"So how do you want to go about this? Play it plainly? Or subterfuge?", Túrion asks Hal and Mel as they search for the widows home.
"That depends," Melia says. "On the one hand, if I were somebody's widow and I thought my husband had been quietly murdered but had no evidence, I might be very glad to meet some people intent on uncovering my husband's killer."
"But on the other hand, maybe I care more about protecting his reputation, and I can't allow anyone to find out what he was murdered for."
"And on the third hand," she says, bouncing lightly in place and waving a foot as if it were a third one, "If I was in on it, why, I wouldn't want anyone digging into his death at all!"
"And on a fourth ... um ... " She hops a bit, then gives up. "I don't think I can manage four at once. But that would be the one where I had no idea he was murdered and I just didn't want to be reminded of my painful loss."
She spends some time asking after Widow Mason -- where she lives, what she's like.
Hal sits hunched by the fire, an oversized mug of tea clutched as much for warmth as caffeine.
"So..." Hal starts, reluctantly, "There'd another toad I've got'ta lay out. Not sayin' I'm exactly comfortable with it, but... well..."
He gives a big sigh "One of the reasons people call in an'Hedge is 'cos of hauntin's and so on. Over the years the trade has come up with ways of talkin' to the deceased to see what's stoppin' em movin' on."
"Nothin' sus!" he hastens to assure them "But might be I could have a chat with this guy, if we can find his, er, mortal remains. If we can make the case his boss offed 'im, he's like to roll over on the bas... man."
Melia listens quietly. "A few months ago, I would have balked immediately at the suggestion. But ... we wouldn't be forcing his soul into slavery, like an undead. And Brolin showed me that often memories persist long after the actual spirit has moved on. Sometimes I can hear them myself, these days. This sounds very similar. Not the real soul at all, just the memories that linger."
"So yes; that sounds like a good lead."
Hal beams "Right! Ya got it! Maybe keep it ta ourselves though, lot'a folks don't know the difference."
"If we can work out what questions we've got, we might be able to get some of 'em answered easier too. I've got contacts in the city, still, 'n' there are ways to talk ta birds 'n' beasts. I'm a dab hand at card readin' as well. Reckon we could get a lot done in a day." Hal rubs at his beard for a moment.
"Idea of someone shiftin' ta a bird 'n' doin' a flyover's get legs - or wings." he chuckles. "Not much point till we got an idea what they'd be lookin' for though."
"We've also gotta help out Madame. Fast. Or at least start fast. I don't like the idea of leavin' much of a trail given our enemies, and a bank slip seems like it could come back ta bite us. We use that, we go in disguise. Good ones."
"Aye, I'll bring the money to the Madame...later. Still have to talk about Isabella with her, and not sure I'm looking forward to that. I'm not even sure she's open right now, so lets focus on what we can do right now.", Túrion seems quite glad to be able to postpone this task.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe the soul can try and resist this calling. Should be easy enough to not force it if you feel it won't cooperate willingly.", he comments on the prospect of speaking with the dead, "If we're right, he might be quite willing to tell someone what truly happened. If not, there's no point in forcing him. Of course, there's a chance he simply moved on and doesn't care. But as you say, there's some other options. Worst case, I'll have to try and talk with the head butler about this kennel master thing, see if I can get some basic floor plan from walking through the accessible parts of the building, then cover the remainder with remote viewing."
Thinking back to his spacing out at the brothel, he sheepishly adds:"But here's hoping it won't ome to that."
Melia's sweet and near-brainless charms pay off quickly. A miller recalls that the Widow Mason moved out of Bannerhold as soon as her husband died and has brushed off inquiries into her husband death as "epilepsy" and "too sad to talk about." A fishlass explains that she's been kind enough to her neighbors and is friendly, happy to reminisce about her husband's life except toward the end of his life.
In time they locate the Widow Mason's house -- a small but tidy cottage.
"Maybe you boys should stand back a bit," Melia suggests. "Make yourselves unobtrusive. Having a bunch of heavily armed men show up on her doorstep might be a bit threatening."
She approaches and knocks on the door.
Túrion happily stands back - he had wanted to suggest that Mel alone, or at most Mel and Harold should initially approach the kindly old lady, but was still looking for the words to give plausible reasoning, when Mel took things into her own hands.
Waiting on a street corner not far - close enough to see the cottage but not so close as to be suspicious, he waits with Kazador.:"Some journey we found ourselves on, here, hu?", he speaks half to the Dwarf and half to the doggified Nelly.
The door is opened by an older woman, probably in her 60s, wearing gardening clothes that are dirty but in good condition. Her back is slightly hunched with age but she smiles warmly enough "What can I do for you?"
"Good afternoon, ma'am," Melia says. "I'm looking for the Widow Mason. Have I come to the right place?"
The woman raises an eyebrow and smiles slightly in bemused curiosity. "Yes, I am the Widow Mason. Why are you looking for me, young lady?"
"Oh good," Melia says. "Hi! Call me Melia. I've recently become interested in architecture. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about your late husband's work?"
The widow's face grows sadder as Melia mentions her husband but she gives a melancholy smile and nods as Melia's enthusiasm and innocence are completely obvious. "Come in, come in. I don't mind discussing William's work, I suppose. I'll make some tea." She gestures Melia to a fine, sturdy rocking chair in a small living room with a fireplace, two chairs, and a worktable occupied by some knitting. She comes back a few minutes later with some tea. "What would you like to know about the great William Mason?"
Melia looks around at the Widow's cozy house. I can't do it, she thinks. I can't lie to this poor woman.
She sighs. "I have been working with Viscount Turick," she says, speaking in a calm, serious tone entirely unlike her Melia persona. "We have reason to believe that Baron Cust has committed high treason. Furthermore, we suspect that he poisoned your husband in order to conceal the existence of a secret room or passage within the Cust manor."
"Our evidence against Cust is strong, but circumstantial. He has been involved in a drug smuggling ring operated by the Reaps, who have been blackmailing him with some deep treason he committed during the Lakefire Rebellion. We need to find proof positive of his misdeeds so that he can be properly punished."
"I am very sorry to bring up such painful topics so bluntly," she says, watching the Widow's reaction. "I would offer you a monetary reward, but I don't think you would want it. So instead, I can offer you three things. The first is an opportunity to help your country by removing a corrupt advisor from the King's Council. The second is protection against retaliation. And the third is justice for your husband's death."
"So please: if you know anything that could aid our investigations, or if your husband left relevant papers, we need to know."
From his corner spot, Túrion can see Melia get worked up, agitatedly talking, with body, hands, and mouth. Raising an eyebrow at the Widows expression, he draws Kazadors and Hals attention towards the scene, as well.
The widow listens carefully to Melia then speaks quietly "I don't know what you are talking about. But what kind of protection could you offer to an old woman?" A student of the humanoid face, Mel knows the woman is playing dumb until she can learn more about the protection in question.
"As I mentioned, we're working with Viscount Turick," Melia says. "He is a lord as great as Cust, with all the resources that come with that. He has soldiers who can guard you; and holdings both here in Bannerhold and outside the city where you could stay safely out of sight until Cust has been dealt with. And we can get you to him quietly. Let your neighbors know you've been called away to help with a sick relative in another town, and we'll spirit you away to Turick's manor with no one the wiser."
I hope I'm not presuming too much on Turick's hospitality, Melia thinks inwardly. But I suspect he'll accept it. He stands to benefit from her information as well. The fewer members on the council, the louder his own voice will sound in the King's ear. Plus I think he generally wants to see justice done for its own sake. Between the personal benefit and the moral high ground, hosting one widow for a short while seems a small price to pay.
The widow listens carefully then stands up. She begins packing a bag. "I will come with you and tell you everything I know about that horrid Cust once I am safe. My children are far away and long gone, thank the heavens." After packing a bag for twenty minutes, donning a traveling cloak, and grabbing a walking stick by the door, she heads out and speaks briefly with her neighbor. Then she rejoins you "I am ready."
"Thank you," Melia says. "This way."
She signals to the others to join them, then casually ushers the group a little down the road and then around a corner to a quiet alley and out of casual sight. "Mrs. Mason has agreed to assist us. Let's get her back to Viscount Turick. Janus, could you assist with a door to His Grace's back garden, please?"
Taking a moment to retrieve the right spell from one of his books, Túrion nods at Mel:"Join up, please, we'll be right in the garden."
*gives Túrion big puppy eyes*
Don't you love me any more?
"Oo! That was kinda fun," Melia says. "Tingly."
She approaches one of the servants and asks for Lord Turick. Once he arrives, she tells him "My lord, this is the Widow Mason. She has information regarding Baron Cust, but fears his retaliation. I hope you will not think it impertinent of us to have offered her your protection in exchange for what she knows."
Wow. That was as close as it gets.
You disappear and reappear in Turick's back garden. Immediately, bows are drawn and pointed at you by a pair of guards while two more draw swords, one you recognize as the captain of Turick's personal guard present at several of your meetings with Turick. The captain bellows "What is the meaning of this!?" Disoriented by the teleport and the hostility, the widow clings to Melia's arm.
"Apologies for the abrupt arrival, Captain," Melia says. "This lady has information pertinent to His Lordship's current investigations, and we wanted to get her here quickly and without attracting attention."
She eyes the tense guards. "At least, without attracting attention on the way here," she amends.
"Very swift response. You run a good security team, Captain. I'll make sure to find a word of praise during our next alignment with Ser Turick.", Túrion speaks up, but keeps his hands free in case any of the guards...makes a mistake.
Because the captain recognizes you, he nods. "Yes, very good. If you don't mind, I'll run my hand over your facial features to make sure they are not illusory, since I'm relying on my recognition of you." He steps toward Kazador, raising his hand but not proceeding without consent. His men still have their weapons drawn.
"Really Captain?"
"I can assure you that I for one am using magic to disguise myself, and have done so every time you have seen me, and in fact my entire time in this city where I understandably do not wish to be recognised. I rely on an effect that alters the mind directly. You are welcome to use magical detection to look for such a spell, but I have also taken the precaution of using an illusion specifically designed to counter exactly that. This is because while I may be a patriot rather than a professional 'secret agent', I understand enough to know that the key word there is secret. I have a wife, Captain, and a family - my anonymity is their shield, and while I will risk my life, I will not risk theirs."
"I'm not sure if you've been informed, but I am in fact a scholar of the arcane of some repute, and my area of speciality is in the field of divination. As such I can assure you that your methodology is insufficient. While I grant that it is true that some simpler spells will fail when subjected to such tactile intrusion, anyone intending to bypass you and your men would absolutely be able to use spells that can bypass such tests. At that point the tests will only serve to give a false positive. Further..."
The Don catches himself, trails off, and sighs "My apologies Captain. The issue with being a teacher is one acquires a tendency to lecture on the rare occasion one's specialty becomes relevant."
He raises a single hand, slowly "I promise to refrain from further pontificating, though if you can find some time to humour an old man I would be happy to make some suggestions, and possibly lend you my translation of 'Wapiganaji Watatu Hekima ya Jatembe' - the Three Warriors Wisdom, by Jatembe."
"I can assure you are that we are the people His Lordship has been working with, none of us are exactly who we appear to be, and we will not begrudge you the time to properly verify our bona fides."
"I, too, am wearing a magical disguise, and have been for the duration of our association. For much the same reason: I am engaged in dangerous, clandestine work likely to attract the ire of powerful people, and I have a family to protect. They know nothing of my work, and I do not want anyone to connect me with them."
"I am willing to drop my disguise, Captain, if you insist. But only for you. Arrange the sight lines so that you can see me when I do it, but your men cannot. The fewer eyes see my true face, the better."
"Are we REALLY doing this?", Túrion sighs. "Listen here, Captain. We've been in and out of this household on multiple occasions, working with the Viscount over several operations, and not ONCE did you feel it necessary to go that far to verify our identity. If we had teleported to the alley across the mansion, then walked in through the door, we would likely have been admitted to a waiting room and been allowed to meet up with Turick without anybody raising an eyebrow. But now that we display both the magical prowess expected of us and knowledge of the premises needed to arrive here by magic, we are certainly placed under scrutiny?" He waves his hands to encompass all of his companions: "As my colleagues already explained, in our clandestine work anonymity is precious. We all make sure our true identities are hidden, and for good reason. Your probing will reveal that none of us are exactly what we seem...but you will have learned nothing from that, as you never knew WHO we were in the first place. With all due respect, you would do better to verify who we are by asking some tricky questions about our last meeting. Such as what room it was in, who was drinking a glass of water, where I was standing, or which of your men was escorting us from the door."
The captain looks concerned about how deep the magical rabbit hole of disguise and espionage can go. But he nods to Melia "Alright. If that one shows me her face, then the rest of you can teach me how we should identify you in the future."
"Very well," Melia says. She steps behind a bush where the other guards can't see, and dismisses the appearance of Melia.
I really hope this guy isn't sharp-eyed enough to spot my ears, she thinks.
She folds her arms. "There. I hope that satisfies you, Captain."
Mark off that hero point.
As the captain is looking at Mel, something like a bird flies between Melia and the captain. His gaze is distracted just long enough that he doesn't notice Mel's pointed ears. "What was that?!"
It was no bird but a semi-translucent, bird-shaped... thing... that flew through the garden.
Satisfied for the time being, he takes you in to see Turick, who raises an eyebrow at the presence of the Widow Mason and waits to be informed.
The Don hangs back a little as they are moved on. "Captain, I do apologise if I've given offence. We both want his lordship protected. If you can spare a little time when you are off duty I would be delighted to share some ideas to that end. Hopefully they will all be ideas you have already implemented, but will not be able to tell me due to operational security. On the other hand, if even one is both novel and proves useful it will be time well spent."
"Good morning my lord." he choruses with the others, from the back, and waits for someone else to take the lead.
Mel starts to get nervous as the Captain's gaze lingers on her face. He's certainly being thorough, she frets inwardly.
Just when she was sure he was about to
"I saw it too," Melia says. "Sort of a ghost bird ... thing. No idea what it was, though. Weird."
She resumes her disguise with relief. That was close, she thinks.
Once in Turick's presence, she says ""My lord, this is the Widow Mason. She has information regarding Baron Cust, but fears his retaliation. I hope you will not think it impertinent of us to have offered her your protection in exchange for what she knows."
"Also, may I commend you on your guards' thoroughness? Perhaps, for future, it would be wise to establish some method of verifying our identities to them. A pass phrase, or similar. And it looks as though teleportation makes them nervous -- for good reason. We shall avoid arriving in that manner unannounced going forward."
Which is a pity, she thinks internally, Because there's no entrance quite so discreet as skipping all the intervening space and appearing directly at your destination.
The captain looks very confused. "Haven't heard of that kind of bird..." He's clearly hoping it's an ornithological term.
The Viscount gives the Widow Mason a small, hospitable bow. "Of course. My word guarantees your safety, if your information proves important."
The widow gives a nervous curtsy and begins her tale. "The baron hired my husband to design his Bannerhold residence. His lordship insisted on a great deal of secrecy and required my husband to do a great deal of the labor himself with only one assistant. It took two years to complete the house and my husband was anxious the entire time. He feared that the baron was a bad sort of noble, mad with power, hungry for more, and full of dark secrets. Soon after the house was finished, my husband died suddenly of an odd illness. His assistant was killed by a thief a week later in a dark alley." Tears pour from her eyes but she stands resolute, glad to finally tell her tale.
Regarding the guards, he nods thoughtfully. "Yes a pass phrase would be wise. Unfortunately, I believe there are magical means of divining such a pass phrase if you were detected. Perhaps a multi-factor authentication? And I would provide the same to you, of course."
Whatever... bird... or something that was... it seemed almost like a shared hallucination. Based on your broad education, you think it might have been created by some kind of outsider (creature type), apparently attempting to assist you.
"Thank you, Mrs. Mason," Mel says kindly, patting her on the shoulder. "Did your husband ever say anything about what Cust had him doing? Or leave relevant notes? It sounds like he was building some kind of secret. A hidden room or passage, or perhaps some kind of concealed entrance. Or both. Do you have any idea what it might have been or where to start looking for it?"
For Turick, she adds "That makes sense. But I'll confess, I'm not sure how to approach it. Physical tokens can be stolen; same for passwords. Tattoos might be more difficult to falsify, but not impossible. Nor am I particularly eager to get one. Perhaps you have some ideas, my lord?"
She nods. "My husband never spoke very directly about it, trying to honor the Baron's insistence on confidentiality. But he did drop little hints and I guessed that it was a cleverly hidden room. Of course, my husband never confirmed this but I think I could read his face after twenty years of marriage. And I learned a thing or too about his craft. Based on the salty, muddy clay on his clothes, I believe it must have been underground a ways. From previous conversations, I gathered that the sea water in that part of the palatine was thirty feet below the ground surface."
Turick raises an eyebrow and looks frustrated. "My captain is quite concerned about the criticisms your group has leveled at my security. I had hoped you would have suggestions."
Don Haroldson coughs. "Pardon me if I was over-enthusiastic. I do indeed have a few suggestions. The first of which is to tell no-one, including me, what precautions have already been taken. I expect this will be a one way transmission of information."
"The issues primarily arise when the use of magic allows infiltrators the ability to avoid common-sense security. Invisibility to avoid sight, telepathy to read passwords, and so on. I shan't lecture on things such as the necessary height of walls to stop mundane threats."
"First of all, I recommend that my Lord invest in a triggered item that will carry him to safety, or provide a sudden barrier to attacks. Such items are beyond costly, of course, but well worth the money. A number of weaker contingency items also exist..." The Don reaches into the attachment of his cloak and draws out a small silver charm. "This one, for example, triggers if I am attacked by a number of ranged weapons at once. You are welcome to examine it, and I can acquire one for you if you wish."
"Other items exist that provide information when an attack is about to happen. Once again, I am happy to source such items. A split second if warning may be enough to make the difference between life and death."
"The reason I start with this is that security needs to be built in layers. A brittle secure shell is simply a prison if the opponent finds a way to penetrate it."
"The next layer is my lord's personal retinue. While I assume loyalty, spells to co-opt the will of such personnel is the true problem. Such spells can be concealed by someone with the correct knowledge, but such knowledge is rare. Regular checks for magical subversion will go a long way, and this is best done through a magical item handled by my Lord, 'lest there simply be a new single point of failure. Tracking such retinue is also worth doing, as few of these spells can be performed instantly or quietly, let alone both. A properly trained expert can see through almost all attempts to cover up magic, and should my Lord have a competent wizard he trusts entirely I am happy to teach them the necessary techniques."
"Note that many assume that creatures without minds - constructs and even abominations like the undead - are inherently safer that normal guards. This is untrue. There are spells to co-opt such creatures, and unlike a living guard, no will to fight against the compulsions."
"Do not underestimate training, either. Regular training and drills - and ideally involving actual mental manipulation - will help your guards to sense when one of their own is acting strangely as their will fights off a malevolent presence, and when it is simply a poor night's sleep."
"Onto the subject of securing the domain. This is of limited use, as if the domain is sufficiently secure then an assassin will simply wait for my lord to leave. On the other hand it can be of exceptional use against thieves, spies, and other such vermin."
"Just as with rats, do not leave temptation around. Notes should be minimal, well secured, kept only so long as needed, and ideally in code. Precious goods should be kept locked up, tracking effects should be used where possible, and knowledge that such tracking effects are used should be spread liberally."
"There is some debate on traps. A good trap can certainly have a disproportionate effect on an unwary trespasser, but I feel that the risk to the legitimate inhabitants causes the cost to far outweigh the benefits."
"Alarms - most simply a few simple alarm spells - can definitely work though. I suggest installing 'nightingale floors', or something that causes a noise when used. Bells on a door for example. These should be impossible to silence, and a noise where no noise should be can alert security to the issue."
"My lord should invest in powders that neutralise fire, and ideally some form of anti-soporific for the guards."
"If my lord is willing, there are creatures in existence that make exceptional guards against magical intrusion. Such creatures tend to be rare, and therefore expensive, but can be quite useful. They too can be co-opted, however, so beware."
"Moving on to Active defences..."
Kazador shook his head at the wordiness of it all. "If I could. Assuming that one doesn't have all of the defenses me friend has pointed out, then three things at basic, if ye ask me. One, be defended at all times." He let the glammer on one of his gauntlets fall away, revealing with the mithril plate. He then caused it to turn back towards the appearance of a leather glove. "Second, have a way to avoid being poisoned. Third, have some type of defense why ye sleep. Assassins don't like fair fights. They'll shoot ye in the back, poison ye, or slit yer throat. Having something to protect against them is the best place to start."
"Succinctly put, but I feel the nuance is important." the academic grudgingly agrees.
"The true issue is that every countermeasure has its own counter. You can go insane, bankrupt, or both in trying to account for everything. Much like a game of chess, one does better if one keep's one strategems to oneself."
Viscount Turick nods as he listens to Don's oral essay. "Yes indeed. Many of these ideas are fine. But what do you suggest by which I may authenticate YOUR identities when you arrive? After all, you are regularly entering situations where you may become compromised by extremely powerful and hostile foes."
The Don starts to answer, then pauses. A moment later he raises a finger and opens his mouth, then stops again.
"I suppose..." he finally admits "You can't. Mind magic could gain passwords, but also turn us into unwilling puppets. Mere disguise seems... mundane compared to that. A series of targetted spell removal abjurations should remove even magic that is hard to detect. Combine that with a spell that looks through bloodlines or some such - I can help you find one - and you can ascertain that our bodies are our own and likely not possessed nor dominated."
"That said, if we were aware that was the process, I doubt we would be keen to submit to something so invasive. Indirect communications with embedded key phrases combined with a level of distrust on your part is probably the safest way to procceed."
"The largest issue is probably that while we are the ones who are most likely to encounter an entity capable of such infiltration in the course of our duties it is far more likely that the entity will seek to infiltrate via those you are more likely to trust."
The old man grroms his beard "I willl think on it, but there is no perfect answer, only the ability to ameliorate risk."