Perrin notices that all of the Astin guards remaining are whole (thanks to channel) or dead. Hannady recognizes this and nods gratefully. "Thank you. That will help."
He and his men begin collecting the bodies of friend and foe, though with significantly different treatment.
Seeing Kazador's discomfort immediately, Mel shifts tactics. "O, aš mokiausi jūsų kalbos kolegijoje. Su Profesoriumi Tharzadu iš klano Kayanu. Jis buvo keitykla. Tikiuosi, kad mano akcentas yra padorus? Aš neturėjau daug galimybių praktikuoti."
As the archer scrambles up and continues to run, Arla scowls. She gives chase again, high stepping through the tangled forest undergrowth and slashing aside interfering branches as she goes with her saber in both hands. Her path lists slightly to the left, then with a sharp bark of, “Syöksyä,” she bursts forward, leaving a line of multi-hued after images of the coroner in her wake.
In an instant she’s in front of the fleeing archer, her sword a blur of steel and rainbow flashes of light. The scowl on Arla’s face is nowhere to be found, replaced by a vicious smirk. Her smugness falters slightly when her attack fails to connect, but she bolsters it quickly and quips, “I told you it wouldn’t be that easy. Ready to stop running?”
Kazador nodded, glad that the conversation had shifted. ”Aye. Ye speak My tongue better than I speak yours.”
He glanced back, seeing the tax collector still running through the trees. He shook his head. He could just imagine what the poor farmers and merchants went through when they failed to pay up...
Mel positively glows at this compliment. "Why, thank you!" she says, switching back to common.
She eyes the silver hammer. "Torag's blessing, you say? Hmm."
"That's good to know. Torag is not my favorite among the gods -- so stern! -- but he is indisputably just, fair, and benevolent. Certainly worthy of every respect."
Seeing Kazador's desire to escape the conversation, Mel concludes with "My thanks to you and to Torag for the healing, Sir Dwarf; it is much appreciated." She offers him a small bow.
As Kazador pulls away, Mel takes a swig of water from a skin, swishes, and spits it out to clear her mouth of the taste of bile. She sits once again. Hesitates. Stands.
Mel walks over to the corpses Captain Hannady's men have stretched along the verge. She walks down the line. She retrieves her arrows. And studies each one, sending a silent, wordless plea to Ostara that she not recognize any of the still faces ... particularly among those four she slew.
No but you recognize these Elves as from the northeast. Seems this unit's ranks were drawn from there.
Hannady motions you over to some of the elven corpses, which his men are stripping for valuables. "My lads recognize we weren't much use in that fight. They'll learn from today." He looks at his four fallen mentees and sighs heavily. "There's no law about how this stuff gets split up. It looks like they have some valuable possessions. Some gold, fine elven bows, first class elven armor... I say we take one set for the family of each fallen man. You take the rest."
He looks at the ashen face of a fallen elf. "I wish they were just bandits. Now I know the world is going mad..."
The armor is magical (+1) while the weapons are masterwork.
Finishing her inspection, Mel shakes her head. "I want none of it," she says, only partly comforted by the lack of familiar faces amongst her fallen assailants.
Returning to the wagon, she cleans her arrows, and places her bow and quiver tidily in the security box. Then she seats herself cross-legged opposite Elrin and sits in silence. She takes her necklace off and runs one thumb lightly over the holy symbol of Ostara, over and over, staring into the distance.
Perrin stands there awkwardly beside Hannady after Mel leaves, staring down at the spoils of the slaughter.
"Thirteen pieces of gold," the doctor says abruptly, "can make a scroll that can save a man from dying." He glances back at Mel, swallowing painfully. "I'll take whatever you can spare."
Then Perrin peers more closely at one elf's possessions, murmuring softly in a strange language.
Looking at the corpses, Kazador eyed the chain shirt. ”I...could use that. If ye don’t mind, Captain.”
Perrin turns to Kazador excitedly. "Oh, do you want some armor? I think we've got a rather nice suit that would fit you," he says, clearly not carrying an extra suit of armor.
The doctor rummages in his satchel for a moment, then starts to draw out a suit of heavy armor, several metal plates connecting with a mesh of chain links. It seems much too bulky to fit in the bag, but Perrin heaves it out and holds it up to the dwarf. "How's this?" The armor is dented and scratched, stained with blood and dirt, but you can nonetheless see that it is masterfully constructed.
Kazador stared at Perrin, his mouth agape. The armor was dented, unwashed, and bloodstained. But then again, so was Kazador. He slowly nodded his head.
”Thank ye lad. I do not deserve this kindness. How...much do I owe ye after we return to town?” There was more than a measure of dread in his voice.
Arla decides to give the pursuit one last shot. She pursues, and with a shout of, “Tiiviste!” she points a hand at the ground underneath her foe and makes the gesture of a hold grasping hold. The grass sinks away under her quarry and sticky mud bubbles up in its place, pulling at the archer’s boots.
Here are some melee attacks:
Here are some longbow attacks:
I can’t imagine I’ll need more than this, but you have the numbers here if you need them, GM!
Once through with the fleeing assailant, Arla returns to the wagon and guards. She approaches Hannady, giving him a sympathetic gap-toothed smile although her eyes are sad. “Sorry I was late. If I had gotten here earlier...” she apologizes, one hand on her hip and the other nervously scratching the back of her neck. Even when more somber, her voice is just a little too loud and tinged with overconfidence. “I got held up in Astin. My orders were to investigate Brookside, and I heard that you were dealing with the folks from there, but they wouldn’t tell me which way you went without filling out a bunch of paperwork, and by the time I got here, well…” She looks away sheepishly for a moment, then places what she hopes is a comforting hand on Hannady’s shoulder.
Looking over the battle on the road, she notes with the three stand-outs: the grubby dwarf with the beautiful hammer and strange abilities for a mere guard; the mild-looking human man with impressive magic; the thin archer woman with the red scarf and the troubled look. Weren’t those two from Brookside? The town doctor and the bowyer who had recently moved in? And who was this elf in restraints? She nods to Hannady and ambles over to where they’re gathered at the wagon. “Well done out there,” she compliments, the somber edge to her cocky voice waning. “Arla Fuller, Coroner. You know, it really makes my blood boil to see bandits like these attacking folks on the roads…” She trails off as she looks to the corpses. As the ambushers’ equipment is stripped, she notices the elves’ tell-tale ears. Her friendly demeanor evaporates, replaced by a scowl of unrestrained disgust. “Elves? What are they doing here?” she demands. She turns her attention to the restrained elven prisoner. “What in the nine hells is going on here? Are the Elven Lands so low as to resort to mere banditry now?” she spits, temper rising. She draws her saber and grips it tightly, knuckles white as she fumes, obviously fighting an internal battle of restraint against vengeance.
---
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"Thank ye lad. I do not deserve this kindness. How...much do I owe ye after we return to town?"
Perrin blinks. "Are you kidding? You just saved my friend from what might have been permanent scarring. I'll do whatever I can to keep you alive." He looks sheepish at that, and adds hurriedly, "I mean, also your life is inherently valuable too! It's not just about the healing. But wow, that healing."
"What in the nine hells is going on here? Are the Elven Lands so low as to resort to mere banditry now?"
"It's... complicated." Perrin hesitates, unsure of how much to share. But he decides to go for it. "Brookside was attacked by orcs, but we found papers showing that the elven council was manipulating them. We think they were trying to justify troop movements into the Bishopric to prepare for a larger war." He follows Arla's gaze to the prisoner in the cart and grimaces. "We're taking Elrin to the Bishop to uncover the truth. I guess this ambush was meant to stop us from getting there."
He turns back to Arla and looks her in the eye as though noticing her for the first time. "You said you're the coroner? Wow - I didn't realize that job was so... dramatic. That was some amazing magic back there." He stoops down, then holds out the runestone and the belt. "Here, these might come in handy if we run into another attack." He also offers her the ring with the crossbow mark. "And this should help with your archery. I'd give it to Mel, but I don't think she wants any part in it."
Struck with a sudden thought, Perrin rushes back to the trunk and retrieves a small crimson bottle, a tightly rolled parchment, and a stone tablet inscribed with golden runes. Smiling warmly to Arla and Kazador, he lays them out on the ground alongside the wands he was holding. "Speaking of which, here are a few magical devices that aren't quite suited to my talents. Please, both of you, take whatever you can put to good use."
The nimble elf leaps out of Arla's spell and continues running. But her accurate shot strikes him in the back, bringing him down before he can get too far.
Completely ignoring everyone else, Kazador gladly got into the armor given to him. He still looked filthy, probably even more so with the well-work, plate...but he stood up a little straighter now.
He snapped out of it when he heard the word ‘orcs.’ ”Orcs?!” He growled, a sudden anger entering his voice. ”The elgi* are working with orcs now? Can they have fallen so low?”
Elgi=Elves
Hannady walks over to Mel and lays a hand on her shoulder, if she'll allow it. "It gets easier to kill. Maybe that's the worst part. There will be grieving families on both sides of the border now. But you were on the right side of this fight. And that means something." The middle aged fighter shrugs. "It means something. It just doesn't feel like it."
He then lays his fallen carefully in the wagon. "I'll send someone back for those. I certainly don't want to be the diplomat that takes them home... I think the situation is clear enough for me now that you three can walk along and keep your weapons." A young human who was sitting in the wagon gets his father's sword out of the chest. He steps up to Kazador and Arla.
"I'm Kelian. Thanks for the help!" He offers his calloused hands to you in a sincere handshake.
Kazador shook the man's hand. "Jus' doing what the captain paid for. No thanks needed. Really." He said, somewhat awkwardly.
His mind though, wasn't completely there. The revelation that the elves were stirring up orc attacks had sent his mind racing. What he needed now, was more answers.
Mel nods at the captain's words, but makes no response. She does, however, retrieve her gear from the lockbox and re-equip herself, having a fervent desire to stay alive.
Mel takes small notice of events for the next fifteen to twenty minutes. The combatants rest, letting the shakes of recent combat clear their system. Acting at Captain Hannady's quiet direction, the soldiers make preparations for the disposition of the fallen, friend and foe alike. Their faces reflect their feelings: grim fury, ongoing shock, grief, sober relief at having survived.
Eventually, Mel calms herself. She loops her necklace back around her neck, and calls out: "What say you, Captain? Are we ready to move on? The day grows short, our business is urgent, and it is still some ways to Helm."
Hannady nods wordlessly and gets the group moving again with a few gestures
You struggle onwards through the mud for a while until you come out of the trees and see Helm, the capital city, before you. Home to 10,000, Helm is the largest town in the Bishopric and boasts the walls, belltowers, and paved streets that come with that. When you approach the west gate of the city proper, Hannady converses discreetly with the guard and receives some directions.
He leads you through a few cobblestone streets until you reach a large stone building. Hannady sighs with some relief "This is where my job ends. But I need all the witnesses I can get. Arla, will you back me up? Your office holds a little weight. And Kazador, your an independent witness to the ambush." He motions to the Brookside's. "You know why I need you." He heads inside the building with the prisoners, several guards, and the four of you. You are all led up a stone stair and into a wood-paneled room where a finely-dressed man with many medals pinned to his tunic receives you.
He scans at the bloodied Hannady and the muddy lot of you, arching a delicate eyebrow. "I am informed you have important information for me
And Elven prisoners." He emphasizes their race as if such a thing were inconceivable.
The decor of the office indicates the chief of the Watch has something of a fetish for all fashions Elven.
Hannady gives his report in simple terms and hands over the evidence provided by Mel and Perrin. He motions to the rest of you. "These went through it too. They can verify various parts."
"Indeed, sir," Mel says. "As Captain Hannady has told you, just over a week ago a respected local farmer by the name of Goodman Higgins vanished from Brookside. Under the leadership of Vors Falchen, the townsfolk investigated and discovered that he had been abducted by a scouting party of orcs. They engaged and killed the orcs, but discovered they were just the first of two tribes intending to ransack a trade center, most likely Rush Junction. Brookside happened to be in their way. They thought it would be easy pickings."
"Again under the leadership of Vors Falchen, the people of Brookside rallied in defense of the Bishipric --" she carefully frames it as a matter of national pride rather than a desperate bid for survival "-- and, though largely untrained in the arts of war, held off a determined assault by a large warband of orcs until Captain Hannady arrived in the nick of time with reinforcements from Astin. I myself fought in that battle, and we were incredibly grateful to see him and his men enter the fray."
"In the aftermath, we discovered some puzzling papers: correspondence between the orc chieftains, which showed that both of them thought the other one had initiated their assault. Based on clues in the letters, we determined that a spellcaster of some kind had tricked both tribes into assaulting the Bishopric, for unknown purposes. We went looking, and found this man." She points at Elrin.
"Despite his best efforts to escape, we captured him, and discovered the map Captain Hannady gave you in his possession. By his own admission, he is an agent of the Elven Council. The map clearly reveals what he was up to: provoking orcish attacks on the Bishopric. The goal was to create a state of chaos here that would allow cover for elven troops to 'come to the rescue' and occupy the Bishopric."
"Apparently, the council fears a war between the Elven lands and Iustia. The whole sorry mess was nothing but a gambit to move some troops around in preparation for that conflict. The Council apparently felt that it would be easier to kill a bunch of innocent citizens of the Bishopric than to ask politely for a mutual defense treaty."
Mel scowls at Elrin. "I expected better of them. I expected ..." she hesitates, and then unties her scarf and shakes out her hair, revealing her obviously elven ears. "I expected my government to have the decency to treat our neighbors with respect. I am cruelly grieved to find my leaders have so little regard for the people I have come to know during the year I've lived in the Bishopric."
She turns to the Commander of the Watch, eyes still blazing. "And so, since my own government is unlikely to mete out justice against one of their own agents for enacting their own plan, here we are. Sir, I am not fully conversant in local ranks, but it seems you are a man of some distinction. I ask of you: please, do whatever you need to in order to verify these events, and alert those in your government who concern themselves with such things just as soon as you are satisfied that you have an accurate picture of events. I cannot speak for my companions -- and particularly not for my kinsman here -- but for myself, I will cooperate fully with your enquiries, whether mundane or magical."
Mel notes the Commander's apparent affinity for elves. This ought to be interestings, she thinks. He has two different elves to deal with now. Let's see how he deals with that sileä paskiainen Elrin.
Kazador watched in confusion. She was an elf?! Well...damn. He knew that he should have said something, but at the moment all he could do was stare.
The official looks at Mel in some shock when she removes her scarf. This complicated matters... The opinion of one elf against another... And some material evidence... He turns to Kazador to hear his testimony but the dwarf merely sputters in surprise. The head of the watch sneers subtly and waits to hear what the strange doctor and minor official have to say.
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Arla is quiet once Perrin explains the situation, processing the situation. Her head is somewhere else as the conversation continues. She refuses Perrin’s offer of the magical supplies. She hadn’t quite worked out how she felt about the whole situation, but it was best to avoid even the appearance of accepting a bribe - especially in front of the captive elf. She mechanically reciprocates Kelian’s introduction, and avoids asking after his family given what she had heard about Brookside. That would come later, if ever, and in this field of death it felt inappropriate. Arla keeps a sharp eye out as she marches with the remaining guards through the sticky mud, although she seems distracted for the rest of the journey.
---
Once in Helm, when Hannady speaks to her, Arla seems to come back to reality. She nods solemnly at the guard captain. “I will testify to what I witnessed, in all my capacity as Coroner.”
Following Hannady into the meeting room, Arla suppresses a groan. It had to be the head of the watch, didn’t it? She had never properly met the man, but she had seen him enough to develop a distaste for him. The fine clothes and polished medals always made her want to roll her eyes - clearly the man was interested in pretending to be some sort of nobility rather than putting in any honest work. True, Arla had a taste for jaunty hats, but at least they served some function on the road. She guessed this man wouldn’t last a mile on a palanquin.
She tries to divert her focus away from the head of the watch and toward Mel’s recount. Her eyes widen at the woman’s revelation. Arla looks at her with a mix of awed surprise and caution, as one might look at a beautifully hued snake that one has just moved a rock to discover. Her head rushes, and she looks over to make eye contact with Hannady. He should never have had to get wrapped up in this, but she agreed to help him. She would honor her word now and deal with the spinning in her head later.
“Head of the Watch,” she says as she steps forward, assuming a formal posture and trying to ignore the man’s contemptible sneer. “I am Arla Fuller, Helm’s Coroner. I cannot verify any of… this elf’s story,” she starts, risking a nervous glance at Mel, “but I was on my way to assess the situation at Brookside in my duties as Coroner, to see who might be held accountable for the dead there, according to reports. However, I encountered the captain and his charges with a full contingent of guards and horses as they traveled to Helm, under attack by what seemed to be bandits. I helped to drive them off, in accordance with the outlawing of banditry and my experiencing dealing with such robberies as a collector of taxes. Hannady’s guards, the Brookside residents, and I drove them off. We found as we examined them that they were all elves who had deliberately disguised themselves.”
Arla took a moment to catch her breath, shooting a dirty look at Elrin before continuing. “These elves risked mortal peril to push past me toward the prisoner with a singular focus. In my experience traveling throughout the Bishopric and Iustia, it is rare to find so many elves in one place. Additionally, they are not known for banditry, and even if these elves had resorted to such measures, I find it unlikely that they would stray so far from the Elven Lands to ambush a road so deep within our borders. And I have never seen bandits act with such desperation to get to a single person; a coin purse, perhaps, but not a prisoner. That is,”[b] she continues, looking to meet Elrin’s eyes,[b] “Unless he is one of their number.
“In my official capacity as a representative of Helm’s interests, Head of the Watch, I can confirm that I witnessed a band of roughly a dozen elves attack a contingent of Bishopric guards who were escorting an elven prisoners and potential witnesses to his crimes. I give my official recommendation that Helm and the Bishop take this attack on our guards seriously, and give ample weight to the testimony of these Brookside residents regarding Elven interference that resulted in a costly attack on one of our towns.” Arla finally finishes, breathing out a heavy sigh and stepping back. She assumes a more relaxed, but still formal posture as she looks over to Captain Hannady. She shoots him a look to try to say “You owe me a drink,” while trying to calm her queasy stomach.
---
The Head of the Watch straightens up at Arla's stern accounting and recitation of steelclad, unambiguous law. Hannady nods "That's right, Colonel Smythe. All of my men will verify it as well. Except the four who are heading home on their shields."
Unsure of his place in this situation, the untested villager hangs back quietly, watching the situation develop.
As the two women talked, Kazador inched away from the group. He was painfully aware of how he looked, with his disheveled hair, blood stained and dented armor...and when the captain of the watch sneered at him? His already damaged pride crumpled. For a moment he had felt like him old self again, swinging his hammer alongside comrades. But at that moment it hit him, that this was not the old days. This was not his clan. The raw, overwhelming, suffocating guilt washed over him. As there was no way to suppress it with anger, all he wanted to do was have a drink. To make it go away. But he steeled himself. He had promised Captain Hannaday that he wouldn't do so, and if there was one thing he still did, it was keep promises. That, and both Arla and Merila had spoken with such passion! Such confidence! He envied them for that. And the idea of slinking away back to the gutters after seeing such displays was too pathetic, even for him. So he contented himself with pulling his hood up over his head and doing his best to act invisible.
He notices then that Arla is still bleeding from the wound in her side, and offers to mend it with one of his wands.
Before they set off, Perrin hurriedly swaps his breastplate for a slightly scorched chain shirt, not meeting Mel's eye. Then he gathers up the rest of his equipment, lingering for a moment with a stone in his hand.
"Hello, um... Colonel Smythe. My name is Per-" he clears his throat. "My name is Doctor Alders. I serve as a healer for the people of Brookside, and I admit I don't know a whole lot about kingdoms or wars. But I do know a fair bit about magic, sir, and to understand what's happened here, the sorceries of this elf," gesturing toward Elrin, "are key."
Perrin gives a nod to Mel. "Mel told you about the letters that spurred the orc tribes to attack. Those letters were delivered by animals, under an enchantment to bring messages back and forth. We fought and searched both tribes, and nowhere did we find someone who had cast such a spell. But this elf could."
He takes a breath and swallows. "Even the orcs noticed something was wrong. They noticed that the animals bearing letters came not just from the forest, but from the plains and river as well." He pulls out the note from Ukar's campsite and hands it over. "We found a hidden lair at the spot where all three meet, and no orcs were inside it. But this elf was."
The doctor seems to be hitting his stride now, and he speaks with more confidence. "From the moment we arrived, he began trying to deceive us. He used magic to disguise himself as an orc, and created an illusion of more orcs to scare us off. This was not orcish territory, and barely a day had passed since the attack on Brookside. No one in that remote cave should have known orcs were in the area, that it would be a believable lie. But this elf did."
Perrin is openly glaring at Elrin now. "This elf is dangerous, sir. I've seen him cast powerful enchantments that make friend turn on friend, and he can do much the same with words alone. He freely admits that the council sent him, and it's not hard to see why." He turns to meet Smythe's eye, unsteady but unyielding. "Make no mistake, sir, this elf is not an ambassador. He's not a courier or a scout. He is a conniving puppetmaster who will stop at nothing to bend others to his will."
Perrin stops, realizing that his voice has been slowly creeping upwards in volume. He shifts awkwardly for a moment, then shrinks back from the center of the room. "I mean, that's what the evidence shows. Sir."
Smythe stares slack-jawed at the lot of you, clearly terrified by what you've had to say. Then the finely-dressed elf looks up at the Colonel with a imploring eyes that would melt a glacier. "Your honor, may I speak" The confused officer nods and Elrin continues "These strange folk, with no authority to enforce the law, have taken me from a mission on behalf of the council. I cannot divulge its nature but I assure you, Elven lands would never act aggressively or subversively toward our valued ally of the Bishopric of Helm. Concerned for my safety, a backup squadron sought to extracte by any means necessary."
It is true that Elven lands have never been the official aggressor in any armed conflict but they've manipulated others into beginning conflicts on their behalf, most recently in the last war with Iustia 134 years ago when the Bishopric was maneuvered into declaring war and "dragging" their elven allies into it.
Elrin bows his head in contrition. "I apologise deeply for the deaths of the brave guardsmen. But my countrymen were seeking to save me, a man depndent on them who had been imprisonedeated without a trial." He pulls on various parts of his robe to show some of his nasty wounds. "My countrymen grossly miscarried their duty but the majority of them paid for that mistake with their lives. And I assure you that the Council will apologize most profoundly for this tragedy. I beg you to exercise the wisdom I have heard that you posses. Limit the damage done and return myself, my countryman, and the bodies of the fallen elves to the Elven embassy here in Helm."
Smythe seems deeply moved by Elrin's speech. But then Hannady snaps him out of his reverie. "Sir, you've seen the evidence these people present and heard our testimony. Given the deaths involved, these elves CANNOT legally be released from Helmian custody until a formal inquiry has been completed." Hannady stands straight as a rod, his grey eyes boring into his superior's.
Smythe winces at this rebuke and reminder if his duty. He totters in the edge of indecision briefly then sighs. "I'm sorry, my good sir. But I must keep you in official custody until an inquiry is completed." He looks downright apologetic.
Elrin nods and bows with a look if gracious sorrow on his face. "Of course, Colonel. You are merely discharging your duty. May I speak privately with you before I am escorted away?"
Smythe nods eagerly and replies "Of course, of course."
Elrin seems a little too interested in speaking with Smythe.
Kazador let out a sigh of relief. Everyone was being civil, so all was well that ended well. This meant that they were all but certain to be paid!
"Commander," Mel speaks, urgency sharpening her voice. "Recall two things: first, Elrin here has shown an ability to twist people's minds by magic. I urge you, do not speak with him alone! If you wish to speak with him without our presence, then call others of your own people to witness your interview. Men and women you trust, of strong will. Or even better, seek the assistance of a spellcaster you trust to guard your mind against undue magical influence."
"Second, recall that just over a century ago, the Bishopric ill-advisedly declared war on Iustia. I had never really wanted to believe that it was my people who precipitated that war -- but given recent events, I may have to reconsider that belief. They say those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it; let history record that you were wise enough to learn its lessons."
Perrin exchanges a pleasant smile with Kazador as the tension starts to leave the room. Then a faint squeaking noise can be heard from beneath the doctor's cloak, and he stands up straight with a look of panic on his face. He nods along as Mel voices her concerns.
"Excuse me, sir?" Once acknowledged, he continues. "I mentioned that I know a bit of magic myself. With your permission, I could cast an otherwise harmless charm that should prevent the prisoner from using magic while in custody. We can't be too careful, for the safety of you and your fellow officers."
Smythe throws up his hands in frustration at your objections and looks at Elrin apologetically. "Just stay here on the other side of the room while he speaks with me." Once Elrin is satisfied that you have moved across the room, with the other elf prisoner, he speaks in low tones to Smythe.
Elrin says "Given the circumstances, might I request some allowances for our accomodations? We have had a very difficult time and would appreciate some baked goods from the Spotted Owl's bakery. It would ease our suffering and anxiety in this difficult time."
Smythe nods and says "Of course, of course. I'll send someone right away." Then he calls in some guards to lead Elrin and the other elf to cells. "Be gentle with these fine fellows now! I'm sure we'll determine they are only guilty of being involved in a tragic confusion." The guards take the elven prisoners away and Smythe turns to you with a frustrated look on his face and huffs "Well it seems you all have discharged your duty. Please allow me to return to my work."
Hannady nods. "Thank you, Colonel." He then prepares to head out. As he does so, he counts out a few coins for Kazador. "Fifty gold, as we agreed. And a bonus for hazard pay." He counts out another ten. "I hope you've found your path, my stout fellow."
Gratefully the hooded dwarf left the room, glad to be out of there. Once out he pulled his hood down with a loud sigh.
”Ach! Elves attack us, and it feels like we’re the bloody criminals for defending ourselves.”
Arla lets out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding as the Colonel agrees to submit Elrin to further inquiry. She rolls her eyes at the man agreeing to talk privately - let the two obsequious fops have their fun talking about bureaucratic politesse. She snaps right back into her tension as the Brooksiders - well, the Brooksiders and the other elven agent - point out the danger in letting Elrin speak one-on-one.
She watches closely as Elrin speaks privately to the Head of the Watch, but no extent of straining her mildly pointed ears could clue her in to the content of that hushed conversation. As the official tries to relieve the travelers, Arla steps forward again and resumes her stiff formal attention. “Colonel Smythe, sir, I beg your pardon, but I must point out that this Elrin fellow is sadly mistaken.” The twinge of a smirk on Arla’s lips indicates that, despite an apologetic tone, she takes great pleasure in correcting the smooth-talking agent. “He presupposes that these strange folk from Brookside have no legal authority over him. That much is true. However, in my capacity as a Coroner of Helm, it falls within my duties to investigate deaths within our borders. In fact, I specifically received an assignment to look into the goings on at Brookside. These people have brought a wealth of evidence to consider and I plan to act in the full capacity of my obligations to evaluate and report on this matter. In short, my duty is far from discharged at the moment.”
Arla takes a moment to catch her breath, finding it more shallow that she’d like. The Colonel is a dunce, but why does he make me so nervous? she silently complains to no one. “I will make the proper requests to provide accommodations for the doctor and the young man until I can review this matter properly.” She glances over to Hannady and the Brooksiders, then shifts to make brief, uncomfortable eye contact with the elven bowyer. She turns back and takes a deep breath before continuing. “As for the elven agent Mel - Melira, was it? As for her testimony against her countryman… I would like to request special custody over her, sir. She has the trust of the others, but she is still a foreign agent in this complicated matter. We cannot simply allow her to move about Helm unimpeded. Considering her vocal opposition to Elrin and her role in combating elven agents, detaining them together would either allow collusion if this is part of the plot, or the injury a of witness should she speak true.” Arla licks her lips nervously and adds, "Sir, it seems well within the purview of my office to detain this individual personally. wouldn't you agree?"
---
Mel struggles to resolve Elrin's whispered conversation, but cannot quite make it out.
The request for custody leave Mel somewhat taken aback. "Excuse me if I've missed something, but I was under the impression that you're a tax collector. Is it usual for people in your profession to take custody of witnesses?"
Mel notices Arla's nervousness, and hurriedly adds. "Not that I would object to you personally, of course; you certainly showed yourself capable during the ambush earlier today. And considering recent events, I may well have need of a capable protector."
Smythe looks entirely fed up with being corrected. He's much more accustomed to people bowing to his authority. He waves rudely "Fine! Fine! I recognize your authority to remain involved in the investigation! As for this, unusual young woman, I agree that she should be kept in protective custody at the very least. But I would hate to inconvenience you when you have such important duties to discharge. I would, of course, be willing to host her myself." He smiles broadly toward Mel.
Smythe seems like he wants to spend more time with this strange young elven lass. The flush of his cheeks reveals he may have some un-professional interest in her.
"You'd be surprised how interconnected citizen death and local taxes are," Arla responds to Mel. She smiles at the woman's complimentary reassurances, but the worried look on her brow betrays a deeper discomfort with the bowyer. "That said, it is unusual; but so is a woman who I have on the books as a village bowyer revealing herself to be a foreign elf who seems wrapped up in another foreign elf's plots."
Receiving Colonel Smythe's confirmation of her authority, she visibly relaxes the tension built up in her shoulders. "Thank you, sir. I will continue as planned. Thank you for offering to host her; I will arrange proper arrangements soon once I have things sorted for the doctor and the young man." About time that buffoon recognized someone's authority besides his own. Man acts like he's the bishop. More calm now, she turns and gestures to the door. "Shall we?" she suggests to the others.
---
Perrin catches none of Elrin's words to the head of the watch, but he does notice the look in Smythe's eye. Perrin grimaces but says nothing as he follows Arla out of the room.
"That could have gone better," he remarks once out of earshot. "But it could have gone a lot worse." He turns to Arla. "Coroner Fuller, you're running an investigation, right? So what happens now?"
Perrin stops before reaching the door when he realizes that Mel has made no move to follow. "Um..." He looks back and forth between Smythe, Arla, and Mel, unsure who he should be addressing. "I think it might be a good idea for Mel to stay in Coroner Fuller's custody with me and Kelian. She's been affected by several hostile spells over the past few days, not to mention some traumatizing events, and on the journey here she was visibly ill. I'd like to diagnose and treat whatever may be afflicting her, if that's alright."
Oh, sweet Goddess, Mel thinks as she notes the poorly disguised interest in the Commander's glance. I have enough to deal with right now! But ... he's the first highly placed official we've met with. He can open doors -- or close them. I can't afford to alienate him. Nor can I afford to alienate the Coroner. I still don't even know her first name, but I am officially in her custody, and there was something ... odd ... about how she asked for it.
Perrin's words shake Mel from these thoughts. "It's true I was a bit -- unwell, earlier. But I think all I need is a bit of rest. Coroner Fuller, I accept your custody; but if you don't mind, perhaps I could avail myself of the Commander's kind offer of hospitality, just until you can make other arrangements? I trust that will take no more than an hour or two."
She lays ever-so-gentle emphasis on "kind" and "no more than", trying to thread this needle of placating both.