks Mel. "I'll 'port 'em, but first we need ta check 'em for loot 'n' spells. Plus, I think it'd be a good idea to put some trackin' on 'em."
As the Madame turns up he sighs, spends a few rounds mixing some ingredients with a strangely shaped rod, scowls, then walks back to the corridor.
"I do apologise, madame." he says in his cultured 'don' accent, stopping to pick up his dropped cane. "Rest assured that repairs are totally possible, but this should mask the damage for now..."
Behind him the scorched and soaked walls start to shift. Wallpaper tears into strips that are sucked into walls that grow thorny branches that sculpt themselves into intricately carved wooden panels. Carpet turns verdant green. A damaged sconce shifts into the upper torso of a woman with cupped palms. Some exposed studs grow into a pair of carved wooden pillars - caryatid and telamon staring lustfully at each other.
"Hmm. That should be enough. Don't want to go too far. Perhaps tell people the area has been hired?"
The madame watches as "Don" transforms her hall and walks in carefully. A bit of water, hidden by the illusion, squishes under her heel. "Interesting... I will keep people out of here but it will mislead if someone does come by." She taps her chin thoughtfully. "This will do enough, given compensation. I should say that 800 crowns would cover it. And if Alabaster never darkens my door again, we will all proceed with our business more happily." She turns and walks back to the rest of her establishment.
'Don' Hal gives Túrion an appraising look as the Madame leaves and they walk back into the room. "So. She's a friend of yours?"
Within the room Hal reaches into his pouch, roots around for a while and pulls out a squished cookie. Carefully he divides it into parts, then sighs and slips out of his role's accent. "D'we have fifteen so's I c'n knock up a tracker? Or do I need ta' take 'em A S A F P?"
"Business associate, more like. I do have what you might call a friend here, but I doubt there's sufficient time to go on that tangent.", Túrion both answers and evades the question.
"We had no fixed time plan, courtesy of not knowing exactly when he'd show up. That said, eventually he will be expected elsewhere, and I'd like to stay ahead of the curve. If you deem it necessary, prepare the tracker, but I'd prefer to move as fast as we reasonably can. Nelly certainly has also grown worried by now - she should see me before she decides to go search for me.", he smiles - Nelly would certainly stay put, but it WAS true that she would be quite uncomfortable being apart from him for so long.
He then approaches Fennith, and opens his arms for a hug, which she promptly returns:"Thank you for helping with this. I appreciate your assistance, I know the whole concept of this place is alienating to you. I'll try and call you later tonight for a cup of tea."
"Ha, brother...if not for you, I'm not sure I would even exist. So the least I can do is help you out a bit after all this time. Don't mention it.", she laughs, holds him tight one more time, then takes two steps backward, moving through the same kind of portal that brought here here minutes earlier: "I'll look forward to the tea."
Hal sudders a little despite his best efforts as Fennith exits through her door.
"Well... guess I could 'port 'em out now, then hit 'em with the tracker. Get their gear though. Don't want..." he cuts off "Anyone grabbin' it first."
He sighs "If nothin' else, I want his shoes. Can't believe boots that expensive are bein' used for actual walking." He fingers the shirt "Oooh, silk. Not too much blood either. Get a pretty penny for that - in a different city. Worth takin' though. Strip 'im down, we might even make a profit on this!"
As Don departs, Túrion returns to the Madam, then retrieves the pouch they took from Alabaster. Emptying the platinum pieces on his hand, he offers them to her: "It turns out Mister Alabaster had some money on him. It seems only fitting that it becomes a deposit for the outstanding costs - I will acquire the remaining money shortly and bring it by on Isabellas next lesson tomorrow, if I am still welcome at your establishment."
He will then return to the others that remain and DD to the arranged location outside, opting to head to the meeting point with Hal.
If they pass by a magic shop or high-value pawn store, he will attempt to liquidize some assets.
He briefly considers taking some of Alabasters jewelry along to pawn it, but decides against bringing such high-profile goods with him.
As Fenneth was thanked, Kazador nodded towards her, though he wondered if the fey truly had genders or just forms. Not that it mattered enough to him to bring up, lest he offend with his curiosity.
"Once again, we've made some coin, killed those that deserve killing, and had none of ours join them for awkward conversations while going to the lands beyond. A good day." Kazador said. His armor and hammered shimmered, as they once more looked like clothing that would be worn by any traveler. This did nothing for the blood that had gotten on his hands and face, for which he took out a flask of water.
"True. But not more water", Túrion stops Kazador from unstopping the flask and casts Prestidigitation to assist both his companion in cleaning, as well as taking care of the most superficial stains, dirt and damages in the room before departing.
”Thanks.” Kazador said. ”Always hard to get the beard clean.”
Turion and Hal have no difficulty finding an establishment that will buy clothes without asking questions.
It would still probably be wisest to make said sale in a temporary identity you don't plan on using otherwise.
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You teleport into Turick's basement. A man in working clothes in the basement is very startled but Turick himself, with a bodyguard, soon responds to the sound of the disturbance. "Some private business. Nothing to be alarmed of." He then sends the working man upstairs and turns to you. "Well that was an entrance, though I can't say I'm surprised. Thankfully, you did not attempt to teleport into the upper levels of my home." He smiles wryly at this. "Ever since a rash of Reaper assassinations forty years ago, the upper echelons of Iustian nobility take teleportation quite seriously."
"With good reason," Melia says. "Here, my Lord. We've captured Lord Alabaster, as well as two personal guards he brought with him."
With assistance from Kazador she extracts them from the bag of holding and lay them out on the floor.
"Alabaster is out cold, but suffered no particular ill beyond that," she says. "He should be fine, physically. This fellow ..." she taps the monk on the chest "... is an exceptionally dangerous combatant with his bare hands. He took a few cuts before we knocked him out, but he'll be fine. I recommend handling him with caution."
"And as for this one," she says, standing and nudging the charred corpse of the cleric with the toe of her boot, "Well, she was a servant of Szuriel the War-Monger. Like most of those who pledge their faith to the Seraph of Devastation, she met a violent end."
"If your men would like to secure Alabaster and his surviving guard, I will be happy to treat their injuries." She removes her gloves and readies her supplies.
"Fortunate that!" the Don replies, and smiles "Glad you're keeping up your security, can't be too careful with these scum."
"Can I suggest..." he adds, at Melia's offer "That we separate and blindfold the men first. Additionally, if there is any chance of letting one free - something I think only possible for the mercenary - please call upon me so I can remove certain troublesome memories. They seem the types to seek revenge on those who wronged them, regardless of how long they must play along first."
"Shall we leave as we came?"
Turick brings more men to the basement and they secure Alabaster and his male bodyguard. When Mel brings them to, Alabaster gasps "What are you doing?! How dare you lay hands on a noble of Bannerhold?!" But he falls silent when he sees Viscount Turick watching and changes his tone. "My lord, surely someone has lied grievously to entangle you in whatever farce this is."
Melia smiles sweetly at him. "Oh, my Lord Alabaster -- you got caught with your pants down."
When she brings the monk back up to consciousness she tells him, quietly, "That was a good fight."
Turion steps forward from the shadows, then coughs to draw attention:"Mister...Alabaster. Before you begin your chat with Mister Turick, I would like to inform you that I did some extensive research...both here, in official and unofficial records, as well as abroad. Many of the things you will be questioned about can be proven - without a doubt. If you happen to get caught lying on those, that would not be to your advantage. So I would advise you to consider very carefully if cooperation may be preferable. And if you decide against that, well, I suppose you won't have to worry about that for long, then..."
Alabaster pales and swallows. "What exactly would you like to inquire about?" he replies in a small voice.
The brawler, meanwhile, gives a small shrug and nod in acknowledgement of Melia.
The Don looks to Turion
"I'd like to restate my objection for the record. We have sufficient information already such that seeking mere confirmation seems unnecessary. Let's hang him and be done. What possible information could he have to justify his continued existence?"
At The Don's words, Kazador shrugged and grabbed the bound prisoner, pulling him to his feet. "Should have told me if we just wanted him dead." He muttered. "Just adding more work." He continued in the neutral tone of someone who considered hanging a prisoner to be in the same vein of washing a floor twice. Annoying, but he had no moral compulsions about seeing it through.
"Gentleman...please. This is a nation were the law matters. A court, a trial, a verdict. Several people will die in the aftermath. And some will drag their families down with them during spectacular public executions. Some may just vanish. Only the most useful ones would have a chance to vanish non-lethally. Considering what we already know, I am not sure Mister Alabaster can provide that kind of usefulness - but he can still decide between a public spectacle and a graceful death, right?", Túrion comments, then offers a smile that is simultaneously condescending and pity-ing to Alabaster.
He had the impression that the man was already co-operative, but if Don had a hunch to push him farther, he was willing to oblige - Túrion was well aware of his shortcoming when it came to actually reading people.
Alabaster is positively sweating. "I can provide names! Contacts! I can even implicate a member of the Royal Council!" Turick nods and smiles grimly. "That would be wise."
The party reconvenes in a nearby room to discuss their next step while Turick extracts a full confession from Alabaster.
It isn't hard to hear the interrogation from the other room and you can even peek in, if you wish. After half an hour, Turick comes to make sure you are fully briefed.
"Alabaster has spilled enough information to hang himself and Count Harcourt. Harcourt paid him to act as courier to one Gertrude van Beem, the late pirate queen. She was to drastically increase her attacks on shipping in and near the Bishopric of Helm to create a pretext for Iustian naval intervention. Alabaster says he is willing to sign a confession to this effect, and tell us some further rumors he has heard of Iustian nobility, in exchange for the opportunity to change his name and disappear to some small town far away. I am going to consult the King immediately to effect such a deal."
He shakes his head in disappointment and confusion. "In truth, these matters are deep for me. I wish I could bring Duke Beaumont into my counsels. He is much cleverer than I am. He has anticipated the Concordat's naval moves to a tee. In fact, our navy has committed nothing but blunders when anyone else recommends a movement, being met with Concordat ships already in position." He sighs. "May I ask what you will attempt next?"
Mel files away the information about Beaumont's unusual naval acument.
"I believe we have firm grounds for believing the Baron Cust is compromised by the Reaps," Melia says. "But nothing that would hold up in a court of law. He is clearly the next priority."
"Our information on the man is somewhat sketchy, however. We know that he is an arms merchant by trade, and gained a patent of nobility for service to the Crown during the River War. Of late he has been making a great deal of money. Count Aral did not know how, but now that we have learned more it seems likely that his involvement with the Reaps has proven lucrative. We also know that he most likely has some kind of traitorous secret dating to the time of the River War that the Reaps used to blackmail him."
"Beyond that, however, our information is sketchy at best. For my part, I do not even know where he lives, where he does business, what either of those places are like, or even whether he has family. Count Aral did not mention these things. My Lord, you know him personally. What more can you tell us about Baron Cust?"
"We had some...assistance for taking Alabaster into custody. Unfortunately some damage occured during the struggle - we will have to compensate for those...if you have some budget, any help would be welcome - 800 gold pieces, to be exact.", Túrion sighs, then continues: "The main reason I mention this - Alabaster may suspect involvement. If he IS granted clemency, then measures should be taken to make it unlikely he could seek revenge. Either by forced exile, or house arrest in whatever village you send him to. Nobody helping the crown on this should suffer ill consequences later."
He then listens to Mels explanation:"Baron Cust, it is. Maybe I could go through all the information we gathered from the Reaps, once more, see if we missed something on the first pass...as for Duke Beaumont, I would advise caution. Such one-sided military success would seem indicative of a double-agent in his services. I am not saying it is so, and not laying blame on anyone, but in these times, it seems wise to err on the side of paranoia."
Turick winces at the total and nods. "I understand that skilled and secretive force comes with a large price tag." He writes out a small note and hands it to Turion. "You may give that to my banker and he will compensate you." He then gives directions to the banking house.
Regarding Cust, he explains "Cust's main estate is on the Palatine. He built it four years ago, shortly after he was granted his title of nobility. Oddly enough, the chief architect died of a seizure a week after the house was finished. His widow then immediately moved outside of the city walls to live with her family, farmers, on the outskirts." He gives directions to Cust's mansion. "I can tell you that Cust is obsessed with establishing his status and power, often with extravagant pieces of art, impressive hounds, and the like. And he directs his business, producing and selling arms, mostly from his residence."
The don nods sagely "Indeed, I wish to echo my colleague. After all, my lord's competence at strategy is proven by the success of this very endeavour to which we are committed. As for other politicians, well, what better way to portray oneself the champion of strategy than to ensure the enemy is well positioned against everyone rival. Indeed, I almost hope that is so. The alternative - that any man so gifted in strategy would be seeking to steer the ship of public perception - suggests frightening ambitions."
He sighs, dragging himself back on topic. "To Lord Cust then. I suspect my lord's agents have kept a wary eye on an elevated merchant who makes suspiciously prosperous investments. Undoubtedly most such investigations have led to little more than large ledgers filled with small writing, but such ledgers might give us a clue as to where to go next."
"The architect's sudden death makes my hackles rise," Melia comments. "It makes me wonder if the place has some secret room or passageway built into it that Baron Cust was eager to conceal. It's a pity we can't ask him."
"I also wonder if any of the workmen who constructed the place might know? Or if they died quiet and less noticeable deaths as well."
The don strokes his fine white beard back into place. "Indeed. Indeed. Extremely suspicious. Blackmail, and a dead secret-keeper. The probability that the man has a secret in his house approaches a certainty."
The old man stares off for a moment "Indeed, I am reminded of a scandalous old story about a man who made a deal with a Devil to acquire wealth, and hid a secret temple in his house. A great pity we cannot question the man."
His face breaks into a grin as he straightens "Still, what are notes if not a way to ask of to the dead what we did not ask in life? Remind me after this meeting, and it may be that I have a way to dig up the answers we need. I won't trouble his lordship with all the dry details."
"Though - forgive me, my lord, but you did mean that the widow of the architect moved? We will need some basic information, like names, current residence of the wife - and the architect for that matter." A smile and a knowing nod "Just as the cobbler's children have no shoes, many architects spend a great deal of thought on their final resting place, but never actually get round to building it. I wonder if that is so here. A man's widow might allow access to a man's notes, should it be necessary to honor an artist with the final construction of his vision."
"As for the builders - a good thought, and worth chasing at need, but it would not take many builders dead to hide a well designed secret room. Indeed a competent architect might well know enough to install an already made door him or herself."
Turick answers both of Don's questions. "Yes, the architect's widows. I only know she lives on the outskirts but I imagine it would not take long to find the Widow Mason. If you like, I could send some people to go ask after her. As to records, I believe your friend here is familiar with our mercantile records." He nods to Turion. "Indeed there may be a clue there."
"The architect might install it by himself, but I doubt he did the menial work included. If it's a room below ground, someone had to dig it out - if above ground, it would take quite some interesting placement of walls to conceal a room such that the missing space is not noticed...by all means, see the widow - but i doubt she was allowed to keep any documents for the building...so any workers involved may be our best bet." He nods towards Turick, then adds :"Besides certain...other records or outside partners. Say, Viscount, you mentioned that many nobles are cautious about the security of their places of residence when it comes to transdimensional travel. I doubt most of them have the means to put such wards in place themselves. Who is usually responsible for doing those? Is it a free contract? A guild? A court mage? Whatever he meant to hide, I am almost certain he would also have wanted it warded that same way. So there may be someone besides the architect who knew about it...but could have been a too high-profile target to "disappear", especially simultaneously with the architect."
Turick nods to Turion. "Indeed. The mage's guild generally handle such work. They maintain strong deterrents to interference with their members."
Túrion turns to the others:"I'd hate for us to split up again - not now that things are set in motion. But I think all of these leads are worth looking into."
He turns to Turick:"The mages guild, do they keep meticulous records of what they did? Could we probe the contract under the pretext that he is suspected to be mis-reporting the estates size for tax evasion purposes? I'd assume the warded area would be rather...detailed, on the invoice? - or maybe we could find out which of their members did it?"
Turick shakes his head. "Unfortunately, they do not keep such records for privacy reasons. It is possible the mage who performed the work would remember such details. They have keen minds but also magic has odd effects on the memory and focus."
"It sounds like our first avenue of investigation is to go talk to this architect's widow, then," Melia says. "Perhaps he'll have left notes. Thank you for your assistance, my lord; we will report in when we have new information."
After catching some rest and swapping out disguises as you deem necessary, you head a little ways outside of Bannerhold to find the widow.
You soon find her home, a small, sturdy cottage with a garden and chicken coop.